It was quite by accident that I figured it out. I had been sitting in the back of the lecture hall from the start of the semester, and I couldn’t help but think that Professor Stacey Putnam (AKA; Double-P), the rather MILFy adjunct professor in history (who was currently failing me and putting my Uni scholarship in jeopardy) seemed awfully familiar. After class, I hung back and asked about extra credit, only to be told coldheartedly “Mr. Jay Fortson, this not high school. If you want the grade, I suggest you work for it.”

It was in that moment, the connection hit me like a ton of bricks. My mind went freaking numb as I mutely accepted some written work assignment or something and left the room. When I got home, I went directly up to Mom & Dad’s closet, and hurriedly dug thru Dad’s “little box of naughty” he thought was hidden, but I had known about for many years. The desired issues were near the bottom of the pile, and I also grabbed some old VHS tapes he had, replacing everything just-so before they came home.

Dr. Stacey Putnam, or “Professor Putnam” as she demanded her students refer when speaking to her, sat at her desk, overlooking her itinerary on her tablet. “That Fortson boy isn’t going to make it.” She told herself, as she recorded his last score. Stacey had little use for these male sex-hyped freshmen, and she had to admit that she got a real ‘kick’ making those young men wince as she treated them like the low-life testosterone laden underlings they were to her.

Stacey had done really well at this small “university”, quietly nestled the deep South, and was sure she would be up for the full tenure soon. It was something she had worked very hard and strived for, placing tenure at a University over everything, even relationships. She smiled as she hi-lited Jay Fortson’s name, along with a few others in her notes. ‘These testosterone-laden upstarts needed to be taught a lesson,’ she said to herself, as she continued with her lesson plan.

If there was one person that I really could not stand, it was Professor Stacey Putnam. She was known amongst the males here as being really slighted against them. “Queen Bitch” they called her, “Double-P” was another, mostly by us who wanted to do just that to her. Standing barely 5’3”/160cm and I guess in her 40’s (?) she was admittedly quite attractive for an older woman. She was also one of those women that had the ‘resting-bitch face’ when addressing the class males, and was particularly harsh with freshmen, like me and my mates.

At last! I found what I was looking for, a short ‘pictorial’ in the back of the circa 2003 issue of “Bound Babes.” She was younger, and her hair was obviously dyed a different color, but it was without doubt her. You could see it, even in the pics of her sporting a ball gag while being hog-tied. I dusted off the ancient VHS player and the video titled “Punished for Mistress” had that scene in it, plus another of her bound in a doorway while being whipped by an older lady dressed like a dominatrix. Mom was calling us to dinner, and I got up to go, my head spinning with ideas and plans.

It was not until Stacey returned to the hall for her afternoon lecture that she saw the Inter-University-Mail envelope on her desk. It held a DVD, and a manila envelope. Stacey went white upon opening it, and emitted a shriek, knocking over her afternoon coffee. There were 8×10 glossies of her, naked & hogtied, with a ball-gag in her mouth. There were also some others featuring her over a man’s lap, being spanked, and lastly, a newly-burned DVD. Stacey swept it into her desk quickly, trying not to burst into tears. “Oh Shit” was all she could think. Afterall, she had one more lecture for today, so she tried to focus on that.

I smiled as I saw an obviously shaken Professor Putnam all but running to her car, manila envelope in hand. She had obviously seen the Glossies. In the VHS movies Stacey Putnam was listed as “Tortured Taylor”. A visit to a rundown adult store/porn shop in town, along with a small tip to the owner produced two more VHS’s and three magazines with the good Professor Putnam’s (AKA: Tortured Taylor) face filling the lens/screen. Converting them to both DVD and a thumb drive were easy and making pics from that even easier.

I wasn’t getting a lot of studying getting done, but my grades were really looking up. I slipped in and dropped the first package off easy enough, and in that envelope was also a number to an old phone I had. I actually had to ‘buy’ minutes for the damn thing, but it still worked. And if my plan worked out, it would surely be worth it. Of course, it wasn’t long before the first text made itself known with a vibrating hum. I smiled. The ‘game’ was very much afoot.

