Paint Me, Professor | Student-Professor Erotic Novel | 18+ | ✔️

55 - Fail

Alison
***

As I sat at my computer at home, hot chocolate in hand, I reread Dr Damon's instructions for the assignment. Everyone was convinced that our professor would assess our knew acquired knowledge from our trip to Paris through a standard exam, but that wasn't the case. In the end, Dr Damon chose to make us write an extensive essay following rigorous rules concerning length, citation style, academic terminology, etc.

I had worked on it for the whole week, and the due date was today. I was just giving it the finishing touches, making sure everything was perfect.

I knew Chris wasn't going to go easy on me. In fact, I had the feeling he was going to correct my essay to a higher standard and grade me more harshly. I knew this wasn't just to avoid raising suspicion, but also because he knew what I was capable of from our extensive Art conversations.

When I checked my bibliography and notes to make sure everything was perfect, I wondered if professors actually read any of it. After all, was Chris really going to waste his time reading the bibliography of thirty students?

Chris had been really mean to me all week, sending me away to work on the essay and get ready for finals week. I went to his office a few times, and even though he was alone every time I showed up, he was inflexible. Not even when I showed up with the shortest skirt I own did he cave.

Well, maybe I should try a different tactic.

I took a sip of my thick hot chocolate and licked my lips. This was going to be so fun.

Within one of the quotations in the notes section, I started writing all the things I wanted him to do to me once finals week was over:

"Little did my professor know how badly I wanted him to touch me, so I did it myself most days when he was buried deep in work. How I wish he was buried deep somewhere else. I knew he looked at me with hungry eyes, but his self control held him back. And I hated him for it. All I wanted was to be held against his sacred desk he loved so much and be pounded to oblivion. I could tell he was dying to take me that way, over his student's exams, over his dissertations, over his precious Art History books. I wanted him to make me come and come and come until my body gave out."

I continued to write my illicit fantasies, imagining the scene playing out before me. It felt like I was committing a crime.

He probably wasn't going to read it anyway.

When I submitted the essay on our e-learning platform with the erotic passage hidden in the notes, my adrenaline was at an all time high, so high in fact that I couldn't contain myself.

Picking up my phone, I called Chris.

"Hi!" I greeted a bit too excitedly.

"Hi..." He answered in his usual deep voice. "Someone's happy about something."

Oh, he had no idea.

"Nothing in particular." I said, laying down on my bed facing the ceiling. "I just submitted the essay."

"Congratulations for doing compulsory work." He said sarcastically. I could hear faint music in the background.

"When are you correcting them?" I asked, eager to know when he'd read my fantastic work.

"I'm hoping to give them back to you on Monday. It's just thirty essays after all, but it means I'll have to work all weekend."