My Student, My Whore; My Masterpiece [MF][18+]

I thought about her last night. Again. Lately it’s been happening more and more.

I’d hooked up with this chick from out of town who I just met online. It’s not what I was trying to do, it wasn’t my intent, but this woman looked just like her. Same long dark hair, same big brown eyes, almost the same septum piercing even. Yeah the smile was a little different, and the laugh a bit off, and the way she looked at me wasn’t the same. She was older. But still.

I wasn’t thinking about those things while I was fucking her – I was thinking about Mia. I was thinking about finally making her mine; I was thinking about pounding her brains out and making her cum til she’s stupid. I was thinking about turning her into my own little whore.

Which is a problem, because Mia’s half my age. And my former student.

I felt guilty afterwards. Troubled. Those aren’t the kind of thoughts you’re supposed to have for a girl you mentored, for a young lady you built up time and again when no one else would. My hookup had no idea; she loved it, she just thought I was a rough guy, kinky and intense.

She doesn’t know the fucking half of it.

But now here I am tonight, thinking about her again. Mia.

I should’ve blocked her on social media; I should’ve never let her add me to begin with. Her photos have gotten more risqué, her outfits more revealing. She’s out drunk in the streets almost every night now, kissing a different guy in each video. Last I heard she flunked out of college after only half a semester – and not the art school upstate I worked my ass off to help her get into. No, the local community college she went to instead.

She’s floundering, failing. Crying out for attention. She’s self destructing and there’s nothing I can do but sit here and watch. Fuck.

I set my phone aside, I sip my whiskey and stare into the low-smoldering fireplace.

*There’s nothing I can do. She’s someone else’s problem.*

I keep telling myself that, at least. It can’t be me…it has to be anyone other than me. It can’t be me, because I can’t trust myself around her anymore.

I know it. I know it because the last time I saw her it took damn near everything I had to stop myself. To keep from giving her what she wanted. And god damn…it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

I don’t think I could do it again.

*You broke her heart. You broke her heart and you were all she had, and now she’s running wild.*

I scowl, taking another long sip, hoping to chase away that accusing voice with the burn of drink.

I glance back at my phone – she’s posted a new story. It’s a video of herself wandering through dimly-lit Lexington Park, the same park someone got mugged in last week, the same park someone else was stabbed at not too long before. She’s drunk and alone. “Crackd my phon e lolll,” the caption reads, a smattering of random emojis to go along with it.

*God fucking dammit Mia. She’s someone else’s problem. She’s someone else’s goddamn problem. She has to be.*

Except I know she’s not. Her home life is fucked – her parents ditched her long ago, and she lives alone with an aunt who has dementia. She was aloof in school, she didn’t have many close friends. If anyone actually is looking out for her, they’re doing a piss-poor job.

I watch it again. And again.

*There’s gotta be someone else. Anyone else…anyone but me.*

There isn’t.

Fuck. Fucking hell.

I finish my drink, I get my keys and coat. I get in my car and peel out, my pulse racing, my mind wandering back to the last time I saw her – her last day of highschool.

*

It’s not unheard of to have a one-student class, but it is rather rare. AP Art just isn’t that popular, though – most of the students taking art classes are doing it for the easy A.

It’s the ones who are dedicated, the ones who have real blossoming talent who continue on to the AP class. That was Mia.

She’s gifted; so much was obvious from her first assignment as an underclassman. Over the years she took more of my courses, refining her skill, and as a senior she was a natural fit for AP even if others didn’t join.

Throughout that year I pushed her, I nurtured her talent. She drew and painted more and more, developing her own style. The results of which were rather shocking.

She’d always had a gift for the human figure – she can’t touch pen to paper without drawing people and their poses. And she has this innate sensuousness, this deep-seated curiosity about the mysteries between a man and a woman.

But as the weeks wore on, her figures became more specific, her themes more consistent.

I discovered that Mia can’t help but draw beautiful young women and handsome older men, posed together in sensual embrace. I discovered that she’s fascinated with the erotic, with the power disparities between a strong man and a submissive woman.