Stacey had a near breakdown when she got home, thank goodness she lived alone. The money from the ‘fetish modeling’ back in the day was good as she went thru school, in that it had basically paid her way thru those last grueling months of her grad studies, thank goodness the University had then paid her a stipend, and she was able to stop. She had certain feelings about that so-called “modeling”, but she ignored it. It was a part of her she had long ago buried, and had not looked back since.

She looked at the copies again, shaking her head. Stacey had paid a “reputation company” good money to erase all existence of this, and yet here it was, back again. The university would certainly deny her tenure for this, she would likely get fired as well. This very conservative school in this very conservative part of the Southeastern US had her sign a “Morality Clause,” meaning they could let her go for anything she hadn’t disclosed, and she of course hadn’t disclosed this. It was a Catch-22 and she was currently caught in it. Badly so, infact.

I smiled as the text came in, demanding information, as expected. I smiled and replied. “Seems you’re upset Stacey…or is it Taylor?”

Stacey felt a cold stab in her heart ‘Sonofabitch, he has the video too.’ She thought. Then she flushed with anger. “Look you jerk, I don’t know what you expect to gain by doing this, but you are treading on thin ice.”

I nodded, smiling. “Now-Now Taylor/umm..Stacey, that’s no way to talk to someone holding your future in their hands.” I attached one of the stills, cropped and enlarged to show her ball gagged & tear-streaked face. I followed that with the original, showing the much older dominatrix with her whip curled around Stacey’s neck. I followed that with a copy of the University’s verbiage regarding faculty & student behavior.

Stacey took a loooong pull of the wine she had poured, having reviewed what came across. “he surely found some hardcopies out there” she told herself. She was too close to tenure to risk upsetting this applecart, as she had been at this Uni for nearly 5 years, and she did not want to have start over. “Ok then, she finally answered. You must want something. Call me and let’s talk about it.”

I let that simply sit for awhile without response. Barely 15 minutes when by, and she called, but I already knew no voicemail had been setup, so the second call 5 minutes after that yielded no result for the good Professor either. I let her stew for another half-hour, then finally sent back “Small box on your back porch. Wear it tomorrow. Instructions to follow.”

Stacey’s face went totally white “Fucker knows where I live!” she exclaimed. Taking her Glock out of her night stand, she chambered a round, and flipped on the porch light. On it was a small box. Stacey was careful to check everywhere as she retrieved it, then brought it in. In the box was a DVD, a ‘burned’ copy of Bound Babes. Under that was…”Oh Shit-no…….” Stacey said, her eyes beginning to water.

At the bottom was a really cheap pair of panties that were too small, along with an equally ridiculous bra that appeared to be open at the nipple. A second flush of anger, as much her powerlessness as her being turned into an object made her grab the phone and again call. Nothing. She was just about to call 911 when her tormentor sent another text. She read the text and realized one bottle of wine wasn’t going to do it.

“Taylor/Stacey, you are to wear those tomorrow. If you don’t, I’ll just send another copy of this and some other items to Faculty/Student affairs, along with some great little tidbits of your ‘other’ work. You need not worry who I am, you only need to worry about compliance. As I said, tomorrow.” I have to admit I was feeling great about myself as I hit the sack. Tomorrow promised to be a fun day

**

Stacey felt supremely odd as she looked at herself in the mirror. The second bottle of wine had left her with a pounding headache, and she knew she had a lecture to deliver, no matter how she felt. Tenure was SO close. Now she was standing, staring at herself in the mirror. What this mystery person had sent over was borderline lewd, yet something, somewhere, was mentally tugging at her, she knew not what.

Stacey Putnam stood some 5 foot 7 (170cm) in height. She was in her mid 40’s now, but she knew from the attention that she got that she was a good looking woman. Straight dirty-blonde hair cascaded to just below her shoulders, and her upturned nose and piercing blue eyes always caught the eye of men. She worked out hard, and was in great shape for a woman in her 40’s, with slim hips, generous natural breasts, and a toned body.

