Owning Professor Ballard Pt. 01

Professor Ballard took another sip of Chardonnay as she continued to survey the crowd. These faculty receptions were so predictable. The usual suspects were all present and accounted for. She nodded at her fellow faculty members politely. There was the stodgy department chair. God, was he actually wearing a tweed jacket? What a dolt.

Over there was the cluster of teaching assistants and new instructors, always anxious to impress. All smiles and handshakes.

These people were of no interest to her.

She turned her eye back to the group of students. Back to Kendra. She had been watching the girl all evening.

Kendra Wilson was a 20 year-old junior who sat in the front row of her comparative literature class. She was a gorgeous, blue-eyed blond from Nebraska. Quite the corn-fed beauty, Kendra. Ballard continued to drink her in with her eyes.

Professor Ballard was 44 years old. She was a tenured professor of English. She was tall and statuesque and extremely proud of the fact that she had virtually no body fat. She worked out constantly to maintain her figure. She had large, full breasts which decidedly did not sag. Her legs were lean and muscular and terminated in a well-shaped ass.

In short, she was a MILF, and quite a sexy one at that.

She had been divorced for seven years. She had two grown children, one in graduate school and the other a sophomore at this very college.

The professor had led a quiet, normal life until her divorce.

That was when she had undergone a sexual renaissance of a sort.

That was when she had discovered the power of young pussy.

Kathleen Ballard had never had a sexual experience with another woman until she was 37 years old. It happened almost by accident. She was recently divorced and decided to get out of the house and attend a faculty reception, just like this one. She had gotten slightly tipsy and was surprised to find herself flirting with a pretty, young thing who was obviously trying to get in to her pants. It had happened before. Young co-eds often tried to seduce their professors, male and female.

But this time, instead of politely rejecting the girl's advances, Professor Ballard had simply let events run their course. After a bit of coaxing and a little more wine, she had let the girl lead her down the hall to her office. That was how she ended up kneeling between the legs of a 20 year-old student. That was when she first felt the power of young pussy.

After that, she was lost.

She couldn't get enough young pussy. She became a connoisseur. She loved the sight, the touch, the smell, the taste, even the sound of young wet pussy. In Professor Ballard's mind, the allure of young pussy was further enhanced by its close proximity to young ass. The professor enjoyed pussy and ass in equal measure.

She had no interest in women her own age. She liked them young. Not too young, of course. She wasn't a total pervert. In fact, she made it her personal policy to only go after upperclassmen. Well, there was that one sophomore chick, but she had been wise beyond her years. Ballard shivered now, remembering how that girl had ridden her face and howled like a banshee, while smacking her cunt with her open palm.

When she wasn't working, all she could think about was young pussy. When she was working, all she could think about was young pussy.

Her career placed her in the perfect position to indulge her new obsession. She had a constantly revolving pool of talent flowing in and out her classroom.

She kept her eye out for the vulnerable girls with passion in their hearts and a touch of deviltry on their minds. They were at college. It was only natural that some girls wanted to experiment. Professor Ballard was only too happy to oblige. She learned to detect the ripening scent of precarious availability.

But most important, she learned to recognize the vibe.

The vibe was the current of energy put out by straight girls who might be interested in a harmless lesbian fling. Nothing serious, mind you, just a little walk on the wild side. Professor Ballard was very good at recognizing the vibe and acting accordingly.

She averaged one girl per semester.

Kendra Wilson had been putting out the vibe for weeks now. She was practically asking for it. And here she was, ripe for the picking.

Ballard's reverie was interrupted by a question that seemed to come from her left elbow.

"She's cute isn't she?"

The professor looked away from the pretty blond and found herself staring in to the deep blue eyes of a striking young brunette who had sidled up alongside her at the bar. She was standing very close.

"What?" said Ballard.

"Kendra. She's cute don't you think? She's my roommate. I couldn't help noticing that you've been staring at her all night."

"Excuse me. Do I know you?" asked the startled professor.

"I'm sorry. Where are my manners. I'm Jennifer Parker. I'm a senior."

She held out her hand.

The older woman took the proffered hand.

She looked at the girl appraisingly. She had a perfect oval face with slightly almond shaped blue eyes. She had full lips and straight white teeth. She was petite, but hard-bodied with cute, perky breasts and a spectacular ass. Overall, she was quite the exotic beauty.

And she was putting out the vibe. Big time.

Professor Ballard sensed all this in the time it took to swallow a sip of wine. After all, she was an expert at sizing up new talent.

Professor Ballard coolly began to recalibrate her expectations for the evening.

Could she possibly have them both?

She gave the girl her warmest smile as she shook her hand gently.