To say this put me in a difficult situation is an understatement. I had to critique each piece; we literally had to discuss in detail her intense attraction to men my age, her submissive tendencies and how they apply to her art.

But I kept it professional, godammit; I did what a good teacher should. I set boundaries, I stuck to them, I encouraged her. I had her draw more, paint more, I had her really work on her craft. We created a portfolio for her, we got her into art school. It was intense, it was trying, but we did it and never once did I cross the line.

Over the months we became closer; I learned more about her home life, I learned how tough she has it. Sometimes I’d buy donuts or pizza “for the class” because I knew she wasn’t always eating all that much. I learned that she wasn’t doing great in her other subjects, that art was the only thing she really excelled in. I learned she didn’t have many friends.

I also learned she was madly in love with me.

I could tell; young ladies aren’t as discreet as they think. It was in the way she watched me – the way her eyes were always on me when I turned around, the way she was always quickly glancing away. The way she lingered when she thought I wouldn’t notice. It was in the way she sat on the edge of her seat whenever I looked over at her, eager for any attention.

And it was in what I found on her easel the last day of class.

She’d worked on the painting over the weekend, and she’d changed it a few times. It wasn’t until most of the way through the last workshop period that I checked in again.

It was a painting of her and I. Nude. Her image staring dreamily into my eyes, mine with a hand held lightly around her throat.

I swallowed hard; she’d looked up, and she was giving me the same look as in the painting.

“Wha…what is this,” I asked slowly, stunned.

“It’s my…it’s my final project. It’s a man and a woman.”

She’d captured the dreaming stare perfectly; the masculine hands, the outstretched fingers around the throat were flawless and lifelike. It was wildly inappropriate – it was also the best work she’d ever done. It was her masterpiece.

I realized my own hands were shaking and I put them behind my back.

I didn’t know what to say – what the fuck was I supposed to do? Nothing prepares you for something like that. So I asked something stupid next, something I regret to this day.

“…which man and woman?”

She stared at me from her seat, her face hot, her breathing heavy.

“…Mr. Baker I just want to please you,” she whispered, almost inaudible. “I just want to…I just want to be your–”

I shook my head, I held up my hand; I didn’t let her finish. I needed no more temptation – I’d already done enough, I’d basically invited her to say as much. I strode back to my desk, furious with myself, desperately fighting the growing arousal gnawing at my guts.

I didn’t allow myself to look at her again; after a half hour she finished the piece and left, running out in tears.

*

I’m not a good guy. I’d be a liar if I told you I hadn’t thought of her.

You see whatever it is that Mia has, that need for the erotic, that craving for sensuality, that fascination for what goes on between men and women…well I have it too.

Only I have it worse.

I keep it to myself, for the most part. I don’t let it intrude on my career, I keep my private life separate…but fuck do I love women. I crave them. I’m fascinated with the female figure, with the way they are. I love them almost too much – I can be obsessive, intense. Controlling, domineering. I know this about myself, I know it and it’s something I have to keep constantly aware of.

And that right there is why it should be anyone else, *anyone* other than me pulling up to Lexington Park in the middle of the night.

I find her after a few minutes sitting under a flickering streetlight, her head down, her chin on her chest. She’s wearing a short plaid skirt and fishnet stockings, with a ripped jean jacket up top. A black choker around her throat. Her phone lies smashed on the ground as I approach.

The sight of her like that – alone, drunk, vulnerable – I can’t really explain, but it pisses me off. I’m mad that she fucked up, after all the work we did. I’m mad at her family and few friends, for not being here.

I’m mad that it’s come to this – that *I* should be the one who has to come get her, a man who shouldn’t be anywhere near.

But mostly I’m mad that I could feel this tempted, even still.

Thus I’m steaming as I stand over her, as she suddenly looks up in startled, fearful surprise.

“Mr…Mr. Baker?” she stammers, stunned. She’s beautiful, somehow even moreso in the flickering half-light of the park. Her half-Japanese, half-Italian features are delicate and graceful, her pretty brown eyes accentuated by the cat’s eye makeup and eyelash extensions she prefers. Her alt outfit and septum piercing speak to the fact that she’s not exactly a good girl.

