I sat in my apartment on Tuesday morning. Spencer's class started in a few hours. I felt sick, I didn't know what to do. Ellen had noticed that I was acting distant the last two days but hadn't pressed. I was worried she thought I was mad at her for leaving me at the party, but I hadn't been able to come up with a different explanation. After all, I couldn't exactly tell her or anyone else the truth. It was too late to drop his class without penalty, which was a headache I didn't need, I wasn't confident I would pass without our study sessions either though. I had picked up my phone to text him and ask if our arrangement still stood and put it back down about 500 times the past two days. I didn't want to make him more upset with me. I sighed, there was one other thing I could consider. He had mentioned before, in passing, that he was always in his office for a few hours before class that weren't formally office hours. I could just go ask him in person before class, give myself the space before class starts to accept it if he says no, and not attempt to communicate off campus with him again.
Okay. Okay! That's it then. I put on my gray pleated skirt and my lilac sweater – he liked this outfit last time, I could tell, maybe it'll soften him up – and I made my way to the bus stop. Once I was on campus I nervously made my way towards Spencer's office, it reminded me of the first time I came here, also ready to apologize and grovel for help. At least this time I was actually sorry for something. *Knock, knock, knock* I rapped at the door, trying not to suppress the feeling that I was about to throw up. I heard the chair drag across the floor, I heard his footsteps make his way to the door, I shut my eyes from the anxiety, hearing the door open before I saw it. "Rose?" Spencer asked, something resembling relief and anxiety mixed together in his voice. "Why are you here?" I opened my eyes, finally.
"I just needed to talk to you about something before class, sir." I told him. Hoping the sir would placate whatever hang ups around propriety he might be holding right now. Spencer took a deep breath and stepped aside to let me in. I walked in, taking in the space for what I was worried could be the last time. He really did have an obscene number of books in here, if he kept bringing more he would lose floor space. His desk was messier than normal, which was a shame because it was prettier than any other one I had ever seen in a professor's classroom. A beautiful dark red-ish brown, I had always suspected it was his personal property rather than the school's, but I never asked. I dropped my bag in the guest chair, declining to sit, this could be very quick after all. I turned around and leaned against the back of the chair to look at Professor Reid, who was himself leaning against the now closed door – that same studying look on his face as he took me in.
"I just," I started, trying to maintain my eye contact as best I could. "wanted to know if we were still meeting after class today." He stared at me silently, no hint of response in his face. "Or if you thought that wasn't a good idea anymore, given the 'inappropriate' behavior from the other night." I continued, hoping to prompt him to speak again. He still didn't, this time only raising his eyebrow at my use of quotations around 'inappropriate'. "It's too late for me to drop this class without it affecting me negatively, and I still don't want to, I still find it really interesting and want to see it through. But, if you aren't comfortable with the one-on-one tutoring anymore I understand, I just wanted to know." I rambled on, growing more and more frustrated by his silence.
"Why did you text or call me to ask that?" He finally responded. Furrowing his brow, not like he was confused, but like he was interrogating me. Just like my first day here in this office.
"I… I didn't want to put any of this context into writing anywhere, or make you more uncomfortable by continuing to contact you on your private line." I responded. That was the answer! It was what I had been aching over since Sunday, right?
"Bullshit." Spencer responded, not taking his eyes off my face. "You could have emailed me formally, you could have masked it as a schedule question, you're smart enough for that." I blinked at him, finally tearing my eyes away. Looking up, down, to the side, suddenly anywhere but at him felt correct. "No." He snapped at me suddenly, a hint of anger rising in his voice. "Don't do that, look at me." He ordered. I forced my eyes back up, reluctantly. "Well?" He pressed. "Why?" I let out a very heavy sigh, I could feel tears piercing behind my eyes. Why was he doing this? Why does he always do this? Insist upon dissecting me. I could feel the same indignation that landed me in this situation to begin with start rising.
"I guess I don't know," I huffed out, it might have been a yell if I wasn't trying to hold in so much emotion. "You're the brilliant profiler, the superstar FBI Agent, clearly you wouldn't be taking this line of interrogation if you didn't think you had an answer already, so why don't you tell me?!" I gave. He laughed, a single sarcastic scoff out his mouth, but a laugh nevertheless.
"You don't want me to do that." Spencer said.
"Oh you're so sure of yourself that you know what's in my head more than me?" I challenged. "Fine, it doesn't matter, I think I have my answer." I snapped as I collected my bag and began to head towards the door he was still blocking. "Thank you, Professor, for all your time and help, I'm sure I'll manage on my own from here." I stopped in front of him waiting for him to move. He didn't. Spencer breathed in deeply, still keeping his eyes on me.
