From: cowgirl [cowgirl_stupid@excite.com]
Sent: March11ÈÕ2001ÄêSunday 12:19 AM
To: webmaster@bdsmlibrary.com
Subject: Professor Pamela (pt.5 of 5)
Professor Pamela Panty Sniffer (Epilouge, or 5 of 5))
(F/F, humil., professor/ student, panty fetish)
By Professor Christina
(edited and proofed, by cowgirl)
This is the last part of a 5 part story of a university professor who
manages to explain and rationalize her bizarre repressed sexual obsession
with one of her female students underwear, written by a woman I believe was
actually a real professor. Her disapearnce
forced me to fill in some blanks, so I apologize for any inconsistancies. In
other words, the parts that suck are my fault.
Chris, bless your soul, where-ever it is. Hope you just got bored and didn't
die or somethin'. (sad laughter)
I guess when you friends disapear on de' net ya never know…
:-(
- cowgirl
***
I was stared at the computer screeen. . . stunned! Appauled! My lips
sputtering, my mouth flapping and gasping speechlessly, my cheeks puffing,
hair prickling, face burning and tingling, I felt a shamefully enraged blush
rush
down my shoulders and chest to envelope my shuddering frame, But I could not
peal my eyes from that bizarre photographic Image. I uttered a guttural,
strangled groan, light-headed, dizzy, almost faint. Gazing dumbfounded at
the screen, swaying, falling forward, my hands gripped the arms of the chair
to steady myself.
I felt the rounded, padded corner of the edge of my chair jutting hard up
between
the tops of my thighs, pressing up against my crotch and public bone. It
hurt, but
I only squirmed a little, adjusting my posture, but unwilling to move much
more.
My eyes lifted to the top of the screen and then scanned back down again
very slowly,
silently *mouthing the words* at the bottom before slowly making their way
up again.
I heard the chair creaking, felt it rocking a little, then a little more,
accompanied by a tingling, squishy sensation and sound emanating from . . .
.
I suddenly became alarmingly aware that I was "humping" my chair! Here in
my
own office! In a daze, gazing at this grotesquely lewd and degrading
greeting card, that someone--Cindy!--had somehow managed to electronically
manipulate to demean and humiliate me in the most despicable way, I'd begun
to masturbate! To actually straddle and hump the back of my desk chair!
I was aghast! Mortified! Horrified at my own actions! And yet, I couldn't
stop. Worse, once I realized what I was doing, seemingly on their own
accord, as if directed by some remote device, my legs spread further,
spraddling the corner of the chair, as I lifted onto the toes of my shoes
and
grinding my hips and pelvis harder, gripping the arms tighter to keep from
tumbling head-first onto the floor. The chair rocking and creaking
hideously,
my hips humping and grinding, I heard the tight skirt of my suit--my grey
pinstripe "power suit" my God, I was wearing it!--begin to tear.
Letting one hand go from the arm of the lurching chair, precariously
balanced
but unable to let up humping in the least, I reached back and tugged the hem
of
my skirt up to my waist. It got stuck on my wide-spread thighs and
still-hump
ing hips and I tugged harder and heard another rip. Squirming frantically
and squealing in a combination of shame, frustration, desperation and
arousal, I humped up in the air, off the back of the chair and finally
yanked
the hem of my skirt up over my waist. Flinging my one hand back down to
again grip the arm of the chair with both hands, I grunted and panted and
humped the chair with my pantied ass now bouncing up and down like I was
riding a bucking bronco.
Snorting and whinnying as if to supply the horse's sounds, I gazed back up
at
thebizarre greeting card--at my tits obscenely bulging out from my suit
jacket, at
my bare ass and drooping, pee-stained, ruffled underpants, at my new
Panty-Wetting specialty and forthcoming specialty and title of "Professor
Pamela Panty-Sniffer—
and grunted through one shamefully shattering, thunderous orgasm after
another, shamefully snorting out my new stupidly self-excepted name, until I
fell forward wondering what Cindy- NO, Miss Margolis - would think if she
could see me like this,
and I rode that wave to several mind numbing orgasms! Untill, shameful and
utterly exhausted, I loudly toppled the chair onto its side, and collapsed
onto it, bumping my
head dumbly on the floor.
Huffing, but shamefully self-conscious, sprawled out over my toppled desk
chair,
my skirt bunched up about my waist, I stirred painfully, and then heard a
knock
on the door. "Pamela! What in the world's going on in there?! Are you
alright in there?!"
It was Miss Stern. Good God, I thought. Now what?!
"I'll get my key!" I heard her yell, her voice fading as she ran down the
hall. "Be right back!" She called out, further down the hall.