“Come on,” I say, my voice stern as I take her by the upper arm. “We’re going. Get your phone.”

She stumbles a bit as she picks it up and then I’m steering her back towards the car, warily eyeing the loitering drunks and derelicts who’ve crept closer, who leer at us from the shadows.

I’ve never touched her before, and the feel of her slender body shivering in my grip awakens something unwelcome in me. I do my best to fight it back down.

“Where is your aunt’s place? We’re taking you home.”

Her shoulders shake, her eyes are downcast. I realize she might be crying.

“She’s…she’s in a home now. I had to…I had to move out but I…I can’t afford it…”

“Are you telling me you have nowhere to go?”

She doesn’t say anything, she just nods. A menacing heat starts to bubble in my gut. I try to ignore it.

We get to the car and I have no plan; there’s an obvious answer but I’m doing my best to avoid it.

*Maybe I can put her up in a hotel room. Maybe she’ll keep out of trouble, maybe…*

No. No that’s not gonna work. I let out a long shuddering sigh, crack my knuckles in apprehension and open the passenger door.

“Get in.”

“Wh…where are we going?”

“My place.”

She gives me a long look, nods and gets in; I have to steady my breathing before sitting in the driver’s seat.

*She’s all yours now.*

I almost growl out loud; I tense up, fighting that tempting, taunting voice in my head.

It’s a fight I don’t think I can win.

I flip a U-turn, I take off, the wheel clenched in my grip as I speed through the darkened streets. She watches me from the passenger seat, her sultry eyes big and wondering.

It’s the same look as before.

When I glance over, she doesn’t look away like she used to. She just keeps staring and starts to chew her lip.

*

I march her into my house, my grip firm on her arm, my heart hammering in my chest. The whole place rattles as I slam the door behind us – it’s a rickety old rundown Victorian, the best I can afford on teacher’s pay.

She turns to face me as soon as we’re through the door, brushing her long dark brown hair behind her ear, her lowered eyes looking up at me expectantly.

It’s a dangerous look she gives – the kind that can turn a man into a monster. I haven’t calmed down in the slightest, and now that she’s alone with me in the house things have only gotten worse.

“Come here,” I command, doing my best not to look at her, not to be taken in by her submissive stare. I lead her into the kitchen where I busy myself with bandaging the cuts on her arms and hands. She’s scraped up; she must’ve fallen, drunk.

She won’t stop looking at me as I work. I’m scarcely able to concentrate – and that voice in my head just won’t shut the fuck up.

*This is what she wants. She’s the same as you – she’s the same, you’ve seen it. She wants to be yours. She needs to.*

I grit my teeth, at war with myself. I was her goddamn teacher, I’m her only role model. I can’t allow anything to happen between us…

Even still, I can feel my defenses being battered down just from being near. I have this wall within, this barrier I’ve built to block away all my untoward desires, all my raging wants and needs. I try to keep them cooped up and under control – otherwise I’d run wild, I’d indulge every single one.

And right now that wall is dangerously close to crumbling.

“I knew you cared,” she says quietly. I don’t look at her. I can’t.

“I knew…and I knew you were the only one. I’m sorry I chased you away, Mr. Baker. I’m so sorry, I– I’ve missed you so much.”

I look up finally; I look at her and take a deep, shuddering breath. She’s so goddamn pretty, on the verge of tears and looking like some sort of fallen denim angel.

*She needs it. She needs structure. She needs to be taught. She needs what only you can give.*

I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t I shouldn’t I shouldn’t…

*You have to. You’re all she has.*

I chew my cheek until I taste blood, my whole body tense. It’s a long moment before I can mutter a response.

“You didn’t…chase me away. I was – I am…I’m trying to protect you.”

She watches me, sad and still, the question in her eyes.

“I’m trying to…Mia, don’t you understand? I’m trying to protect you from *me*.”

She shakes her head, her eyes glittering and wet. “Mr. Baker I…I don’t want you to do that. That’s not what I want at all.”

I swallow hard as she looks back down again, timidly turning my hand and running her fingertips across my open palm. She gives me that look again, and the sensation of her skin on mine shakes me to my core.