"You can be such a little brat. Do you know that?" He asked, his voice steady. I was taken aback by his language so much I had to take a step away from him. "Fine." He hushed out, taking a step towards me prompting me to take another step back, dropping my bag on to the floor. "I'll start with the glaringly obvious, which is that you've had a telegraphed crush on me from our first day of class, and it's shocking to me that you thought you were hiding that at any point." He began. I felt my stomach drop at that statement, but tried as hard as I could to not let it show on my face. "There's nothing wrong with that. I'm rather used to it at this point, I once had a student compare me to Indiana Jones, I've realized I'm an object of attraction to a lot of the younger students on this campus." He continued.
"So, no, worry not, your staring at my hands, your suspiciously constant crossing and uncrossing of your legs, and the constant uptick in stuttering and word stumbling wherever you speak to me is not itself bothersome to me. Nor, really, is the way that crush has propelled in you a desperation to impress me, by whatever means seems most optimal in the moment, be it compliance or opposition." He wasn't letting up, Professor Spencer Reid had clocked my number from the day I first came to speak to him in this office, and all I could do was listen in stunned silence. "None of this undermines your intellectual prowess or curiosity or desire to learn, but it's certainly informing of your approach to those things. Being good at the subject matter, learning the material and passing the class wasn't enough for you, you needed my approval for it as well. Not wanted, needed." I felt the tears start to roll down my face, silently.
"As to why you're here today, why you came here early and in person, is not out of a sense of protecting me in any way, it was out of a hope that being here in person, in front of me would better get you what you want. That my less than professional affection for you would be more present in me if we were in the room together. What you wanted was for me to pat you on the head and tell you you weren't in any trouble and you would get everything you wanted." Spencer's voice was getting less and less calm, now and so was I. Unable to contain my flurry of emotions anymore, my hand involuntarily raised to slap him only for him to catch my wrist before it could. Starting to raise his voice, Spencer continued, "What is bothersome to me, is myself and my feelings, which are only aggravated by everything you do." Wait. His feelings. I finally freed my face to emote, furrowing my brows at him, hoping he wouldn't stop talking now.
"You flaunt your way in here, three days a week, being equal parts brilliant and infuriating. You beg me for my help as much as you fucking argue with me!" He insisted, stepping closer to me, my wrist still locked in his grip. "And every fucking week, I have to hold back the urge to give you what you want, because my career, my entire reputation as a professional in all aspect of this field could be jeopardized by it." He finally hissed out. We were both breathing heavily, staring at each other intensely, until finally I couldn't hold it in anymore. He was right, and I knew what would get me what I wanted. The same thing that got me everything else I wanted.
"Please?" I whimpered out. I saw something shift fully in Spencer's eyes at that. I felt his grip on my wrist tighten differently. And I felt his back straighten out, almost like he was even taller now than before.
"Get on your knees, Miss Prescott." He said sternly, dropping my wrist. I dropped down immediately, looking up at him from the floor, he looked like an angel. He walked a circle around me, I could feel his eyes on me, like he was debating the best approach. Spencer crouched down in front of me, not quite level with my eyes, but as close as he would get from this angle. He lifted his hand to gently stroke my face with his thumb, "Good girl." He cooed, so quietly I might have missed it if I were capable of processing anything other than him. The gentle praise was short lived, however, as he immediately transitioned to holding my face tight in his hand by the chin, ensuring that I was looking at him and nothing else. "Listen closely, little girl, this isn't like class, I don't want to have to repeat myself." He finally spoke. I nodded the best I could with my head in his grip.
"When we are in this room you're mine, you will do what I say, when I say it. You will respect my authority, and you won't talk back to me." The wetness in my core was building more and more with every word he said, each sentence building my desperation for him to touch me more. Spencer continued, "You may call me 'Sir', 'Professor', or 'Daddy', though I suspect that last one will take some breaking you in." He opined, he was partly right at least. It'd be a cold day in Hell when I gave him the satisfaction of calling him 'Daddy', never the less I couldn't resist the effect his talking about me like a toy he had to play with a few times before I worked right had on me, my arousal leaking all the way through my panties by now. "Failure to comply with these rules will result in whatever punishment I see fit, is that clear?" he finished. I attempted to nod, but this was not enough for him. "Words, baby girl."
"Ye- yes. Yes, that's clear." I answered, breathless despite my utter stillness.
"Yes what?" He asked, squeezing my face tighter.
"Yes, Professor!" I quickly corrected myself.
