Dominant Professor
By: Mia LuxeI focus on the night. I can remember Kevin talking about his car not once, not twice, but three separate times. Bright red dodge charger with black racing stripes.
His pride and joy.
There’s no way I’ll miss it.
I stand up on shaky legs, the room swirling around me.
“What do you mean you’re going to get him?” Shelly looks up at me with wide, wet eyes, her tears paused.
“I’m going to hurt the only thing he cares about,” I say, opening the door and walking to the stairs. I miss the first step and grab the railing, barely catching my balance before I tumble to the bottom in a messy heap. I make my way down to the common room and open the door to the student parking lots, the cold October air hitting me like a slap. I wish I had grabbed a coat but there’s no way I’m going back. Goose-bumps form up and down my legs.
I know Cody and Kevin’s dorm is one building down, and in the student parking lot, I see the tacky black racing stripes of his muscle car.
My room key is ice cold in my hand as I pull it out. I take a moment to stare at my canvas before I start, then put the key to the door, my already goose-bumpy skin crawling as I hear the metal on metal scratch of the first letter.
A
S
S
H
“What do you think you’re doing?”
I stand up unsteadily at the firm, authoritarian voice. Fear grips my heart.
Run! Fuck, it’s too late…
I turn to see who’s caught me.
It’s my worst nightmare.
Professor Connor Bold is standing over me in Nike sweatpants and running shoes, the heat of his breath condensing in the air. His eyes stare directly into mine, and I don’t see a trace of mercy in them.
“You’re coming to my office. Now.”
Red-Handed
Connor - Saturday, November 1st
I’ve caught Willow red-handed in the offense that’s going to get her kicked out. She sits across from me in my office. Instead of fear in her eyes, she stares straight at me, defiance and craving clear on her face.
Her breasts press up against the thin material of her white top, her plaid skirt riding high up her thigh and exposing her pale flesh. She’s my forbidden fantasy, down to the pigtails and bright red pouty lips. My cock stiffens in my workout sweatpants, pulsing and pressing against the material.
“What the hell were you thinking? You’re on academic probation, and you key a car?”
Her eyes widen slightly, but there’s no hint of fear.
“So report me. Get me kicked out. See if I care.” She spits the words out, daring me.
Willow wriggles in her seat, toying with her pigtails. She knows exactly what she’s doing. I can taste her need, smell her scent. She’s trying to get me riled up enough to bend her over my desk and spank her ass red. My cock tents the fabric of my all seasons running sweats, pressing obscenely towards her.
“I’ve read your file, Willow. The arson charge that became a mischief misdemeanor after you batted your eyes and played innocent to the judge. The shoplifting charge that the store owner conveniently dropped. You need a wake-up call."
She purses her full, pouty lips before responding. “A wake-up call? And I suppose you think you’re the one to give it to me?”
She’s playing up her brattiness. The scent of vodka lingers on her, and the alcohol is giving her courage to push me past the edge. The smell of alcohol is the only thing that’s stopping me from ordering Willow to bend over my desk. If she was sober, I’d be bringing my palm down hard on her ass and giving her the punishment she craves.
“Tell me, Willow, how did you convince the judge to throw away the arson charges?”
She leans forward, and another button on her shirt pops open, exposing the pale skin of her perfect breasts. She pretends not to notice, pressing herself closer to me to give me a view of her flawless young body. The beast in me fights against its chains. I want to rip her clothes off and take her hard on my desk, fill her with my hot seed and claim her body. I breathe in her scent, her lust overshadowed by the alcohol.
Willow cocks her head, surprised by the question. She looks like she’s considering whether to tell me the truth or spin a tale.
“He had a daughter at my school who always dressed in bright turquoise. She was around my age, really shy and very kind. So I bought the same dress as her, did my makeup the same, hair, everything. I showed up to trial and sat there meek as a mouse. I even let myself cry a little when the charges were read, a pitiful little sniffle.”