“Mr. Baker, I want…I want to be–”

I shake my head, I close my hand around hers to cut her off, again. I’m fucking trembling. I’m so close to losing control, and I swear to god I can feel that wall in me cracking the hell apart.

“Mia I, I need you to know something,” I say, frantic, almost fearful of what I feel coming, of what this conversation is doing.

“With me it’s…it’s all or nothing. I want to help you, I do. I always have. I care for you. But I’m…I’m afraid of how things might go. You see once I start I don’t know if I can stop. I’m…I’m like you in some ways. Sometimes I just…lose control. Sometimes I go too far. You see it couldn’t be halfway, it would have to be…it would have to be everything. Mia if I’m gonna help you…you’d have to be Mine. Completely. And I just can’t ask something like that of you.”

I stand there, stunned at the words that just came out of my mouth. I can’t believe what I’ve just said; I can’t believe I’ve just told her the truth.

She nods, never breaking eye contact, never flinching.

“I know, Mr. Baker. I know. But don’t you see? To be Yours is all I’ve ever wanted.”

I feel as if I’ve been struck; her words send a simmering heat coursing through me, setting my mind afire and smoldering in my core, awakening something terrible. A dark part of me ceases its fitful slumber and comes to the fore – the part that needs to dominate, to control, to indulge and conquer. Suddenly, I just can’t take it anymore. Suddenly, my mind is made up.

I snatch her by the throat and push her up against the fridge, making her gasp, making her tremble. Her eyes never leave mine, her breaths short and sharp.

*She’s yours. She’s All Yours.*

I’m shaking; she’s been my secret forbidden desire for so long. To have her now, shivering and in my grasp…it’s indescribable. That fiery sensation sears through me, and I recognize it for what it is: power and the thrill of it, the euphoria that comes with controlling a beautiful woman. It’s the stuff from which tyrants are made, and the force of it in me sends that shattered wall crashing the fuck down.

So I step in and take her mouth in mine, savoring her taste of cheap vodka and lipstick. She whimpers with want as I stick my tongue down her throat, as I push my thigh between her legs and pull her up on it, grinding her against me, tugging that skimpy skirt dangerously high. God damn how she’s tormented me – I’m so fucking hot for her. She clings to me, desperate, and it’s a forlorn moan she makes as I push her back against the fridge, as I hold her there at arms length.

“If you’re mine, Mia, then you’re gonna listen,” I rasp, my chest heaving, my body surging with something electric. “Because I’m gonna take care of you…but there’s some things we gotta work on first. Some things we gotta change. We tried working on you before in school, we tried to help you, but it didn’t take did it? No, it didn’t…so this time, we’re gonna be *thorough*. We’re gonna go farther. This time we’re gonna change you for good. Listen, there’s some shit we need to work on – starting with how you’ve been acting like a little whore, tramping around late at night in these slutty clothes.”

She whines in her throat, she starts to say something but I cut her off with a squeeze, making her brows knit, her mouth fall open. I growl, delirious with power as I tear her skirt down to her knees, as I reveal the tops of her fishnets and the black thong she wears beneath. She yelps into my grip – and fucking christ she looks amazing.

It’s with a heated simmer that I speak next, barely able to restrain myself.

“It’s okay, I understand. You have desires you can’t control, you needed an outlet, you had nowhere else to go. I get all that. But listen: things are different from now on. From now on *I* control your desires. *I’m* your outlet. You got that? From now on it’s *me*, and only me.”

I can feel her pulse racing under my palm, her eyes wide like a frightened fawn as she fervently nods her head. I’m given the impression she’ll agree to just about anything right about now, and the thought of it has me hard as fucking hell.

I step in closer, my other hand gathering up that sensuous silky hair into a ponytail and giving a strong pull, forcing her head back even further as she lets out a low cry.

“So you want to be a little tramp, huh? You need to act out? That’s okay. That’s just fine…but you’re gonna be *my* little tramp. You got that? You’re gonna do whatever the fuck I want – you’re gonna listen to every goddamn thing I have to say. You understand? Tell me.”