She chafed as she entered her campus office. Stacey was being ‘forced’ to wear something no liberated, feminist woman would ever remotely consider. The bra was small, pushing her c-cup breasts up & exposing at least half her nipple, and the panties weren’t a thong; there was some fabric, but they rode high on the hips and just looked ridiculous. Yet something again tugged at her. She shook her head clearing it, because at that moment she got a text.

I grinned as I sat in my car. I could see her vehicle in the faculty parking, so she had to be in her office. “Go into your office, and send me a pic of you wearing the item I provided. I’d hate to have those pics go out to the school, you know how conservative they are. No need for face, just show that mole on your tummy. Do so now,” & hit send.

“Dammit!” Stacey said aloud. She HATED that this person was exerting control over her, he even knew about the mole! She huffed angrily as she paced in front of her desk. As she did so she touched her stomach, knowing that she had an odd-shaped mole there. Just then she got a following text.

“We can plan to meet, but first show me you’re wearing it, and I’m not asking.” I texted her, attaching an enlarged still of Stacey Putnam’s face. It showed her thong-covered-ass prominently as she was bent over a desk, looking back. She was wearing a ball gag, and her tear-streaked face was flushed almost as red as her ass. ‘that should do it.’ I said to myself, hit send, & headed towards our shared lecture, wondering how composed she would be.

Telling herself she that at least she didn’t have to show her face, Stacey very reluctantly unbuckled her slacks. Standing in front of the mirror on the back of her office door, she quickly unbuttoned her blouse, snapped an admittedly shaky pic, and quickly hit ‘send’ before she had time to think about it. Stacey was so angry and frustrated she stomped her feet as she got dressed and gathered her lecture materials. Again, she got the dreaded text.

“Verrry good, you’re learning.” I texted from the hall, knowing that would spin her up proper. “Wait in your office after your lecture. You’re taking your lunch in there. See you then.” I was grinning as I walked into the lecture hall. I didn’t even look at ‘Double-P’ as I took my seat, but at least two coeds smiled as they saw me adjusting the bulging junk in my pants.

The lecture went uneventfully. Old ‘Double-P’ actually did quite well. I was careful to slip out with the crowd, again not making eye contact. I wasted time out in the commons area, as I knew her office was at the far end of the hall, and everyone else was out to lunch, especially on a pretty Spring day like today. It was now or never, I told myself, and with an air of confidence, I opened the door and strolled right in.

Stacey Putnam went limp and her face a shock of white as I stepped past and leaned against her desk, sporting a smug smile. I had sprung the trap now, and I had slammed the door shut firmly behind me, flipping the lock as I did so. My prey was still in a state of shock, she even let out a tiny shriek in utter dumbfounded surprise as I casually picked up her phone, and turned it OFF. “No need for this, hate for someone to record our little conversation…”Taylor.” I said smugly, as I plopped it back down in front of her.

The pent-up emotion flushed Stacey’s face as she angrily hissed “YOU? You’re one of my dammed students, you fucking pig!!”

“Now-Now, inside voices, MS Putnam, lest your colleagues overhear” Seeing her stifle herself, I opened the manila folder I had in front of me, with yet more glossies, but these showed her naked in the doorframe, the dominatrix groping her. “Tell me, did it pay well?” I asked smugly, closing it and sliding it over to her.

“I can’t…I just can’t fucking believe this.” Stacey said. Her mind was reeling as she attempted to gain some form of composure. The feminist side of her was ragefully angry, while a quiet, darker part of her very much intrigued. “I paid good money to have that part of my life erased. I still can’t grasp how you-how you-”

“Professor, HOW I got this is not important, your compliance is.” I knew I had to give her a glimmer of hope, especially in light of my plans, so I added “Tenure decisions are now being made soon, & so I’m sure we can work something out to keep all this swept under the rug.” Seeing her mind spinning I added, “Saying anything will only get me kicked out of this school, make no mistake, I will hand this information over to the University and not think twice about it, so drop the front.”

Stacey sighed, knowing she was caught in a trap of her own making. “what do you want?”

