"God, are we going to do that again? You know I'm not going to settle down. I've told you that when we first put all this together. Not going to happen." His fingers grip the back of my neck, squeezing slightly. "No one has piqued my interest enough to consider it. And I'm quite sure this mouse will be just like the others." He leans forward and whispers in my ear. "A little fucktoy for me to use and tire of. Don't romanticize me, Mouse. I'm not some historic hero sent to save you. I'm more likely to bend you over and take that tight little ass of yours than to save you."
Shivers wrack my body at his lewd words. So dirty and filthy. They wash over me, making areas I didn't even know existed tingle and wake up. Unconsciously, I shift again in his lap, making him groan long and loud.
"God, when did you get laid last, Jeremy?"
"About thirty minutes before coming over here. Delilah was very...accommodating."
"But you're hard already!" Both faces swivel towards me, and Professor Richards tightens his grip even more.
"Yes, Mouse. I've been told I have a voracious appetite and a libido to match. Still want me to initiate you into the world of sexual slavery?"
Did I? Every molecule demanded it from me. "Yes. Please?"
"Well then, I guess we'll have to disappoint you, won't we? I'll make sure your first few times is with our gentler members, but after that, I can't promise anything." Dean Anderson looks back to the paper and slides it forward.
At his words, Professor Richard vibrates against my back. "I'll do it."
Shocked, Dean Anderson glanced up at him. "You don't have to do this. You know our rules."
"Oh, I do. I'll break this mouse in good and proper. Trust me."
Nodding, he holds a pen out for me. "Now or never. What's your choice?"
I take a deep breath then sign. I should be scared. Terrified. Some part of me is, but it's a ridiculously small part. Right now, every inch of me quivers with excitement. Freedom. Freedom in submission. I can handle that.
* * *
Professor Richards
God. Her ass is so tight and hot in my lap. Every squirm rubs it up against my shaft. I want nothing more than to throw her down and rut into that tight, hot pussy. But I have to restrain myself. She hasn't signed yet. Normally, I don't care. I've never had a personal stake in this. Yes, I've been the cause of adding girls to our roster, but none of them have touched me like Melody. There's just something about her. Her innocence, her un-jaded view of the world. A small measure of sadness flits through my mind. She's not jaded yet, but soon she will be. She'll be just like all the other washed-up girls we keep in the bordello. It will take a while, but eventually, she'll crack. It's inevitable.
The moment she picks the pen back up, my heart stops. It's now or never. Will she choose to submit? More importantly, will she enjoy submitting to me? Shaking my head, I dispel the romantic notions trying to fill my brain. This isn't about romance. This isn't even about if she'll enjoy it or not. She's here for my pleasure, and that's all that matters. The fact that she picked me is laughable. I haven't initiated anyone in years. I probably don't have the finesse or gentility to even try. At this point in my life, I'm jagged and hard. The softness disappeared decades ago.
She shifts forward as she signs, grinding her ass even harder against me. Gripping it in my hands, I grind against her as her fingers scribble across the page. God, but it felt good to have my hands on her. My mouse, finally in my grasp. I let go and sit back. She's not my mouse. Nor will she ever be. She's just another warm body to get me through the day until I can come inside the next one.
Once the paper is signed, she sits back up and casts another one of her flushed glances at me. It's the blush that gets me rock hard and keeps me there. How many times will I have to fuck her to make that blush permanently disappear? Perhaps I should keep count? A fuck journal, if you will? Already my mind starts whirling with all the ways I can make her blush and embarrass her into a pile of goo. Glancing down, I notice the wet spot on my pants and grin. No time like the present.
Sliding her off, I make a great show of airing my pants off and pin her with an affected glare. "You've made quite a mess on my pants." Just as I expect, her face turns beet red. She tries to look away, but I stand and grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. "What do you have to say for yourself?" Her lower lip quivers a touch, and my cock engorges even more.
"I'm sorry. I don't know-"
"Clean it up." I catch John out of the corner of my eye. He's just as turned on by this morsel as I am. He stands back, letting me do my thing. He's not into humiliation as much as I am. He's got other kinks up his sleeve. This is my domain. She stands there for a moment, clearly flailing around in her mind. Her eyes dart around the room, landing on the bathroom. As she moves to head that way, I grab her arm, stopping her short. "Where do you think you're going?"
"To clean you up?" Her brows furrow for a moment. "There's got to be a rag or something in there."
An icy smile slides up my lips. "You made the mess, and you're going to clean it up. With your mouth."
Her eyes widen, and she stares at me, completely dumbfounded. "But I-."
"You're already being punished for cheating; you do not want me to add disobedience to that," John grumbles behind her.
Eyes wild, she looks between John and me again. I smother a laugh. The poor lamb is looking for someone to save her, but she'll find no salvation in this room. Sliding my fingers up her scalp, I finally entangle my fingers in her hair. Just as soft as I imagined. Pulling her down, she stumbles into a kneeling position. From here, her lips are so close to my crotch. It's a struggle to not unbuckle and shove my cock into her mouth. That will happen later tonight. I want our first time to be memorable, so I'll hold off for now. I release her hair and sit back down in the chair.
"I'm sure your mouth works. You certainly worked it well enough to berate me for how I run my class. So, this should be easy enough. Take your tongue and lap up all of this delicious essence you left on my pants."
She hesitates, uncertainty and, if I were a betting man, some tears shine through her eyes. It's such a delicious feeling. I feel ten feet tall. The more I debase her, the taller I become. I don't revel in humiliation for humiliation's sake. I'm not a heartless man, but based on how aroused she became during all of this, there's a part of her that loves it, craves it even. Even if she can't accept that in her brain.