"Good." Spencer responded. "Now, and this is very important, if for any reason you need a break from being played with, you shout 'Red Light', if your mouth is otherwise occupied, you tap me twice, tell me you understand." He commanded.
"I understand, Sir." I moaned out, the arousal between my legs was beginning to cause me discomfort, but I dare not comment on it out of fear he'd disliked such neediness. As if he were reading my mind, his hand suddenly dropped from my face to under my skirt, rubbing the wetness from my thighs.
"Such a needy whore," he mumbled out, "Did you come in here this wet, or did this happen just from learning the rules?" He asked me, all I could muster out was a stutter of 'ums' in response which earned me a laugh and an affectionate pat on the face, like how you pet a dog's head. Spencer stood back up and began making his way to his desk, "Follow me." He ordered. I attempted to get up but was corrected immediately, "I didn't tell you you could stand up!" Spencer called to me, without even looking over his shoulder. I stared at him in disbelief over my shoulder.
"You want me to crawl?" I asked.
"What a clever deduction you just made, princess." He responded as he sat in his seat. I felt even more heat grow all over me, at the condescension and the nickname, gasping out at my growing need. Every move he made made me want him more, so shakily I made my way around his desk, and to his side on all fours, before propping myself back up on my knees next to him. At this point I was just praying for him to touch me again. Anyhow, anyway, if all he wants from me is suck his cock under the desk I would if it meant feeling his hands in my hair.
"Do you remember the first day you ever came into this office?" Spencer asked, looking down at me.
"Yes, Professor." I breathed out.
"You came in here, fully prepared to humiliate yourself, to prove to me how serious you were about my approval and that you wanted to do well in my class." He stated, making me weary of how this was going. "I have some work to handle at my desk still, I was in the middle of it before you rudely interrupted me earlier." He began, "while I continue to work on this for the next ten minutes or so, you're going to crawl into my lap, and hump my thigh." He finished, as if he had asked me to rearrange the filing cabinet.
"I- what?" I asked, slightly confused. That sounded about as slow and torturous a way to get off as possible.
"If you're really as pathetic, and horny as you claim to be to ask all this of me, you should be more than thrilled with this." He responded. "Prove yourself to me like you did last time." This felt planned. Like he had been thinking and fantasizing about how he would do this for almost as long as I had. With a deep breath I stood up and climbed into Spencer's waiting arms, straddling one of his legs. "You may wrap your arms around my neck to brace yourself, but don't you dare touch me or yourself in any other way." He instructed.
"Yes, Sir." I responded, nodding. He carried on with the work on his desk as I gripped him tight and began grinding Professor Reid's thigh. While frustrating, and nowhere enough to satisfy what I needed, the friction still made me release a filthy moan. Spencer carried on, looking less than unbothered, you would think I wasn't there if not first the hardness I could feel growing between his own legs. The time moved agonizingly slowly, and after five minutes I felt my thighs starting to burn, as I began to slow down I felt a sharp slap on my ass. I received no words, but understood the message anyway as I picked my pace back up.
After three more minutes of slow and frustrated grinding I felt my orgasm start to build, eight minutes of humiliation and humping his leg like a puppy has turned me into a soaking wet mess, and my reward was on the horizon. I dug my fingers into his hair and began to build up my pace, breathing and moaning louder before Professor Reid shut the folder he was looking at and swiftly lifted me off his lap and gently onto the floor. I let out a frustrated cry, tears returning to my eyes. Spencer leaned down and wiped them away from my face gently. "You did very good for me, baby." He cooed, allowing me to lean my hand into his face. "However, you won't be cuming today."
"What?! Are you fucking kidding?" I croaked out in a tone that was meant to sound angry, but certainly came out more as pathetic and desperate. Spencer's hands slid from my face into my hair where he gripped it tightly, making me gasp, and my wetness somehow grow even more.
"Orgasms are for good, well behaved little girls." He began to explain, the condescension thick. "And you, Miss Prescott, have been nothing but a mouthy, misbehaving whore, for the past month." He guided me up by my hair before turning me around and bending me over his desk, just like I had imagined so many times over the weeks. "Now, what I should do for your little comment is fuck this tight little ass of yours, and pull out to cum on your face for all your classmates to see." He hissed from behind me, sending a shiver down my spine. "But lucky for you, I've been craving that dripping pussy of yours for weeks now, and I won't be denying myself that." He punctuated by slipping his fingers between my panty straps and yanking them down and off of me. I moaned at the cold air suddenly hitting my exposed center. I was pleasantly surprised by the introduction of his warm fingers on the clit, teasing me and causing me to gasp out. "Now listen," he began again, the sound of his belt unbuckling in the background, "You were whining like a bitch in heat just humping my leg, so I imagine milking my cock is going to make you sing like you're at the opera. But I regret to inform you, my dear, that this is still a public office in public space."