I take my hand off her throat just long enough to give her a shuddering gasp, just long enough to let her breathlessly answer. “I’ll be your little tramp Mr. Baker, I’ll be your little, I’ll be your little whore, I’ll be your anything I’ll do anything you want. Oh god, I’ll do it, I’ll do it, absolutely anything–”

“Good girlll,” I growl in my chest and smile, seizing her again to cut her off, dealing her a sharp smack across the face that makes her gasp. “Now let’s make sure you fucking remember.”

I move her with a jerk, steering her a few clumsy steps and bending her across the counter, her skirt about her knees. My mouth waters at the sight of that pert smooth-skinned little ass, clad only in her thin black thong. God *damn* how I’ve thought of this.

I pull her arms behind her back, I pin her down by them and then I just grab that little tush, loving the fleshy bounce of it between my fingers.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Mia. I’m gonna make you better, I’m gonna make you a good one…but the only way that’s gonna happen is if you give yourself over to me. All of you. This little ass, that little pussy, your little whore mouth, your pretty little hands and feet…*all* of it belongs to me.”

I rake my fingers across her rear, leaving jagged red trails as she moans and nods, feverish against the counter. “You just can’t be trusted with yourself…you don’t know what to do, you’re self destructive, you’re impulsive and hedonistic. You’d waste all your talent if left to your own devices. But we’re not gonna let that happen, are we?”

I give her a sharp smack on the ass, making her squeal.

“No, we’re not. Listen!” I snarl, seizing her hair once more, craning her head back, striking her again. “From now on, *I* decide *everything*. Neither of us can trust you, so we’re not going to. *I’m* gonna decide how you spend your time, *I’m* gonna decide what to do with you. *I’m* gonna decide what to do with your ass and your pussy and your mouth and your little fucking hands and feet and everyfuckingthing else. You got that, my little Mia? Huh? You fucking understand? I control your *body*, I control your *time*, I control your *mind*, I control your *heart*. I control your *everything*. *I’m* in charge. You’ve been a bad fucking girl, an awful one, you fucked up and hit rock bottom – now teacher’s in charge of you from now on.”

I spank her again and again as she shrieks, as she cries out and babbles her reply.

“Yes! Hnnngh…yes, yes Mr. Baker yes yes, oh my god…ah! Yes Mr. Baker you, you decide every– ah! You decide everything, I’m, I’m yours all yours, oh my god oh mygod AH! You’re…hnngg…you’re in charge!!”

I beat her bad little ass red, loving every moment of it, her fleshy young tush so soft and sweet under the crack of my palm, bouncing back for more with every blow. Her cries get louder and louder but I couldn’t give a fuck – there’s no one else to hear.

Satisfied, I pull her back to her feet, panting, and grope her tits through her jean jacket and tanktop. I feel like a fucking monster; I feel like my best fucking self. “Mmmm…we’re gonna change you, girl, we’re gonna make you better. But we gotta break all your old habits, we gotta break every single one. We’re gonna smash you all apart and rebuild you, we’re gonna make you into something better. That’s what you want, isn’t it Mia? To be better? To be fixed?”

She gasps at my rough touch, at the intensity of my words, breathing heavily as I tear off her jacket and throw it across the room.

“Please Mr. Baker…please break me all apart. Break me up and fix me and do whatever you want, just make me yours,” she moans, my hands on her breasts.

I need no more urging – I’m already skimming down between her legs, dragging my fingers across her arousal-soaked panties, the skimpy garment absolutely soaking wet. I tear it down, I take her sopping wet cunt in my hand and squeeze.

“Oh my god Mr. Baker oh my god–ah!”

She’s so slick between my fingers, my palm tingling with the wetness of her kiss. I play with her for a moment, her head back against my collar and looking up in awe, her breaths fast and shallow. Then she breaks off in a yelp as I shove her over the counter again, as I tear that skirt down all the way and push her legs apart, spreading her wide so I can better see that beautiful little asshole, that leaking little kitty she’s kept hidden from me for so long.

*God fucking damn. God fucking dammit – I feel fucking incredible.*

The sight of her crimson cheeks spread over my kitchen counter…it’s something I’d dreamed of but never thought I’d see. Her pretty little asshole pulses, her cute pussy quivers in anticipation; my cock’s already out, my belt in my hand as I run it across her rear. She breathes shakily, apprehensive, looking back at me over her shoulder, her eyes huge.

