13 comments/ 53164 views/ 8 favorites Office Hours Ch. 01 By: acaciatree I was 25, and I had developed my first ever schoolgirl crush. I was a first year law student and he was my professor. He had attracted my attention slowly – there was nothing particularly extraordinary about him, but I'd always been the type to be more attracted to someone once I had a sense of his personality. Professor Smith was in his early fifties, with graying brown hair, blue eyes, and academic looking glasses. Your average middle-aged law professor, for the most part. But after a few days watching him lecture, I found that there was just something about him that compelled me. I had taken a place in the front row because it was one of the few left by the time I got to class on the first day, but I soon became glad for my position as I sensed his eyes on me a little more often than they should be. I started to fantasize about him constantly, in and out of class. Every time he made a gesture or spoke, I was mesmerized by his hands and lips, imagining how they'd feel on my body, whether he'd be rough or gentle. I imagined the taste of his breath and skin, wondered whether the hair on his body was brown or gray. For the first time in my academic life, I started going to office hours on a regular basis. It felt pathetically transparent – some of the questions I invented bordered on the inane. Yet it had become a sort of ritual. Twice a week I would show up, ask him about some tangential point he'd made in class. We'd talk about it for a few minutes, and then go on to talk about anything and everything else until someone else showed up to talk to him. Once, when nobody else did show up, I stayed there talking to him for three hours. The excuse that I thought of that day was a book that I "needed" to write a paper. Actually, the book was from 1970 or so and I doubted it would be useful, but it had the advantage of being unavailable at the law library, so I thought I would ask Professor Smith if I could borrow his copy. When I arrived at his office door, it was closed. I took a deep breath and knocked, twirling the end of my long, wavy dark hair around my finger. Even though I did this often, I got nervous every time. That day I was wearing my favorite perfectly broken in jeans, and a white t shirt with a deep v-neck that made my skin look tawny and showed a hint of cleavage. My breasts weren't very big, but they were being assisted that day by the only push up demi bra that I owned. I never wore anything outright seductive, to his class or to office hours. I didn't want to be obvious – even though I knew how ridiculous that was. Not even the densest person could fail to see that I was seriously infatuated with him after watching me eat up his every move with my eyes in class. But I wanted him to think of me as intelligent, interesting maybe funny – not some stereotypical bimbo who wanted to fuck her professor. I was too old for that sort of thing, and it was undignified. "Come in," Professor Smith called out after I knocked on the door. I opened the door and stepped inside his office. I thought that his eyes lit up a bit when he saw me, but was I imagining things? "Hi," I greeted him. "Katherine, come in," he said, gesturing with his hand and smiling. His smile was what I loved the most about him – how it was so genuine, and made his eyes crinkle at the corners. "What's on your mind?" "Well, I've been working a bit on the paper," I said. "I was thinking of using that book – the one by Shaw? that you mentioned in class the other day, but the library doesn't seem to have a copy of it." "Really? I suppose it's gotten outdated," he said. "But I have a copy here – should be on the top shelf -- you're welcome to borrow it." "Actually, I don't see it," I said, stepping over to his bookshelf and scanning the titles. The shelf was filled with old, worn casebooks that probably came from his own days school twenty some years ago. "What did you say it was called again?" "That's odd, it should be there," he said, getting up from behind his desk and coming to look at the shelf himself. I had never stood this close to him before, close enough to touch him. He was just about a foot away from me, and I could smell him – just the faintest, clean soapy scent, as if he'd stepped out of the shower minutes ago. I did my best not to inhale audibly. I thought to myself that I would love to bury my face in his armpit and just breathe in the smell of him. God, what was wrong with me? "Ah, here it is," he exclaimed, reaching out and pulling a thick volume off the top shelf. "This is the one I was thinking of. Sorry, I think I told you guys the wrong author in class. It happens with old age," he smiled and shrugged, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling. "Oh, don't be silly, it looks like you've got a few good years left in you," I teased, then wondered if I'd gone too far. A flush spread over my cheeks, but the professor chuckled nervously. "I appreciate your confidence in me," he said. "No problem," I smiled nervously, holding his gaze even as I felt my blush deepen. It was like a train wreck – I couldn't look away even though I wanted to. For a moment, he seemed flustered, but he gathered himself, cleared his throat and glanced sideways. "Well, I hope the book is helpful – even if it's a bit dated, there are some interesting ideas in there." "Yeah... I'm sure it will help," I said, feeling vaguely disappointed. He seemed to want to end the conversation – one of our long talks was not about to ensue. I worried that I had overstepped some line. "Well, thanks," I smiled with false brightness, and slipped the book into my messenger bag, preparing to leave. But then, his hand was on my shoulder. I stopped dead, and my knees liquified. He had never touched me before. I meant to say "yes?" in a casual, normal sort of way, but once I saw his face I actually choked on the word. It was the way he was looking at me. It was a look of naked desire that I could feel in my stomach. His eyes were searching mine and it was almost unbearable to maintain visual contact with him. The skin on my face and chest was on fire. "Tell me if I'm wrong." "No," I said. "You're not." When my voice came out it sounded distant, unfamiliar, like someone else was speaking. I felt lightheaded. We stood there in a state of suspended animation for a moment, his hand on my shoulder. I had no idea what was going to happen next. Professor Smith had always seemed so concerned with ethics (something I admired about him). I couldn't imagine that he was actually going to kiss me during office hours. On the other hand, the devil on my shoulder reminded me that all law school grading was anonymous, by ID number only, so would it really be that unethical? I stopped pondering the ethics of the situation as the professor slowly moved his face closer to mine. My heart started doing a crazy, erratic dance at the realization that this was actually going to happen. I closed my eyes as his lips brushed mine, letting them linger softly for a moment. Then I pushed into him, kissing him harder, slipping my tongue between his lips, exploring his mouth. Kissing him like this I could barely remember how he had seemed so far away, so inaccessible. Our bodies seemed to fit perfectly together as we embraced and the taste and scent of him were simply comforting, like nothing bad could touch me as long as he was holding me. It was a pure, almost childish feeling – the kind of security and warmth that usually disappears when we grow too big to be held on our parents' laps. Still kissing me, he ran his hands gently under the hem of my t shirt. I raised my arms as he ran his hands up my sides, sliding my t shirt off and sending delicious chills down my spine. Then he undid the front clasp of my bra and slid it off my shoulders. He supported the weight of my breasts with his hands, moving back a bit and looking at them with undisguised appreciation. Cupping them gently, he lightly ran his thumbs over my nipples. They began to harden under his touch, humming with a lovely ache. He took my nipples between his forefingers and thumb, beginning to pull gently, teasing them out to their full length. I whimpered as the desire for more pressure, more force, became agonizing. In response he pinched, tentatively at first, and harder when I started to squirm. I felt my cunt starting to open up, pulse with blood, become slick, wet and swollen. His cock had grown hard and was pressing insistently against my thigh. My fingers worked quickly to unbutton his shirt. I untucked it and slid it off his shoulders, and lightly ran my fingernails down over his chest, his stomach, tracing the thatch of hair that led downward from his belly button. His erection was straining insistently against his pants. I moved my hand down to caress it through the cloth, and he groaned. I pushed against him, backing him up against his desk. He unbuttoned my jeans, and I pulled them down and stepped out of them, kicking them aside. He wrapped his arms back around my waist and moved in closer to me, pushing his bulging cock against my crotch. I wriggled and writhed against it, desperate for stimulation. He slid a hand down my stomach and into my panties. His palm cupped my mound, and I gasped as his fingers gently split my pussy lips, stroking the length of them and covering them with my juices. His face was close to mine and he whispered in my ear. "My god, Katherine, you're so wet. You feel amazing." "Mmmh," I moaned. The feel of his breath against my skin sent delicious shivers all through my body, and hearing him say my name was a delicious aphrodisiac. It made me gush. My cunt was so slippery and I could feel the blood pulsing through it, the muscles contracting and releasing like they were desperate to grip something, anything. He crouched down and firmly grasped my ankles, pulling them apart so that I was standing against the desk spread eagled. Even with my underwear on, I felt incredibly exposed in this position. Then starting at my knee, he ran his fingers gently up my inner thigh. He came tantalizingly close to my pussy, running a finger just under the elastic of the crotch of my panties. I squirmed, trying to get his fingers to move just an inch inward, even though I knew my efforts were pointless. With his face so close to my pussy, I could hear and even feel him breathing in my scent as he ran his hands over my thighs, my ass, everything but what I wanted him to. I could barely stand it anymore, and I whimpered. "Please, please...." "Please what?" he said. I found myself too embarrassed to say what I wanted him to do, and merely groaned in response. Finally, the professor hooked his fingers under the waistband of my panties, and pulled down. I could only imagine how my pussy looked to him, glistening, swollen, ready to be fucked. "You're beautiful, Katherine," he sighed. He moved his hand up to me, cupping my vulva, feeling its heat. I ground against it, an animalistic response to stimulation. He moved up to my clit, touching it gently, making little circles. I groaned in desperation. Then he spread my lips and ass cheeks apart with soft hands, and gave the length of my slit a long, luscious lick with the flat of his tongue. "Oh God, oh God, Professor Smith," I murmured. The sensation was making me dizzy, lightheaded. All the blood in my body was rushing to my cunt. He continued to gently lick and probe my slick folds with his tongue, moaning. His tongue flicked at my clit, teasing me mercilessly. I ground my entire vulva back against his face. "Suck," I breathed, even as I blushed at my own vulgarity. But he obliged, drawing my clit in between his lips, making circles around it with his tongue. Only the fact that we were in his office kept me from screaming. I had to bite my hand. "Please," I moaned as the yawning emptiness in my cunt became unbearable. "Please. I need you..." I felt two of his fingers gently slide into my pussy and explore, moving around in circles, pressing against the walls, finding my raised, spongy g-spot and stimulating it mercilessly. Contractions started deep within my abdomen and I knew that soon I was going to be having an orgasm whether I wanted to or not. He kept sucking and tonguing my clit, moaning as if it were the best thing he'd ever tasted, and expertly pressing his fingers into that spot which seemed directly connected to the core of my being. "Ahhhh god, my god my god my god," I groaned, as tremors began to overtake me. I grasped the desk and wailed as my body shook, my cunt convulsing and clamping down on Professor Smith's hand. My head thrashed from side to side as a powerful orgasm pulsed through me. Slowly it died down, but my pussy kept twitching, grasping his fingers. Finally he slowly withdrew, stroking my back with his other hand as if to comfort me. I actually felt sad as the sensation of fullness gave way to one of emptiness. Like something was missing. Despite my shaking muscles I managed to stand up. His massive erection had subsided a bit but was still tenting out his pants. I hugged him, drawing him close to me so I could feel it against my body. "How did that feel?" He whispered in my ear, smiling. "Oh, it was just OK," I teased. I felt his erection stirring against me. "I'll have to do better next time, then," he said. Even though I didn't know whether he really meant for there to be a next time, I felt a little thrill at his words. "And when's that going to be?" I said, undoing his belt buckle. "Soon... I hope." As he spoke I unzipped his pants and pushed them and his boxers down over his hips. My eyes widened as his cock sprang free. It was simply huge – the biggest I'd ever seen in my life. For a minute I wondered if I'd be able to handle it. "Oh my God," I said, the sheer amazement evident in my voice. Our eyes caught, and we both burst out laughing. "I ahh... I don't have any condoms," he said then, actually blushing. I guess he was of the generation where the safe sex talk had not become ingrained habit. And shit, of course I should have known he wasn't going to have any condoms in his desk drawer. I was the type who usually never went outside without sunscreen, much less had sex without a condom. But I was frantic to fuck him, condom or not. "Well...I usually use condoms, but I'm on the pill, and I know that I'm clean; I got tested after my last relationship," I said. "But it's up to you." "I'm clean... but you really shouldn't trust me like that," he said, with fatherly concern. "I know," I said. "But I can't help it." I traced his testicles lightly with a fingertip, and ran it up the underside of his cock as he made a guttural sound. He grabbed me, pushed up against me, holding me against the desk and pushing the tip of his cock against my clit. We kissed, our tongues in a dance of feverish exploration as our hands roamed over each others' backs. Then he lowered himself a little, so that the length of his cock was touching the slippery length of my slit. As he moved against me I pushed myself down on his cock, and tried desperately to reposition myself so that I could take him in my pussy. He pulled back a little and gave me a look of affection and amusement. "You seem to be getting impatient," he said. "Stop teasing me," I admonished him indignantly. He smiled. "You're sure you don't like being teased?" As I whimpered, he lifted me up and sat me facing him on the desk. I wrapped my legs around his torso, trying to draw him in. But he kept his hands on my hips, letting his cock slide just millimeters into me, and then hovered there, opening me but refusing to fill me. "Pleeeease, Professor, please, just fuck me." It came out like a sob. I truly thought I might implode if I was denied satisfaction any longer. My head was thrown back, my eyes closed, and my voice came out like a sob. Then I felt his hand on my cheek. I opened my eyes and looked at him. "Katherine," he said, his voice thick. "You're sure?" I almost laughed. Clearly we had thoroughly transgressed every student/professor boundary by now. But even in my desperation to fuck, I was still rather touched that he asked. "YES, for God's sake." "Good," he sighed. He slowly pushed his full length into me. I gasped in delight, both from the delicious sensation as I was gradually stretched and filled and from hearing his own groan of pleasure. Nothing had ever felt so amazing, so perfect. I laid back, drawing my legs up so that my knees pointed towards the ceiling and my heels were on the edge of the desk, almost touching my ass. He wrapped one arm around my knee, and put the flat of his other hand on my mound, rubbing my clit with his thumb. "Oh Jesus, oh God Professor that feels so good, oh God oh God," I moaned, nearing incoherence. As he thrust in and out of me with slow, measured strokes, maintaining steady pressure on my clit, I felt myself moving closer and closer to the brink of orgasm. But I sensed that he was holding back, and I wanted all of him. I wanted him to feel as frenzied as I did. "Fuck me harder, please," I whispered, grasping the edge of the desk with my hands. He maintained the same maddeningly steady pace, back and forth, stroking my swollen g spot with the gentle upward curve of his cock. I didn't know if he didn't hear me, or if he was just trying to drive me insane. "God, oh FUCK, please," I cried, in a volume verging on inappropriate for office hours. He chuckled and put a finger over my lips. "All right, little one." He leaned down and whispered in my ear, driving into me powerfully, burying himself in me. I felt a deep, satisfying ache as his huge cock pushed up against my cervix. "Ohwwww ow oh God yes oh God," I cried. It felt unreal. With every stroke it was like he was turning my body inside out, caressing my internal organs, working me into the most unimaginable frenzied desire. The pleasure almost verged on pain, yet I had never felt anything so exquisite, and it was intensified as I felt the professor losing control of himself. I could tell that at first he'd been afraid of hurting me, but he didn't seem to be thinking anymore as his pace increased, and he murmured my name over and over, Katherine Katherine Katherine. Our bodies thrashed together, my hips bucking up against him until I came again and again, in a stream of orgasms so unbearable that finally I had to beg him to finish. Then I felt myself filled with a pulsing heat as he groaned, all the muscles in his body seizing and then finally, relaxing. His strangled cry of pleasure was music to my ears. We stayed in that position for a while after he came, just breathing hard, me lying back on the desk, him standing up inside of me, bent over, his head on my chest as I stroked his hair. The office was quiet, the air thick, and I could hear the muffled talking and laughter of students passing by in the hallway. I think we both knew that once we broke that spell, neither of our lives would be the same. Office Hours Ch. 01 TRUE STORY - Another day of Sexual Psychology 367 was drawing to an end as professor Summers was finishing his lecture notes and assigning the reading for the weekend. I couldn't help watch the bends in his country club slacks and the way the suit coat hugged his tight buttocks as he swayed at the podium. Professor Summers was in his early 50's, but was still as vibrant and energetic as a 25yo with a real passion for sexual psychology. His was the only class I never skipped. I usually sat in the back as not to be noticed, and I tended to slump down in my chair to lay low and observe and not get called on to talk in front of a 150 person lecture. I was almost out of the lecture hall and was already thinking about track practice when I heard my name called by a familiar voice. "Mr. Williams," touted Professor Summers. "Can you hang back just a minute? I need to talk to you about the essay you turned in on sexual orientation last week." "Sure," I said hesitantly. "I have to get to the track for practice but I have a few minutes." I walked up to the podium where Prof. Summers was packing his laptop away and asked what the issue was. "Well," he said, "It looks as if your essay isn't here. I thought I grabbed it before class but it must still be in my office. Do you have time this evening after track practice to run over to my office so we can talk about it?" "Um..." I said as I tried to figure out what could possibly be wrong with my essay. "I guess so." "Great, that'll save me running back to campus later on. How does 5:30 in my office sound? That work for you?" I thought for a second, "Sure that should work, but I gotta run, I will see ya then." I turned around to walk to the bus stop and lit a cigarette wondering what was going on. Was he on to me? ... ----- Track practice ran late and I had to run all the way to the quad to Mr. Summers' office since the buses had stopped running through campus. I got to the Psych building at 5:25 and ran in and up with 1 minute to spare, though at this point I was a sweaty mess. "Mr. Williams, you made it! Good, go ahead and take a sea-." He stopped mid-sentence as he saw me dripping sweat from head to toe. My running shorts and t-shirt were soaked through and pasted to my body. "Here let me get you a towel." He reached into a cabinet and grabbed a beach towel out for me to sit on. "Thanks Prof. Summers." "No problem Ben." It was weird, growing up I HATED when people called me Ben, but for some reason the way Prof. Summers said my real name made me melt a little bit. It was so sensual. But I was still trying to catch my breath from track and was clearly out of it at the time. "So about your essay Ben. I figure you don't participate in class a lot because you have a lot going on right now with track and school and I'm sure the girls are all over you. But I couldn't help but notice that your essay bears a striking resemblance to another essay I found on Google. So before we start talking about your essay further, is there anything you'd like to tell me?" I completely froze up in terror. I was busted, and was about to fail and not one word popped into my head. I was as shocked by what I said as he apparently was. "I don't know Prof. Summers...I guess I just freaked out over the topic because if i'm really honest about it I think I may be interested in both women AND men...and I.." I started sobbing as I imagined getting kicked out of school and telling my folks why etc. But none of that happened. He just sat there and looked at my essay, then back at me, then back at the essay... "Well I have an idea," he said, "and you may or may not like it, but it WOULD be an alternative to expulsion. The point of the whole excercise was self-discovery Ben. And I think if you have these feelings about men, it would be unhealthy NOT to explore them and find out what they mean. If you sit and talk with me honestly about this, then we may be able to consider this your make-up essay." "Ok," I said immediately. Though I did not yet fully grasp what he intended. "What types of thoughts do you have about men Ben? Are they romantic thoughts? Strictly sexual? What do you imagine when you think about it?" I started to get more nervous now and gulped as I started spilling my guts to him. "Honestly Prof. Summers, I don't think of guys in a 'kissing fashion' as much as i think about what it would be like to be submissive to a man and to..." "Yes Ben?" "And, well, I have thought a lot about what it might be like to...give oral to a guy..." "Well it sounds like you need to just do it and experience it so you know what you want. This constant state of questioning is not a healthy one Ben. Why don't you come and sit down over here on the bean bag." "Ok," I said. And got up to change seats. When sitting on the bean bag chair I was a few feet below his desk chair level and already I felt powerless, but that was nothing. He turned to me once I was seated, and as he stood in front of me, he looked down and made eye contact and said these words verbatim, "Now Ben, what you're going to do now is this, I'm going to unbutton my pants and pull out my penis. And when I do that, I want you to take a minute to just look at it. And then I want you to do whatever you FEEL comes next." He finished my instructions and before I could blink his limp 8" cock was inches from my face...just dangling there waiting for ME impatiently... I was utterly shocked, but far too horny to NOT go through with this. After I looked for a few seconds I reached out and took his cock in one hand and cupped his balls with the other. I wanted to capture every second of this in my memory. Just feeling him grow in my hands made me wonder how he might feel in my mouth, or even in my ass, but I was fairly certain I didn't wanna go there. "That's it Ben, experiment with it, give it a lil kiss if you want even." I didn't need much more prompting than that. I kissed the tip of his cock lightly and his whole cock jerked up and hit me in the nose. We both chuckled for a second and then I took his head into my mouth and started playing with it with my tongue and just remember wishing i could eat it up. Prof. Summers then reached behind my head and started playing with my hair as I gave him head for the first time in my life. I tried to take him all the way but could only get about 4 inches in before I gagged and had to try again. Finally he made me lay down on the bean bag again and told me to open my mouth like a good boy and take his load. "I'm gonna feed you now Ben, and I want you to hold my cum in your mouth until I tell you it is ok to swallow it...is that clear?" "Yes Sir," I said, as I was so turned on I would've probably allowed a gang bang :). He jacked his cock furiously and as he started convulsing he pulled my head onto his cock and held me there with both hands as he started spurting jet after jet of hot salty sperm onto my tongue, filling my mouth in seconds. I accidentally swallowed some trying not to let any spill there was so much. As i laid there with a mouthful of my teacher's cum I could not imagine what else was about to go down. Prof. Summers got up and went to open the closet and brought over a long skinny butt plug a little smaller in thickness than his own monster, and looked at me and said, "I know you're unable to talk right now as your mouth is full," as the smile on his face grew, "but i am gonna lube this up and guess where it's going?" My eyes widened with his smile and he seemed to be really enjoying my nervousness and fear. He slowly slid the plug into me and i about swallowed from the shock. It was ICE COLD. Turns out he had kept both the glass plug AND the lube in the fridge. I cringed in pleasure/pain and he just chuckled as he slid it deeper and deeper until i could feel the cold slick glass fill my entire canal. He got up once more and returned with a glass for me to spit his cum in..."Here ya go, don't spill." No sooner had I spit out his cum and his cock was back in my mouth. I couldn't believe he was already hard again. But my mouth was immediately emptied as he turned me over and slowly removed the cold plug from my ass. He asked for the warming gel by my head and I knew what was about to happen and there was no use trying to resist. As he slowly slid his rock hard 8" cock into me it felt like fire meeting ice and i almost came on the spot. On all fours on the floor of my professor's office he took my virginity slowly at first, but furiously after that. He started fucking me at a faster and faster pace and i could feel him breathing harder and driving even deeper into my stomach. He leaned closer to my ear and growled "I'm gonna breed that virgin ass of yours Ben, and once I do that you are MINE." With that he started erupting into my ass and the pulsing of his cock drove me over the top. As I started spraying spurt after spurt of hot jism, he grabbed my cock and pointed it into the whiskey glass where i had spit his cum earlier which was now about half full! after he began to shrink a lil in my ass, Prof. Summers slowly pulled out of me, being sure to hold the glass under my asshole to catch his second load as it oozed out of my newly fucked hole. When we were done, he handed me the glass and I'll NEVER forget what he said to me. "So Ben, in order to show me that you truly learned your lesson not only about who you really are inside, but also about cheating, I'm going to need to see you drink that glass full of our cum," he said. And while you do that, I'm going to be using this device on you," I looked up from my gaze at the 6 ounces of cum in the glass to see my Psychology professor holding none other than a digital video camera in his hand, red light flashing. "Bottoms up," he said. And as I tilted back the glass and opened my lips to the river of delicious semen, i discovered for the first time that I was, am and will always be a cum addict for life. And as I said, the camcorder was right in my face, guaranteeing there would be a round 2...or else. Office Hours Ch. 01 The first part of Dr. Michaels' and young Jason's unusual, sweet romance. Much, much more to come. And if you do want more, feel free to shoot me an email. 1 "What is rhetoric?" said professor Michaels, thumbing the underside of her glasses as heat continued to bloom ever deeper in her cheeks. "One may as well ask, 'What is communication? How does one talk to another within a community with rules and expectations?'" Dr. Michaels bit her lip for a brief moment, and pounded on the huge desk before her. Three dozen eyes watched and listened, rapt by her obvious passion. "Rehtoric," Michaels said, carefully composing herself, "is a study of nuance. It's the meaning buried beneath the stone-written words." Michaels flinched, and pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment to compose herself before this roomful of inquiring eyes. "Rhetoric is the study of what we actually mean to say—who we actually are—beneath the words we use." A hand shot up. Lindsay Gregs. Dr. Michaels hated Lindsay Gregs. She was young and scrawny and stupid and...young! "Yes?" Michales said slowly, letting a hand slip below the desk while she slowly smiled. "Um, wouldn't what we are," said Lindsay, "inevitably influence what words we use? I mean, just how far can you separate what are from what you do?" Dr. Michaels groaned in the quietest part of her throat, and she gripped tighter beneath the desk. Where did such an idiot as Gregs get that kind of insight? It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. With the utmost discipline and practice, Dr.Michaels crossed her hands atop the desk before her and stared Lindsay Gregs in the eyes. "You'd be surprised," Michales said, "how often what we do is entirely separate from who we...think we are." Lindsay nodded. Another student. A child, really. Just another child. The chiming on her watch called the end of class. Students began packing their bags, using sheaths of notes as bookmarks in their texts. "Chapter 4!" Dr. Michaels reminded her class as they began to lineup to escape her. "Every word will be on the test next Thursday, so no skimming you lazy bastards!" Michales loved that higher education allowed for a looser tongue. The professor chuckled to herself...loose tongue indeed! Michaels allowed herself a shuddering sigh as she peered beneath the desk at the top of a shaggy brown head, still bobbing and writhing passionately between her legs in the desperate attempt to please her. Dr. Michaels watched this pathetic display for a small while, lips twisted in a cruel, satisfied sneer while both hands fisted tight handfulls of the boy's sweat-damp hair. Before very long, though, Michaels gave the shaggy head a hard wrap with her knuckles. "Enough, moron," she snarled. "Everybody has been gone for five minutes." The desperate lapping at her cunt stopped and an exhausted, yet gentle voice cooed, "Sorry, Ma'am." Jason slid his head away from Dr. Michael's crotch and nuzzled her wet thigh while smiling up at her with serene adoration. "Thank you, Ma'am." Jason. His beautiful, infuriating face utterly soaked with sweat, saliva, and Michaels' own juices. Those huge, girlish lashes matted, that strong chin oozing a thin string of liquid. That young, pouty mouth split wide in genuine gratitude for letting him eat her out for an hour straight while she taught her class. Those clever brown eyes gazing at her as though beholding perfection itself. Dr. Michaels rolled her eyes and snorted with disgust. "Pathetic,"she said, and gave Jake a firm backhand across his damp cheek. Jake simply ground his face harder against her thigh, smiled wider. "Thank you, Ma'am..." came a muffled murmur. Michaels sighed and fetched a handkerchief from the bag at the corner of her desk. Plain, but thick and soft, and smelling faintly of lemon and rose. She whipped it a couple of times at Jason's head and barked, "Well?! Clean me up, you disgusting little idiot! I won't have your vile drool dripping down my legs between classes." "Of course not! I'm sorry, Ma'am!" Jason eagerly took the kerchief. Michaels snorted when she noticed the boy taking a quick, reverent sniff of the little cloth before dabbing it between her legs. Oh, how the pitiful pervert would love to keep that rag after cleaning her! Michaels chuckled and began tweaking one of Jason's ears hard between two fingers as he worked. He winced and groaned, but didn't slow a beat. Most of Dr. Michaels' nails were gnawed short, but she had disciplined herself to keep her thumbs and forefingers long since meeting Jason. "Did you manage to pay attention today, kid?" Dr. Michaels asked. Jason bobbed his furiously. "Yes, Ma'am!" "Good. Because I expect you to take that test on chapter 4 with everyone else, and if for once you manage to do well, perhaps I won't count you absent for today." "Thank you, Ma'am, I swear I'll do my best." Dr. Michaels soon decided that she was sufficiently mopped and sprung up from her chair. She gave the kneeling Jason a hard knock beneath the chin to indicate that he was allowed to at last stand up from beneath her desk. Before he had even finished rising, she snatched the kerchief back from his hand—now more sour than rosey—and stuffed it into a pocket in her blazer. Jason had done very well indeed during class. Orgasms certainly weren't the point of this type of scenario, yet the boy had still managed to offer up two almost decent ones in the past hour, using his tongue and fingers alone. He was certainly learning, but that would still not earn him any rewards. Jason was tall, but then so was she. In fact, they were almost the exact same height, and would be eye-to-eye if Jason were allowed to look her in the eye without permission. They also shared a certain thinness, though Jason had recently become less thin than lean. Taught. He had begun working out over the past several months to better please—and withstand—Michaels. Dr. Michaels liked to keep herself presentable and professional. Her hair was short, dark, and always well-styled. Her clothes may not have been tailored (what young academic still paying off loans could afford something so frivolous?), but they were carefully selected. Professional. Jason, by contrast, was every bit the ridiculous, embarrassing little boy Michaels treated him as. His brown hair was longer than hers, and merely combed at best on most days. He wore a daily uniform of t-shirts, jeans, and tennis shoes—in other words, the lazy, tacky ensemble worn by every pathetic boy from age ten to whenever they finally grew the hell up. It was a ceaseless, obnoxious reminder to Dr. Michaels that she was easily over ten years older than her little pet, nearly 30 to his nearly 20. The very sight of Jason was so annoying that she wanted to slap him every time she saw him, and she did so as he straightened from under her desk, his still-glistening face beaming at her. As always, Jason merely smiled and peeked at her with demure satisfaction. Today's t-shirt was even lamer than ever, sporting a Pokyman or some other dumb cartoon shit that little boys were into these days. Yet it was Jason's jeans that made Dr. Michaels laugh aloud with cruel glee. The outline of his chubby little boner was plain as day against the denim, sprouting at a slightly awkward angle along the top of one thigh. It was a perfectly serviceable cock, Michaels knew from much experience, nice and fat, if not notably long. What made her laugh was the huge, soaking stain circling out from the tip of that chubby outline in Jason's pants. Not cum—Jason knew better than waste an ounce of attention on himself while servicing her—but a pond of boylube speaking of the kid's desperation and desire. Michaels sauntered close. She no longer needed words or slaps to dominate this sad little creature. She merely blow a soft, warm stream of air from her lips to his face, and Jason tremored, barely even able to stay on his feet. "Please, Ma'am..." he whispered between clenched teeth. Dr. Michaels sneered and chuckled at the same time. Without warning, her left hand yanked Jason's head backwards by the hair while her right gripped his cock in a death grip through his jeans. She didn't pump or jerk or tug—Michael's simply squeezed. She choked the boy's cock as though strangling a rattler. In seconds Jason's whole body tensed and convulsed. His member pulsed and strained in the vice of Dr. Michael's hand. Yet only once Jason's face contorted with true pain did she release her hold and allow the full torrent of his long-overdue orgasm to burst into his jeans. The damp, sticky stain warmed and grew even larger. Dr. Michaels laughed into Jason's glazed eyes and gave his cheek a couple of light slaps. "T-thank you..." her pet murmured. "Thank you, Ma'am." The kid was spent. The moment Michael's let go of his hair, Jason's face slumped into the crook of Michaels' neck, apparently content to pass out right there on his feet. Despite all the sweat, his ample hair had an almost overpowering scent of coconut. Micahels abruptly shoved Jason away and gave him a couple of hard slaps to snap him awake. "Getting comfy, aren't you, pervert?" she spat, then snickered at the wet patch around his crotch. This was his last class of the day, but Jason was still going to have a hell of walk across campus to get to his bike with every pair of eyes he passed zeroing in sticky blotch of denim. If he was lucky, passersby would merely think he had pissed himself. Dr. Michael's body tingled at the mere thought of the image. Humiliation was hardly strong enough a word. Jason knew it, too. She could see dread chipping at his ever-present smile, while nervous hands plucked at the fabric around his quickly withering cock. He would make that walk of shame for her without protest or hesitation, degrade himself when she wasn't even there to see. Jason, his chin still wet from pleasuring her and his cheeks bright red from her slaps, always withstood anything at all for her. Dr. Michaels sighed and strode around the boy to her desk. On the corner was a silver thermos of coffee that had gone untouched since that morning—Jason had been plenty enough to keep her perky, if not downright jittery at times. Michaels stood before him again and unscrewed the cap, savoring a lungful of delicious steam as it billowed from the thermos. Still piping hot. Michaels pressed the rim of the thermos against Jason's chest and slowly began pouring the scalding contents down the front of his body. Jason went up on his toes and hissed again and again, his teeth sinking into his lip. Michaels began to carefully zigzag the emptying thermos down Jason's torso. Each nipple got a good splash, and she paused when she reached his hard stomach. The boy really was in excellent shape. By the time she reached the top of his jeans, the hot coffee had already soaked down across his lap, utterly obscuring the sticky patch his prick had produced. Still, Dr. Michaels tugged back his waistband and poured the last bit of burning liquid directly onto his crotch, eliciting a choked yelp and twisting leg from her pet—and a chuckle from herself. Dr. Michaels stood back, twisting the cap back on the thermos, and regarded her work. Jason was drenched down the front from neck to knee and would smell like French roast from twenty feet away. The poor dear would likely never get the stains out his Pokyman shirt. Such a tragedy. "There," she said. "Now you've simply had an unfortunate accident with a cup of coffee. Could happen to anyone." "Thank you, Ma'am," Jason said quietly, and truly meant it. "I'm done with you now," Michaels announced, and began gathering her things. Jason gave a small bow. "Yes, Ma'am, thank you, Ma'am." He bent over to fetch his backpack from under her desk. Almost without thinking, Michaels reached over to give his ass a hard swat as she continued to sort papers into her bag. Abusing him was just comfortable habit. Jason paused at the door of the classroom, and gazed back at her with an adoring, yet questioning look. She knew what he wanted to ask; would they be getting together that evening? They would, but as always Dr. Michaels refused to tell him so one way or the other. He was a pet, and she simply would not be in any obligation to him, even if the obligation was simply to cancel plans she had made if she changed her mind. Yet still Jason watched her questioningly, until finally Dr. Michaels bellowed, "Get out of here already, you fucking loser, before I staple your dick closed!" Jason bowed and left. Michaels rolled her eyes. The creepy little masochist would probably like that just fine. God, what a deranged pervert, Michaels thought as she fetched her panties from her bag and tugged them on in the empty classroom. 