Spencer pulled his hand away from me, and I heard the brush of fabric before he leaned over me, holding his neck tie in front of my face. "So two very simple rules, while I fuck you baby girl," he whispered in my ear. "No cumming, and no noise. If you're a very good girl for me, you might earn the privilege to cum after class. Tell me you understand."
"I understand, Professor." I hushed out, my eyes transfixed on the neck tie.
"Good girl." He cooed before securing the tie in my mouth and behind my head. His hands gripped my hips tight and before I could fully process it, his cock was slamming into me. He set an immediately punishing pace, the careful control he had been exhibiting thus far seemingly gone. I couldn't help my still moan out, but his tie was sufficiently muffeling what would have been uncontrollable screams of ecstasy without it. My hands gripped the edge of his desk to brace myself, but I quickly felt Spencer's hand gripping in my hair again as he pulled my head up and leaned forward to start whispering in my ear.
"You come in this room every week, in your tiny little skirts, and back talk to me, knowing you won't be bent over my lap and spanked the way you need to be for it, but not anymore." He huffed out, his pace not letting up. "You're going to start arriving at this office with your panties off, instead of running your smart little mouth to argue with me, you're going to hold my cock in it while I kindly re-explain the week's lesson to you. Maybe your cock hungry brain will be able to focus better while satiated." He growled. I caught every word despite how fuzzy my mind felt from his relentless thrusts. His cock felt as good and mind melting inside of me as I had imagined, if he asked me to at this moment I would gladly agree to sick dick every afternoon in the campus quad, let alone in his office 2-3 times a week. "Now, be a good girl and apologize to me for talking back." Spencer moaned into my ear. His grip tightened even more in my hair causing me to make a muffled whine. "Go on, pretty baby, you wanna be a good girl, say you're sorry. I'll understand you." He punctuated with another roll of his hips.
"I'm sorry." I tried my best to say through the gag.
"I'm sorry who? For what?" He snapped back.
"I'm sorry for being mouthy! I'm so sorry for being a bad girl, Professor!" I responded as clearly as I could through the tie and the tears now running down my face.
"Good girl! And what are you gonna do from now on?" He asked me, his voice getting shakier and shakier.
"Be a good girl for you, sir." I cried out as he finally dropped my hair, placing his hands back on my hips and building up his pace rapidly.
"Fuck, Beautiful." He groaned out as I felt his hot cum fill me up inside. He finished with a final thrust, gently rubbing my back and untying the tie around my head, as he slowly pulled out. Breathing deeply, I heard him fall back into his chair in a huff. I took several rapid breaths as I pushed myself up off his desk, and allowed myself to follow him, falling back into his lap, where he almost by instinct began stroking my hair gently. "Good job, baby girl, you did very good for me." Spencer praised, arousing me in a way that reminded me I had in fact not been allowed to climax, just as he had promised. I somehow found my frustration with this fact satiated by his completion. Feeling his cum inside me was satisfying in a way no orgasm I had received in the past ever had been.
"Spencer," I finally spoke, he looked down at me softly, that soft Spencer look he gave me when he asked in earnest about my thesis or when he insisted on driving me home. "What time is it?" I asked with a heavy breath.
"3:14," He answered without even thinking or glancing at a clock. "We both have to get to class." He tapped my thighs lightly to indicate that I should get up and gave me a small peck on the top of my head. I slid off his lap and began looking around his desk for my panties he had removed earlier as he redid his belt around his pants. "Looking for these?" he asked, holding my wet panties between his fingers.
"Spencer–" I started trying to reach for them only for Spencer to neatly shove them into his pocket with an evil glint in his eyes.
"No, I'm afraid these are mine now." He declared.
"Spencer! I have to go to class, I'm wearing a skirt and your–" I cut myself off, still too shy or in shock to say it all out loud.
"My cum is inside you, yes I'm aware." He finished for me. "Tsk Tsk, and I thought we were making such good progress on you learning not to back talk to me." He continued. "You'll just have to keep being a good girl for me and keep your legs closed during class if you don't want that to be a problem, baby girl." He kissed my forehead again before turning to head out briskly. "I'll see you in class in 13 minutes. And then back here after class for our review." He finished as he stepped out.
I stood alone now in his office, dumbfounded. What a way for that talk to go.