“Now we’re gonna simplify things my Mia, that’s what we’re gonna do,” I say, rubbing both my firmness and the leather loop of the belt against the softness of her rear. “There’s only two things you’re gonna worry about from now on. Only two – I’m gonna take care of the rest. We’re gonna strip everything else away so you can learn, so you can focus. Everything but those two things. You know what number one is? It’s your art. You’re gonna worry about your art.”

I deal her a sharp crack with the belt, the leather leaving a mark as she lets out a soft scream.

“Your *art* Mia. It’s fucking beautiful – you have so much god damn talent, and I am *not* going to let you waste it. So while you’re with me, you’re gonna work, you’re gonna improve, you’re gonna practice. You got that?”

I hit her again and she cries out in wordless affirmation.

“Number two: Me. You’re gonna worry about me. Let’s face it Mia, you’re a horny little slut – we both know it. And it gets in the way, doesn’t it? It keeps you from doing the shit you’re supposed to. Well not anymore. No, now we’re gonna fucking embrace it. You’re gonna accept that inner slut, girl, you’re gonna indulge her for me. You’re gonna be the best little whore for me that you can. If you’re not doing art, then you’re doing whatever the fuck I want, you’re pleasing me in any fucking way I desire. You’re *giving* yourself to me, completely. That’s how we’re gonna keep your shit under control. You got that?”

“Ohh Mr. Baker, yes yes yes,” she nods and moans, her swollen cunt leaking. She lets out a yip as I belt her again.

“Now what the fuck are you gonna do? Tell me.”

“I’m gonna…I’m gonna work on my art, and I’m gonna be the best little slut for you,” she whines.

“Again!” I growl, casting the belt aside and stinging her behind with my palm, making her words come out in a quick confused jumble.

“Hnnngh! I’m gonna, I’m gonna, I’m gonna workon my art, and I’mgonna be the best littleslut!”

“AGAIN! LOUDER!” I hit her again, the hardest yet.

“AGH!! I’M GONNA, I’M GONNA WORKONMYART, AND I’M GONNABE THEBESTLITTLESLUTFORYOU!!!”

“That’s fucking good – that’s so fucking good, Mia,” I growl as I take her hair, rubbing where I just struck. I bend her back, my tyrannical cock already oozing atop her ass. “That’s a good fucking girl; you’ve earned yourself a treat. You’ve earned yourself a good fucking. Now take this big teacher dick like you’ve always wanted.”

I’m crazy hard; I’m feverish, I feel like a fucking demon as I yank on that sexy long hair, as I beat her sweet little ass and spread her cheeks, as I shove my fat thick meat in as far as it’ll go. She shakes, she screams and wails out her gratitude as her soaking wet walls quiver and clench and slide into place around me.

“Oh my god oh my god thank you Mr. Baker, thank you, thank you oh my god I need it–”

She’s so fucking soft and sweet and I shudder out a breath at her embrace, at the way she squishes as I plunge myself ever deeper. She’s sopping, she’s so fucking wet she’s able to take all of me in one go, my big hardened cock bottoming out after one long thrust and filling her completely.

“Oh fucking hell,” I grunt, sheathed in her soaked slit. She looks back over her shoulder and I pull on that hair, craning her neck back while my cockhead kisses her cervix.

She lets out a low cry as I bend her back like a bow, as I take one of her knees and shove it up onto the tile, opening her even more fully so I can fuck her still deeper. All she can do is mewl and moan, her body completely surrendered; I smack her ass anew and start to let her have it, drilling her hard against the countertop

“Oh my– oh my Fuck. Oh my god Mr. Baker, ohmygod yes please fuck me, please fuck fuckme, make me your whore Mr. Baker, make me your whore *please*…”

Her pleadings have me the hottest I’ve ever been, my manhood raging inside her. The more she whines the harder I give it, watching my thickness impale her to the hilt, feeling like a goddamn tyrant, like a fucking conqueror. Her hot little snatch just clings to me, drooling and trembling and beckoning me ever further as I pound the fucking shit out of it.