2 Dr. Michaels had one more class before she could head home for the weekend, and enough time before it started for a small lunch. She started off across campus towards her favorite bench, beneath an enormous oak near the Main Building. It was a cold, gray day, as almost every day had been in the weeks since Halloween. Winter seemed eager to set in early, and Michaels couldn't be more pleased—she adored the cold by nature, and to hell with Jason for smirking whenever she said so. Jason. As always, the longer she was away from him the more an odd kind of withdrawal set in. Not for the kid himself—certainly not!--but for who he let her be. He filled her with some energy that felt raw and true. She was powerful when he was near. Drunk. And now that he was away came the hangover. Bottomless pride withered, replaced by throbbing embarrassment and regret over her behavior. Really, what had she been thinking hiding Jason under the desk? It was beyond risky. Being fired would be the least of the consequences of getting caught. Yes, she had done the same thing once before and gotten away with it, but that didn't make it any less irresponsible. It was bad enough that she rode Jason atop the desk in her office at least once a week; bringing their games out into public, hidden or not, was just stupid. And yet...even as she berated herself, Dr. Michaels cheeks grew hot at the memory of Jason lapping away at her while she prattled on about rhetoric to two dozen students, and she knew that the moment she saw him again she would regret nothing. Her fantasies ran dark at the best of times, but Jason set her imagination on fire, and it could be difficult to keep her more vicious impulses in check. Michaels despised him for it, and a hundred other things. Being Friday, the campus was half deserted. Dr. Michaels nodded at the few students and staff she knew, but didn't stop to talk with anyone of them. She almost never did unless there was a good reason. She knew she wasn't especially popular with students, and was just fine with that. She was a tough grader who tended to hand back papers practically painted in red ink. She seldom smiled and never joked, and woe to the idiot who thought they could talk up a grade or extend a deadline. It was a wonder as many students waved and smiled at her as did while she walked to the huge oak near the center of campus where she liked to take breaks. Michaels settled on the bench watched the cool wind rattle the oak's leaves for a few moments. Yes, winter could come just as soon as it liked. She took a sandwich from her bag that she'd bought at a 7-11 that morning, and a can of coffee she got from a vending machine to replace the thermos she had wasted on Jason. She had done that because it was fun to hurt him, not because she gave a damn about his feelings. Not a bit. Had he been there, Jason would have had some comment about her lunch. Michaels was no cook, and didn't care to try to be one. Even making her own sandwiches somehow felt like a waste of time. After a few pleasant minutes of munching her cheap sandwich and sipping her artificial coffee, the crunch of gravel behind her was Michaels' only warning before a short, blond man in khakis and a green sweater swept around and sat down beside her. "Dr. Michaels!" he declared. "Here you are! You're so elusive I didn't even know you worked Fridays this semester until a student mentioned seeing you just now." "Oh, ah, hello, Ted," Michaels said as pleasantly as she could muster. "Yes. Here I am." Ted Barlow was a biology professor and one of the few faculty members who still tried to engage with her socially. A few years older than she, he was handsome despite his height. They had gone out a couple of times when Dr. Michaels had first started at the university three years ago, and slept together once. The dates were dull if pleasant, the sex so normal and boring that she had dozed off before it was completely over. "So this is where you hide yourself for meals," Ted went on. He touched her arm. "We miss you in the cafeteria, you know. Not nearly enough liberal arts to balance out conversation at the table." "Yes. Ah. I just enjoy the, um...fresh air." "Well, maybe the cold will drive you back inside soon. Hasn't it been miserable lately?" Michaels simply stared at the leaves dancing on the breeze and shrugged. "Hey, do you have a little time now?" Barlow asked. "Do you want take a walk, catch up a bit?" Michaels shook her head a little too quickly. "No. I'm about to be late for a class, I really shouldn't even be sitting around here." Michaels stood and guzzled the last bit of her coffee and tossed the can along with her sandwich crusts into a nearby trashcan. She began marching away, offering Ted only a quick, "Sorry" over her shoulder. He shrugged, bemused In truth, Dr. Michaels still had quite awhile before her class. She decided to treat herself to a cigarette, and found a private patch of wall behind the library where the butts littering ground marked the perfect spot. She had once madeout with Jason here, late one night after class. She had gotten a little carried away in the dark and bitten his tongue hard enough to make it bleed. Jason had lisped for a week, to her endless, cruel delight. She lit up and leaned against the wall, watching cars go by on road behind a little copse of trees in the distance. It was dead silent here. Lifeless. Michaels almost wished a student would come around the corner and join her for a smoke. They did, sometimes, when she smoked, and they would chat about essays or schedules or maybe literature, if they were one of her students. But students also had a hard time suppressing the urge to be grating morons, launching into hyperbole about a movie they had seen or giggling over campus-wide in-jokes. Not that faculty were much better company; there was good reason she avoided the cafeteria these days. Half of them were so old and boring she could scream, while the other half either didn't take her seriously as an academic, were only interested in fucking her, or both. Ted was a rare exception, and she was starting to regret not taking that walk with him. He was boring, but at least they could have an adult conversation. And it really wasn't his fault that their sex had been so awful—she had been there, too, and hadn't done anything to make it memorable. The truth was, she had never done the kinds of things she did with Jason with anyone else before. Had never even wanted to. She had always had fantasies, sure, wicked corners of her mind that she only dusted off when it was time for a wank. But before Jason, she had been the kind of person who was fine with an ordinary sexual reality. She had been with younger men before (though not nearly as much younger as Jason), and had even fucked another student before (a drunken one-night-stand with a senior that she was not proud of). Office Hours Ch. 01 But Jason...Jason had made her snap, and something angry, cruel, and insatiable had broken loose that she couldn't put away again. He had been an incorrigible pest to her his entire freshman year, in class and out. The sight of his twerpy face made her furious from the first time she saw it grinning at her from behind a desk, and it was a sight she could never seem to escape in the many months to come. He would come to class early and stay late to blather at her and ask asinine questions he already knew the answers to. He would stalk her around campus, trying to eat with her, smoke with her, walk her to her car after dark. And then there were her office hours! Two blocks of three hours every week where she was required to sit in her office, making herself available to any student who wanted to stop by and discuss her courses. And there was only ever one student who dropped in. Jason never stayed the full three hours, but his consistency was infuriating. More often than not, he would already be waiting for her when she showed up to unlock the door. He at first feigned legitimate reasons for his visits to her office, asking about grammar terms and bringing tests and essays to review with her. But it was soon obvious that he was faking any actual need for help. Mock him though she may, Jason had always been anything but stupid. He then began powering through the novels she assigned just so he could have an excuse to come discuss them with her before the rest of the class. From there he started to veer off into discussions about books she hadn't assigned, some that weren't even literature. By the second semester, Jason mostly came to office hours to whine. Whine about living on his own, whine about his lack of friends. His parents fighting, failing a science course, a scholarship not coming through...on and on! Oh, she'd listen to it all, offer a platitude here and there, pat his shoulder. But she was at her wit's end by the end of his freshman year. And then, one evening after a night class, Jason went too far and broke that something inside her. She was in her office, shooting off a few quick emails before going home for the day, when in he strode, casual as could be, and took his usual chair by her elbow. "This isn't office hours, Jason," she had snapped. "I'm a closed shop. Now get out, and I'll see you on Thursday." Jason shrugged meekly. "Sorry, Professor, bu--" "Doctor," Michaels corrected for the thousandth time. "Sorry. Doctor. I wanted to ask you something. You remember how I'm a photography minor, right?" Dr. Michaels simply nodded. How could she forget? Not only did he drone on about it every day, but she had even suffered through a presentation of some of his pictures. "Well, our final assignment this semester is to shoot a portrait and--" "No," Michaels said bluntly. "The answer is no." Jason's face sunk. "Why not, Doctor? It's nothing weird, not nude or anything. Just a portrait." "It is weird, Jason. I'm your teacher, and you're not taking my picture." "Now hear me out," Jason said with irritating patience. "I'm not picking on you here to be a creep. It's part of the assignment. We're supposed to photograph someone older who we admire, who's been a mentor. Most people are shooting their parents, but for me..." Dr. Michaels stopped listening. Her mind frozen on one word. Older. "So that's what I am?" she said in cold, quiet rage. Jason stopped talking and gaped at her with worry. "Your mentor? Wise old Dr. Michaels? Am I your mother, Jason?" "No!" Jason gasped, grasping her arm. "I didn't mean it like that at all, Doctor! You're just so important to me, so..." He laughed then, actually laughed, soft and boyish, and held her eyes with broad, warm smile on his face. His hand slid down her arm and cupped atop hers, warm and softer than a boy's should have been. "You're so beautiful." It was Michaels turn to gape. "...What?" "I said you're beautiful, Dr. Michaels. I've always thought so. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen." "Stop it, Jason!" Michaels hissed, yet sat perfectly still, letting him hold her hand. "You're beautiful, and you mean everything to me, and that's why I want to take your picture." Jason's other hand came up and landed gentle fingertips on her cheek. "I love you." "No!" Michaels growled. Fury contorted her face and began to sizzle every bit of her flesh, as though her very bones had become white hot with the frustration of it all. "No, you don't say that! You do not say that to me!" "I love you," Jason whispered, squeezing her hand and stroking her face. "I love you, Doctor." He had kissed her then, and she had let him. It still infuriated her that she had let him kiss her. It was soft, light, and sweet, and Dr. Michaels had let it happen. But only for a few seconds. After that, she shoved him away with both hands and slapped him hard enough to nearly knock him out of his chair. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Jason?!" she roared. "Who do you think you are, you whiny, pathetic, little shit?!" She slapped him again. "You come in here after hours, try to talk me into posing for your weird, pervy pictures, then, then...!" She backhanded him. "I am your teacher! You don't talk to me like that, you don't do that to me! Do you hear me, you disgusting loser?" Again she slapped him, and again. And then, as she raised her once more, Dr. Michaels stopped. Why was he just sitting there, taking this from her? He should have run, or protested, or tried to stop her. He just sat there, letting himself be hit and insulted. In fact...he was smiling. Michaels hit him again, and the smile didn't waver an inch. She began to lean closer, her teeth bared in a snarl. She flicked him on the forehead several times, wrenched his head to the side by the ear. Hooked a finger in his cheek and wrenched him around some more. "What the fuck is wrong with you...?" she wondered more than asked. She sank the fingernails of both hands into his skin above his eyebrows and slowly raked them all the way down his face, leaving eight jagged, red streaks. "You really are a perv, aren't you?" Her voice was growing thick and ragged. Jason continued to smile, but he was started breathe more deeply. Much more. So was she. "A disgusting, pathetic little boy..." Dr. Michaels slipped a hand to the back of Jason's head and grabbed a fistful of hair so tight that she could hear strands tearing. Jason was nearly panting. Michaels slowly wrapped her fingers around his neck and began to squeeze. And then she kissed him, on her terms and in her way. Her tongue stabbed at his throat and her teeth bit his lips. Her mouth attacked his like her hands had attacked his face, cruel, constant, and merciless. And Jason moaned his approval. Dr. Michaels fucked Jason for the first time that night, right on the floor of her office. Their clothes never fully came off their bodies, but were pushed aside by hands more eager to reach the flesh underneath than anything else. Jason's jeans stayed hooked around his ankles, his shirt shoved under his chin. Michaels' skirt and blouse met around her waist in a tangled bunch. Michaels pounded down atop the boy, grinding that nice fat cock inside her. She was pleased, if utterly surprised, when he didn't spurt twelve seconds in. A kid he may be, but a kid with some discipline. She was encouraged to go even faster, harder, growling and moaning with every slippery slam of her hips. All the while she rode him, Michaels tested Jason's endurance for abuse. She slapped, scratched, and tweaked at every bit of his body her hands could reach. She yanked his hair and clawed his stomach, snarled insults and spit in his face. Michaels didn't know why she did these things, just that it felt right. Satisfying. She hated him, and it made her hot. Every bit of suffering beckoned her climax faster. When she did come, Michaels was almost frightened by the intensity. Her body shook and writhed, and she howled at the ceiling. She wanted more. How much could Jason take? How hard could she tweak his nipples before he yelled? How long could she choke him before his eyes glazed? How many times would he let her slap his face back and forth before raising a defensive hand? Could anything she did break him? She didn't find all the answers that first night, but Jason's prick and his suffering did manage to give her a second screaming orgasm before he at last erupted inside her and brought things to a close. Michaels laid on top of Jason for awhile, allowing him to reverently caress her exhausted body. She felt odd--dreamy and satisfied, yet shocked at herself. And furious. Ever and always furious at this boy murmuring praise of her by her cheek. "Things are different now," Michaels said after a time. "You and me. It's different. No more shadowing my steps, no more whimpering for pats on the head. I'll be your mentor. Sure. On my terms. You want to go scurrying around after me, playing teacher's pet? Fine, then that's what you are—my pet. You do what I say, when I say, and you thank me for it. Do you understand, Jason?" Jason's reply was a whisper of restrained joy. "Yes." Dr. Michaels raised her head and glared into Jason's eyes. "Yes, what?" Jason furrowed his brown, confused. "Yes, Ma'am, Jason." Jason nodded. "Yes, Ma'am." Office Hours Ch. 02 Walking home from professor Summers' office was one of the most embarrassing, humbling, humiliating and EROTIC experiences of my life. It was about a 25 minute walk through the south end of campus to my dorm and I was wearing only a short pair of blue mesh shorts which I had sweated through and used to wipe up multiple loads of cum. Professor Summers had kept my shirt and running shoes as bait so I had no choice but to visit him again privately. I kept trying to wrap my mind around his explicit instructions. He had told me to walk straight home and to stop and buy a box of diaphragms at Discount Drugs and then to go home and open my email. He was very specific that even though my face and neck were still crusted with cum and sweat and my shorts (my only clothing) were cum and sweat drenched, that I was to walk into the drug store and get the diaphragms then check my mail...so I did. After garnering about a thousand looks of shock in the drugstore I decided to sneak up the back stairwell to my room and sat down to check my email which read like this from Professor Summers: Good Job Mr. Williams, a soon-to-be mutual friend of ours saw you in the drugstore and said you looked like you'd just left a cum spa, so I trust you did not shower first. Your eager nature and obedience impresses me, but we must still take the next step toward your total transformation. Tonight at 3am, be in front of your dormitory waiting for me. I will be driving a black Tahoe with tinted windows and you will then get in the back seat where you will be inspected before we depart for the evening. My two assistants will be inspecting you to ensure you fulfill two VERY specific instructions. First, you must steal a pair of panties from the girls' floor and wear them under your shorts, and second you must completely shave the following areas prior to our meeting at 3am: Face, Neck, Chest, Arms, Legs, Armpits, Pubic Hair, and any other hair on your body except your hair on your head and eyebrows. Don't forget the film we took Mr. Williams, I am sure these tasks will be performed to my satisfaction if you'd like that tape kept between us :) See you tonight! Mr. S. ---- It was already almost 1am at that point so I had to rush. I grabbed my razor and ran down to the shower to start removing all of the hair from my body (which really wasn't much to begin with). As I shaved my pits, arms, and chest the water started feeling amazing on my skin. And then as I started my legs I looked at myself and had become SO smooth I was like a totally feminine version of myself. I finished shaving and discretely toweled off and hurried back to my room to get dressed. 230 rolled around and I still hadn't managed to find any panties so I decided to hit the laundry room and sure enough, they hadn't been washed yet but I found a pair of purple ass-less panties and grabbed them and darted to the men's room to put them on before running downstairs. I barely had time to fit in a cigarette before the Tahoe had pulled to a stop at the curb in front of me. I gulped, killed the rest of my cigarette and walked toward the Tahoe as the back door slowly opened and I heard a female voice softly mutter, "Come on in sweetie." As I closed the door behind me we immediately pulled around the corner of the dorm and stopped. The two girls in back with me were both very attractive from what I could tell, but it was dark and I was already turned on beyond imagination so I can't describe them in too great of detail. But as we came to a stop they ordered me to strip for the inspection. They stopped me when I was in just my panties and then the girls informed me of the next test I had to pass. They made me get out of the car and told me to come back when I could convince a girl to give me her bra because I was cold... As I walked up to one group of smokers I got laughed at and one girl almost felt sorry for me and gave me hers, but her bf wouldn't let her, so I kept walking in shame until two girls walking by asked me if I lost a bet. "Kindof" I said, but it's not over, I need a bra to complete my outfit...and to my astonishment, the shorter blonde reached back, unclipped her bra and held it out for me. "But if I'm giving this away I want a damn picture." she said laughing. So I reluctantly agreed and put on her bra for a picture. It wasn't until she showed me on her camera that I realized JUST how feminine I now looked in a bra and panties with a smooth shaven body. I quickly walked back to the car where the girls let me in. "Very impressive," came Mr. Summers' voice from the front. "Enough tests for now, we have more transforming to do..." The rest of the ride, 20-25 minutes was filled with the girls caressing my smooth legs and arms and constantly complimenting how sexy and girly I looked already...ALREADY? ... ---- We drove until I wasn't entirely sure of my surroundings anymore and we came upon a slight clearing in the woods where I could see a large sprawling mansion behind a gated fence. As we got closer I could tell that was where we were headed and started to get a little anxious. "You ok honey?" asked one of the girls. "Yeah," I said, "Just a little nervous." "Well you have nothin' to worry 'bout sweetheart. Mr. Williams is gonna take good care of you I promise. And Me and Allie here are gonna make you beautiful for him and his guests." (Holy shit, what had I gotten myself into? GUESTS??) I sat quietly as we approached the front gate and watched as it slid open for the Tahoe and closed behind us. The Tahoe pulled up the driveway and into the roundabout before the doors opened and the girls escorted me up the back stairs and into the "dressing room" as they called it. As we walked in the girls pointed to a massage table and told me to lay down and remove my panties and bra. I handed them to girls and laid down on the table face down. The next thing I felt was a torrent of hot wax being poured over my ass and down my legs. I could feel it cover my asshole as it trickled down warming my shaft between my legs. Before long, what seemed like 10 girls were gathered all around me applying paper strips, and right about the time I realized what was happening the first girl tore her paper off taking with it the last traces of manhood from my legs. This process was then repeated on my back, chest, pits, well...everywhere but my actual hair...which was next to go... After my freshly waxed and marble smooth body was finished I was instructed to stand and make my way to the barber chair, which I did obediently. My hair was cut just short enough to allow for extensions which Mr. Summers' team of girls were about to attach to make me come even closer to that gorgeous blonde he somehow knew i'd always dreamed of being. Finally it was makeup and wardrobe time. The girls made my face shine of sexy femininity as my golden locks fell down my back as i stood. Though shaven head to toe, my 8" semi-hard erection still didn't quite fit the scene. But that apparently hadn't gone unnoticed, as two girls began removing a diaphragm from the pack I had bought and tied it off around my penis. They then used the excess material aside from the bladder they left by the tip to roll it all up in a pouch. As my clothes were brought out one article at a time, the girls showed me how it all worked. They slid the ass-less panties on that they had amended with a frontal pouch and inserted my cock into it. When it was all over they told me to look in the mirror and I couldn't believe it. They had even made paste-on silicone breasts that looked real without my bra!! I WAS a woman! I was so turned on that I didn't even see them bring out the butt-plug insert for m new panties as they finished dressing me in my gorgeous red cocktail dress that showed off my legs and ass. As the girls slid it inside me it hit home that my cock was off limits, and I was to use my new vagina tonight. ---- Though I really had NO IDEA what was really in store for me tonight. Finally Allie, the girl that had inspected me in the car came over to me at the mirror and said, "So, Mr. Summers says that before the party you and I are supposed to go out and get an expensive dress for tonight." "Expensive?" I said. "But I'm just a college kid, I don't have any money." "Well," said Allie. "I guess you're gonna have to improvise then honey." Don't worry I'll be with you. We'll go to this place up town that you have to buzz in to shop there. There's bound to be a hottie you can seduce there." ---- As we walked into the dress shop Allie walked up to the guy at the counter and whispered something in his ear that made him look at me. "Come over here gorgeous," said the salesman who was old enough to be my grandpa. "What can we help ya with today? Allie here tells me you're a lil short on money but we'll see what we can do here." "Oh Thank you sir," I said instinctively and was surprised by the words when I heard them come from my mouth. "I'd do almost ANYTHING for that gorgeous green ball gown!" "Oh really darlin'," said the slightly overweight salesman. "Well we might be able to work somethin out if you step in the back we'll take care of it today and you can walk out with that gown of yours sweetie." As we walked to the back Allie didn't follow but stayed up front like she was the saleswoman. Once in back the man forced me to my knees and told me I was gonna suck the cum outta his cock or he was gonna call the cops for attempted robbery. This caught me off guard and as I got up to run i tripped over my own heels and fell to the floor. I scurried to get up but as i turned over he was on top of me growling about how I was gonna love it and i better open my damn mouth or else, but it was all just a blur as all i could see was his hard cock, dripping pre-cum approaching my face and then SNAP, like that he was in the back of my throat, he pumped me uncontrollably until he came violently and grabbed my face - holding the head of his cock in my mouth and forcing it to fill and eventually overflow down my chin. My makeup was smeared with cum as he forced me to swallow with a look and a scowl. I was totally and utterly humiliated as Allie helped me back to the car with the gown... --- Back at the mansion, after reapplying my makeup, the girls all dressed me in my new lingerie and green gown and I was beautiful once more and ready for the party - whatever THAT would bring... I guess word finally came they "they were ready for me" so Allie led me out of the dressing room to the ball room which was empty, but about the size of a basketball court, if the court itself were a luxurious ballroom, yet decorated by goths in dungeon-style. At the very center of the room was a small stage raise 2-3 feet with plastic stairs leading up to a clear fiberglass altar, that was empty. "What the hell IS this Allie?" I was starting to get a little worried. I mean the dress encounter ended up being a lot of fun...but what on earth was my own professor involved with?! "Don't worry girl," she said, "Just sit up on the altar and lay in the swing there." I walked up to the swing mounted to the altar and was then clamped in place by Allie. "It's just a ritual silly" she said. "To confirm your transformation to womanhood." She winked and walked over to a table that had the diaphragms on it. She removed one and walked back to me and removed my panties. Removing the butt plug she inserted the diaphragm into my ass and pulled my panties back up. It wasn't until she left the ballroom that all of the lights went out. I saw all of the other girls there...they were naked now and lighting candles all over the ballroom illuminating all of the gothic design details. I could hear footsteps growing louder and louder. It sounded as if a LOT of people were walking towards us! And all of a sudden, I was blindfolded and the doors burst open to loud chatter and drunken shouts of at least 70-80 men. "Quiet down now folks, quiet down," said professor Summers. "You all know why we're hear tonight, but our young lady over here has still yet to put it all together. A day ago this "BOY" came into my office confused and slacking, and I taught him what he needs!" I was growing more nervous by the second as he went on with his regime. "Tonight, this young boy, will become a WOMAN!" "And what do we do with young boys to ensure they stay WOMEN?!" Mr. Summers shouted. "BREED EM!!!!" resounded the crowd of men. --- At once they were on me. Mouths, tongues, cocks, hands, you name it. My clothes and new dress were immediately ripped off and thrown aside along with the blindfold and I counted 99 guys gathered just in front of me. The next 5 hours were a blur of different men womanizing my mouth and ass as if I never had a cock to begin with. It wasnt until the fifth guy exploded inside my ass that I realized I was cumming and had already cum once previous. My bubble was starting to get tight by my cock. Mr. Summers finally called a time out to my relief in order to change out diaphragms, but as he did i saw him tie off the one full of cum and hand it to Allie. But I was too aroused to care as Mr. Summers calmly said that "now it's time for the real deal honey...me and my closest friends that are left are going to fuck your brand new pussy bareback, and I'm gonna breed that hot little hole first you sexy little track and field whore!" As he finished he plowed his 9" monster into me and forced me to further fill my diaphragm with a fresh load. I lost count at around 100 and started over and finished at 55...so around 155 men bred me that night and many fed me for round two. I filled two diaphragms with my own cum and theirs in my ass...and i filled 5 gatorade bottles with cum bareback straight into my new pussy. After the girls had gathered up all the cum, they brought out a giant funnel that had a 4-foot diameter at the top and attached to the hole was a plastic tube. I knew what I was in for as Mr. Summers made the next announcement. "Gentlemen, those of you that have it left in ya feel free to rub one more out onto our new girl Alexis as she DROWN! IN! CUM!!!!" With that, they all gathered as they needed to shoot and most came on my face but my whole body was coated as Allie turned the knob to allow the 3.12 gallons of cum to begin to flow down the tube and into my waiting mouth. I gulped at that tube for what seemed like forever, taking cup after cup of strange men's cum into my stomach as i had my bare ass. As I stopped to catch my breath cum sprayed my entire face and soaked me before i could get the tube back to my mouth. I continued gulping and got about another 2 minutes into it without gagging and took a breather again. I went back one final time to gulp and on my 5 gulp it started to drip and there was a thunderous applause from the men in the ballroom. I collapsed exhausted and cum-drunk as my stomach started to gurgle and churn. men were still cumming on me as Allie and her friends were picking up handfuls of spilled cum and throwing it on me and each other as they giggled "She's one of us now!" About that time my stomach rejected the 1.5 gallons or so of cum i had actually swallowed and I watched as the pure white jism flowed on the ballroom floor. Just when I thought it had all ended...Mr. Summers dragged me into the newly formed cum pool and threw me down soaking me again... "You don't move a muscle sweetheart...by morning i suspect you'll be crusted quite nicely to that ballroom floor! Goodnight!" And then there was nothing but candlelight as I laid my head back in the pool of cum that was to become my second skin. Office Hours Ch. 02 Dr. Michaels couldn't seem to overcome to memory of Jason's fuzzy head burrowing between her legs as the day's second class came and went. It was a course on precolonial literature, far more interesting than that morning's Intro to Rhetorical Analysis. Yet the class dragged on for a lifetime without a pet under the desk keeping her pulse quick. In the end she let the class out ten minutes early and had a pair of cigarettes, back-to-back, in her car before setting out for home. She had promised herself on her 25th birthday that she would quit before she turned 30, but luckily 30 was still several months off. Quitting was a bleak notion - withdrawals aside, bumming smokes to students was one of the only ways she could get them to talk to her outside of class. Not that she cared if they did or not, Michaels reminded herself as she flicked the butt out the window and started the engine of her trusty old Volkswagen, a hand-me-down gift from her parents from a lifetime ago. Michaels stopped off at the grocery store for some beer, a pack of American Spirits, and a handful of frozen dinners. Dr. Michaels was annoyed, if unsurprised, when the young cashier eyed her selections with amusement and mild judgment. Michaels swallowed back a sharp word and scowl. With this store so close to campus, this kid may well be a student who could wind up in one of her classes. There was no reason to be antagonistic, and every reason to be an adult. Still, Michaels memorized the black and white gauges in the boy's ears, just in case she one day couldn't decide whether to give him a C- or an F. Walking from the parking lot into her apartment complex with her light groceries in tow, Dr. Michaels happened to spot Jason's bicycle—a garish yellow mountain bike—locked up at the rack in front of the building. Good. She wasn't ready for him just yet, but it was nice to know he was near. Though is was something of a miracle that Jason lived in her building, Michaels often felt cursed by his constant presence. It was a plain fact that they wouldn't have the kind if relationship they did if Jason hadn't moved in and fractured Dr. Michaels' life, and yet, of course, Michaels wished most days that her life had never been fractured at all. Wished fervently that she had never sat outside at that rusty table... Michaels shook her head hard and slipped out of her car, lugging a shoulder bag thick with papers to grade in addition to her light groceries, trying not to dwell on past summers and pretty men, much less the silly little pet. Though he had sent her life spiraling off in an odd direction, there was no reason to give him any consideration when they weren't playing together, even if he was a neighbor. Dr. Michaels honestly didn't even know what Jason did with his alone time. Homework, hopefully—he really had been underperforming in her rhetoric class, even when sitting in a chair rather than on his knees. But other than that? The boy mentioned videos games sometimes, which was no surprise - Jason was a loser and a dork to his core. She also well-knew that he read quite of bit, of course, respectable titles and utter crap in equal volume. But what else did he get up to in that little efficiency unit? She had never been inside, or even stood in the doorway. Michaels supposed he had friends she wasn't aware of, and they probably visited him occasionally. Maybe even girls. Dr. Michaels' feet missed a step at that last thought as she walked into the building. She shook her head again. Why was she thinking of the pet so much today? It must be the lingering rush of what he'd done beneath that desk durring rhetoric. Walking through the halls and up the stairs of the apartment building—the loftily named Jacksonian—was much like walking across campus. There were many familiar faces, many offered smiles, and not a moment wasted on anyone for chitchat. It was a diverse mix of tenants, yet with surprisingly few students. Jason claimed that the landlady herself had admitted to him that she was biased against renting to young people. That suited Dr. Michaels just fine—she already mixed her professional and private life far more than anyone would consider healthy. Her apartment was a corner unit on the third, and topmost, floor. A bit pricey, but the youth-biased landlady liked her, and hadn't raised her rent in the three years since she moved in. The place was chilly, as always. As much as Michaels liked the cold outside, she at least wanted to option to be cozy in her own home. It was fairly spacious for an apartment, the front door opening into a large living room that Dr. Michaels preferred to light with heavily-shaded floor lamps in opposite corners. A couch longer than she had any use for was shoved against the far wall, facing a TV propped on an old chest, with a low coffee table in between. A short hall near the couch led to the unit's only bedroom. The roomy kitchen lay beyond an arched entry—a shame, Jason liked to tease, as operating a microwave didn't require much room. A flimsy desk that she had built herself from a kit sat beneath a broad window that overlooked a short stretch of lawn ending abruptly at the fringe of a patch of forest. That window was always curtained. Michaels put away her groceries, claiming one of the beers as she kicked her shoes away in random arcs. Jason claimed she was "disgracefully messy", as he put it, but she preferred to think of her lifestyle as comfortable. So what if there were some empty cans and fastfood bags on the coffee table, and some laundry on the floor. At least never cooking meant her sink was always pristine. Michaels turned on the TV and tossed the remote aside without looking at what came—she eventually realized that it was a marathon of Cheers moments before not caring again—and sipped her beer while starting in on a stack of Freshman Studies papers. Awful, terrible stuff, but she would have those kids whipped into shape by the end of the semester. She always did, even if "always" represented only three years worth of a teaching career. Experience wasn't a prerequisite for being a good teacher, no matter what most of her high-horse, boring-ass colleagues thought. Before long, though, the flood of terrible grammar, stilted sentence structure, and alcohol made Dr. Michaels drowsy, and she decided to try for a nap. She laid out on the couch, turned the TV low and squished a pillow over her head. But as always, it just wouldn't take. She rolled around, trying every position possible. She laid on top of the pillow, hugged it, squished it between knees. She turned off the TV and all the lights. Nothing made the smallest difference. Somewhere over the past year she had lost the ability to sleep with any ease. It was a fight every night, and one which was increasingly finished only hours before dawn. Casual naps simply weren't a part of her life anymore. After over an hour, Michaels at last gave up and muttered a trail of expletives into the kitchen to microwave a meatloaf dinner from the freezer. She ate quickly while watching Cheers, the volume still turned so low that she couldn't make out a single distinct word. When she was done with her sorry little meal, she tossed the empty tray onto the coffee table, knocking over a couple of empty cans. At last, Michaels stood with a resigned sense of relief and began to get ready. There wasn't much to do, really, but it was satisfying to finally be on the way. Michaels washed her face with a grainy apricot scrub, then brushed both hair and teeth. She used the toilet, made the bed, cleaned the smudges from her glasses, and changed into slinky, pale lavender silk robe. It all took less than ten minutes, and none of it really mattered. The only truly important part was spritzing her neck, breasts, and lap from a bottle of Rose Lemon perfume. The pathetic little boy had a Pavlovian response to the scent at this point. Finally—finally!