“well I think that should be pretty obvious.” I responded. Seeing her mouth drop open I pointed my finger at her and said “I HOLD THE CARDS, STACEY – IS IT WORTH IT?” Seeing her jump from my outburst I spoke quieter. “Those videos and pictorials were real eye openers for a young man like myself, so again, I think you understand what is expected and much more importantly, what is at stake.”

In a low, dejected voice Professor Putnam said, “I understand”. And she did. Stacey Putnam was caught in a trap of her own making, and she knew it. There was also the strangest thing. At the sight of that old chapter in her life, she felt oddly, well…aroused?

“Good Stacey, good job, glad you see it my way. Now because you called me a fuckling pig earlier, I want you naked and on your knees in front of me. I want you to blow me and swallow, to show you understand.”

“What?” Part of Stacey couldn’t believe what she was hearing, while another part of her was surprisingly… willing?

“You heard me. You refused the offer earlier and called me a pig. I want to be sure you understand there is no more refusing me. Get naked and blow me. Do so Now”

Stacey Putnam looks like she is about to cry, but she finds herself doing the strangest thing. In one motion she pulls off her sweat shirt and then pants and walks over to me in her bra and panties and kneels in front of me.

“I said Naked.”

She takes off her bra and bends over to remove her panties. “Happy?”

Her boobs sag just a tad, but not much for a woman her age. She has nice nipples that are perking up but wow is there a lot of pubic hair. “Take off my pants and blow me, and don’t forget to swallow.”

Stacey glares at her tormentor, and sighs. Opening my pants she pulls them down, and I lean back against the desk. I’m not real thick or real long. I am just a bit above average, & shit am I erect. I take her by the back of her head and pull her forward. She resigns herself to her fate and opens her mouth. At first she is simply going through the motions. I tap her on the top of her head and she looks up at me.

“Stacey, you can just give me this below average blow job and I will sit back and enjoy it like a nice massage for the next half and hour or so. Or you can put in some effort and be done with a mouthful for cum in 5-10 minutes. Being that you have another class soon, I’d go with the latter”

Stacey can’t understand WHY she finds herself so quick to bend to this pervert’s will, but strangely, she does. Without a word said, Stacey sighs. His dick is pretty large, at least by her standards. So she takes him back her mouth, and goes to work.

I must have said something right, now because now she really starts blowing me. This woman has some talent. She is deep throating me, and it is really making me moan, I have to remember to be quiet. She takes my head into her throat, then backing up and sucking until just the head is in her mouth and repeating it.

“Oh Shit!” I say. My balls and thighs are getting covered in drool, and I’m wearing shorts. I know I can’t take too much of this, and & I realize if I cum in her mouth she is going to let most of it drool out, so I hold her head still and start fucking her mouth, as she grunts in protest

Stacey is gurgling a bit as her tormentor pushes in and out. She has put her hand on the base of the dick in her mouth as she wonders WHY she is allowing him to do this to her, and then she fills him start to twitch, and she knows what’s coming.

I keep stroking in and out with little shallow strokes. She is running her tongue around my head and with a loud, long grunt I cum. Professor Putnam has good skills and I cum hard. Three good shots and I am sure some dribbles. At first there is a choking sound followed by a cough and a loud gulp. I finally let her head go and she pulls off my dick leaving my dick covered in cum and spit.

I step past her and grab her blouse. I hold the front of it and wipe myself off with it. Making sure there are some nice wet spots on the chest. “Next time you lick and suck me clean.”

She glares at me. “Hey! You had to wipe yourself on my sweatshirt?”

“There’s another hanging on the back of the door.” I say, as I get dressed. “I’ll text you this evening. Oh, you’ll be busy with me during the day tomorrow.”

“But that’s Saturday!”

“yep, & I intend to enjoy you over the weekend to the fullest.” And without another word said, I walk out.

Stacey waits until she hears him clear the building to go to the small toilet in her office and cry, hard. She was ashamed of her past. She’s ashamed that it has caught back up to her and what she had just done to keep it a secret. But mostly, Stacey Putnam is ashamed of what she felt as she blew a student almost 20 years her junior. And it wasn’t shame…

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