I pull on her, I push her down, I do whatever the fuck I want; I smack that hot half-asian ass I’ve dreamt of for so long, dealing her a bunch of stinging slaps as I take her like a slut in my kitchen. I fill her submissive body to the bring with my hardness, her gushing little twat just enveloping me completely.

Her cries are gratuitous, lewd and profane – she stops making sense. I can’t understand a god damn thing she says, all I know is she’s asking for more, and as I yank her hair for the hundredth time and stick a thumb in her ass she screams and starts to cum, her captive leg kicking across the counter.

I don’t let up, I don’t relent; I fuck her right through it, feeling like a god damn demon as I ravage her, as she writhes and wails.

It’s not til I feel my own nut coming that I cease, that I pull myself out and tug her down to the floor, slapping my big dick against her gorgeous face, her exotic bloodshot eyes staring up at me in an aroused, pleasure-filled daze.

“Oh Mr. Baker, Mr. Baker please…”

I give it a pump, then another, and then I’m spraying my load all across her pretty face, emptying my balls onto her beautiful skin and making her into my very own masterpiece. I growl long and loud, giving her all my gunk, glazing her with it, sending it shooting across her forehead and nose and cheeks, sending it dripping down her eyelashes and chin and into her mouth. I stroke and stroke and I give it all, groaning as I finish; she gives me a cock-crazed smile as I do, semen dripping all across her skin.

“Oh Mr. Baker,” she moans as I shudder, kissing my tip, licking the last pearls of it from me.

She’s at my feet and covered in my seed and she just looks so fucking gorgeous; I pet her hair and put a finger to her lips, leaning in to speak to her quietly.

“Mia you’ve…you’ve done well. Listen, I meant everything I said. You’re gonna stay here, I’m gonna look after you. But you’re gonna listen to me, okay? You’re gonna do exactly what I tell you.”

Her smile only grows, and she presses her lips to my skin. “Of course, Mr. Baker…that’s all I want to do.”

I can’t help but grin – goddamn, we’re perfect for one other. This should have happened long ago.

“Good. In that case, we’re gonna go to the living room. Come.”

I take her by the hair and start to stride away; she gives a surprised, amorous squeal and follows after, crawling on hands and knees across the old hardwood floor.

It’s to the living room that I lead her, to the rug before the fireplace. There, I stir up the embers and throw another log on, the flames lighting up the room with an orange flicker. I leave her kneeling before me and take a seat in my armchair, pouring out a new glass of whiskey and looking her over.

I may have left her face a mess but she still looks so goddamn good, and I’ve just got to see the rest of her. I point to the tanktop and bra she still wears and instantly she’s pulling them off, casting the items aside, posed for me now in only her fishnet tights and black choker. Little stud piercings decorate her tits and tummy, twinkling in the firelight, and I know it’s not gonna be long before I’m hard as hell again. Her chest heaves in arousal, excited to be observed and admired.

“Now touch yourself for me,” I say, feeling that surge, that thrill of control. “I want you to show me how you touch that bad little pussy.”

She gives me a seductive smile and sits up on the rug, legs spread apart, offering a perfect view of that cunt, so smooth and bare and decorated only by a thin landing strip of dark hair. It’s fucking mouth watering, and already I’m stroking myself again as she sucks her fingers, as she wipes them across her still-gooey face and starts to smear the mess against her throbbing clit.

“Does this mean I get to be your whore every night, Mr. Baker?” she asks breathlessly, eagerly chasing her own arousal with expert motions of her little hand.

“It means you get to be my whore whenever I want,” I smile, unable to look away. My mind is reeling, I’m going off the deep end – already I’m filled with thoughts of what I might do to her, what I might do with her, of how I might use this beautiful young woman to stave off my endless, aching, desperate desires.

I watch her til I feel that heat again, that hardness stretching my girth, my pulsing blood pumping me back up to full mast. I feel it and I rumble, knowing only Want. Mia recognizes the look and matches my eyes with her own, on her knees and crawling towards me the moment I nod down towards my cock.