-it was time to stride into the middle of her living room, raise her foot, and stomp hard three times. Jason had lived in the Jacksonian over a year and a half now, but shortly after their...arrangement...had begun, he had managed to snag the tiny unit directly below Dr. Michaels'. The Jacksonian was old and solid, with thick brick walls. Usually no one could hear anything that their neighbors got up to (and thank God for that), but Michaels knew that those three distinctive thuds came through loud and clear. Michaels stood near the door and began a count under her breath. She figured that she must sometimes catch him in the middle of a phone call or a shower, yet the longest Jason had ever taken to make his way up to her apartment after a summons was still under two minutes. The average was around forty seconds. Tonight, he made it in thirty five. After a casual knock at her door, Michaels waited a painful ten seconds to answer. No one prowling the halls needed to know she had been waiting with her hand on the knob. Jason stood there grinning, a cocky hand in his back pocket. Michaels immediately felt her blood surge with rage and need. She pulsed with it, from hair to toes. A white T had replaced that morning's cartoon print. Not that it would matter in a few seconds. "Hello, Professor!" the pet chirped, and Dr. Michaels had to ball her hand to keep from slapping him on the spot. "I was wondering if we could go over a couple of things from class this morning. It was a pretty intense lecture." That kind of speech—innuendo notwithstanding—was a code that meant he had passed someone in the hall on his way here who could possibly overhear them. Michaels had no choice but to play along. "Oh, hey, Jason. Sure! Come on in. Soda?" As soon as he was over the threshold, and the door was carefully closed and locked, the greetings began anew. Jason dropped to his knees with a thunk that could only be heard from his own apartment and said, "Hello, Ma'am. Thank you for calling on me to serve you." Michaels proffered both of her hands, and Jason took each in his own and kissed her two palms in turn. Immediately after each kiss, Michaels slapped Jason across the face. "Professor?" she growled, offering up a backhand to compliment the first two slaps of the evening. "You do that just to annoy me." Jason merely smiled up at her with all the love in the world and began to strip. As rule, he wasn't allowed to wear clothes around her more than two feet from the door while in private. Michaels waited with little patience while shirt, shoes, and jeans came off and were folded into a neat bundle by the door. Michaels knocked the boy under the chin and he stood for her to survey with hungry eyes. He was so damn beautiful, and it made her furious. All that working out was really starting to pay off. Nearly all teenage baby fat was gone, and if he didn't quite have a sixpack, his stomach was at least enticingly taught. His chest was just as hard, with a developing outline of real pecs and a pleasant dusting of light hair branching out from his sternum. Michaels could swear that Jason's shoulders were twice as broad as when she met him, and his arms were starting to show actual veins through building bulk and definition. She would never let him become a bulky cover model type—what was one even supposed to do with so much hardness?-but her pet was certainly becoming pleasing sight indeed. Yet Michaels still laughed aloud at sight of the kid. For one, he still bore a faint waft of coffee, as well as splotches of redness down his torso where she had burned him. For another, he sported the world's most ridiculous, aggressively hard boner. Sure, since working out he seemed to have gotten a little bit longer, and she appreciated that, but Michaels had always thought that a full grown man walking about with an erection outside a bedroom was among the most comical spectacles imaginable. "And just what do you think you're about to do with that, idiot?" she said, giving the enthusiastic member a few whacks. "Stand down, soldier. I'll give you a good fucking in awhile, you gross perv, but for now I don't want to have to look at that." "Sorry, Ma'am," Jason said, sounding genuinely embarrassed. He actually tried to force his cock down with his hands as Michaels began pacing around the living room. "What can I do for you tonight, Ma'am?" Michaels sighed. She grabbed a hold of Jason's cock and began yanking him along behind her as she paced. "I don't even know, Jason. I don't! Something about today was horribly frustrating, and I don't know which knots to try working out." "How about a nice licking, Ma'am?" Jason suggested, but Michaels shook her head. After this morning, she felt licked out for awhile. "Would belting me help? It usually does, Ma'am." That was true. Turning a belt on Jason was awfully satisfying. "It's worth a shot. Go get it." She released Jason's prick and gave his ass a smack as he scampered off towards her bedroom, and the closet within. Michaels had never been willing to invest in silly, costly equipment for playing with her pet. Why pay for a whip when a belt worked just as well? Indeed, a decent belt could double for much of what one needed to dominate a young man. A collar, a leash, a restraint, a gag...And most anything else one could desire for playtime could be improvised from around the house. Dr. Michaels had looked on the internet—going the conventional leather and latex route was expensive, and she refused to sacrifice so much for toying with a mere pet. After a few moments, Jason came scurrying back into the room with the long, thin instrument in his hands. Michaels took the belt from Jason's hands. She bent the length of leather in half and gave the tip of the loop a long, wet kiss before using it to slap Jason twice on the right cheek, twice on the left, and ordering, "Bend!" Jason leaned onto the couch, bracing his chest and head against the cushions while his legs stayed straight and his ass thrust into the air. God, no boy had any right to have such a perfect, soft, round ass. She caressed one cheek for a bit before giving it a hard, tweaking pinch that elicited a satisfying gasp from Jason. Michaels stood back, twisted the belt around her hand, and, without warning or ceremony, whacked Jason's ass right where she had pinched. The boy gasped a harsh yelp into his lungs. Michaels struck again, and the boy's shout was choked gurgle. Again. A third time, each slap echoing loudly through the apartment, the muted thundercrack of hard leather on soft meat. Jason spasmed and groaned, "Thank you, Ma'am..." She began laying into him harder, faster, belting cheeks, thighs, back with increasing fury and abandon. Jason writhed and began to shrink in on himself as though trying to hide from the blows. He moaned until moans became screams and screams became sobs. Michaels found herself yelling almost as much as he, in rage and satisfaction, pounding that perfect little ass with all her strength. After a few minutes Michaels' arm grew tired and she had to catch her breath. Jason was a mess of ragged, throaty whimpers. She snapped the belt a couple of times on his side and Jason rolled over, now sitting on the couch and trying his best to smile up at her through the agony and tears. A jolt shot through Dr. Michaels' body and her breath caught. Oh, how she loved it when the boy cried! She came forward and straddled him, gripped him by the throat and hair. Michaels ground her face against his, smearing his tears on her own cheeks. She pulled on his hair and caught a fresh pair of drops with her tongue as they spilled from his eyes, cooing with pleasure. Michaels nipped at Jason's lips and pressed her face hard to his for one of her fierce, cruel kisses. Jason passively took it all, gently stroking her back while she assaulted his mouth with her tongue and teeth. After awhile, Michaels leaned back with a sigh. Jason stroked her arms up and down and asked, "Feel better, Ma'am?" "Perhaps a little." Michaels began raking her nails across Jason's chest, digging in hard as she passed over red, scalded skin. Jason hissed and scrunched his eyes closed. Michael's flopped off Jason's lap and lay on the couch, frowning in frustration. "It wasn't even a bad day. Really perfectly average." Michaels sighed and swiped at her hair, now slick with a light sweat. "Which means my average day gets me down...how fucked up is that?" Jason caressed her shins and smiled at her. A concerned smile. "Ma'am needs a massage," he said firmly Michaels reluctantly nodded. She hated when her pet was right. Still, she sat up and scooted to the edge of the couch. "Don't get too cocky, dork. A blind coma patient could see I'm tense." Jason gave a little bow and swept off into the kitchen, returning seconds later with one of her fresh bought beers, already opened. Michaels took a few swigs while Jason fetched a bottle from under the coffee table and settled on hies knees behind her on the couch. Michaels brushed her robe down to expose her shoulders, twisting to shoot Jason a scowl. "You just want an excuse to leer down at my tits," she sneered. "Pathetic." Jason just smiled and wet his hands from a bottle of warming oil. Michaels kept a small cache of oils, lotions, and lubricants under the coffee table...and in her nightstand...and in her office...and her car. All of it scentless; it wouldn't do to have anything lessen the potency of Rose Lemon. Indeed, just before he laid his hands on her shoulders, Jason leaned close to take a long, slow breath of her neck. Dr. Michaels rolled her eyes, but allowed the pet to have his sniff. It didn't hurt to let the kid get his kicks sometimes. Jason rubbed her shoulders and neck with a coating of warm oil before going to work. Michaels sighed at the first kneading grip of his fingers. She didn't know where he had learned—a book? The internet?-but Jason had become quite skilled at soothing her muscles with his hands. Of course, if Michaels were to be truthful, his hands were so strong, and his reverence for her body so great, that he he could do perfectly fine on instinct alone. Micahels let him work for awhile, moaning and sipping her beer, before she asked, "How were classes this week, Jason?" "Oh, not too shabby, Ma'am." "No?" Jason paused a moment, marching his thumbs down along either side of her spine. "Still not loving Intro to World Religion, Ma'am." Michaels made a disgusted noise. "Of course not! Professor Kirkman is a douche. You should see the looks he gives me, especially when I wear that striped skirt you always drool over. Hardly what I'd call religious. Why not let me arrange that transfer for you? I really think you'd enjoy Ethical Analysis with Dr. Bertram. You're both totally deranged. I'll call Carl on Monday, and..." So it went for nearly an hour, Jason massaging, Michaels sipping beer, and each of them chatting as they once had during office hours, before their situation had twisted into what it now was. Dr. Michaels didn't think much of it. Jason was her pet, but he was also a student, and she was comfortable giving him the same counsel and company that she would give any student. It was still important to her that he did well, kept up his GPA, and graduated on time. After awhile, Michaels laid down on her stomach so Jason could work her back. He did so from the floor beside the couch, even though he could have gotten better leverage from being on top of her—Michaels took issue with the pet straddling her for any reason. Yet she soon made the concession—after several meek, but pointed suggestions from Jason—to fully remove the lavender robe. Finally being as naked as he was an inevitable, if annoying, sacrifice when they were together. It gave them a small measure of equality that Michael's didn't appreciate. But it was a worthwhile sacrifice to get her ass oiled and massaged by those too-skillful hands. Office Hours Ch. 02 And then, just as Michaels was started to feel truly relaxed, the idiot boy almost blew everything. "Did Professor Barlow find you this afternoon, Ma'am?" he asked, swirling at a knot near her tailbone. Dr. Michael's head snapped towards him and she propped herself up by the elbows. "You were the one who sicked him on me?" Jason shrugged. "He stopped me to ask about the coffee, and it...came up." Dr. Michaels twisted around to pound at the boy hard with her fist. "Fuck you, Jason! Where do you get off? You know I hate being around that man! He's half the reason I'm so messed up today!" "Why?" Jason continued working her muscles, but firmer and faster than before. "He's a nice guy! He even passed me last semester after you talked to him, even though I really didn't deserve it. And he just wants to be your friend." "So you decided to try to set me up on a playdate..." Michaels laid back down, turning away from Jason with her face half pressed into the side of the couch. "I don't need this, Jason, especially not from you. You're a goddamn child who doesn't know a damn thing about adult relationships. So Barlow wants to be buddies - so what? What business is that of yours one way or the other?" "He's nice, is all," Jason said stiffly. "And he likes you." "And? What the hell do you want from me, Jason? I'm the adult here, and you can go ahead and stop pretending to know what I need, thank you very much. You're never to pull that kind of crap again, do you hear me? Never. You keep the fuck away from my personal life, Jason." "Yes, Ma'am," Jason murmured. "Sorry, Ma'am." Michaels laid in dark, sullen silence for awhile as Jason continued his ministrations. It was all so aggravating! The thought of Jason and Ted overlapping, practically conspiring to vex her...It turned her stomach! After a time, Jason stroked her on the side a few of times, and Michales rolled over onto her back. Jason soaked his hands with a generous dribble of oil and started to coat the front of Michaels' body from neck to knees. Michaels closed her eyes and crossed her arms beneath her head, trying to let her frustration with the pet fade with every slick, skillful stroke of his big hands. He first ran his fingers up and down the length of her body in firm, deep strokes, plowing his fingers in broad channels across her chest, breasts, waist, and thighs. Down, up. Down, up. Dr. Michaels bit her lip and pulled at her own hair. Jason's hands slowed and began to focus on her stomach. He poked for a bit at her bellybutton before spiraling out to rub her in deep, hardening circles from her hips to just below her breasts. Spiraling, and kneading. Daring at times to dig at her with his fingernails. Before long, of course, Jason naturally turned most of his attention to her breasts. He gave each a drizzle of oil before caressing them like holy artifacts. Michaels' chest heaved to meet his touch, her breath coming deep. Jason kneaded one breast with both of his hands, then the other, then both at once, squishing them in opposing circles. Michaels' own hand slipped between her legs—she was sopping wet—and she began working her clit with her middle finger. Jason started spiraling her already-hard nipples with his fingertips, then his nails. Michaels' back arched, and a growl rumbled deep in her throat. She reached out and took Jason by the back of the neck, yanking his face to her chest. The boy's tongue and lips joined his hands in pleasuring her breasts, and Michaels' back arched even higher. She moaned and squeezed his neck and rasped obscenities in his ear while her hand practically vibrated over her clit. The heat built in her body and a rumbling storm began to blot consciousness from her mind. The pet teased her breasts, her hand worked her cunt...and then Dr. Michaels' body subcame to an electric avalanche that bucked her hips and wrenched a tight scream from the deepest part of her. Every muscle in her body seemed to shiver, and Michaels unconsciously slapped again and again at her soaked pussy to extend the explosive tremors as long as possible. Far too soon, the jolts receded, and Michaels melted into the couch. Her flesh felt like warm water, yet her hand still swirled her half-numbed clit, teasing out what few sparks remained from the twitching furnace between her legs. And still, Jason massaged her breasts and kissed her nipples. Michaels let him continue on for awhile, panting and sweating through the aftermath of her orgasm. But soon she pushed the boy away and sat up, swiping casually at the beaded moisture on her forehead. She maintained her grip on Jason's neck with one hand, while the other—the hand that had brought her to such a fantastic climax—hooked a middle finger deep into her vagina and came forth dripping with her juices. Michaels painted Jason's lips with the sticky finger before thrusting it deep into his mouth. The desperate little boy sucked at the digit as though receiving life-saving ambrosia, moaning loudly in ecstasy. Michaels glanced down and saw that Jason once more sported a trembling erection, dribbling boylube at the tip. Michaels slowly slid her finger from the kid's mouth, and at the moment it popped free from his lips she slapped him hard enough to stagger him sideways. "I'm done with you now," Dr. Michaels snarled. Jason righted himself on his knees, lightly fingering his glowing cheek. His voice was quiet and confused. "Ma'am...?" "I said I'm done, you damn loser!" Michaels slapped him again, even harder then before. She glared into his hurt, watery eyes for a moment before turning away to press her face into the back of the couch. "Get the fuck away from me, Jason. I don't want to look at you anymore." After a long pause, the pet said softly, "Yes, Ma'am. Sorry, Ma'am." Dr. Michaels curled up naked into the corner of the couch, listening to Jason pad across the living room towards his folded clothes. An empty can clattered across the floor and clanked against the wall. If she didn't know better, she might have thought Jason had kicked it. She listened to the soft rustle of Jason putting clothes back onto that young, infuriating body. Several long seconds passed while Michals knew she was being watched. "Thank you, Ma'am," Jason said at last, with wrenching warmth. "I hope you have a good night." The door opened. The door closed. Dr. Michaels rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Stupid little boy. Always trying to jerk her around. Why did she put up with his little games and manipulations? Michaels stared until the warmth of her climax and the oils on her skin faded, and a chill settled over her body. She tugged a blanket from atop the couch down over herself, then continued to stare at shadows on the lamp-lit ceiling until her eyes finally fluttered closed on their own only a few hours before dawn. Office Hours Ch. 03 Dr. Michaels didn't call on Jason again for the rest of the weekend, dropping plans she had brewed up for Saturday afternoon in light of his misbehavior. She was left frustrated and furious, but she refused to give the boy the satisfaction of her company if he was going to try tying strings to her and make her dance. He could just simmer away alone in his sad apartment for awhile for all she cared. Michaels holed up with her work for most of the weekend, venturing forth only to restock her stores of beer and frozen food. After at last painting the last of the freshman studies papers red, Dr.Michaels spent the rest of the weekend proofreading a draft of an essay she'd written on the works of Alisdair Gray that she hoped to submit to a literary journal that had published one of her papers before. Jason—the only person she knew who had read anything by the man—insisted the piece was more than ready for submission, but what did that stupid little child know about publication standards? He never would have even read Gray if she hadn't lent him some of her own books! No, the essay was most certainly far from ready. It rang hollow, forced. Confused, even. Dr. Michaels just hoped she could make something genuine of the whole affair before the deadline came and it was too late. Classes began on Monday, and went as well as they ever did. Dr. Michaels was mobbed first thing by juniors begging for a review before that afternoon's test on the first half of Ulysses (she reluctantly promised 10 minutes, with no questions or discussion). Just before lunch, she handed her freshman studies class back their godawful essays, and reduced a tiny, mousey thing in round glasses to tears. Dr. Michaels patted her after class, and reassured her that she had many more chances to correct her work before the final grade. The sad, desperate creature actually hugged her afterward! Intro to Rhetoric didn't roll around until Wednesday. Michaels dreaded it—loathed having to see Jason again—yet the spark of fury she felt at seeing his face soon faded away as she began her lecture. No matter what transpired between them in private, seeing the kid at her feet was somehow deeply divorced from seeing him behind a desk. As a student, he was just another in a sea of young, doofy faces hanging on every word and gesture and furiously scribbling notes. It helped that, at the end of class, he maintained his place and slunk off without hanging around to pester her. It wasn't until the next day, during office hours, that the pet finally came crawling back to her. It was late in the day, nearly dusk that time of year, and Dr. Michaels was sleepy from clearing her inbox for almost an hour. A knock came at her door, and she knew it was Jason after the first rap. The boy had a range of knocks for her doors, and Michaels knew them all. This one meant that he was slightly reluctant and extremely humble. Michals waited a good ten seconds before calling him in. Jason slipped inside the office, smiling but with his eyes downcast. He closed the door behind him stretched his hands out with a gift. "Hello, Ma'am," he said softly. "For you." Dr. Michaels glared daggers, but took the coffee and danish from his hands. She popped the lid from the coffee and took a sniff—one sugar, one cream. Perfect. "Pathetic," she said, and flicked Jason beneath the nose. He smiled wider and knelt on the floor near her elbow. Michaels idly pinched his ear between her fingers and jerked his head back and forth while she took a pair of small sips from the coffee and took a bite of danish. Blueberry, and still warm—he must have jogged all the way from the campus coffeeshop. She released his ear and gave him a slap. Damn boy! How dare he leave her waiting so long for an apology! He could have come forward anytime, but instead withheld like a coward. Ah well, he was here now, and she was no longer anywhere near so sleepy, and not just because of the coffee. Dr. Michael's scratched her nails deep along her pet's scalp while she sipped her coffee and nibbled away at the warm patry. Once she had finished, she allowed Jason to suck the sugar off her fingers, then knocked him under the chin and handed him a brush from her bag as he stood. Jason eyed it with an uncertain, vaguely frightened expression on his face. "Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, you dumb perv!" Michaels snapped. "Just brush my hair until I say to stop. I've been too busy to condition it lately and it's getting coarse." "Yes, Ma'am." As he stepped behind her and raised the brush, Michaels balled her fist, ready to lob Jason in the stomach when he inevitably began to hack at her with the brush in the way she had sometimes seen him tackle his own frizzy mane. Yet the bristles of her brush practically kissed her scalp on the first stroke, and grew firmer in the only slightest way with each new pass. Jason massaged her hair with the brush with as much care and reverence as his hands had plied the rest of her body only days before. Even though there wasn't a lot to work with, Jason still seemed to worship every inch of her dark hair with every pass of the brush. The fingers of his free hand began to twist into her locks, and somehow managed to find and gently loosen every little tangle just before the brush swept through. It was so pleasurable and distracting that Dr. Michaels took several minutes to remember that she really did have work to do while the pet tended her. She tried reading a student essay, then tried harder to fill out some timesheets, but got less than halfway through either. Before long, Dr. Michaels simply shuffled papers and tapped randomly on her keyboard while Jason stroked and left silky, ticklish patches of hair across her ears, neck, and forehead. His hands were so warm gentle, warm, and strong... "Ma'am?" Jason said after a time, giving Michaels s start. "What?" she barked, quickly pretending to scribble on a paper with the wrong end of a red pen. "Thank you for arranging that transfer. I had my first ethics class this afternoon. You were right, I really like Dr. Bertram. I think I'll do really well in his class." "Just brush," Michaels sighed. "I'm serious, Ma'am. Professor Kirkman was never going to pass me. I would have failed a basic prerequisite. I wouldn't only lose the right to register for half the classes I need next semester—I would have lost half my financial aide. You..." The bold little delinquent had the audacity to kiss the top of her head! Michaels' rolled her eyes in disgust. "You saved me again, Ma'am..." Dr. Michaels elbowed Jason in the ribs. "I said brush!" Stupid child, fawning over her like she'd done him some huge favor! She said she would arrange the transfer, and so she had. It had only taken six or seven calls, maybe fifteen emails, and waiting around campus for a couple of extra hours on Monday to talk to Dr. Bertram in person. Simple. Why did the boy always have to make such a big deal over these things? Jason wheezed a bit, but did as he was told, and indeed did it so well that soon Michaels stopped even pretending to work as the pet's hands stroked bliss into her scalp with brush and fingers. It was the first time she had ever employed him in such a way, but this was certainly going to enter their regular routine. And who knew? Maybe one of these days, she would in fact use the brush for the more diabolical purposes that had initially worried Jason's face. Between Jason's brushing and the twisted fantasies blossoming in her mind, it wasn't long before Dr. Michaels realized that she would need a change of underwear before heading home. Indeed, if she didn't act quickly her pant's would soon bear the kind of dark splotch that she had mocked and tormented Jason over the week before. And that would not do at all. Michaels roughly snatched the brush from Jason's hand between strokes and hissed, "Strip!" The boy gave a single, adoring pet of her now-soft hair and said, "Yes, Ma'am." Michaels stood from her chair, though the sound of a zipper coming down behind her weakened her knees for a moment. If nothing else, her desk had become much neater and organized since she had started screwing Jason. She was quickly and expertly able to empty her papers and nicknacks into drawers, leaving a wide, clear space on top. She had even had Jason redo the cables on her computer so the monitor could smoothly be shoved to a far corner without snags. The floor behind the desk would have been easier, more private, and bore the distinction of being the first place Dr. Michaels had conquered her pet. Yet the desk itself, well... Michaels was a teacher, and Jason was her student, and as deviant as it was, fucking him on her desk gave her some deep, perverse satisfaction that always set her over the edge. It was the only time, in fact, that she insisted he revert to calling her 'Doctor'. It was a bit early for a desk fuck, but office hours were practically over and this floor was always abandoned by this time of day. Besides, the door was windowless and the walls in this building were even older and thicker than her apartment's. She had even once amused herself by giving Jason a quick, hard pounding in the fifteen minutes they were supposedly reviewing his portfolio while eight other students waited in line just outside her door. She wasn't exactly proud of that particular moment, but it proved the security and privacy of her office. Yet Michaels was too riled up to feel shame as she finished stripping herself from the waist down and turned to find Jason already lying naked atop her desk, knees bent and feet bracing against the far, sharp edge. His young, thick cock was at the ready, curving up tall, wet, and eager. Michaels chuckled with mischievous glee and clutched the kid's balls at the base, yanking on them for leverage as she crawled up atop the desk. With one smooth, practiced motion, Michaels swung her leg over Jason and used one hand to help stab the pet's prick into her body as she sat down on him in a straddle. The boy's eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy, and even Michaels skipped a breath at the sensation of their bodies merging. Michaels gripped Jason's throat and playfully bounced atop him a few times, reveling in the scrunched joy that her slightest movement could bring to boy's face. Electricity sparked down Michaels' spine. She scraped her nails in circles around Jason's stiff nipples and moaned as he hissed, "Doctor!" and bit his lip. He was so young. So young and beautiful and pure. Her student. And here he was, utterly naked and submissive in her little temple of learning, pinned atop an altar and begging with every twitch of his young body to be taught. Michaels began a slow grind with her hips, using Jason's hot member to caress every possible inch of her cunt. The pet responded admirably with firm, deep thrusts that tickled at corners Michaels didn't know she had. "That's good, kiddo," Michaels rasped. "Mmm, you like it, loser? You like being teacher's little fucktoy?" "Yes, Doctor!" Jason whispered. "Yes! Yes, Doctor, thank you!" Michaels snatched the boy's hand and pressed his palm over her breast, still frustratingly clothed beneath a blouse and bra. Without guidance, Jason's other hand began tracing feather strokes up and down her bare ass. Michaels trembled, and allowed it. She began thrusting harder and leaned down, gripping his jaw hard between pinched fingers. "Open!" she ordered, and Jason parted his lips wide. Michaels spat in his mouth, then slapped him hard across one cheek, then the other. She hit even harder a third time before attacking Jason's lips with her own, smacking hard, sloppy kisses on his mouth in time with her slamming pussy for a small while before once more pinching his jaws open and sucking his tongue into her mouth. Dr. Michaels was slowly sinking her teeth around her pet's tongue when she realized the grave mistake she had just made only minutes before. As private as the office was, in the end all that really mattered was that she twisted home the hefty deadbolt on the door before she did anything with Jason she wanted to actually remain private. And, of course, just as 'Shave and a Haircut' rapped throughout the office, Michaels realized she had never locked the door. Tock...tock-tock...tock...tock... Michaels froze in terror for several long moments, staring at the doorknob and expecting it to turn on its own at any moment. When it didn't, she called, "One moment!" and twisted off Jason and onto the floor in an instant. She found her pants half tangled in the wheels of her chair and scrambled back into them while stuffing the panties she'd hooked on a drawer handle into her blazer pocket. She plunked down in the chair to slip her shoes back on and swiveled around to find that Jason already had his t-shirt back on, and with one smooth motion pulled his jeans and boxers up from around his ankles and rezipped. Good boy. Dr. Michaels smoothed her jacket, straightened her glasses, and checked her pants for wet spots before taking a deep breath and rising to open the door. And damn if the sight on the other side of the door didn't dry her right up on the spot. "Hi!" Lindsay Gregs squeaked, nervous but energetic, clutching her backpack over her chest. "Am I too late for office hours, Professor Michaels? I wanted to ask-" "Doctor!" Dr. Michaels half shouted. Lindsay's face paled, and one foot scooted backwards. Michaels took a shallow breath and managed to calm both her tone and expression. "You wanted to ask about the grade on your last paper, right? I was hoping you would. Come on in, I still have a few minutes." Lindsay scampered into the office behind her, digging into the bag at her stomach like a mother kangaroo with such concentration that she almost bumped into Dr. Michael's pet before noticing him. The two children's eyes met, and Michaels swallowed bile as Lindsay's eyes grew wide with as much glee as surprise. "Jase!" she squealed, giving his chest a fond slap. "So here's where you've been hiding, you dick! I've been looking for you for an hour!" "Sorry, Gregs," Jason said, smiling at the little girl with an odd, aggravating warmth that Michaels had never seen on his face before. "I had something to give Dr. Michaels, and we got a little carried away. Sorry, I'll buy you a hundred chai teas to make up for it." "Eh, eighty should do just fine," Lindsay smirked, and Jason smirked right back. Dr. Michaels sat down and slid her monitor back into place. "He was just about to leave, anyway," she said, cool as could be. Jason snapped his eyes towards her, and his gaze was all strained, panicked desperation. "Yes, Doctor." His voice was casual, yet those lovely, enraging gray eyes pleaded at her. Pleaded. "Thank