My head throbbed as I scrambled to crawl over the upturned chair and get up
off the floor. Standing on wobbly legs, I yanked the chair up with one hand
and tried to tug my skirt back down with the other. My high heel teetered
momentarily and I felt my ankle twisting. For Christ sakes, why did I wear
those things anyway, I wondered, exasperated, as I spread my feet a little
to
stablize my stance, still tugging my skirt down, and felt something binding
my legs at the thighs. Good God! I thought. How did my panties and
pantyhose get down there?!
Reaching up under my skirt--did I have to get it one size too small, so it
hugged my hips and ass so snugly?--I was fumbling with my panties and
pantyhose, frantically yanking, trying to pull them up just as I heard Miss
Stern put the key in the door.
"I'll be right there," I heard her say, and I glanced to the side to see my
card still on the screen, ready to greet her as soon as she got the door
opened. Lunging across the chair, I grabbed for the mouse, and started
moving it around in hectic circles, clicking continually, hoping to somehow
hit upon the corner and close the window.
I heard the door opening and let go of the mouse, scrambling to shuffle
myself around between the chair and the screen.
"Good Lord, what's happening in here?!" Miss Stern gasped, scowling. "It
sounded like a wrestling match! And you're the only one in here making all
that noise?! What in God's name were you doing, woman?! Are you alright?!"
"Ahem," I gasped, turning to face her, standing in front of the screen,
trying to catch my breath. "Uh, w-well, hmph, y-y-yes," I stammered, still
huffing. I could barely speak. My hands figited, nervously trying to
straighten the front of my skirt, trying not to look down at it and catch
her
attention, glancing briefly over my should to try to assure myself I was
blocking her view of the screen. "I was, uhhh, j-j-just, um, trying to
re-re-arrange the f-furniture a little and my uh, my uh ch-chair fell over.
"Oh. Hmph," Miss Stern sneered curtly, still scowling. "Well. You could
ask for some help you know, from the custodian or one of the male professors
or students. And, if you're planning on moving that desk, you should shut
off the computer first, for heaven's sake."
I blushed more deeply than I already had and quickly turned around to face
the screen, hoping I hadn't uncovered it anymore than it was already. I
heard her gasp behind me, and, taking a deep breath, I grabbed the mouse
firmly in my quivering hand and began clicking, trying to close the window
again. Just as I finally got the pointer in place and closed the window,
much to my relief, I heard her cluck her tongue and clear her throat.
"Well, Pamela," she intoned in a deep, disapproving voice, "I wouldn't call
a
man to help you with the furniture without straightening yourself out a
little first. Not unless you want to give them an eyeful wagging your
uncovered behind around."
Already hot and red, my face burned and must have turned purple. Looking
down and back, I gasped to see the back of my skirt pulled up, its hem
tucked
into the waistband of my panthose, my pantied bottom fully exposed! I
quickly reached back, shamefully untucked my skirt and tugged it down, too
embarrassed and humiliated to lift my head and look at her glowering face.
"And why, may I ask," she huffed, "did you have to lock the door to move
your
furniture?" She could only be doing this to deliberately shame and
humiliate
me further, I steamed, trying not to let my rising anger show on my face.
"It's not like you kept it from getting too loud. Everyone probably heard
the crash throughout the building. And I even heard you grunting and
squealing before that. And, besides, leaving the door open would have kept
it considerably cooler in here than it is now, not to mention inviting men
to
help with it, probably without even having to ask and ruffle those feminist
feathers of yours. Well, I have to get back to the office. There's a
couple
of boys--students--who shouldn't be left alone in there. Do you want me to
send them over, by the way, to help you move your furniture?"
I declined with as much gratitude and grace as I could manage to gather
under
the circumstances, trying to let my anger and shame simmer down to a low
boil.
Halfway down the hall I heard her call back, "Did you get one of those
weird greeting cards from Miss Margolis, too? Strange girl. Very strange
girl."
I almost fell through the floor, as her words fluttered one last orgasm
through me.
__________________
After regaining my composure, I closed my email, and the offending
picture, straightened my chair bac kup, and was able to let the previous
events drift into the back of my mind, thankfully.
But, I don’t know how long I sat staring at the plastic bag on my desk. My
mind was a complete blank. I masturbated. The entire time. It was not a
concious act. In fact, it was entirely devoid of any conscioius
component. I didn't even stop when I became aware that Cindy was
standing before my desk. I was numb. I had lost all pretense of dignity.
I was shattered.
"Whatcha got there, Professor Sniffer?"
She didn't wait for an answer, but picked up the plastic bag and looked
inside.
"Whew! Is that YOUR pee-pee, Professor Sniffer? Have you been eating
asparagus or something?"
"...HellOOOooo. Anybody home?"
She was knocking on my desk.
"I ASKED you a question. Is that your pee?"
"...yes..."