"Nice to meet you, Jennifer, I'm..."

"I know who you are," the girl said holding her gaze. "You're professor Ballard, the dyke."

The professor almost spit out her mouthful of Chardonnay. She pulled her hand away, as if recoiling from a bite.

"Kendra tells me you've been flirting shamelessly with her for weeks. She thought it was cute. When I found out who you were, I told her to seduce you. From the looks of things, she's been doing a good job. Were you going to make your move tonight, professor?"

Professor Ballad took two large sips of wine.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about," she said lamely.

The girl put her hand on the professor's shoulder.

"Don't worry, Professor. You're secret is safe with me. In fact, I was going to offer you a taste of Kendra tonight, if you're interested."

Jennifer began rubbing the professors shoulder. Her touch was electric.

"Wouldn't you like that, professor? We could use your office. I could have her spread herself across the desk for you."

The professor stared at the girl in shock for several seconds.

Then, despite her discomfiture, she began to feel a familiar tingle in her loins. The words the girl had spoken began to sink in. Across my desk? Now? Was this for real?

The girl looked over Professor Ballard's s shoulder at Kendra.

"You're a pussy hound, right? You trying to tell me you don't want a piece of that cunt right now? I might even let you have a taste of mine too, if you play your cards right."

Despite her initial shock, the professor found herself oddly captivated by this strange creature standing beside her. She was struck by her calm air of authority and completely disarmed by her directness. She was blunt, but not threatening in any way. She felt herself begin to relax.

This could be fun, she thought.

She examined the girl more closely. She had a dark streak of primitive sensuality that was hard to resist. Her eyes were alight with mischievous carnality. She was having fun.

The girl continued to rub the professor's shoulder. The gesture was surprisingly intimate in the crowded room.

"Or maybe I'm wrong and you're just another middle-aged hausfrau who doesn't like to play with girls. It's up to you, teach."

The girl gave her shoulder a final squeeze, then twirled on her heels and walked away.

Professor Ballard stood unmoving for a full minute as she replayed the transcript of the unlikely conversation in her mind.

Was she really being offered Kendra Wilson?

She looked over at the cluster of students. Jennifer was standing next to Kendra, whispering in her ear. The blond looked over at the professor and smiled.

Did she just wink?

The professor refilled her wine glass and walked to the other side of the room in to the realm of the faculty. She drifted in and out of boring conversations she did not care about and did not recall. She was introduced to people she immediately forgot.

All she could think about was Kendra Wilson's pussy.

On her desk. Tonight.

At last, inevitably, she found herself next to Jennifer again at the bar.

"Hi teach. Have you thought about my offer?"

"You've certainly gotten my attention, Jennifer. You're quite an interesting young lady." The professor realized she was a little drunk.

They looked in to each other's eyes. Jennifer was smiling.

"But I'm not sure I understand the dynamic here," said the professor. "Is Kendra your girlfriend?"

Jennifer continued to look the professor in the eyes.

"No, she's not my girlfriend. She's my slave, professor," she said evenly.

Professor Ballard took a moment to process this new information. She wasn't shocked. She herself had dabbled in a little BDSM over the years. She liked playing the slave to young pussy from time to time.

"I don't believe you," said the professor with a smile. "You're much too young to own a slave, my dear."

She touched Jennifer's shoulder.

Her tone was playful. She was openly flirting now. The game was afoot.

There was a pause.

"Oh, I see. The professor wants a show," said Jennifer with a chuckle.

Without another word, Jennifer turned away and caught Kendra's eye across the room. She gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head.

Kendra immediately loped over to join them.

She said nothing. She kept her eyes on the floor and stood quietly with her hands at her sides. Her legs were held slightly further apart than they needed to be. She was wearing a slinky black dress that only came up to the middle of her thighs.

"Kendra, say hello to Professor Ballard."

The blond looked up.

"Hello, ma'am." She curtsied slightly.

"Hello, Kendra," said Professor Ballard.

"Kendra, tell the professor what you are, please."

"I'm Jennifer's slave, ma'am."

"How long have I owned you, dear."

"About two years, mistress."

"And do you like being my slave, Kendra?"

"Oh, yes mistress. Very much."

"You do everything I tell you to do, don't you Kendra?" asked Jennifer.

"Yes, ma'am, of course."

"Tell me Kendra, are you wearing panties tonight?" asked her mistress casually.

"No ma'am, of course not." She sounded positively shocked by the question. "I am never allowed to wear panties."

"Show Professor Ballard, Kendra."

She was standing by the corner of the bar. It was a self-service counter. No bartender. The view of the rest of the room would be blocked by Jennifer and Professor Ballard.