you, Doctor." Jason made for the door, with Lindsay shadowing his heels. They spoke quietly, yet with no real effort to keep from being heard. After all, Dr. Michaels was surely too busy and mature to care about what young people had to chat about. "So are we still on for Saturday?" Lindsay asked. "Yeah, sure!" Jason's eyes gave the smallest of flicks towards Michaels. "So far. Um, Azalea, too?" Oh? Shy little Azalea Gutierrez had crosshairs on Jason, too? Michaels swallowed her disgust. How many women was that little boyslut juggling? Lindsay rolled her eyes. "Maybe! Ugh...Please, Jason, you've gotta be there! Pleease? We had so much fun at your place last weekend." Michaels' guts turned to ice. "You'll only owe me, like, twenty teas if come, dude." Jason gave Michaels one last quick, pained look before saying, "I'll certainly try, Gregs," and disappeared down the hall. Lindsay looked after him for a moment before closing the door. She rolled the spare chair up to the desk and sat down at Dr. Michaels' elbow. "Sorry, Professor," she said, slapping a packet of red-sketched papers on the desk. "I hope you still have a little time. Oh my gawd, Professor, your hair looks amazing today! I'm so jealous." Office Hours Ch. 04 "She's just a friend, Ma'am," Jason said as greeting that evening when Dr. Michaels opened the door 22 seconds after Michaels had stomped on the floor. She poked her head into the hall to look for any onlookers before yanking the pet into her apartment by the scruff of his neck. He began undressing before she locked the door, and continued to gush as the clothes left that taught, obnoxious body. "Just a friend, Ma'am, I swear. We've known each other since middle school, but nothing has ever happened with us. It couldn't." Michals knocked Jason's chin, and regarded his naked self in all her righteous, perfumed glory as he sank to his knees, a pair of blue plaid boxers still tangled around one ankle. She paced around him in slow circles, letting the swish of her lavender robe join Jason's nervous pants as the only sounds to penetrate the apartment's stale, cool silence. She reached out and scratched a nail in a circle around his throat while she walked. "And so here's the part," she almost whispered, "where I go about making Lindsay my pet, too...Suddenly go lesbian because the passion and opportunity is just too irresistible.." "Ma'am-" Jason began, but Michaels shut him up with a hard knuckle to to the back of his head. "Maybe I'll even put her beneath you...a pet for the pet, and all three of us have ourselves some fun." Michaels smacked the boy right across the mouth. "Right...Jase?" Jason sighed and shook his head. "Of course not. You're the woman, the only woman, I want to be with." Michaels gave a little groan of her own and stopped pacing. The pet was pathetic in any number of ways, but he was always totally honest with her. If he said he had never fucked Lindsay, and wanted only her, then it was so. There was no reason she shouldn't allow part of her anger to ebb. And she honestly knew that she didn't really have a right to be angry with Jason in the first place when she had never said that he couldn't be with other women. Yet... she hadn't even imagined the possibility, either. Not until this afternoon when a pretty little blond thing was pawing him and smiling into his eyes. Now she wasn't sure if she was still above making Jason swear loyalty to her. After all..."What was she doing in your apartment last weekend?" "Watching a movie and playing video games, Ma'am," Jason said, a tad more dryly than she appreciated. "Nothing more. Her and three others." Yes, okay. Alright. She was mature enough to let that part of it all go. Michaels had always known—even expected—that part of Jason's private life must involve friends. Yes, of course he had friends. He wasn't that pathetic. He and his friends got together and watched crappy movies and played Fatal Fantasy, or whatever, and good for them. There wasn't s a single thing about that Michaels could rightfully be angry about, or punish Jason for. And she truly wasn't angry about it. Just...upset. Upset in a way she couldn't understand, and that did make her angry. So angry that she growled and slapped Jason several times. And then something else occurred to her, and her anger grew even hotter. Michales snarled aloud and squatted to tug the boy by his pubes towards the couch. She sat, patted her lap, and barked, "Bend!" Jason immediately knelt and prostrated himself over her knees, ass raised and submissive. She petted those soft, firm, perfect cheeks with something almost like affection while one hand clawed his face in an iron grip that deformed those pretty features. "You sent Lindsay to my office, didn't you?" she said, leaning close enough to nip his ear once the words left her lips. "Sicked her on me." "I didn't think she would come until next week, Ma'am," Jason said, his words slurred by the hand twisting his face. It was the wrong answer, and Michaels gave his ass a hard smack. "I wasn't up to anything, Ma'am!" Smack. "If I'd known she was going to show up when she did, I never would have said anything!" Smack. "I thought you might click once you actually talked to her, Ma'am." That earned three smacks. "Just what did you say to her?" Michaels demanded, once more petting cheeks that were now hot glowing pink. "I didn't even bring it up," Jason said, a bit sullen. "Gre—ah, Lindsay has been freaking out about your class all semester, and your grade on her last revision was keeping her up at night. She's really shy, and frankly...well, Ma'am, you kinda scare her. So all I did was mention what a cool teacher you actually are, and that you would totally work with her if she came to office hours. That's what I said, Ma'am." Dr. Michaels' grip on Jason's face slipped and her hand stopped teasing his ass. That...wasn't the answer she had expected. Not at all what she had wanted to hear, not with Jason bent over her knee. He clearly had to be in the wrong somehow. 'Cool teacher'...? It was true that she had actually had a perfectly pleasant time with Lindsay that evening. The child was ditzy, but not stupid, and together they had polished her piece from a weak C into the inklings of an A-. Within minutes after Jason's departure Lindsay had become just another eager student, and Dr. Michaels was committed—no, wanted—to help any of her students to succeed. But still. Still! Jason had done something wrong...hadn't he? Overstepped some boundary. Of course he had. His very existence in her life was a violation. A fundamental betrayal. Why else would the sight of his shaggy hair, toned back, and miraculous ass make her so furious? Jason! Always playing some game! Always trying to put fingers in her personal life! Such a child! Such an immature, ignorant, obnoxious child! Dr. Michaels was spanking the boy once more before she even realized it. Swatting him like a toddler caught with a finger in his nose. Firm, but not fierce, and almost mechanically rhythmic. Smack, smack, smack. Jason only grunted at the strikes for awhile, but soon began to yelp as his abused ass glowed ever brighter. After a minute, Michaels' palm grew numb. After several minutes, Michaels had no feeling below her elbow, yet the mere sound of the continual snap of her deadened hand against Jason's red ass drove her on. Michaels finally forced herself to stop, and even gently stroked her pet's burning behind for a short time. He was drooped heavy over her knees, eyes slightly glazed over, and sweating hard enough to drench Michaels' robe halfway up her thighs. Michals had no pity. The kid loved it. Why else would his aggressive prick be rock hard and smearing disgusting boylube up and down her calf with every eager pulse? Michales stretched out her arm, leaned in close to Jason's ear, and hissed, "Bad boy!" as she gave his his ass one more thunderous smack. "Thank you, Ma'am..." Jason breathed. "Sorry, Ma'am." Michaels slammed her pet's dazed head hard beneath the chin, and the naked boy sprang upright as best he could. His legs were spread, and his knees bowed, yet Jason tried to stand as straight as he could given how much pain his ass must have been in. Michaels couldn't help but cackle at him for a moment. She slinked down from the couch onto her knees, her head at Jason's waist. Her middle finger slowly slipped inside her cunt as her lungs took in the musky, pleasantly sour scent of Jason's arousal. Michales gripped her pet's dribbling cock and gave it several violent pumps while staring up into his eyes. At last, she worked the hard cock towards her face, parted her lips...and spat with utter contempt onto Jason's erection. "Ha!" she laughed up towards his face. "Not tonight, Jason! Not ever. No, no, not even if I was poisoned and dying, and your disgusting prick held the only antidote—no, not even then would I ever put this vile thing in my mouth." Michaels shoved aside Jason's wet cock and instead concentrated on a patch of his hip, barely an inch from the outer fringe of his robust (if trimmed) pubic hair. It was an arbitrary place on the boy's body, notable only for the proximity to his crotch, a patch of thin, sensitive skin that Michaels licked at with a few quick swirls, earning a deep, guttural moan from Jason. She gripped the top of Jason's thigh hard, kissed several times at the wet patch she had made... And sank her teeth into his flesh. Jason's entire body tensed and began to tremble. He smacked his hands over his mouth and gasped several times before slowly, reluctantly crying out in eye-watering agony. Michaels was only inspired to bite harder, and harder, teeth sinking into skin and muscle that seemed ever more deliciously fragile with every minute tightening of her jaw. Finally, Michales pulled back to confront the most hideous bruise she had ever seen. There were her teeth, every one of them pressed so hard into Jason's body in blue, black, and red that it would be months before the proof of her faded from his skin. A half dozen tiny beads of blood began to well in the wound she had inflicted, and Dr. Michaels giggled—giggled!-in satisfaction. It was perfect. Jason was marked, and it was perfect. Dr. Michaels' minds mind was suddenely a blank inferno of want. She sprung to her feet and began pushing Jason, shove after hard shove, towards the bedroom. Once inside, she yanked him around by the shoulders, slapped him, and slammed him atop the bed hard enough to wind him, and scrambled up herself while he wheezed. The bedroom was cool and dark, but the window above her bed always let in enough moonlight to work by. Tonight, Dr. Michaels wanted no foreplay, no banter, no games. She simply twisted atop Jason, her back to his face, grabbed that chubby cock hard, and stabbed it inside her body with a relieved growl. Michaels massaged her clit and clawed at her own breasts as she ground on the pet's satisfying member. She seldom rode him reverse cowgirl—slapping, spitting, yanking, and tweaking the other side of his body was just too satisfying, and inevitably gave her the quickest, hardest orgasms. Yet sometimes...sometimes it was just more comfortable to pleasure herself with his body without looking at his face. And in any case, it was fun to feel the boy's dick rubbing against different parts of her pusssy with the altered angle. The sex in this position was slower, calmer. Michaels took the time to focus deeply on the sensation of every buck of her hips. She tingled to the core with each swallow and release of Jason's cock into her twat. Even as she began to move faster, fiercer, each wet, pounding thrust remained somehow distinct, forming a constant series of burning joys that wove together into something transcending. Michales yanked Jason's legs up and gripped his knees in each hand for leverage. It wasn't long before the threads of joy began to knit into something solid and electric. Pushing against Jason's knees, Michaels sprung up until only the tip of the boy's cock remained inside her body before slamming down again against his hips. Again. Again and again, Finally, Michaels howled out a scream from deep in her belly while her eyelids fluttered, teared, and closed. Her whole body shuddered as if enduring an arctic chill. Michaels moaned louder yet as her body's trembles at last shook an enthusiastic eruption from the prick still buried inside her. Such a good boy, coming only after she had. Dr. Michaels slipped out and off Jason, sweaty and exhausted. She lay in the weak moonlight atop the blankets of her bed, gasping, panting, slowly regaining her breath and composure. One or the other of her legs occasionally spasmed in the aftermath of the pleasure that still tingled just below every inch of her skin. Michaels felt the bed shift as Jason rolled onto his side, inches away from her back. Close enough that she could feel the occasionally puff of the boy's hot breath warming the back of her neck. Before long the fingernails of both his hands pressed against her shoulder blades and began to stroke up and down. Michael's moaned, and snuggled her sweaty face deep into the pillows. Normally after a fuck, she would have the pet clean her up between the legs with his tongue, then send him away before taking a shower and trying to get some sleep. Yet, tonight she was already so sleepy, and if the child really wanted to hang around for awhile scratching her back...well, that was acceptable, Michaels supposed. Yes. Plenty acceptable. So Michaels blindly groped at her bedside table and used a fistful of tissues to mop the warm gooze from her crotch, tossing the mess at a little trash can in the corner. Yet after a few minutes (or was it an hour? It was so hard to tell when the pet went to work with his nails) Jason insisted on opening his mouth and almost ruining everything. "So this Saturday," he began tentatively, practically whispering at her nape, "we have this thing in the art building...A show. I think-" "The answer is no," Dr. Michaels almost shouted, half-muffled by the pillows she still cuddled. "No! No, Jason. Never." Jason pressed his face into the back of her skull and sighed deep enough to tickle her eyebrows. "Why, Ma'am? My own photos aren't even in the show. I just...Why not come out to something? I know you think that photography is stupid and hollow. Great! So come make fun of it or something. It'll be fun. I mean, there's free wine and everything." "You know I hate wine, Jason," Michaels murmured. "Besides, do you think I'm stupid? I heard you conspiring with Lindsay. You and she—and Azalea—are going to be flitting around, having a grand old time whether I'm there or not. You just want you're lame little bitch friends to see you being pals with a teacher so they think you're all hot and mature." "Ma'am. That's not-" Michaels slammed an elbow into Jason's ribs. He gasped, but the hands raking delightful paths up and down her back hardly missed a beat. "What's your deal, Jason?" Michaels barked.. "Seriously. Your deep-down deal? What is it? Was Mama a bit too affectionate after spanking you? Did Big Sis yank you into her room and laugh while she forced you to wear dresses? Why-?" Why do you put up with me? Michaels very nearly spoke aloud. She instead sorted her thoughts and said, "Why are you such a fucking perv?" Even though she could only feel the mattress shudder, Michaels knew Jason was shrugging. More, she somehow sensed his innocent, doofy grin spreading against the back of her neck. "I don't have a sister," he said, laughter tinging his voice. "and Mom never spanked me once. She's too boring for that. Everything about me is pretty boring, really.." "Okay. So? I asked a question, and that's not an answer, Jason." Jason sighed and nuzzled her neck. "I really don't know, Ma'am. I like being bossed around, I like being hit. I like the...the comfort of it, I guess? The structure? I dunno, maybe I should've joined the army." Jason chuckled to himself and gathered a knot of Michaels' hair to press against his nose and mouth. "Honestly, though," the boy said, "you're my deal, Ma'am. I'm obsessed with spending time with you no matter what we're doing." The boy bent forward and kissed her right on the earlobe, sending a shudder through her entire body. "I love you, Ma'am." Michaels swatted at Jason's face as though beating away an especially aggressive mosquito. Then again and again, harder and harder. She was hitting blind, but hoping to hurt the boy, hoping to draw blood, hoping to wound this pathetic child deep enough that he would stop saying such words. Jason flinched and cringed and hissed in pain, but still he kept scratching her back and breathing on her neck. Yet Michaels didn't take long to slow her assault. A balled fist became an open palm, and then merely raking fingernails. Soon she was simply pinching at the child's thighs and hips, then even stroking her fingers up and down his side, relishing the texture of the slight hair beneath her nails. And still Jason scratched her back, and breathed against her neck. "So pathetic..." Michaels whispered. Michael's groping hand found the pet's hard ass. She sank her nails into the taut flesh before giving it a few hard smacks. "Okay," Michael's said over her shoulder. "It's late. Get to bed, kiddo. You have a quiz tomorrow afternoon." "Aww, a quiz!" Jason said. He stole one more kiss to her ear as he scrambled out of Michaels' bed. "That wasn't on the syllabus." "You earned yourself a little advance notice for being a good boy," Michaels said, scooting beneath the warm and slightly damp blankets of her bed. "Oh? So what do I need to do for an answer key?" "You don't have the stamina, kid!" Michaels and Jason both erupted into chuckles, and after a few moments Michales threw a pillow at the naked boy and said with laughter, "Get out, already! Go! Gah, I've been sick of you for at least an hour!" Jason doubled over in a bow in the bedroom's doorway. Michaels could just see the smile splitting his mouth. "Good night, Ma'am," he said. "I hope you have a good evening." "'Night..." Michael's murmured sleepily. After a few moments, Michaels heard the rustle of Jason dressing near the door. And only seconds after that, the door open and closed, and off the pet went to his little mysterious world one floor down. Dr. Michaels laid awake for a time. Yet the deep, sharp tingle of the pet's nails running up and down her back remained. And slowly, by imagining those nails were still against her skin, Dr. Michaels was able to find something that was almost like real sleep. Office Hours Ch. 05 This is about the halfway point in the tale of Dr. Michaels and Jason. Let me know in the comments if you like it so far and want more! ***** Dr. Michaels had two cans of coffee for breakfast and drove into work simultaneously exhausted and jittery. She had a cigarette walking to class, but that just made her feel even worse. By the time she stood before her morning class, Michaels wanted to both vomit and sleep for a year. In the end, she had given up and put on a YouTube video about grammar for the last twenty minutes of class while she cradled her head in her in hands in hoped no one noticed that she was dozing. It was a bad morning. It didn't help that the day was sunny and cloudless. Almost hot. It was downright obscene, especially for November. Michaels hated cloudless skies. That blank, blue slate of infinity felt oppressive and hollow, like a celestial canvas nature had forgotten to paint in. She longed for the cold, dark clouds that gave the whole world a constant energy, the freezing winds that made company necessary. Michaels felt scooped out and weak, like she was made of eggshell and simply walking too fast or thinking too hard would crack her. Part of it was definitely Jason withdrawals, she knew. It seemed like every few seconds she was wracked with a pang of guilt. Beating on him for having a female friend? Biting him! What was that, just what the hell was that? Human bites were filthy, and such a wound could very easily become infected. What would happen if Jason had to see a doctor? "Sadist Teacher" was not an explanation that she or the authorities would find agreeable. Dr. Michaels did better in her second class of the morning. A debate among the students sprang up around sexism in the novels of the Bronte sisters, which Michaels had a good time moderating. So good, in fact, that she found herself still chatting with a pair of enthusiastic girls after class long enough to earn a sour look from the professor waiting in the doorway to use the classroom after her. The girls laughed about it, and shadowed Michaels for awhile across campus, still eager to probe her for literary factoids. At one point Michaels made an embarrassingly stupid joke ("Jane Eyre? I just met Eyre!") and the girls cackled their heads off, one of them clutching Michaels' arm and nuzzling at her shoulder as she gasped for breath. Dr. Michaels rolled her eyes and sent the goofy bimbos on their way soon after that. Such silly children! Fresh from leaving home, not nearly on their feet as they think they are, and so desperate for a mother figure they can pretend is always there to hold their hand. ...poor Jason... Dr. Michaels shook her head to dislodge the pet from that train of thought, and yet... ...I love you, Ma'am... ...the stupid child kept creeping in. Michales shook her head harder. It was obvious she needed to spend time with people her own age. Even if that meant Ted and the gang of half perv, half dweebs that occupied the better part of a table this time of day in the cafeteria. They weren't so bad, really—at least they were smart. Well, mostly. In certain ways. They knew academia, sure, but more than half of them had never really worked a day in their life. Too many had gone from high school top 10%, to pampered undergrads, to coddled graduates...and finally right to professors. No stops in actual reality in between. Do not pass Go, do not collect any real life experience. Yet such were now Michaels' peers, and she just had to learn to adapt. It was the adult thing to do. If she had to throw herself on a sword of banality to earn a bit of maturity, then so be it. Suffering banal company from time to time was also an adult thing, she had come to learn. So Dr. Micaels slipped into the teeming cafeteria, wriggling past to a pair a smartphone-ing goths to reach the plates for the salad bar while still managing to bludgeon a tiny Aian girl with her shoulder bag. After slowly building an acceptable salad (marred only by the inclusion of yellow bell peppers, which were far too sweet), Michaels shouldered her way through the crowd towards the faculty's usual corner table... ...only to find it occupied by a dozen ponytailed members of the women's soccer team. Dr. Michaels' paused, cradling her salad, peering about for a familiar adult face. Yet she found herself alone in a sea of children. And of course, adding insult to insult, Michaels spotted Jason at a far table sharing an enormous plate of cheese fries with Lindsay, Azalea, and couple of other nobody losers. The pet's back was to her, but Lindsay noticed Michaels, her eyes lighting up and her hand offering a small, but energetic wave. After a few moments, Lindsay began to beckon Michaels over, first with one hand, then both. Dr. Michaels pretended not to see her, her cheeks suddenly flushing with frustration and rage. She wandered over to take a seat at a long counter lining the windows and choked down her salad, regretful at every bite of the fries she would be eating if she had known the adults wouldn't be watching. Jason came to visit during during office hours, and though Dr. Michaels' mood and energy got an immediate boost from having him near, she still felt a bit too out of sorts to play with him much. She sat him on her lap and tongued his throat for a bit, then had him brush her hair again for a time. But before long Jason simply sat at her feet, resting his head on Michaels' lap while she read essays with one hand and idly petted his shaggy hair with the other. Eventually, though, the boy's hot breath puffing on her crotch set Michaels' blood alight and she had him eat her out under the desk until she came. It had become such an easy trick for him to perform! No teenager had any right to be so good at eating pussy. Yet he was, and so Michaels gave the pet a few gracious pats on his wet cheek, packed her bag, and left him on his knees, wiping his face with her handkerchief as she set off for home. After stopping by a Sonic for a not-so-spicy chicken burger and soda (the crumbled remnants tossed into the back seat of her car), Michaels plunked onto the couch in her drafty apartment, turned on the TV, and read the grueling introductory pages of the Scarlet Letter, hoping to bore herself into a proper nap. Once that scheme failed, she rolled onto her side and watched three back-to-back episodes of the Big Bang Theory without so much as once cracking a smile. Finally Dr. Michaels gave in and left a trail of work clothes from the couch to bathroom as she stripped and began to groom. Ten minutes later Michaels' bare foot slammed down three times against the living room floor, and she stood near the door, smoothing her lavender robe over her thighs and wondering if she had gone a bit overboard with the Lemon Rose. The knock came forty two seconds after stomping. The pet was slowing down. But Michaels didn't punish him for it. Overall, she was in the mood for a quiet, calm evening. Once the pet had stripped, she yanked him to her and gave him a hard makeout in the middle of the living room, her hands gripping either side of his head while his fingers flowed up and down her back and sides, occasionally dancing softly over her ass. The frenzy of their lips nearly pushed Michaels' glasses off her face, and she shoved Jason's head down to suckle at her breasts while she readjusted the glasses, bringing the boy's desperate, devoted features back into clarity. Michaels soon shoved Jason towards the couch, nipping his ears and smacking his hard ass. Before sitting down herself, she sank to her knees and inspected the bite on the boy's hip. The teeth marks were almost black, and the surrounding flesh was a grotesque rainbow of blue, purple, and yellow. "It's fine, Ma'am," Jason cooed, stroking the side of her head.. "I have some ointment. It barely hurts anymore." Michaels nodded. Good, she thought, but it was a distant thought. The worry and guilt over what she had done was only a tiny ember in the very back of her mind. Here, now, she once again felt proud. Michaels hoped Jason was lying, hoped the bite did still hurt. Badly. That's right, Lindsay, she thought. Michaels leaned forward and gently kissed the bite right at the bruised center. Mine! Dr. Michaels then plunked down on the edge of the couch, opened her robe, and amused herself for a long while whipping Jason's backside with the belt while he ate her for the second time that day. As the pleasure from his tongue and lips increased, so did the intensity of her flogging, until Michaels had a screaming orgasm at the sight of the boy leaking tears over the pussy he was pleasuring. Far from finished, Michaels then cinched the belt around Jason's neck and spent almost half an hour pulling on the leather strap, forcing the boy's panting face into her soaked pussy over and over with harsh tugs, lightly choking him with a tweak of her wrist. Though she didn't quite come, Michaels came very close at the sight of of Jason's eyes peering up at her over the fringe of her pubes as as his mouth latched desperately over her cunt, his eager little tongue swirling and flicking her clit like it was made for the purpose. Next came a long, warm, oily massage. They chatted for a long time while the pet's amazing hands worked Michaels' muscles. Michaels gave a condensed rundown of exactly what she expected from a pending paper, and assured Jason that she would work out the whole mess of his linguistics credit not meeting the prerequisites for next semester's classes. Yet soon the massage turned to her front, and Michaels lost words as Jason rubbed down her breasts, stomach, and hips. The boy was even trained well enough to know just when, and how often, he was allowed to give her pussy a stroke with his big, strong fingers, always offering her clit a light caress or swirl in passing. Dr. Michaels was a little too rung out for a normal fuck. Instead, she laid scrunched next to Jason and had him suck and nibble on her breasts while she got herself off with a chubby green vibrator she'd had since well before she met the pet. Then, as a reward, Dr. Michaels sat the boy on her lap and pinched his nipples hard while giving him a downright brutal handjob, all the while biting his ears and hissing vulgar insults. The pathetic thing spurted hard enough to splatter the TV screen. Michaels laughed and abused the pet with the belt as he cleaned up his own mess. And then it was time for him to leave. Michaels slipped back into her robe and sat on the couch. She watched Jason hop on his jeans and T-shirt, transforming back from a pet to a boy. A beautiful boy. An odd, warm pulse blooming under her skin forced Michaels to her feet, and she scurried over to Jason as he rose from popping a heel into his shoe. Michaels clutched at the thick, hard arm reaching for the doorknob. The boy turned, casting her in warm innocence with his gaze. He was so young. "Ma'am?" Jasosn said. Michaels' tongue felt too thick for words, her lips too fragile to articulate, her lungs too short of proper breath. Her mind too muddled to even know what it was she couldn't say. And then the silence in the apartment was broken by the crack of Michaels' hand across Jason's face. The boy smiled. "Thank you, Ma'am." He bowed slightly and opened the door. "I hope you have a good evening, Ma'am." Office Hours Ch. 06 Saturday was not a happy day. Despite sleeping in until almost ten, Michaels came to groggy, drained, and bitter. She drank a couple of cups of black coffee while stirring up a big plate of scrambled eggs (one of the only things she knew how to cook). She ate while watching some inane program about teen entrepreneurs that had, for some awful reason, replaced the block of cartoons she used to watch as a kid on the local station. Michaels hadn't even finished her eggs before she became too annoyed by pretentious kids declaring how they were going to fix the world to watch another second. She turned off the TV as hard as a thumb on a rubber button allowed before dressing in her cleanest work suit and driving a few slow laps around the city in her old Volkswagen, chain smoking out the window until her mind felt numb enough to get on with the day. Michaels pulled back into the Jacksonian, and cursed herself once for noticing first and foremost that Jason's hideous yellow bike was missing, then cursed herself again when she wondered if he was off visiting Lindsay Gregs. This was the evening of Jason and Lindsday's precious photo show, the night that they practically had a date. The exhibit was probably nothing but nudes, and with free wine to boot! Despite what Jason thought, Michaels had been to such functions before, and the servers never carded anyone for refreshments. Both he and Lindsay would get sloppy on cheap red, stumble back to his little nerd hole on the 2nd floor, and... Dr. Michaels gulped several deep breaths as she slipped back into into her apartment. Well, that was Jason's business. Hadn't she herself stumbled towards private places to do private things after too much cheap red when she was his age? Of course she had, and more often than she cared to remember. He was a dumb little kid and it was allowed. Expected. Jason was nineteen, for Chrissakes, just what could really be expected of him? Yet Dr. Michaels still spent most of Saturday night struggling not to summon him. The mental image of Jason pawing around with Lindsay only to hear those three thumps on his ceiling and have to leave Lindsay to come running to her was just too priceless. But Michaels' better self managed to win out, and she left Jason alone to his private affairs, just as she expected him to leave her be. It was a wise decision, and the right one, and was only reached after drinking five cans of beer and passing out in bed wearing her work blouse, socks, and nothing else. Whatever Jason and Lindsay did or didn't do Saturday night, Jason belonged to Dr. Michaels all Sunday afternoon. She began with a spanking for making her drink so much the night before, then laid atop him for while, nipping his face and tonguing his throat while he massaged her ass through her robe. A long foot rub soon ensued, during which Michaels bravely endured Jason's blathering about the photography show without smacking him. Though she was bored practically to tears by his talk of aperture and color saturation, she made a point of not discouraging his love for photography. She may refuse to go to any shows, but she still let Jason show her his work from time to time and put up with spiels like this even though she knew he knew she didn't care. It wasn't just a hobby, after all, but an academic endeavor (albeit one that paled in importance to her own writing and rhetoric instruction). The kid wanted to be a journalist, and had already succeeded in getting a couple of short articles published in the campus newspaper. He was passionate about photojournalism factoring into his future career, and if this was his goal as a student then, as a teacher, the least she could was humor him. Still, Dr. Michaels had her limits, and eventually cut her foot rub short just to shut him up. Monday classes were just around the corner, and Michaels hadn't gotten anything done on Saturday. Yet she wasn't willing to send the pet away yet, so Michaels soon found herself lying on her stomach in the middle of the living room with a couple of pillows tucked under her tummy, grading quizzes and answering emails on her laptop, all the while slipping at a plus-size can of beer and occasionally mewling with pleasure as the pet crouched behind her, tonguing her asshole with the belt cinched around his neck. "Ma'am?" Jason asked, coming up for air after almost an hour. "I was wondering, why-" Dr. Michaels reached backwards and smacked the boy's ear. "Shut up! Deeper! Stop being so timid! And when did I say you shouldn't be fingering me, too?" Jason obeyed, burring his face between Michaels' cheeks and twisting his tongue hard into the sensitive orifice as two thick fingers slipped inside her sopping pussy and began a slow, deep pumping. Michaels groaned long and loud with satisfaction as she sank her face towards the carpet, yanking on the belt to smash Jason's face harder against her body. She emerged a couple of minutes later to find that her nose had pressed approximately 400 V's onto the end of a letter of recommendation she had been composing for Jason to a local magazine in hopes of securing him an internship. Michaels chuckled and began a slow deletion, reveling in the irony of just how highly all those V's spoke to Jason's loyalty and work ethic. As such, she felt a bit more generous towards him. "What were you saying?" Michaels asked, reaching back to hook her fingers in Jason's hair and press him even deeper into her ass for a few seconds. "Go on, kiddo." Michaels let go of Jason's head, and he emerged from behind her with a controlled but definite gasp. The good boy gained some composure, took a few gulps from the bottle of water she had bought for him, and gave her asshole a few solid licks before asking, "Why did you decide to become a teacher?" Michaels sighed, and her hand tensed in anticipation of hitting him once more. Here he was again, probing at her when he thought her guard was down. And yet...it was a perfectly fair question, the sort that any average student she wasn't fucking might ask, and which, as a teacher, she felt deserved an honest response. Yet Michaels still surprised herself by just how honest she was ready to be almost the moment she opened her mouth. "Well...I can't honestly say I ever wanted to teach. At all. Believe it or not, I wanted to be a translator, of all things. A French translator." Michales paused, waiting for some sign of judgment or derision from Jason. But the pet said nothing, using his tongue only to continue massaging her ass. And so, slowly, Michaels continued. "I was a Francophile as a teenager. The annoying kind, who mocked friends and family for not watching French movies, then mocked them further for watching Amelie with dubbing instead of subtitles." "Delicatessen is better anyway," Jason offered between slurps. Michaels reached back and gave him a hard knuckle to the scalp. "Don't you start with me!" She took a deep breath. "Anyway! Here's the real ironic part," she said, rolling her eyes at herself. "To this day, I can't speak French. I tried. I tried long and hard, putting in extra time with my professors, using CD and computer programs...And despite it all, I probably couldn't successfully order escargot in Paris. So, halfway through my bachelors, I dropped out of French courses. I started taking on a lot of English lit and writing. And, well, what can I say? It was a good fit. Chaucer and Shakespeare and Austen just naturally slid right into my comfort zone. It felt like the next best thing." "The problem was," Michaels continued, "I had no idea what I was going to do with all this training in a language I already spoke. Being a successful literary translator right out the gate had always been the plan. So instead, when I got my degree I just followed my friends into grad school, hoping to figure it out along the way. Most of my classmates planned to go into teaching, and would wax poetic about how idealistic their lives as teachers were going to be...nothing but intellectual conversations over coffee and wine in mood-lit parlors and coffee shops. Modern day salons where they would mold young minds by day and hone the understanding of literature by evening." Michaels heart was pounding. She couldn't believe she was about to tell the boy this. "And, well...by the time I started taking that little fantasy seriously, my social life had kind of unraveled. Most of my friends had graduated and