Reverently she plucks it from my grasp, taking it in her own and just rubbing her slimy face all along it. She adds to the concoction with her own spit and saliva, slobbering all along me with her mouth half-open, gazing into my eyes as she drags her tongue all along it.

“Mmm, Mr. Baker…” she moans, making me twitch, making me sloppy. She’s such a fucking beautiful little whore – I’d asked her to embrace her inner slut, I’d asked her to please me, but I never could’ve imagined she’d take to being Mine so quickly. I groan as she tongues my balls, as she strokes my head with slow circles of her slender wrist, and before I even know what I’m doing I’m sliding out of the chair to join her on the floor. I’m hard as hell and all I know is that I need to fuck her again.

She makes a satisfied sound as I crawl down there with her, her shapely feminine body so warm and welcoming of my touch. I gather her in my arms and lay us side-by-side in front of the fire, my pulsing cock pressed to her ass, the sheen of her arousal glistening across her thighs. With one hand I lift a leg, pushing myself against her entrance. With the other, I start to squeeze her throat.

It’s a strangled sound she makes as I enter her, gliding all the way in and filling her fully from behind. Her grip is just so goddamn good and tight; I could fuck her every day.

I’m *going* to fuck her every day.

I vary my grip, giving her just enough air to breathe as I begin to take her slow in front of the fire, manhandling her, making her body my plaything. I take my time – I’m in no rush. I’m in complete control of her and exactly where I want to be, and once I have a good rhythm going I find that little clit with my fingers and start to flick it, start to play as she gasps and moans through my grip.

“This is what you need, right here,” I murmur against her, my teeth sinking into the smooth skin of her neck, her taste so fucking exquisite. “Some structure and a nice place to stay, and a man who knows how to take care of you. Mmm…I’m gonna fuck you every night, sweetie. You’re gonna work for me in the daytime – and then at night, we’re gonna play.”

“I’m gonna work for you Mr. Baker, I’m gonna work–” she cries out with choked sobs, getting closer and closer to an obvious climax, her pulse fluttering under my grip.

When she finally does cum I cut her air off completely and she orgasms with her limbs flailing, her mouth open in ecstatic panic. All of her shakes around my dick, the sensation fucking unreal, her eyes rolling back in her head as I stuff myself still deeper. She goes and goes; I make her cum her brains out and it’s just otherworldly the things she makes me feel. I’m already addicted to this sense of control over her, to the way she responds to me, and by the time I let her breathe again I’m ready to go.

She’s wheezing, gasping, begging for it in a damaged voice as I build it up, as I hammer away at her from behind.

“Oh Mr. Baker Baker Baker please, oh Mr. Baker fill me with that cum it’s all I want, I need it so bad. I need to be yours, it’s all I need, please…”

It’s enough – she wails my name again and it’s enough. I lock up and stiffen and then I start to spurt, sowing my seed into that sopping wet slit, cumming so goddamn deep inside her, making that little pussy all mine. I spasm again and again, feeling my own hot liquid fill her up around my shaft, feeling it trickling down all around me and drizzling across my balls.

I pump my whole load into her and then we just lay there in ecstasy, shaking.

It’s a few minutes before either of us can speak; eventually, though, I’m able to steady my breathing and gather my thoughts, pressing my lips to the nape of her neck.

“Tomorrow…Mia, tomorrow we’re gonna go get your things, wherever they are. I’ve got an extra room, and you’re gonna stay there. You don’t worry about food or money, or any of that. I’ll take care. You’re gonna draw…and you’re gonna worry about me. You’re gonna work during the day, and then at night…”

“We’re gonna play,” she croaks, rubbing her reddened windpipe and grinning wickedly at me over her shoulder, looking so fucking good covered in all my cum.

“That’s right,” I smile. “We’re gonna play. Now come on, I got a room for you. Let’s go have a look.”

I slip myself out of her, standing. Wondering what my life would have been like if we’d just done this from the start. She gives me that eager smile again and crawls after as I lead her off by the hair, my seed seeping down her thighs, my handprints painted across her body, my whiskey glass forgotten by the fire.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/12nq7mx/my_student_my_whore_my_masterpiece_mf18