Without hesitation, Kendra reached down and pulled up the front of her dress. She continued to stare at the floor.

Professor Ballard was struck by the raw eroticism of the gesture. Here was a beautiful girl standing in a crowded room voluntarily displaying her pussy to a complete stranger.

The pussy itself was spectacular. Professor Ballard could tell, even from a distance. She was an expert. It was plump and cute and clean-shaven. Her full lips were slightly engorged with arousal.

"Spread a little more, Kendra. Let us see it pout, dear," said Jennifer.

Kendra dutifully spread her legs further and tilted her pelvis slightly.

Her pussy lips did indeed appear to pout slightly.

"Who's pussy is that, Kendra?" asked her mistress.

"It's your pussy ma'am," she whispered hoarsely.

"I was thinking of letting Professor Ballard have a taste tonight. What do you think of that, Kendra."

"As you wish, ma'am. It's your pussy."

"Are you wet, Kendra? I believe I'm detecting a whiff of arousal," said Jennifer archly.

"I'm always wet when I'm around you ma'am," she said softly.

"Show me, Kendra. Two fingers should be sufficient."

With that, the pretty blond plunged the first two fingers of her right hand in to her sex to the hilt. She sloshed them around for a few seconds, then withdrew them.

She held her hand out in front of her for inspection.

Her fingers were glistening in the dim light.

"Why don't you shake Professor Ballard's hand, Kendra," said Jennifer with a wicked smile.

Kendra reached over and took the professors hand in hers. She gave it a quick shake, then wiped some of her wetness very deliberately across the back of the professor's hand.

The professor raised the hand to her face and inhaled deeply, looking directly in to the eyes of the blond beauty. Her scent was intoxicating. She could feel her own pussy ripening.

"You can clean them now, Kendra," said her mistress.

Kendra remained standing with her legs wide apart. She brought both fingers up to her mouth and sucked each digit thoroughly.

She was still holding up her dress with her left hand.

"You may cover yourself, Kendra."

She dropped the hem of her dress.

"Ask professor Ballard if she would like to eat your pussy, Kendra."

She looked up at Professor Ballard's face.

"Ma'am, would you like to eat my pussy?" she asked meekly.

Professor Ballard said nothing. She was utterly transfixed. Her pussy was now throbbing.

After a moment, Jennifer spoke.

"Oh, dear, where are my manners? Don't you think you should eat Professor Ballard's pussy first, Kendra?"

Kendra looked down at the floor.

"Yes, ma'am, of course."

"Why don't you ask the professor if she would be so kind as to allow you to eat her pussy, Kendra."

Kendra turned to me and looked me in the eyes. Her face was angelic.

"Ma'am, may this slut please eat your pussy?"

I continued to stare at her without speaking.

After a moment, Jennifer spoke again.

"Hmm. I'm detecting a little hesitation here, Kendra. Maybe the professor needs a little push."

She folded her arms across her chest, then cupped her chin with her left hand. She held the pose for a few seconds as if in deep concentration. Then she snapped her fingers in front of her face.

"I've got it. How about we play a fun game to break the ice?"

Kendra and Professor Ballard looked at her expectantly.

"Here are the rules, Kendra. First, you convince Professor Ballard to take you down the hall to her office. Then you lick her pussy to three orgasms. Then you come back here and give me her panties as proof."

Kendra and I looked at each other.

"Here's the kicker, said her mistress looking at her watch. "If you don't make it happen in twenty minutes, I'll whip your cunt with the wire hanger when we get home tonight. Forty strokes."

And with that, she walked away.

Kendra remained standing before the professor. Her eyes were wide. Her mouth began to quiver. She was obviously familiar with the wire hanger treatment.

"Oh God, Professor Ballard, she means it."

"Kendra, please. Take it easy, dear."

"No. She's done this before. She'll whip me if we don't do this. I promise you I'm telling you the truth. You have to believe me."

"You can't be serious," said Professor Ballard.

"Please, Professor Ballard, I can't take another cunt whipping. Last time, I couldn't walk straight for a week."

"Kendra, this is hardly the time or the place to..."

She was practically babbling now. Her eyes were wild.

"Please, Professor, you won't regret it, I promise. I eat ass too, ma'am. I'm very good at it. Please, you can do whatever you want to me. You can pee on me if you want. Please, we have to go. Now."

She grabbed the older woman by the hand and started pulling her toward the door. Her sense of urgency was palpable. She was obviously on the verge of panic.

At last the professor relented and allowed herself to be led slowly out of the room. She told herself she didn't have a choice. She couldn't let that beautiful pussy get whipped, could she?

It was going to be an interesting evening after all.

Her office was just down the hall.