moved away, and I had drifted apart from the rest. This notion of becoming a professor being a ticket to a world of intellectual camaraderie...it appealed to me." "But it didn't work out that way?" Jason asked when Dr. Michaels was quiet for awhile. She shook her head. "It didn't work out. I don't hate my colleagues, it's just..." Michaels sighed. "No, no, I do hate them. I just wish I didn't." "Well, you still have other friends." "Of course I do!" Michaels said, a beat too late to be convincing. Jason quietly slurped away at her ass and pumped his fingers in her pussy for awhile before both tongue and hand fell still. He raised his head a bit and nuzzled her tailbone, his shaggy hair tickling her ass cheeks. "I'm your friend, Ma'am." Michaels groaned and buried her face in her arms. "Don't be weird, Jason. Of course we're not friends. You're a pathetic little boy and I'm a grown woman. And guess what? Even if I was ten years younger, you'd still be pathetic and I still wouldn't be your friend." "If you say so," Jason said with more than a whiff of amused condescension. Michaels was annoyed by his tone, but couldn't help but get lost in the boy's tongue and busy fingers. She forgot about the letter on her laptop and kept her face buried in her arms, moaning as Jason perfectly synched his tonguing to his fingering. God, it was almost obnoxious how easily could switch off her brain! Soon the pet made a bold move and reversed ministrations, sucking at her pussy while he inserted a brazen finger into Michaels' ass. Michaels bit her own arm through a rasping yelp of pleasure, writhing and bucking her hips towards the boy's face and pulling on the belt. Yet...it just just wasn't enough. She couldn't come. The idiot pet had thrown her all off kilter. Michaels kicked the pet away and rolled onto her back, bracing her feet on his shoulders and tugging the belt around his neck until he started to choke. Not badly, and not for long. Just enough to remind him that she was in charge, and that every breath in his lungs was a tiny little gift to her. Dr. Michaels then sprung to her feet, smoothing down her robe. She yanked the belt, and the pet obediently heeled, nuzzling her ankle. Michaels then began to tug Jason along on all fours, walking him in slow circles around her messy living room. "I know what you're saying," Michales said, yanking Jason along in a pointless circuit over dirty laundry and stray beer cans. "You think I'm some sad, old loser. Don't you, Jason?" Jason shook his shaggy head, all that ridiculous light brown hair sending whiffs of coconut towards Michaels. "Of course not, Ma'am!You're everything-" Dr. Michaels gave a hard snap of her foot into Jason's balls, sending him hissing to the floor. Yet he managed to rally almost immediately, and kept shambling along, gasping as he did his best to keep his cheek pressed against Michaels' calf. "Is Ted my friend?" Michaels asked. "No he's not. Are you? Ha!" Michaels slammed her heel into Jason's ass hard enough to level him flat. Yet, once again, the boy patiently rose back up onto all fours and continued crawling at her feet. "I don't need either of you. Fuck, Jason, don't you get it? I like being alone!" The boy didn't seem to be listening, clambering about on hands and knees while grinning at the floor. Ugh, insufferable child! Michaels yanked the belt around Jason's neck hard and dragged him to a dark corner of the living room, where she had readied a bowl. "Slurp it," Michaels commanded, giving the bowl a tap with her toe. Jason immediately obeyed, dipping his face into the bowl and lapping up the blue liquid with his tongue. Mouthwash. Michaels was far from done with the pet this evening, and damn if she was going to learn what her own ass tasted like. Jason gargled and spit, yet Michaels tugged his leashed and pressed her foot down against the back of his head and demanded he gargle again. The boy did, and then a third time, and finally Dr. Michaels walked him over to the couch and commanded him to sit, taking the belt from his neck as she did so. Jason was hard as possible, his prick standing up almost straight and slick from the tip down. The sight made Michaels laugh, and she teased the dribbling head with several hard flicks. The bite on the pet's hip was healing nicely. Yet Michaels noted with pleasure, and only a twinge of guilt, that the wound would probably never fade entirely. The dark marks of her teeth would eventually fade to white, but would never truly go away. Michaels gave the bite a kiss, and Jason's cock another flick, before standing and loosing the sash of her robe, letting the silken garment fall to the floor. Jason sucked a small gasp through his teeth. She stood naked before the boy and watched his eyes glaze over with reverence and lust. He reached out and began to stroked his hands up and down her hips. Soon his fingers were grazing swirls over her belly, up to her breasts, down along either side of her spine and over her ass. Dr. Michaels allowed it all, and allowed herself a few seconds of closed eyed moaning, before backhanding Jason hard across the face. Michales wrapped an iron grip around the base of Jason's aggressive cock and slid it into her body as she straddled the boy's lap. In almost perfect unison, she and Jason let out guttural sighs of satisfaction. Michaels began a furious, grinding bounce atop her pet, hooking her fingers into his hair with one hand while circling the other hand over the clit only milometers above the pussy eating up the boy's young, eager cock. She leaned down and kissed him deep, her tongue stinging lightly from the waft of cool mouthwash still dominating his palette. After several minutes, Michaels remembered why she loved this position so much. She could ride her pet while he was perfectly positioned to service her breasts at the same the time. He kissed and caressed, and even gave her nipples an occasional, careful, light nip. Michales, in turn, didn't even have to bend to smack the kid, snarl in his face, yank his hair, bite his ears, claw his back hard enough to leave angry red welts. And always there was that minty, sweet mouth, so eager to receive her tongue. Soon Jason's thrusting reached the perfect frequency to match Michaels' pounding, and Michaels felt a familiar electricity growing in her abdomen. She released a gurgling whimper and wrapped her arms tight around Jason's head, squeezing his face tight against her chest. She buried her own face into the top of his head, biting his scalp through all that ridiculous coconut hair. The boy's body felt so hot, his hard chest pressed against her, his breath gasping over her skin. And the moaning, oh the delicious moans! The boy was more than half insane with rapture from their merged bodies. And all the while Michaels' legs and hips worked on autopilot, very nearly beyond her ability to control any more. Up, down. Up, down. It was an impulse almost as necessary as breathing, if every breath brought not just life but pure joy. Jason's cock was, if not a part of her, then a medicine that her every cell craved. It was comfortable and familiar in the best way. All at once Michaels pulled away from Jason. She titled her head and panted up towards the ceiling for a few moments. Jason tried to lean forward and kiss his breasts, but she slapped him away. For a couple of long minutes, they both sat gulping air and sweating cold sweat in silence. At last Michaels began bucking atop Jason again, but slowly. Almost gently. She goaded Jason's face back into her breasts with a few pats, and rested her chin atop his head as she rode him with smooth, deep grinds for over half an hour. But then, without warning, Dr. Michaels grabbed Jason's hair at the back of his head and forced his head back so far he was staring at the wall above the couch. She held him like that as she began to hard fuck the pet once more. "Okay," she almost whispered. "Alright, yes, we are a...type of friends, I suppose. But..." But what? Dr. Michaels felt so flooded with possibilities and exceptions and declarations and denials that her voice locked up. She released Jason's head and the kid quickly leaned forward to kiss her chin, smiling like a maniac. Michaels sighed and dug her fingers into the back of Jason's neck as she continued to fuck him. "I know you think I'm lonely, Jason, but I really do like to be alone, alright?" she said. "It isn't complicated or tragic." Jason thudded his forehead against her chest and seemed to be gather his thoughts for awhile. "I still worry about you, Ma'am," the pet said at last, and Michaels lost a beat in her tpounding atop him at the sincere sadness in his voice. She slowed her thrusting, and the boy nuzzled his head up against her neck to talk. "I don't like how comfortable you are with being alone. I actually get how you just hate pretty much everyone. I honestly do! But then you go and take things even further, and well...You just hate everything, don't you, Ma'am? Everything. Beyond Jane Austen and Alistair Gray, I don't think I've ever heard you state actually liking anything since becoming your student." Michales rolled her eyes. "That's stupid, Jason. You don't even know me." The kid looked her in the eyes as she continued to slam down atop his lap. "I don't?" Michaels growled and started to fuck the boy harder. Yet the boy wasn't done. "You never even smile," he said, a rasp in his voice. "Sometimes when we're playing, yeah, in private, but never when you're out the real world. Not once." "Oh, shut up, Jason!" Michaels barked, slamming a knuckle into the side of his head. But the child would not keep his mouth closed. "I don't know what do, Ma'am...you say you're not lonely, you say you're okay...but I know you're not happy. You're not a happy person. You're not okay. You just...you break my heart. And I worry. I worry so much." Dr.Michales squeezed Jason against her chest as she rolled her eyes and shook her head at the ceiling. "I'm fine, you little idiot," she said. "I know your simple teenage mind has a hard time grasping adult concepts, but I'm living with things like bills and debts on top of my full time job trying to teach morons like you. It's hard. It sucks. I don't walk around grinning, but I manage. And it's all my own problem to deal with. Jason...you're too young to stress over fixing me. I don't want you worrying about it. Damnit, it's not your job to worry about me!" The pet leaned up from her breasts and pecked Dr. Michaels' lips. "Honestly, Ma'am? If I'm any type of friend to you, then yes it is." Dr. Michaels never managed to to come that evening. She fucked her young pet for nearly an hour more before wordlessly dismissing him with a few sharp snaps of the wrist. After Jason left, Michaels drank a beer naked on her couch before heading to bed. She masturbated for awhile, trying to finish what Jason had started, but to no real avail. And so she stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, and probably was, trying and failing to weave fantasies that might soothe her, and despairing when she just couldn't. Office Hours Ch. 07 1 Morning came all at once. Dr. Michaels screamed a stream of obscenities at the cell phone on the edge of the mattress that was chirping her awake just when she was finally basking in a true, deep sleep. She staggered out of bed and somehow managed to pee, wash her face, scrub her teeth, brush her hair into place, dress, pack up her papers, down a cup of coffee, stuff her bag with a few snacks, scarf a peanutebutter Cliff Bar, hop into her car and smear on a bit of makeup at red lights just in time to make her morning class on time. A clockwork Monday. The only disruption came towards the end of her commute when Dr. Michaels spotted Jason cycling along the side of the road on his bulky, gaudy yellow mountain bike. Michaels decided to be nice and honked at the kid, offering a quick wave as she flew by. The loser blew a kiss at her in her rear-view mirror. She rolled her eyes and felt only a small ache of guilt over never once having offered the boy a ride. As the week wore on, Michaels almost wished she had stopped and scooped Jason into her crappy Volkswagen when she had the chance, if only to get him alone for a few minutes. Word had apparently got out that Dr. Michaels was a "cool teacher", and she suddenly found herself with a huge influx of desperate children clambering for a piece of her of office hours. Though Michaels often talked herself into being annoyed, the truth was that she actually enjoyed the parade of silly kiddos that came through her office, desperate for her opinion and guidance. So many personalities with so many distinct perspectives, and all of them so confidant that they were adults while shyly demurring to her and silently praying for her approval. It was really quite adorable. All throughout the week, Dr. Michaels found she had little to no time to spend with her pet. The surge of students taking advantage of office hours eliminated all desk fucking, and most games in between. And with finals fast approaching, Dr. Michaels' committed teacher side managed to keep the sadistic hedonist side from stomping the floor and drawing Jason away from his schoolwork most evenings. Though she worked herself sore every night with her fat, green vibrator, Michaels refused to derail the kid's education any more than necessary. Of course it was too much to ask that she totally abstain. She couldn't help but hold him back after class a couple of times, pushing him backward against the edge of the desk for a quick, rough makeout. She gripped his throat with one hand, clawed his hard ass with the other, while viciously tonguing his face. All the while she kept a watchful eye for the slightest jiggle of the classroom doorknob, ready to spring away and make up some excuse, even if her mind was burning too hot to know just what that excuse would be. These little sessions still weren't enough, however, and so Dr. Michaels found herself yanking Jason by the hair into a paper closest near the main computer lab in the student union just before the halls filled with students scurrying between late afternoon classes. Dr. Michaels herself had an afternoon class, so there was no time at all for even a quick fuck. And in any case, the computer lab tended to go through a lot of paper. So Michaels satisfied herself as well she could leaning against the door, skirt hiked up and underwear taut between her calves as Jason sat on his knees and kissed her thighs. Just her thighs, Michaels soon decided, slapping him hard every time his lips and tongue began to drift too high. She swirled her her clit hard, occasionally dipping her middle finger down inside the tight, hungry hole below, moaning shamelessly as people murmured and streamed along just inches away on the other side of the door. And Jason...oh, Jason! He caught onto the game fast, burying his shaggy head between her legs, kissing his way up the inside of one leg, nibbling his way down the other. The boy kept making attempts at her cunt with his tongue, not because he thought he could achieve a lick, but because he knew that denying him with slap after slap got Michaels off. Such a good boy. Jason lavished her knees with warm pecks before twisting to lick a long, wet, tingling trail from the back of her knee to the base of her ass. The feeling was spectacular, and Michaels' satisfaction was surpassed only by the sight of the pet's eyes, nearly insane with the desire to taste her, to please her, to wrap his mouth around her sex and drink deep from the chalice that was Dr. Michaels. The poor boy couldn't help but beg for it aloud, murmuring, "Please, Ma'am...please!" as she slapped him away over and over, a jolt of electric terror and excitement shooting up her spine as someone tried to open the door against her back only seconds later. If anything, the commotion outside the door had grown, dozens and dozens of students streaming by close enough to hear snatches of gossip and sniff perfume while she had her way with one of their peers. It was almost certain that a handful of Dr. Michaels' students had passed by. Perhaps a few who she sat with during office hours recently. Perhaps Lindsay. Michaels worked her clit harder than ever, spattering specks of hot fluid over Jason's face just below. He smacked at the droplets of ambrosia that found his lips, and lapped up the tiny rivulets that were starting to leak down her inner thighs with his warm, velvety tongue. Finally Michaels grabbed the back of the pet's head and forced his face hard into her pussy, immediately sparking a fast, quick orgasm that shuttered her like a good sneeze. It was a fun, satisfying little game that Dr. Michaels filed away to play again another day when she had time to wrestle out a more memorable climax, but in the meantime she only had time to toss Jason a handkerchief and power walk across campus to make her afternoon class. And then, of course, came office hours. Other than Jason, Lindsay Gregs soon proved to be her most adamant devotee. The ditzy blonde girl came often and early, even beating the pet to the door on a couple of occasions. She seemed to like going over every tiny aspect of her assigned readings and pending papers line-by-line. Dr. Michaels the Teacher was downright excited to accommodate the girls' academic anxiety, even as Michaels the Pet Owner raged at the interruptions to her play time. Yet Lindsay was so vulnerable, so fragile. So eager for a simple pat on the head from someone she respected. It reminded Dr. Michaels all too clearly of her early days with Jason. Before he was a pet. When he was just a scared little boy who she would whisper comfort to while he shed frustrated tears against her shoulder. The comparison became all too real one afternoon when Lindsay showed up both more timid and eager than ever. She was stressing hard over a simple two paragraph response she was assigned to write about a particularly challenging essay on rhetoric comparing the nature of books to the human mind. It was a pretentious, bloated piece that Dr. Michaels didn't even care for, but it had made something inside Lindsay snap. Halfway through going over the one paragraph she had written, the poor bimbo had lost it and begun to bawl, wailing about how stupid she was, and how such a stupid, stupid girl didn't deserve to be at this school. Dr. Michaels sighed and experienced a bout of dejavu as she squeezed an arm around Lindsay's shoulders and leaned close to murmur a monologue of affirmations near the girl's ear. "You're not stupid...this is just a new kind of challenge...you're transitioning...you're one of my best students, and you're doing just fine...I'm proud of you, and there's no reason to give up..." After a long twenty minutes, Lindsay finally started to buy it and stopped her sniveling. Dr. Michaels managed to squeeze in a few more minutes of actual explanation concerning the troubling essay before it was time to gently dismiss Lindsay. "Thanks, Professor," Linday said as she packed her things into her backpack, worn once more kangaroo-style across her front. "Really...thanks." "It's no problem, Lindsay," Michaels said. "Just don't let it pile up to this of point anymore. If you don't understand things, and you feel yourself getting overwhelmed, just come to me first and we'll figure it out." Lindsay had nodded rapidly, thumbing her reddened nose, clearly embarrassed by her recent outpouring even as her eyes continued to mist over. "I get why Jason is, like, all into you," she said. Michaels' throat clenched closed, but she managed to keep her face calm. "You guys are a lot alike. Just, like, totally sweet." "I suppose," Michaels said, tense, searching Lindsay's bashful face for any sign that she meant more than she was saying. But no. No, there was nothing coy behind those flitting eyes. The girl was simple and sincere. In a way, that was even more troubling. "You know, Professor..." Lindsay went on. "Sorry! Um, Doctor, I have to go to the theater's show sometime this month for one of my classes. The Importance of Being Earnest. I have a couple of tickets, and...it could be fun?" Dr. Michaels sighed the child's name. "Lindsay..." "I never really got all that stuff when I read it, the, the...subtlety stuff? And you mention Oscar Wilder sometimes and everything." "Wilde. Just Wilde." Michaels forced a smile. "I'm always busy in the evenings, Lindsay, but go ahead and see it and I'll be glad to talk over anything you didn't understand during office hours." "Oh. Sure." Lindsay's face fought against disappointment and embarrassment. She was suddenly very eager to leave the office. But Lindsay still flashed Dr. Michaels a quick, warm smile before scurrying out of her office. 2 Dr. Michaels wandered towards her car in the bustling parking lot, still a bit dazed by little Lindsay's drama. Another child latching onto her! Clinging! And a girl this time! Dr. Michaels hated girls. The last thing she needed was another child fawning after her attention and time. What was with these kids? Just wild, indeed! Why was Lindsay even asking her when it was obvious she really wanted Jason by her side at the play? The two of them in the dark, elbow-to-elbow...a 'totally sweet' guy her own age, who just happened to have read more Oscar Wilde than even Michaels... Just as she was closing in on her car, her fingers hooking the keys in her bag, a hand grazed Dr. Michaels' arm and made her jump ten feet in the air. She spun around, expecting anything and anyone except Ted Barlows. "Oh!" Michaels gasped. "Oh, um, hello there. Hi, Ted." "Yes, yes, hello Doctor," Ted said with a touch of playful sarcasm. "I just wanted to say hi. No need for panic." Michaels chuckled and fished a kinked cigarette from her shoulder bag. She saw Ted frown with disapproval, and took an extra deep drag in defiance as she lit up. "You know that the student council has has approved a smoking ban on campus, right?" Ted said. "If the board signs off on it, what are you going to do?" Michaels exhaled a stream of smoke into the cool evening air. "Sneak a few puffs at a time in the little girls' room, like I always have." Ted rolled his eyes."You're a real bad seed, lady. But hey, you're also a hit with the kids around here, so maybe I'm just jealous." Michaels shrugged and took a few quick, shy drags on her cigarette. This was starting to feel too much like flirting, and Dr. Michaels didn't like it. She had done the flirting thing with Ted, and knew it lead only to boring and awkward scenes. After another deep puff, Michaels screwed her courage to set Ted straight. Yet just as she opened her mouth to tell him off, Ted Barlow patted her arm like an adult pats a child and said, "Oh, you would have been fun at the party!" Dr. Michaels subtlety shrugged away from his touch and asked, "Party?" Barlow demurred and awkwardly slipped his hand from her jacket sleeve. "Um, Dr. Reinhold's party. Her retirement party last week?" "I...I didn't hear about it," Michaels said growing tense. Ted suddenly didn't seem too comfortable himself, though he masked it behind strained, casual enthusiasm. "Sure you did! Last week, during lunch in Fleck Hall?" Michaels flashed back to a cafeteria table mysteriously packed with soccer girls rather than her colleagues. Colleagues who had been having a party without her. "No one told me." Dr. Reinhold? Michaels liked her. She thought they were almost friends. Michaels had spoken to the old bat for half an hour that morning last week, and Reinhold hadn't said a word about retiring, much less a party. "I'm sorry," Ted said, actively backing away a half step. "I didn't know. I guess--" "Why didn't you invite me?" Dr. Michaels asked, peering into the eyes of a man she had shared her body with, who she had always thought could be her friend. Should be her friend. "Really, I didn't know! I guess I just assumed you wouldn't want to come." "But you didn't even ask. You didn't let me say no." Dr. Michaels was interrupted from saying anything more as a hideous, powder blue box of a trendy car pulled near and the most gorgeous black woman Michaels had ever seen leaned out the window and waved at Ted. The geeky, pasty biology professor waved back "Hello!" the goddess driving the hideous monstrosity called out the window. "Hello, my love!" Ted crooned back. To Michaels he said in a much more placid tone, "That's my wife, Jenny. Come meet her! I bet you two get along." Dr. Michaels turned towards gorgeous Jenny Barlows long enough to see that the woman knew all too well that Michaels had once fucked her husband before finally unlocking her own car. "Thanks, Ted. I'll see you around." 3 By the end of the week, Michaels found she needed the pet so badly that a bit of drool actually dripped from her lips as Jason stripped naked near her doorway. There were no rituals that night, no games. Less than ten minutes after the boy had knelt at her feet to be slapped, Michaels was atop Jason, fucking him like she was trying to win an award. His hands were tied above his head to the slats of her headboard with a plastic zip-tie, and the underwear she had worn through a long day of teaching was crammed deep in his mouth. Heat burned in her cheeks like she had a high fever and she pounded down on the pet over and over, harder and harder. The boy's eyes were scrunched closed, the lashes wet with tears from combined suffering and ecstasy. Every few seconds, Michaels gave the pet a slap, moaning with pleasure from his muffled groans of pain. "That's right, you pathetic little shit!" Michaels heard herself growl amid an almost endless stream of insults just before smacking Jason. "You love it!" Smack. "You love it!" Smack. Michaels leaned down and hissed spittle into Jason's face as her fingernails dug hard into his nipples. Jason screamed against his gag and bucked beneath Michaels, his wrists yanking at the zip-ties binding him. Michaels simply giggled and tongue-fucked his ear as she slowly sank her nails ever deeper in Jason's chest. All the while, the fire that the boy's big cock was rubbing into her body grew and grew with every slam of Michaels' hips. It was a fire that been nagging at her inside her belly all week, and now felt unbearable to endure even a second longer. Soon, yanking at Jason's hair, Michaels began to feel a shutter in her breath as her very mind began to obliterate. And then the sad little boy almost ruined it all. Michaels felt Jason suddenly convulsing. He started jacking his cock up into her hard and spasming like a failing motor. He'd come. The pet had come! He came before her, and without permission. Michaels growled with annoyance and smacked Jason hard once, twice, a dozen times, before pressing her face to his forehead. "Ooh, you bad, bad little boy!" she hissed against his lips. Michaels wrapped her hands around the boy's neck and started fucking him harder then ever, hard enough that one or both of them might end up with bruises the next day. The pet was spent, but Michaels knew that his enthusiastic, young cock wasn't about to deflate like a popped balloon--he would in fact stay good and hard for at least a couple more minutes. And better yet, the over-eager little boy would no longer feel so good about the pounding he was getting now that he had come. Not good at all. It would hurt, in fact. Hurt worse and worse so long as a drop of blood stiffened his prick. Jason's face showed his agony almost immediately, scrunching in on itself. He moaned and bucked his head back, his eyes fluttering open with a pleading expression. Michaels laughed and responded by gripping his bangs with hand and his throat with the other, drinking in the pet's agony with her eyes. The fire raged in her body, screaming to combust. And then, all at once, staring into Jason's pained, wet eyes and feeling his throbbing pulse against her grip, Michaels felt an explosion spark. Every muscle in her body stiffed with courses of hot electricity. Her spine shot straight, then shuttered backwards in a curve as Michaels' vision went dark. She shivered with joy for ten thousand years before remembering she had to breath, only to realize she didn't know how. Michaels wheezed a deep gulp of air into her lungs between her teeth, then shuttered it back out with a series of squeaks and gurgles. She melted down atop Jason, gasping every few seconds as pleasure continued shooting lighting through her body. Dr. Michaels panted and groaned against the side of Jason's head for a while, shivering with satisfied delight. She soon became aware of the pet's warm breath puffing at her ear. Soon after, she felt his cock finally go limp enough to slip out of her body. Michaels suddenly felt every bit as naked as she was. Michaels popped up onto her knees, still straddling the pet. She plucked the panties from his mouth—now mostly soaked with his disgusting drool—and tossed them to the floor over her shoulder. She then leaned over and snatched a pair of scissors from the side table, using them to snip the boy's hands free from the headboard. The sad little kid didn't even bother rubbing his wrists, and instead immediately began caressing Michaels' body, one hand finding the perfect path to trace up and down her spine, making Michaels bite her lip and whimper. "I'm sorry I was bad, Ma'am," Jason said very softly. Michaels scratched him under the jaw and said just as softly, "It's alright, kid. You're still learning." Jason beamed up at her, and took her hand just long enough to give her fingers a deep kiss. Michaels rolled her eyes and snatched her hand back, flicking the boy between the eyes as she sprang off of him. She scuttled off the bed and arched her arms over her head as she cracked her back, knowing full well that Jason was probably half hard again at the sight of her body. But Michaels was done with him, and said so with a few snaps of the wrist. Just before closing the bathroom door she poked her head out and said, "I bought a bunch of sodas last night. Citrus, in the fridge. Help yourself on the way out." And then, because she just couldn't help it, Michaels popped out again to say, "And work on your damn peer reviews! What don't you get about the words 'two page minimum'?!" Michaels walked naked to the shower and worked the knobs to get a good steamy flow going. She first took a washcloth to her crotch, dabbing away all the gross, viscous fluids trying to dribble down her thighs. She then tilted her head right into the flow of the water, washing the sweat from her short hair and thoughts from her mind. Safe word. Michaels rolled her eyes beneath closed lids. "He's fine," she murmured to herself. "He loved it. If he wanted me to stop, I would have known." Office Hours Ch. 07 Could have choked. "I never took my eyes off his face...I would never let anything happen...." Hurt him. "He's fine!" Hurt him. Dr. Michaels yelped in frustration and smacked off the water. She wrestled a towel from the rack hard enough to squeak one of the screws loose and rubbed herself dry in a fury. Michaels took several deep breaths to calm her nerves, and could practically taste the beer on her tongue that would cement the calm into place. She shrugged into a robe—a normal one, made of thick cotton and long enough to tickle the tops of her feet—and stepped out of the bathroom, toweling at the back of her head. And there, on the far side of her bedroom, stuffing one of her wrinkled blouses into a plastic basket, was Jason. Michaels yelped and jumped back a step, frantically tying closed her open robe. "God damnit!" she yelled. "What the fuck are you still doing here, Jason?!" The kid kicked a dirty sock with his toe up into his hand and dunked it into the basket. "Laundry." Dr. Michaels' face twisted with fury, and she stomped forward, grabbing Jason's hair the back of his head. "Oh, real cute! What is this, really? Answer me!" "Laundry," Jason repeated calmly. "For someone who prides herself on the way she dresses, you really don't take very good care of your clothes, Ma'am. I have the time and quarters to do a load for you, and I intend to unless you have a good reason why I shouldn't." Michaels yanked Jason's head about, thinking over her many protests...only to to come to the conclusion that a sexy, naked young boy was offering to do her laundry for free, and she would be an idiot to throw a fit over that. "Fine," Michaels said firmly against Jason's ear. "Laundry. That doesn't give you permission to snoop around or steal my clothes to wear or whatever. Understood?" "Yes, Ma'am," Jason said. Michaels let go of the boy's hair, and he went about gathering the stale, rumpled garments from her bedroom floor. It was more than a little embarrassing to watch, Michaels feeling more lazy and sloven the fuller the basket in Jason's arms grew. She did pride herself on her wardrobe, and the garments were expensive—the melon colored bra Jaosn crammed into the plastic basket probably cost more than the entire outfit the boy had folded near her door. But if the pet felt like giving it all a wash? Fine. So be it. He was right, she really didn't like spending time in the Jacksonian's basement laundry room, and often went far too long between cleaning her fancy clothes. Yet something in her couldn't let Michaels let Jason go about unpunished. Yes, he was doing something nice for her...but he was doing it without asking proper permission. Outside of her orders. He was a pet, and had to be reminded of his place. Dr. Michaels was struck with inspiration when she noticed the wadded up underwear she had used to gag Jason stuffed in a corner of his basket. She snatched the damp garment and—doing her best to ignore the boy's cold spit in the fabric—spread the panties atop Jason's head like a humiliating cap. His thick hair puffed out the leg holes, and Dr. Michaels laughed deep at the sight for several seconds before smacking both his cheeks and commanding, "Leave 'em." Michaels watched for a moment while Jason bit his lip against some comment while his cheeks pinked slightly before going back to work picking up laundry. The cold air of the apartment chilled Michaels slightly as she wandered towards the kitchen. Michales grabbed a beer from the fridge from behind the citrus sodas she had bought for Jason. She took a few deep gulps on her way into the living room and tugged her thick robe tight against her neck as she flopped onto the couch and turned on the TV. Flipping though a few channels, Michaels settled on a heavily-edited cable version of L.A. Confidential that was just starting. Yet Dr. Michaels' gaze took in only nanoseconds of the movie at a time as Jason brought his tidying from her bedroom into the living room. She just couldn't help but stare at the boy. He was just such a pretty young thing, so lean and taut and strong....Just moving around, doing chores for her, was enticing spectacle to watch. That chest, those legs, that impossibly perfect ass...and of course the lovely, faithful cock that, even now, despite everything, was bobbing about half-hard. As she watched Jason scurry about, Dr. Michaels blinks grew longer, heavier. Soon it was time to rest her eyes. And then nothing. 4 Dr. Michaels awoke with a loud snort. She cast her sleepy, blurry eyes about the room, slowly remembering that she was on her own couch in her own living room. Yet things were different. The floor was much cleaner, to the point that the entire room felt bigger. The coffee table was oddly flat, no longer a cityscape of cans, boxes, and trays. Michaels managed to squint at the TV long enough to see that L.A. Confidential was mostly over, meaning she'd been out for well over an hour. Only then did she realize just how warm and comfortable she felt. She was still wearing her cotton robe, yet she was now also carefully tucked into the big afghan that usually crowned the couch, the fringe brought up right up under her chin. Jason. And there he was at the opposite end of the couch, folding dried laundry into little piles. Still naked, still wearing the panties on his head. Michaels rolled her eyes and curled deeper into the warm blanket, realizing as she did so that Jason had also somehow snuggled a pillow beneath her head. Her glasses were folded neatly on the edge of the coffee table, and Michaels thrust them onto her face as she sprang upright and gripped Jason's jaw. "I know what you're doing," she nearly growled into his eair. "You think that if you stick around long enough, play nice doing chores, I might just fuck you some more. Maybe even feel so gracious that I suck your dick." "That's not it at all, Ma'am," Jason said and sighed at once with infuriating calm. "You like to dress well. It makes you feel good. I want you to feel good, so I'm cleaning your clothes for you. That's all there is to it all, Ma'am." Michaels sighed, rolled her eyes, and released Jason's face, sinking back into the warmth and comfort of the bedding that Jason had tucked her into on the couch. "You made yourself decent when you went down to the laundry room," Michaels said as she watched Guy Pierce and Russle Crowe glower at each other on the TV. "Right?" "Of course, Ma'am," Jason answered. "That's...okay, right, Ma'am?" Michaels chuckled. "Of course it is, you idiot. Do you really think I'd send you out naked into the building? Why? Do you think I'm that cruel, Jason?" The boy didn't answer, and Michaels felt a stab of hurt at his silence. "Well, I'm not! Fuck you Jason, I'm not a mean person." "I know," Jason said, stroking her calf through the blanket. Yet Michaels was pissed. How dare the pet presume she was slovenly, and lazy, and cruel, and...and all the slanderous things he was obviously sitting on her couch presuming about her! Michaels wriggled a foot out of the afghan and kicked Jason on the side of the head. Then again, and again. She held the third kick, pinning Jason's head against his own shoulder for awhile before him go. All the while, the pet kept folding her laundry into neat groups, seemingly oblivious to the abuse. Yet without saying a word, Jason proved to be a liar. The boy's cock, previously withered like a frightened turtle somewhere inside his pubes, was now growing bold and hard. Dr. Michaels soon began to tease Jason's face with her foot, smushing his cheeks around with her heel and hooking her toes inside the corner of his mouth. This went on well past the end of L.A. Confidential Yet eventually Jason ruined her fun, as he always ruined everything, grabbing her probing foot and nuzzling it against his cheek, giving the underside of Michaels' toes a light kiss. "Shall I massage them, Ma'am?" the boy asked, still cradling her foot against his cheek. "No..." Michaels almost whispered, withdrawing her feet into the warmth of the afghan as, all at once, she suddenly felt petty and childish. "Maybe later." Michaels tugged her eyes away from the pet and forced herself to watch the climax of the movie on TV. All the while, she continued watching Jason folding her laundry out the corner of her eye. Her underwear stretched over his head still gave her an odd, dark tingle...but it really wasn't very funny. In fact, it made her feel a bit stupid. With a quick snap, Michaels sprang up and snatched the panties from Jason's head, flinging them beneath the coffee table. The kid offered no reaction, not even a grin of relief. He could be so insufferably hard to ruffle when he felt like it! The basket was almost empty. And when it was empty, the silly kiddo would leave. "Uugh!" Dr. Michaels growled, kicking Jason's hip. "Do you realize that it's almost six o'clock? If you're really so pathetic that you feel you must cling to me all fucking day, then you might as well make me dinner." That got a response. Jason dropped a pair of socks half-balled into his lap and turned to her with a pathetic beam splitting his face. "Really, Ma'am?" he asked softly. Michaels sighed, smushing her face into the warm pillow. "Yes, sure. Why not? You're always teasing me about what I eat, and blathering on about how easy it is to cook. So just do it. It's getting late, and I'm starving." "Yes, Ma'am," Jason said. He rushed through the rest of the laundry before scrambling into most of his clothes at the doorway and bolting downstairs to his own apartment so fast that Michaels could hear every slam of his bare feet on the stairs. While waiting for her pet to come back, Michaels slipped into a warm, cozy doze beneath the blanket the boy had tucked over her. But she awoke not long after, cuddling a wad of afghan, an amazing aroma permeating every breath she took. "Oh my God!" Michals sighed. She twisted onto her back, catching a glimpse of the pet bravely working naked at her stove. "Oh my fuck, what is that, Jason?" "Dinner," the boy answered casually, flipping the sizzling contents of a pan just like he knew what the hell he was doing. 