"Then why aren't you sniffing it? Isn't that what you do? Aren't those
panties? And aren't you a panty sniffer? Well...stick your little
panty-sniffer nose in there. And call me Miss Margolis,remember?"
"...yes...miss margolis..."
"No. Don't pick it up. Just open the bag for now, but you'll need to
restrain yourself from sniffing until I tell you. Open it, bitch!"
That word made me flush, and I had another...just a small one. But I did
as she told me.
"Well, from all the lewd boysterious noises snorting out your office, I
assume you received my little e-mail card, and are ready to accept who you
really are?" she smiled, almost in a friendly tone.
I noded, dumbly, holding the bag of foul smelling and now cold pee stained
panties
open on my desk.
"Very well, then you have my permision to burrow your nose into those smelly
panties, you sick little panty sniffer!" she giggeled delighted at herself,
as I lowered my face down.
" So...if those are *your* panties...what are you wearing now, Pammy
Sniff-Sniff?"
"...nothing...miss margolis..." came my muffeled reply, as I obediently
inhaled my own repellant yet precious oders.
"Ooooo...you nasty, nasty thing! Show me. Wobble over here on your knees
and hike up your skirt for Miss Margolis to see, Pammy."
She sat down as I stood, walked around my desk, stopped in front of her
and paused. I wanted to fight, to scream, to run away. But I sunk into
myself
and fought back the tears as I lifted my skirt. I was struck once again by
how
terribly attractive she was, her firm round breasts displayed provocatively
by
the low neckline of her tight white tee-shirt as she leaned forward, resting
her elbowson her thighs and looking up at me--all innocence and expectation.
My thighs trembled as I slowly unveiled my most private parts for her.
"Open it up for me, Pammy. I want to see if you know how to wipe
properly. If you know, I'll reward you."
I did as she asked, wiping as my mommy had shown me.
"Just as I thought." She said, noting my juices now flowing freely. "You
*are* a
little closet lesbo, aren't you? You're all wet from me just *being* here,
aren't you?"
I could not speak. But my trembling intensified.
"As your reword for sucessfully wiping your little bush, would you
like to *my* panties to wear, Pammy?"
I lost control at this, no longer trying to hidethe orgasms. Kneeling there
holding my pussy lips open for her, I spasmed and gushed. Shamelessly, but
with boundless shame. I came...more than once.
...after which she applauded...sweetly...so terribly sweetly. She
giggled and clapped. I felt proud. Stupid, yet proud. And excited beyond
words.
"Now enough playing around, Pammy. We're here to talk about my work
study job, aren't we? Why don't you go over to your desk and fetch the
evaluation report you refused to sign? 'kay? Bee a good little sniffer, and
I
will let hide away inside my panties."
I walked over on my knees and picked up the report with the pee stains and
poop smear on the corners, my resistance almost compelatly gone.
"Good. Now get your smelly old butt under the desk, and I'll fix this
stupid document for you. That's a good sniffy."
Her little skirt was so tight she had to wriggle to get it up over her
lovely full hips.
"Okay, Pammy-sniffs, get your big sniffer over here between my legs.
Remember,
no touchie- wouchie, though. Except with your lips."
I was already dizzy with the unreality of all I had just been through. I
cannot begin to describe the nirvana into which I was carried by Cindy's
scent. I wanted those moments to go on forever. I wanted to just die
like that; right there between Cindy's marvelous young thighs. Then she
roughly shoved my away from her thighs and into the evaluation report. The
evaluation, of course, rated her outstanding in every respect. Inthe comment
area, she had written:
"In view of her extraordinary talents, I am giving Miss Margolis a
special independent research project and recommend doubling her pay
rate. I will assume responsibility for all her previous responsibilities
under Miss Stern, in the hope that Miss Stern will allow me to sniff her
wonderfully smelly little panties."
Then, abruptly, she pushed the chair back, stood up, and as she wriggle
her skirt back down she was all busineess. I started up at her on my kees
feeling such warmth and love for her, for the privlidge of being allowed
access
to her wonderful panties and mysterious feminine oders. Though, deep inside,
as she grabed her purse and sneared down at me, it still stung bitterly that
I knew she emotionally felt nothing for me.
Nothing.
"Okay, Pammy. Sign it with your new name, turn it in,
and write me tonight and tell me everything you'll do for me. Don't you
dare change a word of it! And stay down there on the floor for the next two
hours, remembering what a stupid pant sniffing little loser you are for
accepting
such a stupidly humiliating name and Identity from one of your own students.
Ciao, Pammy. Gotta run!"
And she was out the door.
Hovering in a periorgasmic haze, I followed Cindy's instructions, I picked
up
tmy pen and shamefully unhaled the the brown and yellow stains on it as my
trembeling fingers got used to writing my new name.A part of me knew that
this was ending of my career, and basicly, my whole life. It did not seem to
matter. I was home.
End
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