'Dinner' soon proved to be a bowl of seasoned rice, topped with strips of chicken, topped with sauteed onions and peppers. Jason served it to Michaels on bended knee, the meal in one hand and a cold beer in the other. It was one of the most delicious meals Dr. Michaels had ever had, and she ordered Jason to rub her feet while she ate it. Once she had eaten all of the onions and peppers, all of the chicken, and almost all of the rice, Dr. Michaels gently slid the bowl to the floor while sliding her stuffed self against the couch. "That was..." Dr. Michaels sighed, scratching the back of the Jason's head. "That was pretty good, Jason." Office Hours Ch. 08 The penultimate chapter! One more to go. Let me know what you think, and there just might be more to come. ***** There was a shift in the relationship with Jason after the Saturday when she had let him linger about doing chores. Dr. Michaels knew it, and hated it, but couldn't help herself from going along. Overnight, it seemed that Jason practically lived in her apartment. She let the sad little child hang around more and more after their games, doing her laundry and cooking her meals. Michaels knew she shouldn't tolerate it, and wasn't supposed to be even bare it, solitary creature that she was. And yet... Yet Michaels soon found that she liked having the boy around, in a general way. He truly was becoming a pet, a reliable fixture of her home that was always scurrying around trying to please his master. It didn't take Michaels long to become addicted to the kid's puppy-dog eyes, gazing up at her with adoration and pleading for some new way to make her happy. He was an annoying, clingy little brat. But he was also adorable, and Michaels just couldn't resist. And so for well over a week she let the pet hang around almost every single evening, cleaning, doing laundry, and cooking her meals. Naturally, it was the cooking that served as the core of her addiction. Jason wasn't fancy in the kitchen, but he sure knew how the hit the spot. One night was spaghetti and meatballs, the next a shepherd's pie with homemade mashed potatoes. Even though she still had trouble sleeping at night, Dr. Michaels began going to bed pleasantly stuffed every night. And it wasn't only dinner—the kid soon started packing her lunches in little brown bags that he would deliver to her in passing on campus. Big, fat sandwiches, a piece of fruit, and a can of coffee...the boy knew her tastes, and Dr. Michaels would occasionally thank him for it with a tongue in the ear after class. Yet the changes went even deeper than that, as Dr. Michaels realized with a twinge of dismay one afternoon after having spent most the day with Jason without having sex with him at all. The pet had answered her summons as normal, stripped, kissed her feet, and was eating her out while Michaels idly flicked his face when he suddenly started blubbering about failing his Math 2 class. After a few hard smacks, Michaels had sent Jason to get his books, and spent several hours with the naked boy sitting on her lap, helping him with his homework, her chin perched atop his taut shoulder, her hand guiding his, her lips murmuring encouragements against his ear. It was all down hill from there. Oh, the games and the sex still took precedence, but suddenly Michaels found Jason loitering around for hours on end for no good reason. Aside from the chores (and the massages, and hair brushing, and foot rubs), Dr. Michaels suddenly found herself doing nothing more with the boy sometimes than talking with him while she petted his head, resting on her lap. They spent an entire evening this way one lazy Friday, watching The Thing on TV together, before it occurred to Michaels to give the pet a belting and fuck him speechless. She even brought the boy with her on errands a couple of times, under the guise of taking him to the store to buy groceries for her meals. And he was a very good boy on their outings, managing to keep his desperate little paws off her (though Michaels herself couldn't help the occasional pinch to the boy's ass as he bent to fetch something off the bottom row). Back at home, the kid seemed determined to teach her to cook, coaxing her into the kitchen more and more to explain the basics—salt and oil the water when boiling pasta, layer vegetables in an even, shallow row to ensure they roast up crispy, blah blah blah. The kid was cute, but he could be exhausting. It wasn't until shortly before the end of the semester that Michaels' coziness with Jason truly sank a barb into into her spirit. After a long morning of helping the boy polish an article he intended to submit to the campus newspaper, Michaels dozed for awhile on the couch while the pet got a jump on lunch. She awoke, drowsy and excited by the savory smells coming from the kitchen. Michaels wandered the living room a bit, marveling at how spotless it had become. She thought she didn't care about cleanliness, yet all this fresh, open space felt right. And then Dr. Michaels noticed the window. The window above her shoddy desk, that she always kept draped. The window was wide open, and despite the tight knot of fury that blazed hotter and hotter with every step, Michaels couldn't help but approach the open window and gaze out, and scrunched her eyes closed with a choked snarl. The old table was still there. Of course it was. It was a sad, old Gardenridge reject, rusted and rooted into the soil like an iron shrub. Yet it was still sort of beautiful, a mass-produced cluster of metal petals and thorns completed with a trio of matching chairs. Michaels had no idea who put it there, on the far edge of the apartment complex's lawn, beneath the fringe canopy of a patch of woods, but she had taken advantage of the spot often the first couple of years of her residence at the Jacksonian. Most evenings and weekends, Michaels had camped out at the old table to grade papers and do other assorted work, sometimes with a little cooler full of beers, always with a fat pack of cigarettes. It had been a deeply calming experience, hours on end of smoking and getting lightly buzzed while getting acquainted with with her students through their writing. And then came a late summer's afternoon well over a year ago, only a few weeks before the beginning of the Fall semester. While sitting at her rusty table, reading a book of letters by Mary Shelley, Dr. Michaels had noticed a striking man approaching. He had the light, dirty brown hair of someone who used to be blonde, and the build of a man who was fond of sports. Michaels had found her ability to concentrate on reading increasingly impossible as the man drew close, eventually closing the tome over a finger and declaring, "Can I help you?" as the pretty man stopped near her table. "Sorry to interrupt," said the man. "It's just, I've seen you reading out here a lot ever since I moved in a couple of weeks ago. I'm a reader myself, and I'm curious about what has you so compelled." Ha! The guy had probably rehearsed that line all day. He was obviously some kind of tool trying to pick her up, so Michaels had answered, "Shelley," and pretended to go back to reading. "Oh?" said the man, scooting closer. "Boy Shelley or girl Shelley?" That had given Micahels some pause. The man knew there was more than one? "Girl." "Nice." The man nodded with approval, and took a seat at the rusty table without being asked. "She never really lived to be the kind of feminist her mother was, but her creativity still sets her apart from just about any other woman of the era.." "Yet Girl Shelley also destroyed Boy Shelley's first marriage, and possibly drove his wife to suicide," Michaels retorted. "And a century and a half later, a perfectly lovely woman is still spending a beautiful Saturday studying her words." Dr. Michaels had chuckled. The man was obvious and cheesy. Who talked like that? He was trying too hard, but the man knew literature, and Michaels had liked that he was trying at all. And he was just such a pretty man. They ended up chatted that afternoon almost until sunset. The very next day, Michaels had set up camp once again, this time in the shameless hope of luring out the pretty man. And though she felt desperate and foolish before lighting up her first cigarette, the trap paid off within minutes when the beautiful young gentleman cam traipsing from the apartments to join her at the edge of the woods. And once again, they talked books, joked, smoked and flirted until after dark, locking eyes by the light of fireflies and the glowing tip of an American Spirit passed back and forth. This became a lovely routine for almost two weeks at the end of that summer. Michaels sat at that old table every afternoon, and almost every day the pretty man appeared with a smile, ready to spar with her on literature and make her laugh. He was hilarious and sweet, never missing an opportunity to compliment her while unafraid to tease her when she deserved it. And he was so gentle and innocent, in the best possible way, refusing to hate anything outright, always sussing out the good in any argument battling shamelessly for optimism. Yes, the pretty man wasn't always the smartest guy she had encountered, but he was maybe the wittiest and most charming, and always listened to what she had to say and took her opinions seriously. Perhaps most importantly, Michaels was almost totally comfortable with the pretty man in a way she hadn't been comfortable in years. He was utterly genuine, and Michaels knew she could actually be herself—her real self—with him, without judgment or rejection. It wasn't that she fell in love with him. Well...not only that. Yes, she was plenty attracted to him, and had certainly flirted shamelessly enough. But it was something deeper than any of that for her. He was a friend. A real friend. The best friend that Michaels had found in years. She had lost touch with any number of people during grad school for the for the most pedestrian reasons. She had lost a handful of others after dumping her undergrad boyfriend. She could barely even remember the names of most of the people she went to high school with. So here she was in her late twenties, alone in a way she had never experienced in her life. But now...now there was a man, a pretty man who read books and made her laugh. A pretty man who she wanted nothing more than to curl up against and let gush every facet of herself, comfortable in the fact that he was the one true, right vessel to receive and keep her. The friend she had been waiting for, not just in recent years, but always. Yet Michaels heart was soon bruised when her pretty man vanished for the week preceding the start of the semester. Day after day, Dr. Michaels pretended it didn't matter, sucking down the extra cigarettes and beer she had hoped to share with her friend while reviewing her lesson plans for the year, glancing up every few seconds in the hopes of seeing him loping towards her with his silly, trademark grin. Yet Dr. Michaels did see her lovely, clever, charming friend again all too soon when his grinning face appeared behind a desk during the first day of school in her Freshman Studies English class. His name was Jason McGinnis, and he was eighteen years old. Michaels could hardly function during that first week of classes out of shock and outrage. Eighteen? Eighteen! And barely, at that! A look at this Jason boy's file showed that Michaels had been very lucky not to take their flirting to the next level. The little boy's birthday was in August, and he had actually been seventeen goddamn years old during most of the time Dr. Michaels had talked with him at the table. Flirted. Held herself back with a thread of restraint on a dozen occasions from taking his hand and kissing him. It was the sickest, cruelest joke the world had ever played on her. And here, over a year later, the world was still laughing at her. Jason McGinnis was still a student, and would be right up through his final semester. Every day of her professional life, Dr. Michaels had to be reminded of just what an idiot she had been to think she had actually made a friend. And lately work life beyond Jason wasn't offering much relief. Ted apologized profusely, and invited her to a half dozen functions. He was an okay guy, and even chuckled after Dr. Michaels said 'No' a half dozen times in a row. Yet something about his very presence in her life still nagged at her and left Michaels anxious and vaguely depressed. Then, of course, there was Lindsay Gregs. She was becoming almost as much of a nuisance as Jason himself, lingering after class to chat her up, shadowing her around campus, and, of course, always turning up first in line for office hours. The little girl had even sunk into the habit of wrapping herself affectionately around Dr. Michaels' arm while they worked on her papers and discussed readings. And, naturally, she never ceased asking Michaels to come do things with her outside of office hours, everything from ice cream to thrift shopping to something about an upcoming birthday. Dr. Michaels liked Lindsay. In fact, she liked her a lot. But it wasn't hard for her to say 'No' to all these requests. In fact, Michaels was getting sick of all this familiarity. It just wasn't right for a grown-ass woman to be getting tied to a bunch of children. A child. Jason. It was a Friday night, and several beers had given Michaels the clarity to see the root of her problems. The kid had started to forget the nature of his relationship with Michaels. He was a pet, dammit! A slave! Enough was enough. Michaels had let Jason get far too comfortable. It was time to remind him who he was. What he was. Dr. Michaels found her shoulder bag atop the desk beneath the curtained window. She unceremoniously dumped the many papers and files over the desk before stumbling about the apartment and refilling the bag with anything and everything her slushy, horny mind thought might offer some fun. She slung the bag over her shoulder and had her hand on the doorknob before realizing she was dressed only in a pair of gym shorts and a bra. Michaels rolled her eyes at herself and growled as she forced herself into jeans and a huge, ratty t-shirt she usually only slept in A quick, barefoot trip down the stairs later, Dr. Michaels found herself slamming her knuckles hard enough on Jason's door to fray the skin on her fingers. The obedient pet answered in seconds, his eyes going wide with shock and fear before the door had finished opening. "Ma'am!" he squeaked before quickly looking past Michaels to scan for eavesdroppers. "Um, Dr. Michaels. What can I do for you?" "I know it's late," Michaels said, letting herself into Jason's apartment, dragging him along behind her by his belt. "But this is important." Michaels kicked the door closed and locked it without looking before grabbing Jason by the back of the head and forcing her tongue into his mouth. The pathetic boy moaned with ecstasy and melted against her. Soon she was doubled over, kissing him as he knelt on his knees before her, bracing himself with strong hands on her hips. Michaels broke away with a nibble to Jason's tongue and two hard backhands to his face, one from each hand. She took in the boy's apartment, chuckling with amusement as she found exactly what she had always imagined. It was a tiny space, the whole unit barely larger than her own bedroom. Most of the floor was taken up by a small, tattered couch, a tacky blue recliner with duct tape around one foot, and a glass-topped coffee table. One corner hosted a dwarf kitchen, while another was a scooped out alcove where not one, but two futons were piled atop a low metal bed frame. The only luxury was the huge, flat TV somehow mounted to the wall opposite the couch and trailing two hundred wires and cables, most of them hooked into an armada of video game machines littering the floor. Some game was paused on that big screen, a slight woman with bare feet and a tiny, blood-spattered white dress frozen as she reloaded an enormous handgun. Michaels turned back to her pet, and found that he had somehow stripped himself naked and now knelt with his forehead against the top of her toes. "Ohh, good, good boy!" she crooned, leaning over to scratched her nails over Jason's scalp. She dropped her bag onto the coffee table and paused while unbuckling it when she noticed a small, zebra-striped glass pipe and an orange lighter on one corner of the table. "Or maybe not so good..." Jason merely shrugged and grinned. Michaels grinned back and rolled her eyes. Kids these days! Don't even have the decency to hide it in a shoebox! Michaels opened her bag and removed an enormous, triple-wicked candle that had come in a gift basket her sister had given her years ago (which at least beat Cindy's usual gift of nothing). She lit the wicks with Jason's orange lighter—it was supposed to was smell like fresh linen but, like most candles, actually smelled like chemicals. Oh well, she hadn't lit it for the scent. Michaels yanked Jason by the hair over to the couch. She cleared aside a game controller and a couple of books, snapped, and pointed towards the cushions. "Up! Up and on your knees." Jason obeyed, scrambling onto the couch. Michaels slapped the back of his neck. "Head down, ass up! Like you're getting fucked from behind." And wouldn't he just love that, Dr. Michaels mused to herself. As if I'd waste the energy when he's the only one getting off! With the pet in position, Michaels wriggled out of her jeans and fetched something from her bag. She climbed atop the couch and straddled Jason at the shoulders, carefully settling her ass down to sit on the back of the boy's head. His hair felt ticklish and exciting against her cheeks and through the fabric of her panties. Slowly, slowly, Michaels dragged the object in her hand along Jason's spine, down from his tailbone to where her crotch was pressed against the nape of his neck. Jason shivered all over, his back twitching and his ass tensing as the hundred sharp bristles of Michaels' hairbrush scraped his skin.. Michaels snapped the brush against Jason's left ass cheek without warning, eliciting a deep moan from the boy's mouth, buried deep within the couch cushions beneath the weight of his owner's ass. She struck the same place twice more in quick succession, holding the brush against his taut, young flesh after the second strike and raking the bristles hard down his back. Jason's ass shot up into the air even further as rose on stiff, straining toes. The poor boy twisted his head to side beneath Michaels to suck fresh air and issue a rattling hiss between his teeth. After several long, tense, giddy moments Dr. Michaels gently rapped Jason's stinging ass with the blunt, flat side of the brush before immediately punishing the opposite cheek with a brutal rapid fire of blows the wrenched a series of chocking, high pitched yelps from the boy. That was the game from then on, randomly brutalizing one cheek or the other, leaving long pauses in between to let the pet tremble with fear and anticipation. Sometimes Michaels would slam the bristles down with all her might, relishing the spasms of pain that shook through the boy up into her own body. Sometimes she would pat him light and fast, increasing speed and force before digging the brush into his flesh, swirling it in slow circles as she nearly came from the kid's screams. The boy managed to control himself admirably, despite his shouts and the occasional tear. His knees gave out several times, only to scurry back up into position as quick as could be. He only raised his hands once to try to defend himself, lightly pawing Michaels' arm after she had spread him open with one hand and stung his vulnerable asshole hard with the brush. Michaels had smacked away his hands, slapped his wet, whimpering face, and attacked his asshole three more times in retaliation, leaving the boy biting the couch's upholstery through a long shriek. As fun as this game was, Dr. Michaels grew bored before long. She capped it off by reaching down between her pet's legs and giving his balls an extra hard double slap of the brush before digging the bristles hard against his anus and scraping from his prostate to the tip of his ravenous erection. Dr. Michaels slipped off the boy's head, tossing the brush at corner of his bed. He fell onto his side, gasping and sweating from both agony and, doubtless the related sensation of very nearly having come. But Michaels gave her pet no chance to rest. She slapped his face several times while pulling him to his feet and shoved him hard atop his own neatly made futon bed. Office Hours Ch. 08 "Spread it!" she ordered while digging in her bag once more for a large spool of thick, scratchy twine. Jason obeyed, and within a few minutes Dr. Michaels had the boy tied spread eagle atop the bed, wrists and angles fixed tightly to all four metal bedposts. Michaels took a moment to admire the boy. Bound and helpless on his own bed in his own home, frightened yet horny, his eyes and cock equally desperate for the next vicious gift that she might inflict upon him. He was such a gorgeous little thing, young cute, and lean. Everything about his body was just right—he had the right about muscle on his chest and stomach, and the right amount of fat on his cheeks. The right amount of hair spreading down his abdomen. The right kind of young, pink lips. The right adoring eyes. But no. No the boy was a pet and could be nothing more, and she didn't appreciate a pet locking eyes with her. Michaels dug around in her bag and soon found the silken sash of her robe and used it to blindfold Jason. A strong whiff of Lemon Rose perfume penetrated through the growing miasma of "fresh linen" fumes as Michaels secured the soft material in a knot over the boy's eyes. She fetched the trusty belt as well and cinched it in between the boy's teeth as a gag. Yes. That was more like it. The kid couldn't move, couldn't see, couldn't speak. A lump of hard young flesh that existed only for her pleasure. Yes. This was how it should always be. This was right. "You've been a bad boy," Michaels said, scratching a nail down from Jason's helpless throat to his naval. "Very bad! You've thought you could become more than a pet to me. You've been sneaky and manipulative. You thought that so long as you played housemaid and batted your eyes that maybe, just maybe, you could get a leash around me." Michaels slapped her pet hard across the face, relishing his moaning and his teeth clamping against the belt. "Too bad for you I'm a grown woman who's beyond playing little games." Michaels thought she saw the boy smiling for a moment through the belt at this last remark, and gave him several more enraged slaps. The evening's next torment didn't lie in the bag. Instead, Dr. Michaels picked up the enormous, laundry-scented candle that had burning away for over half an hour now. It took both hands to cold comfortably, and was almost too hot to hold at all. She set the whole massive thing near Jason's head, close enough to sting his cheek with the hot glass. Michaels shucked her baggy t-shirt, sighing as the warm, musky air of the apartment wafted across her hard nipples. Panties soon followed, whipped several times over Jason's blinded, gagged face before being tossed over Michaels shoulder, leaving her to bask naked over her pet, knowing he could only imagine the beauty that his eyes and hands were being denied. Dr. Michaels laughed aloud and, in the spirit of cruelty, swiped a generous dollop of fluid from her hungry vagina and swirled it on the tip of her bound pet's nose. He thrashed his head a bit and tried in vain to reach his tongue past the belt in his mouth and get a taste of the ecstasy that coated his face only millimeters away. Michaels hopped, giggling, onto the bed, straddling the bound boy, the soaking lips of her pussy grinding against and wetting the base of Jason's hard prick. Michaels purred and ground her hips up and down the desperate member, up and down, mixing her fluids with the bound boy's. Suddenly, using only leverage and the familiarity of their frequent coupling, Michaels slipped Jason's cock into her body with a satisfied grunt. Jason's lips quivered around the belt in his mouth as his wrists strained against their restraints. Dr. Michaels grinned and spat on his forehead before slapping him back and forth several times as she begin to grind slowly atop him. "It's warm, isn't it?" she said, leaning close enough to graze her breasts over his chest. "Damn warm. It's nice being inside teacher, huh? Naughty, but safe somehow?" Jason, bound and blind, nodded emphatically. Dr. Michaels softly cupped the child's face and tenderly caressed his cheek several times as she fucked him before sinking her nails into the tender flesh and squeezing hard enough to deform his beautiful features. "You shouldn't be so trusting," she growled. Michaels snatched up the hefty candle from near Jason's head and flicked a splash of burning, ivory-colored wax across his chest. The pet yelled through the belt gagging his mouth as all four limbs thrashed at his scratchy restraints. Pain rippled through his every muscle, and Micahels groaned as that pain rocked up through the boy's cock and into her own body. She could feel every quiver of his agony, and it was ecstasy. So here was the part where she drizzled the candle over Jason's body a few drops at a time, relishing every little hiss the hot droplets elicited from those sweet, young lips. It was a good plan. A game she knew she would break out sometime in the future when she had more patience. But not tonight. Instead, tonight, Dr. Michaels dumped all the hot wax accumulated by her oversized candle at once over her bound slaveboy, splashing his nipples first before moving down to hit his naval, and finally tipping the whole thing upside-down so a flow of steaming wax splashed over the kid's pubes and pooled over his balls. He screamed. Oh, how he screamed! It was a heavenly choir that Michaels offered her own shriek to as she continued to pound the boy, his wild suffering pumping directly into her. The kid wailed and thrashed, arching his back high and straining hard against the stiff twine that kept him from embracing his master's body. It was enough to make Michaels very nearly climax right then and there. Yet as the wax coating Jason's torso and crotch cooled, so did the boy, settling into a calm, steady panting that matched the rhythm of Michaels' thrusts atop him. Michaels continued for awhile anyway. It was still fantastic sex, after all, fucking the brains out of a gorgeous younger boy who worshiped her and would stay hard for three days if that's how long it took to satisfy her. But it wasn't enough. Not tonight. "Poor baby," Michaels mewed, swirling her pet's Adam's apple with a finger as she slowed her pounding to a near standstill. "All burnt up and stiff with wax! Poor Jase..." She kissed the boy ever so softly on his drool-wet bottom lip as she reached out and snatched the hairbrush from the corner of the bed where she had tossed it. "Let me take care of that for you, kiddo." Dr. Michaels pressed the bristles of the brush down at the base of Jason's throat just below her swirling finger before using both hands to rake the brush down hard against the center of the boy's chest, sloughing away a thousand flakes of hardened, ivory wax in twin drifts and leaving behind a trail of furious red stripes on his pinkened flesh. Limbs fought twine once again as a rapid-fire series of muffled yelps sputtered against the belt in Jason's mouth. Dr. Michaels gave her pet no chance to recover, bringing the brush back up to his collar bone and drawing it down once more, this time pausing to give extra violence to the waxing of his right nipple. And she thought he had screamed before! Michaels didn't even need to fuck the pet anymore, he did all the work for her with his agonized thrashing, bucking his hard, young prick from pain so hard that Michaels could feel it her lungs. She gasped and groaned aloud at the sight of the sash over Jason's eyes darkening with tears. She slapped the boy hard again and again one cheek after the other, until the pet finally wept enough that a single tear finally leaked from beneath the blindfold and was quickly lapped up by Michael's thirsty tongue. By now the brush was clumped with wax, and Michaels shook and scraped away as much as she could before taking it for a final, torturous run over Jason's body. She gave his left nipple even harsher treatment than the right, twisting the bristles over the little nub in quick, vicious scours before beating, rather than scraping, away the rest of the wax on his chest and stomach. The boy certainly whimpered and trembled in a pleasing way, but it was clear he was already broken physically, and was off in some happy little world of his own where more pain would only add to his pleasant delirium. And that was enough...right? It certainly should be. But no. No, it wasn't enough. Jason had been broken in one way, but that wasn't enough. He still hadn't learned what Dr. Michaels was determined to teach him tonight. And she was still hungry. Michaels slipped off her gasping, abused toy and snatched her vibrator from the bag on the coffee table. She clambered back onto the bed and straddled the pet once more, this time locking her thighs on either side of his head, her wet, well-worked sex only a few inches above his face. Though he couldn't see, Michaels knew her pet could feel, sense, and of course smell the sustenance hovering just out of reach like Tantalus' fruit. His lips quivered as he pathetically tried to squeeze his tongue out from around the belt to reach her. "Would you like a taste?" Michaels asked, petting back Jason's sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. "Do you want to tongue fuck me? Shall teacher fuck your face?" The pet nodded and gargled a soft, desperate reply. It was almost completely unintelligible, but Michales knew what he said. He said, Please! Michaels took pity on the poor creature and slipped the belt from his mouth. Jason gasped and immediately raised his head, mouth agape, only to be slapped back down by Michaels. "Patience," Michaels growled, switching on the vibrator. Michaels sighed as she began flitting the little machine's tip in snapping circles over her clit. She slid the length of the humming toy's latex shaft up and down against her slit over and over. When the vibrator was glistening with her juices, she plunged it into Jason's mouth, pumping it a few times as he sucked it clean. Michaels worked herself for a while longer, wasting no chance to let her warm fluids drizzle over Jason's face and into his eager mouth as her pussy screamed for more more more. She began to slip the humming toy inside her, snapping her wrist hard and fast in sharp, deep plunges. Every minute or so she popped out the toy and crammed it back into Jason's mouth to suck as pent up liquid dribbled down onto his chin. Yet it wasn't long before the temptation of her pet's eager mouth outweighed the delights of the vibrator. So Michaels teased Jason's lips with the fat green toy for a few moments before dropping her hips and slamming her drenched, pulsing pussy over the kid's mouth. It was a perfect fit, a wet seal that the dutiful boy immediately went to work on with expert gusto, spiraling his thick, powerful tongue over and around her clit in a way that made Dr. Michaels throw back her head and squeal. She clamped her thighs harder around his head and sat even lower on his face, grinding back and forth to increase the sensation. Michaels began to slap Jason on the side of the head and yank on his hair, tugging him even harder into her. It was clear that the boy could hardly breath, which was just fine with Michaels. Indeed, she began to pinch his nose, half buried in her pubic hair, shivering at the gasps that tickled her pussy when she let go. It was one of these hot, desperate gasps that caused Michaels to finally climax, hard, fast and without warning. She choked on a shriek while her convulsing muscles locked for a few seconds, one hand brutally gripping the back of Jason's head and smothering his face against her electrified sex with all her might as she crushed his head between her legs. After a hundred blissful years, Michaels released the pet to slam onto the pillow of his bed, panting and drenched. Michaels sat back on Jason's chest for awhile, idly teasing her sensitive clit and trying to oxygenate her fuzzy mind. That was enough. Certainly that was enough. He had learned. She would let him give her a long, quiet back scratch, and then she could go home to her own bed knowing equilibrium was restored. And yet... The kid's beautiful, soft young lips were still quivering. A glance over her shoulder showed that he was still hard. And Michaels realized, with dull surprise, that she was still clutching the humming vibrator in one hand. She had already tortured the boy, fucked him, humiliated him... And she was still hungry. Acting on impulse, Michaels pinched her pet's jaw open and crammed the vibrator inside, base down. "Bite it," she commanded. "Keep it still!" Michaels scooted around atop the bound pet until she was fully reversed, looking down at his tormented torso towards his hard, neglected dick. She grabbed the vibrator clamped firmly in Jason's mouth and lowered herself down, swallowing the toy into her body. She grunted with pleasure and sat for several long moments, savoring the humming inside her and the feeling of Jason's nose scrunched against her asshole, wriggling her hips with the giddy, nastiness of it all. And then Michaels started to fuck. Slowly at first, ensuring the vibrator was firm in the pet's mouth, then harder. Harder. Jason moaned, tugging at his restraints, his silly cock bouncing up and down with the force of Michaels' pounding on his head. Michaels laughed and grabbed the floundering member with both hands in a death grip, using it for support and leverage. The vibrator slamming in and out of her was glorious. Every breath was glorious! This was perfect! Jason soon began yanking harder against the twine tying him down. A moment later he was thrashing like a madman, creaking the bed frame with his violence. Michaels chuckled. Ha! The sad child was probably fighting the urge to come. She began fucking the toy clamped in his mouth even harder and leaned down to give the tip of his cock a quick, cruel kiss. Then there was a sputter. A cough. A light spray of saliva spattered over the boy's chest from between Michaels' legs, saliva spattered with generous flecks of red blood. Dr. Michaels' eyes, half-hooded with lust moments before, shot wide as her veins filled with panicked ice and her heart stopped beating. She wailed Jason's name as she fell onto the floor, yanking away his blindfold and flinging the vibrator from his mouth to crash against a far wall. The boy gasped and coughed, more blood dotting his chin. "Oh kiddo, oh kiddo!" Michaels muttered in her panic as she found a pair of scissors in a side pocket of her bag and started snipping Jason free. "Oh kiddo, oh kiddo, oh kiddo...!" Yet before she had finished her snipping, Jason already had one of his free hands around Michaels' shoulders, burying his face into the crook of her neck, shushing and whispering assurances. "I'm fine, Ma'am, I'm totally fine! Shh shh! It's alright! Calm down!" Dr. Michaels did calm down, slowly. She sat on her knees, looking down on her abused, bloody pet, knowing that her face was stricken and she was dangerously close to tears. She began petting the boy's hair, not sure what else to do. Jason noticed the blood speckling his chest and rolled his eyes, smearing it away with the backs of his fingers. "I bit my lip," he said. "That's all. I did far worse shaving last week." Michaels cupped her hand over the boy's temple but couldn't meet his eyes. "You were chocking." After many long seconds she felt him nod against her hand. "Yeah. Yeah, I was. But that's okay." Michaels groaned and sank down onto the bed next to Jason. "No it isn't! It isn't okay at all!" "Yeah it is," Jason said, looking at her slightly bemused. "I was still having a perfectly good time. You would never let anything happen to me." He said with utter sincerity, total conviction. The boy really believed that she could do no wrong, that he was completely safe in her hands. And why shouldn't he? Michaels was fast to forget the kid wasn't just infatuated with her. He trusted her, totally. As a lover, a teacher, a mentor. A type of friend. Dr. Michaels sighed and settled on the bed against the wall. She patted the futon next to her hip and held her arm open. Jason smiled warmly and scooted over to cuddle up against her, nuzzling her shoulder as she gripped him around the waist. After only a few seconds, Michaels spat into her free hand and reached over to start jacking off the kid's half-limp cock, quickly tugging it back to full mast. It was only fair, after everything she had just put him through. It flew in the face of what tonight was supposed to represent, but really, Michaels didn't mind at all. Jason was a pathetic, clingy, obnoxious little teacher's pet, but he was HER pet, and he deserved a little consideration. Naturally the boy couldn't simply accept a favor and quickly slipped a busy hand of his own into Michael's lap. The kid had never been nearly as good with his fingers as his tongue, but he knew the basics, was enthusiastic, and kept his nails short. It was nice. And it was nicer still as Jason began kissing her neck. Such a bad boy! He knew what that did to her! She should slap him. But no, no no no. No more violence. She was tired of it for tonight. No more. The pet's body already bore enough battle damage from her rampage. His cheeks were almost cherry red from the smacks he'd already sustained. His chest was a pink woodwork of burns and brush scrapes, wax still clinging in patches to his sides and matted in his pubes. And there was a host of other nasty-looking scratches and bruises that withered Michaels' heart, especially as she couldn't even remember inflicting them during her lustful crazes. "What do you tell people?" she asked quietly near Jason's ear, lightly fingering the bite mark near his groin with one hand while the other continued to jack him. "About any of it, I mean. All the bruises and scratches and other shit I leave on you." "Well," said Jason, "I haven't had to say anything lately, since it's almost December and I haven't been spending a lot of time at the pool." "Smartass," Michaels said, gently bonking her head against his in lieu of hitting him. Jason chuckled and pecked at her neck for a few seconds before continuing. "I mountain bike in the woods a lot. Getting bruised and scratched up is all part of it." "And people believe that?" "They do, because it's true. Do you realize that the woods on the edge of this property are a good ten square miles? I'm out there all the time. It's not officially a park, and no one really knows about it. I haven't once, in two years, encountered another person in there. It's wild! There aren't even real trails! I'm crashing through half blind most of the time, with no idea where I'm headed, getting lashed left and right by branches and thorns. And of course there's the occasional crash. But even that's just part of the fun." Jason paused to looked up into Michael's mystified face, the hand fingering her missing a beat. "You really didn't know? I'm so sorry! Most of this isn't you at all, Ma'am." Jason waved a hand over his torso, grazing over any number of scrapes and bruises. Dr. Michaels squeezed her eyes closed. She felt silly for blaming herself for injuries she hadn't caused, sure. But somehow it felt much worse to realize just how little she knew about Jason. Here was some great passion of his that was far from a secret, and she had never even bothered to notice. He had an entire life separate from her, and it was her fault that she knew nothing about it. Suddenly Jason nibbled her just under the chin and said, "You know, Ma'am, I-" But Dr. Michaels couldn't take anymore tonight and quieted the boy with her lips, kissing him deeply, plugging his voice with her tongue. She held him there for several minutes, never once parting their mouths as each of them tried to bring satisfaction to the other with their hands. Michaels was beyond coming again, but Jason's swishing fingers still offered a comfortable gratification. And she felt a special thrill when the kid's prick finally shuttered and splurted over her hand (though she still smeared the disgusting mess on the bedspread as fast as she could). Office Hours Ch. 08 The sad, sweet little boy kept her lips busy for several minutes after that. He begged her to stay the night as she began to dress, and only shut up when she kissed him. He started apologizing for this and that and only let her pack away her kinky instruments in peace once she kissed him. He said nothing as she approached the door, simply leaned against her body and buried his face between her breasts. Michaels tilted his face up by the chin and, for a long time, she kissed him. And with one final peck to his forehead, she closed the door behind her and walked up the stairs to her own home. Office Hours Ch. 09 The last chapter! But I have a lot more in mind for Dr. Michaels and Jason. If you want a follow-up series, let me know, and it just might happen... ***** With less than three weeks left in the semester, Dr. Michaels found she could only think about Jason. It was horribly distracting, considering she had mountains of papers and projects to grade and a line practically around the corner of students hoping for a moment of her time during office hours. But through it all, that silly shaggy-headed face simply refused to escape her mind. She wanted another night with him, an evening to set things right after they had nearly gone so wrong. So Michaels went about setting it all up—the perfect evening. She rented a copy of District 9 from the campus library, to be watched while Jason gave her a massage. And while he rubbed her, she would talk about whatever boring, nerdy thing he felt like talking about. Even photography. Honestly, the kid was pretty damn adorable when he got going on the subject. It was one of the few things he was fully competent in, and he knew it, and Dr. Michaels loved that kind of confidence firing up her pet. And maybe...maybe she would try making Jason dinner. Surely she could handle some spaghetti, bread, a salad. It gave Michaels an odd, warm buzz to think of feeding Jason, watching him relish food that she had prepared. The silly boy cooked for her all the time, but he never made enough to eat himself. Sure, she often enjoyed feeding him scraps of her own dinner by hand as he knelt at her feet, but that was hardly the same thing. Yes, a spaghetti dinner, followed by a massage. And once Michaels' muscles were relaxed, she would slowly feed him frosting for dessert, coating her fingers with whipped chocolate and having the boy suck them clean one at a time while they watched the movie together. And then she would nibble the kid's neck all the way to the bedroom and fuck him silly. Yes. Lovely. Perfect. Dr. Michaels waited as long as she could, hoping to make it to the weekend but ultimately caving in on Thursday. Michaels went through the usual rituals, cleaning her teeth and fixing her hair, slipping into her lavender robe and spritzing herself with Lemon Rose. Yet she soon followed this routine by chopping some tomatoes, bell peppers, and cucumbers over a huge bowl of lettuce and a put stockpot of salted, oiled water on to boil. She already had twin tubes of ground turkey and spicy sausage thawed on the counter and ready to brown up for a sauce. Jason would love that. Finally, with all the pieces in place, Dr. Michaels sauntered into the center of her living room and slammed her foot down three times. She hopped over to the door, smoothing the robe and opening it a little around her chest, and began the count. Twenty seconds. The boy was never that fast, but she could hope. Forty seconds. Nearing the average time, but she could forgive a little tardiness. A minute. Two. Five. Michaels stomped again, a good half dozen times. Nine. Where the fuck was he? Michaels knew he was home! He had to be. Thursday was the kid's designated study night, the evening when he always did his best to mop up his homework so he could devote the weekend to her. At last, over twelve minutes after the initial stomps, a crisp series of raps issued against Michaels' door. She took several deep, frustrated breaths, counted to ten, and opened the door. "Jason!" she chirped in a parody of her own voice. "What can I do for you?" "I just need to ask you about something important, Doctor," said her pet. "Do you have a moment?" "Of course! Come on in." Dr. Michaels managed to close the door without slamming it, but immediately yanked Jason's head down near her waist by the hair as soon as the latched clicked. "What the hell do you think you're playing at, you little fuck toy?" Michaels hissed into the boy's ear. Jason cupped his big, warm hand over the fist wrenching his hair and whispered, "May I speak to you for a moment, Ma'am?" Michaels growled, but backed off the boy, allowing him to stand up. And as he did, her breath caught. Jason was dressed as she'd never seen before. A white button-up tucked into tight khakis, a trendy olive green jacket. Shiny black loafers. Loafers! Where had he been hiding those all this time? Since when did he know how to look like an actual man? Michaels found she was speechless. She was staring—ogling even. Just look at him! Look at how gorgeous he was when he suddenly wasn't a little boy. And then he ruined it. Just like Jason always ruined everything. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I can't be with you tonight, Ma'am. Not right now." Michaels was almost too appalled to speak, and when she did it was hardly more than a whisper. "What do you mean, you can't be with me? You can't?" She pinched the boy's cheek hard and yanked him about side to side for a moment. "You won't, is what you mean. Why won't you? What's suddenly so damn important that you leave me waiting around for twelve minutes only to defy me?" "Please, Ma'am," Jason said calmly, sweeping the hand gripping his face away with a warm, gentle grip. "I'm not trying to be defiant or hurtful or anything like that. Just listen to me for a sec..." Michaels huffed and glared into the pets eyes, but stayed both her tongue and hands from putting the kid in his place for the time being. "I'm about to go out for a few hours," Jason said patiently. "Today is Lindsay's birthday. Her twentieth. It's a big deal, and I can't miss it." He sighed and cast his eyes to the side. "She's my best friend." That stung far more than it should have. Michaels felt ice bloom throughout her body from her stomach. She looked Jason up and down, his splendid body in splendid clothes. Not a boy at all, really. Certainly not a pet. She lowered her face and took in every inch except his face. "You really are fucking her," she spat, folding her her arms over her chest. "Or you're trying to, anyway." Jason slammed his foot against the floor. "Oh, for Chrissakes, Doctor!" he bellowed, smacking his hands against his temples. "How could you think of that of me? Me?! At this point?! How could you think that I would give myself to anyone but you?" Michaels averted her eyes and took a step back. "I've offered every little scrap of myself to you, and you still think I don't belong to you? That I would stray just because I could?" Jason was crying. Michaels still couldn't look at his face, but she knew he was crying. "I'm sorry," he breathed after a moment. "That wasn't..." Jason stepped forward and caressed Michaels shoulder. "Come with us, Ma'am. Please? Just for a little-" "No!" Michaels shouted, shrugging away. Jason took a calm breath. "Just for a little bit, Ma'am. Why not? Just come have a cup of coffee with us. Give twenty minutes of your time. It would mean everything to Lindsay. She worships you!" Again, the big, strong hand stroking her shoulder. And quietly, almost a whisper, "It would mean everything to me. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Michaels snarled and once again backed away from Jason's touch. "Just strip already!" she wailed in a voice that was thin, desperate, and not at all her own. "Shut up! Just shut up and strip, you pathetic loser!" Jason shook his head. "I love you, Ma'am. I love you so much that it makes me cry sometimes. I love the abuse and humiliation and torture—god, it gets me off so hard! So fucking hard!" "But it's not enough," Michaels filled in, meeting Jason's gaze at last. Jason averted his eyes and nodded. "We've been doing this for a long time now, Ma'am, playing this messed up game. And honestly? I don't want to stop playing. Not ever. Not as long as I live. But I want more. I want the real Doctor Michaels you let slip sometimes, the one who likes to chat and joke and be a little silly. The one who lives to teach and can hardly conceal her love for her students." "That person isn't real!" Michaels argued. "You just wish she was! You have you're little crush on me and impose what you want to see!" Jason shook his head, smiling a small smile. "No. It's so much more true than you think, and that's what really breaks my heart. You're so deep in your shell that you can't even see it anymore. You're a wonderful person. A kind person. You could be so goddamn happy if you stopped forcing yourself to be miserable." "Enough!" Michaels yelled, hitting Jason hard across the face, hitting him like someone she hated and not someone she was playing games with. "Enough. Just leave." She hit him again. "Leave! Get out!" Jason rubbed his stung cheek, but nodded grimly and complied, slipping backwards through the door with a murmured, "Yes, Ma'am..." 2 First thing the next morning, Dr. Michaels sent an email to all her students informing them that office hours were closed. It was a cruel move given the looming finals and the many final projects that the many kids were desperate for a final conference on, but Michaels just couldn't take any more. Not now. Not yet. She just couldn't stand to be so damn needed by those awful little children. Couldn't stand to fail to be what they needed. Jason didn't even try to defy her on this. Dr. Michaels decided to try again to be an adult and managed to have lunch with the a cluster of faculty that afternoon, scooting into the crowded table next to Ted Barlows, who gave her a quick, tight smile before becoming extremely interested in the olives atop his salad. Michaels rolled her eyes. Such a sweet, dumb, sad man. She could almost kiss him, but neither of them would truly appreciate it. She patted his arm and flashed a smile of her own that said he had nothing to be afraid of. The conversation was dull as ever, a tossed salad of gripes over schedules, paychecks, and, of course, the Youth of Today. Michaels nodded along absently as she picked at her pasta salad, tossing out "Mmhmm"s and "I know, right?"s where appropriate. These people weren't idiots. They were in fact some of the brightest minds in the city, the state. Maybe even the country. There were thousands of pages of books and essays between them. And yet here and now, all they could bring themselves to discuss was the truncated Christmas holiday and the how Kids These Days would rather sext than read a damn book (which Michaels knew was untrue, and downright insulting to the dozens of kids who gushed every day at her about their love for Austen, Chopin, Fitzgerald, and Murakami). Michaels only perked up when she heard Professor Kirkman, the leering comparative religions teacher, slip into the low, sleazy tone he thought was flirtatious, declaring, "Of course, these idiots might have paid attention once or twice this semester if I had worn more tight, blue blouses..." He whispered, but it was the kind of whisper that was loud and sharp and meant to be heard by the whole table. Michaels bristled, but quickly became confused. She wasn't wearing blue... Only then did Dr. Michaels notice the plump, blond creature to her left. She was somehow even younger than Michaels, and was avoiding Kirkman's eyes as she picked tiny pieces of green tortilla from her chicken wrap. Her robin blue blouse was stretched tight across her generous chest, and was stained near the collar with an embarrassing blotch of ranch. Michaels didn't know the girl's name. She was a recent hire, a part time public speaking professor, or maybe just a tutor. It didn't matter. Either way, Dr. Michaels rested a hand on the girl's wrist and whispered, loud enough for the whole table to hear, "Don't worry, students don't really care about your clothes. They just don't pay attention to sexist assholes no matter what." The blond creature was confused for a moment. Then her features twisted with mirth and she barked a loud, wicked laugh that Michaels was too glad to mimic. Neither of them deigned to give the shamed Professor Kirkman a glance. He wasn't worth it. It was good to laugh, but the good wouldn't last. Not when the doldrum of class after class, hour after hour, came and seemed to grind away pieces of her as they went. Not when Jason wasn't speaking to her. "Lindsay!" Michaels found herself hissing aloud at the old oak where as she had lunch on a warm, slightly sticky afternoon the Friday after her fight with Jason. A gas station sandwich and a can of coffee. She felt famished without Jason's loving sacked lunches. "Lindsay!" Michaels worked hard. She was a good woman. Was it so wrong that she liked to play with a younger boy in her free time? Even if the play was a bit brutal and nasty? He loved her, and she...well, she had a hard time imagining her life without her adorable little pet. They had earned what they were. It was pretty fucked up, but they had earned it, and they both loved it, and how dare Lindsay try to steal Michaels' boyfriend! Michaels' breath caught as she gazed at the cloudless skies just above the swaying boughs of her beloved tree. ...Boyfriend? Where had that word come from? Her chest was so tight it felt like it had turned to stone, and only the whooshing pant in her ears told her she was still breathing. Her eyes grew wide and hot. A mental slip of the tongue. That was all. She was tired and hungry. Jason wasn't...that. Not that! Of course not! Jason could never be...that. Of course not. Ridiculous. There were countless reasons why it was impossible. Countless. Countless reasons why Jason could never be her boyfriend. Maybe they'd had sex at least fifty thousand times. Maybe he was the only person she ever really had conversations with. Maybe he was sweet and beautiful and made her laugh and...and... And it was impossible for countless reasons. Dr. Michaels finished out the week in a daze. By Sunday afternoon she was slumped over her cheap desk, peering out the window at the iron table near the woods that had brought her so much misery. She decided to go to bed early, knowing sleep would elude her no matter when she tried to find it. Michaels lay in bed for what felt like hours, and probably was. She masturbated with her trusty vibrator off and on, staring and ceiling and begging her twitching clit to blank out her mind once and for all. But instead, Michaels thought of the early days she had spent with Jason, when they were still exploring one another's bodies and experimenting with the nature of their relationship. Michaels had liked to use a ruler back then, an average issue foot of stiff wood that she used to beat Jason senseless. It was what she had used while training the boy to eat pussy properly. Almost every day for weeks she smacked at the kid's ass, back, and face with the ruler until he finally knew just how to please her. Michaels was now often quick to forget that she and Jason were only together for about a month before he left to spend a large chunk of the summer at home with his family. Only a month, but a month in which she'd had more sex than in a year with any previous boyfriend, and done things with her body and to the body of her submissive young lover that she had thought only belonged in fantasy. She hadn't even missed him that summer, that long six weeks they were apart. He had emailed her every day, long letters declaring his love and devotion that she had mostly skimmed over. A couple of times she had commanded him to send her nasty pictures of himself, naked and splayed and gripping the hard, young prick that now belonged to her. But she had never really missed him. Him, the boy, the person. The man. Now, on the verge of semester's end, Michaels knew that Jason was poised to go away for at least a week for the December holidays, and it just crushed her. One week! A week that hadn't even come yet and she was crushed! Michaels heart started pounding, no thanks to the vibrator between her legs. She cast away the toy, sitting straight up in bed and, hardly in control of her body, starting hurling books from her nightstand at the bedroom floor. Three of them, three thick tomes slamming into the floor and scattering the careful pages of loose notes that Dr. Michaels had tucked between their pages. Michaels didn't know what she expected. Just what she hoped. And against all hope and expectation, a soft knock came at her door faster than she had thought possible. Michaels couldn't move, suddenly paralyzed and self conscious of her baggy t-shirt and gym shorts. The knock came again, followed soon by her front door opening and closing. "Ma'am?" came a soft, nervous call that sent Michaels' stomach fluttering. Rustling. The careful padding of bare feet on cheap apartment carpeting. And there he was, standing in the doorway of her bedroom. Naked and lean, his muscles rendered stark by shadow. Half hard, the cock that was her own private toy hanging long between his naked thighs. He was so beautiful, and so goddamn young. Suddenly Michaels regretted it. Regretted everything. Not just throwing the books, not just the fight. Everything. Every game, every belting, every massage, every fuck, every kiss...it had all been such a horrible mistake. Michaels sobbed and threw herself at her bed. And there was a rapid patter of feet on carpet, and suddenly the springs of Michaels' bed were groaning, and the whole, naked mass of Jason was wriggling in under the covers and worming his way against her body. "Oh, what the fuck!" Michaels shrieked. "The hell do you think you're doing, you pathetic, desperate little piece of worthless shit?! Did I say you could get on the bed? Did I?" Jason simply snuggled against her, smothering his face into the curve of her neck. Michaels continued to rant and rage at the boy even as her arms snaked around to press him tighter against her. Soon she found herself muttering bitter insults against Jason's scalp as she buried her face into his soft coconut hair. And in minutes, she drifted off into the deepest, sweetest sleep she had ever known. 3 Dr. Michaels woke up warm and ecstatically happy. The light filtering in through the window above the bed was the soft gray of a cool, cloudy sky. Michaels felt as though she had slept for a thousand peaceful years. Jason was still in her bed, still in Michaels' arms, snoring lightly with his face half buried in her armpit, their legs twisted together in an intimate knot. Michaels stared at Jason, stared at his sweet sleeping face and stroked his cheek for what felt like an hour, and probably was. She stared and stroked, and as she did, something inside her broke. Just like the first time she had seen him in her class and realized that her best friend was a silly little boy. Just like when that silly little boy had kissed her in her own office and drove her to put him back in his place forevermore. Something had broken, and could never be put back together the same way. Dr. Michaels stroked the boy's cheek and nuzzled his forehead, and prayed she could just have this forever—could just fucking have this, and the gorgeous little creature in her arms would never awaken. They could just be like this forever, bodies entwined, the boy worshiping her every essence even as he slept, and she free to kiss and stroke and squeeze him with abandon, free from any, every, and all scrutiny and judgment. This, now, as the child slept in her arms, was a kind of paradise. And of course, he had to ruin it by waking up. She couldn't look at his open, sleepy eyes. She couldn't. Dr. Michaels squeezed her pet tight, gave him a long, lingering kiss on the ear, then smacked and kicked him until he was out of her bed, out of her room, and out of her apartment. She called in sick on Monday. And Tuesday. And Wednesday. Michaels was a zombie in her own apartment, drifting from the couch to the kitchen to the bathroom, and finally to her bed for a long, sleepless night. All the while she felt as though she were dragging around a chest full of broken glass, heavy, cumbersome, and endlessly eviscerating. It was just too much, what she had lost. Lost by gaining and being denied. Office Hours Ch. 09 There was some food in the kitchen, but Michaels hadn't put it there and she barely knew how to cook it. There was some rice, and that was easy enough to to steam up and season with salt and pepper. Michaels gorged herself on huge batches, and was still endlessly starving. It was four days into her exile that a knock finally came at the door. Soft and rapid, not a knock that Michaels recognized, but after everything that had changed why shouldn't the boy have a new knock? There was no making herself pretty. Even after frantically running a brush through her lank hair and spritzing herself generously with lemon rose perfume, Dr. Michaels knew she was still a complete mess, and still in her ratty old gym shorts. But all the same, she did what could she could and happily threw the door open wide. Lindsay Gregs yelped and took a hop backwards. Her eyes darted over Michaels' disheveled self for a moment before locking squarely on her own feet. She was wearing the same baggy yellow sweatshirt she wore most days, the sleeves long enough to flop over her hands, a white bleach stain near the hem. For once the girl's backpack was on her back instead of of her front. In its place she clutched a bundle of stapled papers that she hugged to her breast like a baby. "Lindsay!" Michaels half barked. She took a deep breath and leveled her tone. "What can I do for you?" "I'm so sorry," Lindsay murmured at her feet. "So, so super sorry. I know you're, like, all sick right now...it's just..." "Just spit it out!" Dr. Michaels said, harsher than she meant to. Little Lindsay shoved the bundle of papers towards Dr. Michaels, still unable to meet her eyes. "It's, my, um, paper...women in the military? The one we were working on together? I did the interview, and, um, you gave me that extension and it was supposed to be due today...Jason said you wouldn't mind if I brought it by. You guys never mentioned you lived in the same building. Pretty crazy, heh!" Michales nearly slammed the door in the girl's face. To think, Jason sending up his little bimbo to bug her when he clearly knew she was already in an emotional gutter! What was he thinking? Was this some kind of revenge? Was he trying to send some message that- "I'm sorry!" Lindsay squeaked. "I'll go. You're mad at me, and I'm, like, really sorry!" "What?" Michaels stammered. "No I'm not. Why would you say that?" Lindsay hesitated. "Um, you're kinda glaring at me, Doctor. Like, right now." She was, wasn't she? Michaels sighed and calmed her face as best she could. "I'm just not doing so great at the moment, Lindsay," she said. "It's not your fault." "Do you, um, need anything?" Lindsay asked quietly, trying her best to meet Dr. Michaels' eyes through her shag of yellow bangs. "Like Gatorade or medicine or something? I'm parked out front, I can go get you anything in, like, five minutes." Michaels closed her eyes and took a deep breath before sighing long through her nose. "What I need," she said, "is some coffee. You want some coffee? No, it's chai tea for you, right? Let's go. Give me a second to put on some real clothes and I'll buy you a tea, okay?" Lindsay simply nodded numbly and stood with the same nervous expression in the hall until Michaels returned in black jeans and a long jacket. Dr. Michales drove them to a nearby coffeehouse where she often bought a morning cup. There she holed up with Lindsay in a quiet corner, and they spend a little while going over her paper. It didn't take long. Lindsay had improved dramatically in the time Dr. Michaels had been working with her, and her essay was already half perfect. She was extremely proud of Lindsay, and told her so. The pathetic kid started leaking tears and glommed onto Michaels' side. And then they talked, Michaels and Lindsay. They talked and talked. All morning at at the coffeehouse, then all afternoon just driving around town with no goal in mind. It turned out that Lindsay wasn't quite as shy as she seemed, and had a lot to say about herself. She was a Graphics Arts major—English was only her minor. She wanted to be a character designer, or else a storyboard artist (the sketchbook she produced out of her backpack was really quite impressive). She loved horror movies and was an even bigger videogame dork than Jason. Lindsay said that, these days, she mostly listened to Celtic folk music and something called doom metal. She wanted to be a vegetarian, but never seemed able to pull it off. She was methodically working her way through every work of Dickens, chronologically, and was up to Little Dorrit. Lindsay had a remarkably lovely singing voice and an absolutely filthy sense of humor. Lindsay spoke better French than Dr. Michaels ever had. By early evening, Michaels found herself sitting in her car in the Jeffersonian parking lot, Lindsay draped comfortably over her shoulder, offering tips while she fiddled about with the girl's Gameboy, which apparently had two screens these days. Lindsay had managed to hook her on a game absurdly titled Castlevania that Michaels couldn't seem to stop playing, no matter how often she lost to the giant crab in the tower. Finally, after the latest loss, Michaels roared and tossed the device into the corner of the car. Linday giggled and bent double to retrieve it from under the car seat. ' "I'm sorry," Michaels said as Lindsay snapped upright. Lindsay just grinned and started to wave her off with a flippant hand. "No, no...I'm sorry I didn't come out for your twentieth birthday. That was a really big deal." "It's okay," Linday assured her, nuzzling her shoulder. "I know you're really busy when classes are out." "No," Michaels sighed. "Not really." Michaels rested her chin against the steering wheel and gazed up at the purple clouds of a setting sun. Her eyelids fluttered, and Michaels rubbed her face before, she hoped, Lindsay could notice the tears that were about to spill down her cheeks. Suddenly a warm hand landed over her own and Lindsay spoke against her shoulder, close to her ear. "Hey, what is it?" A nice little squeeze on her hand. "You were never sick, huh? It's something else. You're all messed up about something." Michaels groaned and sat up. "I should have married Ted Barlow," she blurted. "Ohh," Lindsay said, nodding. "Um, who is that?" Michaels chuckled in despair. "Bio professor. Short and kind of cute in a lame way." "Him! Right. Jason had him for, like, a semester." Lindsay narrowed her eyes. "So you love him?" "I barely even like him," Michaels said. "I'm just pretty sure that I was supposed to marry him. We went out for a little bit when I first started teaching, and I fucked him once." Lindsay didn't bat an eye at this confession. "And that should have been it. Life should have been as easy as all that. The young professor meets the slightly older professor, they hit it off, get married. Etcetera. God, it would have been easy. I'd have a kid by now, maybe even two. That's the story I was supposed to live, what I'm suppose to be right now. But instead...instead I'm somewhere else entirely, and so utterly lost I can't think straight enough to leave my apartment without being coaxed." Lindsay squeezed her hand tighter and petted the back of her head. "So you don't want the boring, normal story that's expected of you. Okay. The question is, what is it that you do want?" "Exactly what I can't have" Michaels answered. "Not ever. Ever ever. I just couldn't be happy with what the world served to me on a platter. It was supposed to be so easy, but...It's just not what I want. No, what I want I want is impossible. What I want is what the world says I can't have. Not ever ever." "I understand," Lindsay said. "I so understand! Like, so hard." Michaels cocked a confused eyebrow at the girl. Lindsay blinked at her for awhile before blushing slightly and averting her gaze. "Um, I'm gay. Like, a lesbian? You didn't know?" Michaels simply shook her head while silently feeling like history's biggest idiot. "Sorry. I usually think everyone knows. I forget there isn't, like, a huge L branded on my forehead since I came out. But what you're saying is so, like, how I felt for so long, the world saying I can't have what I knew was so right for me." "So what changed?" Michaels asked softly. "Well, for one I finally had sex with a girl, and it was super awesome. But mostly I just got mad and said fuck it. I wasn't hurting anyone, so fuck it. The world says you can't have what you want? What does the world know? Screw the world!" Michaels chuckled. "Just that simple, huh?" "Sure. Why shouldn't it be? I was the only thing standing in the way of just being happy already. And things are good now, even if I sometimes get an ugly look for, like, holding hands with my girlfriend. It's a lot better than when I was all messed up in high school and only Jason knew I was gay." "He's a sweet guy, huh?" Michaels said with a small, fond smile. "Yeah he is! He helped me get together with Azalea this semester, and she is so effin hot. We drifted apart for a little bit after graduation, but I'm really glad we're buds again. You two are kinda close, too, right? I mean, you hang together a lot around campus and stuff anyway, and he never shuts his hole about you." Michaels nodded. "Such a little teacher's pet." "Totally! You'd better watch out, I'm pretty sure he has a crush on you." Dr. Michaels barked with laughter, loud and hard. She couldn't help it, even when Lindsay's brow knitted in confusion. They talked for a little bit longer, and then Michaels walked Linday across the parking lot to her own car. "Thanks for hanging out with me today," Michaels said. "And for the talk. I had a great time." "Of course, dude! Anytime! It was awesome. You know you're, like, totally my favorite, right? I mean, I was right about to drop out of school before that time in your office when I started crying about being dumb, and you were so super nice. Seriously. So yeah, anytime you want to talk about anything..." Michaels smiled and pulled Lindsay close, hugging her tight and pecking her on the temple. "You're a good kid, Lindsay." The girl looked shy again for the first time all afternoon and positively glowed with pleasure. "Hope, um, to see you at school again soon, Doctor," she said, fumbling for her keys in her backpack. "Feel better. There's plenty of time to get what you want. You're only, like, what? Thirty five? Thirty six?" "Oh, Lindsay," Michaels sighed, turning away. "Just when I thought I liked you!" The apartment was just as cold and lonely as she'd left it. Why did she have such a big place with just the one her to fill it? She was hungry and decided to make a lasagna for dinner. She knew how to make lasagna these days. But first she wandered in the dark over to her desk and tossed open the curtains covering the window. There was just enough twilight left to make out the iron table at the edge of the woods across the lawn. Michaels stared at it until there was nothing to see out the window but shadows and starlight. "Fuck it," she said. 4 Friday was a dark day, the sky roiling gently in a full spectrum of grays and blacks. The air already smelled of the downpours that were sure to come, clean and alive. Already the clouds dampened the earth with a constant, light mist that rendered the world soft and tickled the skin. It was absolutely gorgeous. Dr. Michaels sat at the table, puffing a cigarette and sipping a beer as she read. It was a little warm for a December day, but by no means hot. Michaels wore a pair of jeans and V-neck tee, both black, relishing every cool breeze that brushed her chest and arms. Classes were already out for the week to give students extra study time before finals started after the weekend, and Michaels was perfectly happy to stay out here all day if need be. Yet it was less than an hour before a pretty man with dirty brown hair came traipsing across the lawn towards her. He wore a light leather jacket, blue shirt, and dark corduroys, and was so very handsome and lovely that Michaels didn't even mind that he was clearly more of a boy than a man when he drew close. "Sorry to interrupt," said the pretty boy, "but I'm a reader myself, and I'm curious about what has you so compelled." Michaels grinned and held up her book so the cover was visible—a battered paperback of The DaVinci Code. Jason smacked his hand over his face and laughed. "I can't believe you even own a copy of that," he said, sitting down. "I found it on a bench," said Michaels. "I wasn't going to risk a real book getting rained on." She drank from her beer then held the can out to Jason. "Sip?" "I'm not twenty one, y'know." "Yeah, because that's what's going to get me in trouble with you." Jason had a sip, then a few drags off Michaels' cigarette when she passed that, too, just as he had so many times on so many afternoons at this table during that long ago summer. Suddenly Michaels' hand darted out and she sank her nails into Jason's forearm, eliciting a sharp hiss. "What were you thinking?" she said, smiling a wolfish smile. "What made you think a teenager could hit on a grown ass woman?" "I had just graduated near the top of my class, gotten into a good school, was living on my own for the first time..." Jason shrugged. "I was feeling cocky, and you were just so sexy with your glasses and short hair and your books. And hey, it all worked out." Tentatively, afraid all of a sudden, Jason added, "...Right?" Michaels let go of the kid's arm and put out her cigarette. "Come on," she said as she stood up. "Let's take a walk." The woods were beautiful. So much more enormous and raw than Michaels had thought possible considering they were in a city. The canopy seemed to be a mile above, a constantly swaying green universe that created a symphony of rustles. The trees produced their own special rain, collecting the mist on their leaves and dripping cold, enormous drops of sweet water at their own irregular pace. The light was dim and amorphous, changing with the winds and making the shadows dance. After a few minutes of admiring this beauty, Michaels reached out and took Jason's hand, twining her fingers with his. She heard his breath catch just before he squeezed her hand tight. Had they every done this before? No, Michaels realized, they hadn't. Everything they'd done together, all the ways they had shared their bodies, and this was the first time they had held hands. It made Michaels feel warm and nervous. For his part, Jason walked along in silent ecstasy, flicking smiles at her every now and then. He seemingly thought this joyous moment was fragile, broken and lost forever if he opened his mouth. It was sweet, and Michaels allowed it, even though she already knew how ironclad his hand in hers was. "It's...a lot, you know," Dr. Michaels said quietly after what felt like an hour of happy strolling, and probably was. "It always will be. I'm old enough to be your mother." Jason snorted with laughter and kissed the back of her hand. "No you aren't! What kind of kid were you, having children at ten?" Michaels laughed herself. "Okay! Your babysitter then, at least! Or a young aunt. Ten years, though. That's the point. It will always be ten years." "Closer to eleven, actually." Michaels slapped the boy upside his head. Repeatedly. "Sorry! Teasing! The point is, I don't care. I don't even think about it. I'm nineteen, you're twenty nine...who cares? You could be seventy nine and I would still love you just as much." "That's total bullshit," she said, and kissed his cheek, "but I love it." Jason chuckled and nudged her, beaming with the most gorgeous smile. Michaels grinned back and nudged him even harder. He hip bumped her, and she bumped back harder. Suddenly his fingers were wriggling at her legs, knowing how ticklish she was behind the knees. Michaels shoved him and sprinted away. Jason found her and she shoved him again, and soon they were off and running, chasing and shoving and tickling in a silly game that had no rules. Before long Michaels tripped, falling to the damp grass near a fat, old oak. And just as Jason trotted near, ready to tickle her into submission, he stumbled over one of the oak's root's and slammed to the damp earth next to her. Michaels wrestled him down and straddled his lap. They laughed and panted on each other for a bit, Jason with his face against her chest, Michaels with her smiling lips against Jason's scalp. "I love you, Jason," Michaels panted into the boy's ear before shoving him down with both hands. Jason gasped for a few seconds, winded from the blow, while an enormous smile parted his mouth. Wider and wider, in an exaggerated mask of glee. "Ugh, wipe the smile off your face, you embarrassing dweeb!" Michaels sneered, giving the kid a good slap that failed put so much as a dent in his smile. "Of course I love you." Michaels kissed her fingertips and pressed them gently against Jason's lips. "Of course, kiddo." Jason cupped his hands over Michaels', moving her willing fingers from his lips to his cheek and cooing with pleasure. "You have a pretty mean way of showing it, lady," he said with a grin. Michaels laughed and gave the kid a sharp backhand. She felt a quick, hard throb from Jason's lap against her crotch in response. "I was just mad," she said. "Mad about so many things...Mostly about you, I suppose. I was pissed at you for being young, and pissed at me for not being very good at adulthood, and just so...so goddamn mad. And I didn't have anything concrete to lash out at except you. And so...so here we are." "Here we are." Michaels stroked the boy's face, softly at first, then harder, digging her nails into the his cheek and feeling herself throb against his lap. Slowly, she slipped her fingers into Jason's mouth one by one, savoring the pull of his soft lips and the warmth of his tongue as it teased each digit in turn. Fingers were not enough, though. Michaels flung herself atop Jason, drinking deep from his mouth, kissing him with sloppy smacks and slurps like she was fifteen again and guessing at what making out was supposed to be. She slipped a hand between Jason's legs, squeezing his hard cock through the fabric of his pants. It was twisted at an odd angle, imprisoned against his clothes, the poor thing. Michaels started working at Jason's belt, determined to set it free. But Jason stopped her with a hand on her elbow and whispered, "Not here." Michaels continued kissing at his neck, but growled with displeasure. "I've never seen anyone else out here, but we're sill right in the middle of the main path here." "Do you know a place?" Michaels asked. Jason nodded, and they both scrambled to their feet. Jason held out his hand, and Michaels took it, and they both began to run through the trees, giggly and lust drunk and desperate to reach a bit of privacy so they could tear into each other's bodies. She really was a teenager again, Michaels thought, desperate and nervous and so silly horny that she couldn't help but snicker aloud at herself. Yet Michaels was able to maintain enough adult decorum to truly appreciate the little clearing that Jason had brought them to. It was a soft, grassy little knoll that sloped gently toward a stream that splashed over the rocks and burbled in a tiny waterfall as it rushed along its way. Michaels knelt at the edge of stream and dipped her hand into the cold, rushing water. She scooped a small, crisp sip to her lips and drizzled the remaining drops over her chest as she began to shrug off her T-shirt. "Strip!" she ordered, turning around in her wet bra as she unzipped her jeans. Jason was already naked, rain beading his hard, perfect body, his cock throbbing upright and ready. Office Hours Ch. 09 "You've trained me pretty well, Ma'am," he said with a grin. Michaels smiled with approval and unhooked her bra, sighing at the cool tingle of misty raining wetting her naked breasts. She kicked aside her shoes and almost fell on her face in her manic rush to get out of her jeans. Jason had the decency to only laugh at her a little bit as he swept forward to catch her by the shoulders. "Ahem," Michaels said, standing upright and gathering her dignity as best she could with one foot still trapped in her trailing pants. "Thank you." Jason didn't say a word. He just smiled and started kissing her neck, her shoulders, her chest. The boy caressed her breasts with warm hands and kissed each in turn, flicking warmth into her hard nipples with his tongue. Michaels sighed and cradled his face as Jason kept kissing lower, pausing at her stomach to give her naval a tiny nip. Just as he reached the edge of her underwear, Jason stopped and smiled up at her. "Allow me," he said, gently lifting her leg by the calf and freeing her foot from the last tangled length of jeans. The boy then started his kisses again, starting at Michaels' knees and working up her thighs until he was panting against her crotch. "Black. Imagine that." "My blackest," Michaels said. "And smallest. Perhaps I'll let you wear them one of these days." Jason's expression said that he looked forward to it. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of the little panties and slid them down Michaels' smooth, wet legs. They were barely off from around her feet and tossed atop Michaels' jeans before Jason buried his face between her legs. Michaels yelped a little and spread herself wider, fisting the kid's hair and pulling his mouth tighter against her. After a moment she staggered backwards until her back hit a tree. Jason followed on his knees, his tongue hardly missing a beat as it swirled her clit and glided up and down the hot length of her slit, his hands squeezing her thighs and ass for leverage. The rain finally started in earnest, pushing through the canopy and making the leaves roar. Water ran down the naked bodies of Dr. Michaels and her lover, cold and caressing. Michaels pushed Jason to the ground by the shoulders, lowering herself with him so she was straddling him as his shaggy head settled into the shaggy grass. Before the burning tingle of his tongue could fully fade away from her pussy, Michaels took Jason's cock and slipped her body around it. She bucked her hips in deep, firm waves, relishing the familiar stir inside her, the rhythmic, electric tease that sent sparks out through her body from her clitoris. Yet as they rain continued to poor over them, Michaels realized she was in the mood for something a little different today. This odd day that kept rendering her silly and young. So she slipped off of Jason and rolled onto her back, hissing a bit at just how cold the grass was against her back. The boy sat up on his knees, confused. Michaels, coy and lust drunk, nervously parted her legs and beckoned the young boy with a few nods of her head. "Really?" asked Jason, slowly crawling into into position. Michaels nodded. "Why should I always have to do all the work?" Jason smiled as he carefully knelt over her, bending down to kiss Michaels as he guided his cock inside her. Michaels gasped, and gripped the side of the boy's head to maintain their kiss as he began to thrust atop her. The rain fell harder, drenching every inch of the fucking couple. A low peal of thunder sounded far in the distance, rolling softly, almost calmly over them. Water poured off the tips of Jason's sodden hair, falling in pulses over Michaels' face and chest as the boy thrust into her. It was kind of adorable, really, how hard he was trying. All vigor and little skill, almost pulling off something amazing as he pounded in deep only to lose the beat and pop out of her entirely, mumbling apologies as he carefully aimed himself back in. If Michaels had been feeling like a teenager, then it was obvious that Jason really was one, a gawky little nineteen-year old who had only ever been atop a couple of girls in his life. But she didn't begrudge him. Not at all. It was fun having this kind of sex again, sloppy and awkward and madeup, both of them as raw with emotion as they were with their bodies. And Dr. Michaels realized something important...She would always be in charge. No matter what position she and Jason found themselves in, she was the teacher. Even when she was the one on her back, it was always her who would guide the way. Dr. Michaels liked that. And so she pulled Jason close and started panting pointers in his ears, directing him on his rhythm and guiding his hands to where they needed to be on her body, using him to push herself over the edge like she wished her fifteen-year-old self had known how to do. It didn't take Michaels long to come hard after that, although there was still so much to teach. But there would be plenty of time for that. Jason came himself, ejaculating over Michaels' heaving stomach. The rain quickly washed the goo away, and Jason sank to the grass, meeting Michaels' groping arms with his own until they were hopelessly tangled in a rain-wet cuddle in the grass. "Things are different now," Michaels said into Jason's hair after once the rain had quieted. "You and me. It's different." She sighed and stroked the lovely boy under his chin. "No more dismissing you. No more cruelty." "Mmm?" Jason said mumbled, sleepy from his orgasm. "What does that mean?" "What does-? I've been terrible towards you, kiddo! You've been so sweet and patient, and I've been nothing but nasty from the first day I saw you in class!" Jason chuckled and shook his head against Michaels' neck. "Poor Doctor. Is that really how you see yourself? You're mean sometimes, yeah, but mostly you've nothing but sweet. I knew I kinda messed you up when I showed up in your class. I thought you would expel me on the spot, or at least refuse to speak to me ever again. But instead you were patient and kind. You always took time to talk to me after class and during office hours, even when I was just blathering on like a geek because I had nothing left to say and just wanted to keep your attention. You knew I was being annoying, but you still listened—hell, you even went out of your way to eat lunch with me most days for awhile there! And you stuck around when I started having a hard time that first year. You literally let me cry on your shoulder! Honestly, Ma'am, I don't know where I would be without you. Even now you go out of your way to help me out whenever I need it. You're not nasty." Jason nuzzled closer against Michaels' neck. "You're about the nicest person I've ever known. I wish you'd realize it yourself already." Michaels sighed towards the treetops. "Really?" She shifted her gaze towards the boy's drowsy face cuddled up beneath her chin and felt nothing but warmth and love. "Mmm. Maybe you're right." Doctor Michaels squeezed her young lover close for a moment., savoring his smell, his heat, his intoxicating Jasoness. And slowly, so slowly, she sat up from the cool grass and took the kid's hands into her own, pecking at his knuckles nervously as she tried to compose herself. "So, umm," she said in a half whisper. It suddenly didn't matter that she had made love to the kiddo fifty thousand times, that they were both naked and soaked, not even that he was still a little bit hard and more than a little inside her body. Michaels still felt the breathless panic of some girl asking out some boy. "There's an exhibit downtown about Jack Kerouac. Some of his hand-written papers. I thought maybe, um, we could go see it on Sunday? And after that, we could eat something. I mean, we could have dinner. Like, together. There's a French place on the north side I've been wanting to try." Jason laughed and smoothed back Doctor Micaels' hair, kissing away the rain beading on her forehead. "That sounds wonderful." Michaels smiled and blushed. "But why Sunday?" "Saturday is no good," Michaels said. "I'm going to a play with Lindsay and then she's taking me shopping for a Gameboy." Jason simply blinked at her for a moment. "...What?!" Michaels shrugged. "She's a good kid...And you could have told me about her, by the way!" Michaels snarled, smacking Jason a couple of times. "Before I got all worked up and made a fool of myself over her!" "It wasn't for me to tell. Though how you didn't know is beyond me. She and Azalea have been making out all over campus for weeks." "Good for them. Lindsay deserves it. I still think she's just a little bit of an idiot, but she gives good advice." Jason nodded. "Lindsay is wise." Jason buried his face between Michaels' breasts and sighed happily for awhile, breathing her deep. "You know..." he said quietly, peeping up at her with shy eyes, "I hope things aren't going to be...too different." Dr. Michaels grinned savagely and trailed a hard, sharp nail down the boy's face, from temple to chin, leaving a lovely red mark. "Oh no, there's no putting that genie back in the bottle, you pathetic little fuck toy. In fact, stand up!" Michaels began to scramble to her feet herself, knocking the kid hard beneath the chin as she rose. "Up! Up, you idiot!" "Yes, Ma'am!" Jason chirped with obvious pleasure. Pleasure that their game wasn't over. Pleasure to submit to her once more. "Bend!" Michaels barked, slapping her pet's ass. "Grab those ankles and spread! Spread!" Slap! "Wider! Show me that asshole, you disgusting little slut!" Dr. Michaels caressed Jason's bent back as she circled around his doubled-over self, pinching his tailbone and clawing possessively at one of his asscheeks as she scanned the nearby the foliage. Aha! There, nearby, was a long, thin branch hanging from a few fibers off a tree. Michaels wrenched the supple limb free with a few yanks and quickly stripped it of extraneous twigs and buds. She swished her new toy through the air a few times before jabbing its sharp tip at Jason's mouth. "Kiss." The boy did, and whispered, "Thank you," through frightened, trembling lips. With no more ceremony or warning, Micahes whacked Jason's ass hard with her new switch. The boy yelped and his entire body tensed and trembled, but Michaels gave him no time to deal with the pain of the first blow before she delivered a second. Then a third. Jason was already gasping, digging his fingers into his ankles with the effort to remain bent. A delightful trio of angry pink stripes were blooming across the kid's exposed ass. Michaels chuckled with sadistic glee and added two more stripes in quick succession—whack! whack!-eliciting a long, guttural growl of agony from Jason that sent a spark dancing from her bellybutton to her knees, and ricocheting everywhere in between. Michaels calmed herself, and calmed the switch, tapping the branch gently up and down Jason's spine, scraping the tip in light circles over his cheeks and thighs, even briefly tickling his asshole with the sharp, wooden point. Then Michaels tensed her grip on the weapon and raised the thin branch high. "This is for thinking you could hit up a grown woman!" Michaels shouted as she abused Jason's ass with a swat hard enough to shake his teeth and produce a small scream. "This is for thinking a student was allowed to kiss his teacher!" Whack! Jason choked out a short, hard sob. Michaels paused to caress Jason's stinging ass. She stroked the tip of the switched softly down the boy's spine and whispered,"This is for breaking my heart a hundred times since I met you." The blow was aimed up between her pet's legs, hard wood meeting soft balls with a muted, squishy thud that briefly brought Jason to his knees. Tears spilled from his eyes as his mouthed quivered in an attempt to process the pain. Dr. Michaels, naked and wet and resplendent, laughed aloud at the quivering wreck before her. "And this," she announced. "This! This is because I love to hear you scream." Michaels swiped her switch low, stinging Jason's balls once again, before adding another brutal half dozen stripes to his scarred ass. The boy screamed. Oh, how he screamed! Every swipe of the switch produced a new song of suffering from the boy until he was finally exhausted and panting against the ground. Michaels trembled with a numbing, electric satisfaction that excited her, mind and body, as hard as her best orgasm, And then, when her pet was at his lowest, Michaels tapped the back of his shaggy head with the switch, bent low, and pecked up his delicious tears. "Love you, kiddo," she whispered, kissing his cheek. "Let's go home." Michaels and Jason got dressed in clothes that were more than a little soggy before setting off through the woods, hand-in-hand once again. The air was colder after the rain, and Jason was quick to toss his leather jacket over Michaels' shoulders the moment she started to shiver. The jacket was wet and did little to warm her, but Michaels still beamed over the kid's gallantry. The old iron table was just as they left it, no different from being rained on a bit. The DaVinci Code, on the other hand, was bloated and ruined. She picked it up and sighed at soggy pages tearing apart under her fingers. "What?" she said at Jason's cocked eyebrow. "I was getting into it..." "Sorry," Jason said, "I'll put in 75 cents to replace it. This, however..." The kid held up a pack of American Spirits, more than half full, and tipped out gush of awful tobacco water from the little blue box. Michaels sighed and pinched her nose at the sight of so much wasted nicotine. "I really should just quit already, huh?" Jason smiled happily, crushed the soggy pack in his hand, and tossed it over his shoulder. "So...short hair and glasses. That's your thing?" Jason smiled and stroked Dr. Michael's face. "I've told you," he said, kissing his teacher, his mentor, his lover between the eyes. "You're my thing, Ma'am." Dr. Michaels chuckled and clutched Jason's hands in her own. "My name is Sabrina," she said. "You can call me Sabrina..." Dr. Michaels dug her nails into Jason's hands and bared her teeth in a dangerous smile. "Sometimes." Jason, the beautiful boy, smiled and averted his eyes for a moment before discreetly sizing up the vicious switch still in Sabrina Michaels' hand. "And what do you plan to do with that, Sabrina?" he asked softly. Dr. Michaels flicked a lock of her beloved pet's hair aside with the tip of the cruel instrument. "I don't know, kiddo...let's find out." Michaels set off at a sprint across the lawn towards the apartment building that she had shared for so long with a pretty man who was really a pretty boy. And the pretty boy came after her, tickling her knees and stealing gasping kisses against the top of her head. Michaels laughed, and the boy laughed, and they ran along together, playing a silly game all their own that had no rules. 5 Two Years Later "I said lick my feet, Toy!" roared the Empress Axian, peering through her mask with disdain as she forced her toes into into Prince Maka's mouth. "I tire of your insubordination! Perhaps if I raze the borderlands, you will finally submit to me as fully as so often promise!" "Please!" begged the pathetic young slaveboy, gagging on the Divine Matriarch' toes."Spare the border! I live to service you, My Lady!" Lady Axian allowed the sad creature to lap her feet for a bit longer before striping his back with her switch, the beads and charms dangling off the base of the tool tinkling with every flick, and shuttered with joy at the agony of the dead king's son. The boy yelped and shrieked at the blows, screwing his pained face into the floor at his mistress' feet. Slaveboys weren't allowed clothes, of course, so Prince Maka was naked save for a rope collar around his neck and black face paint smudged across his eyes. The collar was handy for attaching a leash when the Empress felt like parading her Toy about the palace and down into the dungeons where the Prince's imprisoned followers could witness his submission. The face paint tended to streak from sweat and tears, visibly highlighting his torment. "Enough!" snarled the Empress, reclining back on her plush bed and tapping her sopping loins with the tip of the switch. "Feast and be thankful." "Oh, yes! Yes, thank you, My Lady! I am honored to drink of you!" Prince Maka plunged his face into his mistress' sex, tonguing her with determined enthusiasm. The Empress sighed and bit her own finger with pleasure. As always, Her Glorious Lady Empress Axian, Ruler Supreme of the Nine Seas, Forever May She Reign, wore a long, voluminous, blood-red cloak, an elaborate wooden mask, and nothing else. It was a costume that allowed her to be both ominous and commanding while giving her unfettered reign to use her body for abuse and pleasure. Indeed, she tossed aside the folds of her cloak to better allow her thighs to clamp over the shaggy head between her legs and crush the slave's face against her crotch. Empress Axian's mask was an enormous, lovely piece of carved driftwood, all whorls and spikes that crested in a crown-like fringe across the top. Sabrina had bought it at a seaside flea market during one of her biannual trips to the coast with Jason. They went just after the end of every semester—once in late December when Sabrina could enjoy the cold, gray sky and miles of deserted, moody beach to stroll with her kiddo as they talked about books and movies and collected shells, free to fuck in the dunes at their leisure without fear of discovery. They made the six hour trip again in early June, when Jason could enjoy Sabrina in her black two-piece, rub her down with sun lotion, and hardly had to coax her at all into playing in the waves with him and building elaborate sandcastles. Fucking in the dunes was much more dangerous that time of year, but they typically ended up doing it anyway. "Wha-? What is this, My Lady?" the enslaved prince half whispered, half gasped as he peeked up at the Empress, probing a light finger into the warm pussy he had been pleasuring. The black paint around his eyes was smeared most fetchingly. "So you noticed," chuckled Empress Axian. She slid a casual hand between her legs and slowly plucked a stout, pinkish crystal out of her body. It glistened in the candlelight of her bedchamber, dripping once, twice with her juices. "The Heartstone, yes? Dearest treasure of your pathetic people." "No, My Lady!" Maka gasped. "Please, no!" "Cloistered in your Grand Cathedral, never to be touched. Only seen in the most sacred ceremonies..." The Empress cackled. "I've used it to warm my groin every night since my soldiers razed your ridiculous Cathedral. And now...now, you pitiful Toy, you'll profane your people's holiest totem by sucking it of the taste of me while you pleasure your conqueror!" Maka resisted fiercely, but Divine Axian soon slapped him into submission, pinching his mouth open between cruel fingers and slipping the wet crystal between his lips. Defeated, with misery painting his features, the slaveboy turned down his eyes and slipped his stiff cock into his tormentor and began thrusting. The Empress sighed, lounging back and letting the hard, pulsing shocks of pleasure ripple through her body as she idly teased her left nipple. Deep but gentle, hard but skillful, moving in smooth waves that caressed every sensitive corner of her pussy...the kiddo really knew how to pound a gal, especially after a couple years of hard training. The Empress opened her eyes long enough to wink at her slave through her mask, and pulled him down by the neck to give him a little smek on the corner of his mouth. The gorgeous young boy stopped pretending to be miserable for a moment to offer his own lovely smile, still dutifully holding the Heartstone in his mouth. Office Hours Ch. 09 Sabrina had bought the crystal cheap at one of the many Renaissance Fairs that Lindsay had roped her into attending with her. It was at one of these festivals that Sabrina had also purchased her cloak. Lindsay had agreed to keep quiet about the exorbitant price Sabrina had paid for the garment, so long as Sabrina kept her mouth closed about finding Lindsay going at it with the buxom girl from the Drench the Wench booth behind the glassblowing tents. That girl had a real knack for turning up in shady corners with strange women. The Empress luxuriated for a long while, allowing the slave to pleasure her as she offered taunts and insults, yanking his long hair and smacking at the crystal in his mouth through his cheek. At last she wrapped her legs tight around the boy's waist and pulled him low by the rope around his neck to sink her teeth into shoulder as her body shivered with lovely little orgasm. "Well done, Toy!" said the Empress, sitting up and shoving the young prince to the floor. "The dozens who die daily attempting to free you would surely be proud of how thoroughly you satisfy their murderer." The slave clearly wished to protest and plea, but his tongue was still occupied desecrating the sacred Heartstone. Axian stood, adjusting her cloak and fetching her switch from the bed. She gave Prince Maka several hard, practiced swats around his shoulders and thighs, and the boy settled on hands and knees. The Empress fetched a goblet from atop the dresser and sat on her slave's straight back, folding her legs prettily. She sipped wine from the same vessel from which she had gulped the blood of the boy's father after carving the heart from his chest. (Then and now, it was cranberry juice and vodka). "Prince Maka fon Glostler," mused the Empress. "Joy of his mother, pride of his father...the hope of a nation. And now?" Axian gave the slave a swat on the ass with her switch and cackled with evil laughter. "A piece of meat I use to amuse myself! A plaything. Isn't that delightful? Well? Speak." Empress Axian held the goblet to the prince Maka's chin and he reluctantly spit the Heartstone into the wine. "You're twisted and cruel!" the boy hissed. "Oh, I know." Axian caressed the slave's ass with the length of wood in her hand and pressed the goblet closer the boy's lips. "Drink." Prince Maka screwed his eyes closed in agony and forced himself to sip wine tainted with his people's defiled treasure, from a goblet forever stained with the blood of his kin. The Empress laughed again and stood. Setting aside the goblet, she pulled her leg back and kicked the boy hard in the stomach, sending him rolling and coughing onto his back. (They were, of course, both acting—despite the theatrics, Sabrina had given Jason little more than a tap. She had grown much more skillful, and careful, in only hurting him for fun, rather than for real). Through Empress Axian's powerful witchcraft, Prince Maka had no choice but to always be hard for her. And so, before the boy had even stopped choking for breath, the Empress tossed back her enormous cloak and straddled the slave on the floor, grabbing his prick and plunging it inside her. "Please," gasped the pathetic Toy. "No more!" "Try again!" roared the Empress, grabbing her slaveboy's bangs and slamming his head against the floor several times. Maka winced and hesitated before finally stammering, "Th-thank you, My Lady..." as the Empress began to grind atop him in earnest. Axian wrapped her hands around the Toy's neck above the rope and started bouncing harder, relishing the heat that burst up into her body with every wet slap. It never got old, not ever ever, this fiery merging of their bodies. As usual, though, the Empress' mask became cumbersome as she rode the boy, so Axian loosened the strap and tossed the heavy thing away, throwing back her head with a liberated sigh and slicking her sweaty hair. She had grown it out some recently, though it was still fairly short, especially compared to Jason's mane. He had kept growing out his own silly mop, though at least a tape measure had recently proved that she was slightly taller than him. "I may be cruel," Divine Axian panted, her bare face pressing close at the slaveboy's. "Twisted, yes. But that is why I am Matriarch of the Nine Seas...that is why your parents' crowns shattered under my feet and your people prostrate before me in terror..." Axian gently kissed Prince Maka's worried, frowning lips. "And that is why, as you feasted on my sex this very night, my armies were at that moment already reducing the borderlands to ashes!" "No!" Prince Maka moaned. "No, no! Do your oaths mean nothing?!" "Nothing to a worthless Toy!" At that moment, basking in the slaves humiliated agony, Empress Axian tossed back her head again, shuttered, and growled through clenched teeth as an orgasm seized her body and blasted her mind of thought. Sabrina melted atop Jason. She panted into his neck awhile as he scratched her back and pecked soft little kisses against her ear. But soon she popped up and knelt on the carpet next the kid, stroking his paint-streaked face with one hand while the other started pumping his wet, still-hard cock. "You've been having trouble coming all week," Sabrina said. "Stop lying. You're nervous about graduating this weekend, aren't you?" Jason closed his eyes, sighing deeply at Sabrina's vigorous, expert touch. "You still haven't said you're proud of me for graduating a semester early, you know." Sabrina rolled her eyes. "I got my undergrad over a year early." Jason chuckled, then was quiet for awhile, only grunting and mewing with pleasure every now and then as Sabrina worked him. "It's a big change. I feel like I'm losing everything I know. No more classes, no more office hours...And of course the magazine wants me to start work practically right away." "You aren't losing me," Sabrina said, kissing Jason between the eyes. "That isn't changing. We'll keep having office hours every day, you and me, from now til forever. And whatever does change, I'll be there to help you figure it out." Jason smiled and nodded, taking Sabrina's hand and kissing her palm. Only a little later, he finally came over Sabrina's pumping fist, biting his lip and pressing her fingers to his cheek. "There you go. That's my kiddo." Sabrina ruffled Jason's hair and stood, snatching a waiting towel from the nightstand to clean her sticky hand while she put on her glasses. She always thought she should feel ridiculous wearing the red cloak after the game had ended, yet she never did. "You're so mean," Jason commented, gathering himself up. "I thought the borderlands were off limits, what with the displaced Brothers of Talmat trying reestablish their rectories." "Pompous seditionists!" Sabrina said in her Empress voice. "That was merely a ruse to foster the insurgency's bid to retake Castle Rikes, and-" Sabrina sighed as she shrugged the cloak off onto the bed. "You've turned me into such a dork." "You brewed up the scenario all on your own!" Jason protested. "All from that pretty brain of yours." "Yes, well, you started it. You started it all." Sabrina put on a falsetto and fluttered her hands about. "Oh, Professor, I love you! Oh, Professor, let me take your picture!" Jason strode forward and kissed the back of Sabrina's neck. "Hey, it all worked out," he said confidently. "And just who's portrait was it that I recently sold to that gallery downtown? That photo of some wanton young woman having her last ever cigarette deep in the woods?" Sabrina smiled and slipped into her comfy, cotton robe. She patted Jason's cheek and said, "Tidy up," as she strode from the bedroom. A single floor lamp in the far corner of the living room lit a shadowy path into the kitchen. Cookware piled on the stove, still fragrant with oil and herbs, scented the air. Sabrina opened the refrigerator and claimed the last beer still remaining after a lively evening. She wrenched off the cap and sipped, standing in the kitchen doorway and peering over her living room. The couch on which she and Jason had so thoroughly acquainted themselves was still pushed against the far wall, but it had been joined in the room by two more couches and at least half a dozen assorted chairs. Everywhere were little tables which were still littered with countless cans, plates, and glasses. The detritus of another successful Thursday night. It had been Dr. Michaels' idea, though Jason had teased it out from idea to fruition. A weekly gathering of promising students, congregating in Michaels' own home for a mature discussion of their writing, literature, music, film...anywhere the conversation led, so long as it was intelligent and interesting. Initially she had only attracted a couple of attendees beyond Jason and Lindsay. These days, it was a passionately vied for club. Yet it remained invitation only, and though wine and beer was served generously to those old enough to partake, any who thought they were attending a party were quickly weeded out. By nature, the roster was constantly changing, but there was a contingent of regulars that the Doctor adored. Jennifer, who was quite the wit even though she prefaced most of her arguments with Hemingway quotes. Andrew, who was only slightly more Catholic than he was gay. Caleb, who insinuated himself into the kitchen more and more with every meeting, much to Jason's chagrin. Azalea, who had coped with being dumped by Lindsay by remodeling herself as a genuine expert in all things theater. Rose, the chubby beauty who was shamelessly biting at the champ to take over the Editor in Chief position of the campus paper from Jason. Flannery, ever-journaling, who everyone agreed was clearly unhinged but undeniably knew her opera. Friends, all. Even good ol' Ted Barlow sometimes sat in on the meetings, usually with his wife, Jenny, who was a genuinely lovely woman, and always understood the kids' esoteric literary puns far better than her husband. Faith Handly, the pretty public speaking professor that Dr. Michaels had bonded with at lunch so long go, was a rare attendee, but a delightful lunch companion who kept Michaels company under the old campus oak most afternoons. They had grown so close, in fact, that Faith had recently confessed to having a short affair with a grad student almost of two years younger than her. The scandal! Jason found and latched onto Sabrina's arm as she looked out over the dim, cluttered room. He was wearing boxers and a dark tanktop, his shaggy hair pulled back in a fluffy ponytail and still smelling of coconut after all this time. Sabrina handed him her beer for a sip, doing her best to forget that he had only been 21 for a few months. "We're running out of room," he said, following Sabrina's gaze over the crunch of couches and chairs. "Your salon is the most popular thing to happen to student life since coeducation." "Ours," Sabrina said, nuzzling the side of her boyfriend's head with her own. Jason was, publicly, the semi-official cohost of the Thursday meetings. He was always there before anyone else showed up, and usually there after everyone had left, though he sometimes left early to maintain the illusion that he wasn't sleeping over most nights. He did all the cooking (with some help from Caleb), providing a feast of fingerfoods for all, and heartier fare for those who would have it. Tonight had been shrimp cakes, baked brie, stuffed cherry tomatoes, and goat cheese enchiladas. "Some of them are catching onto us, you know," Jason said. "Judging by Caleb's smirking, he's pieced it together, and Lindsay says that Rose is practically writing fanfiction. Though knowing Lindsay, she's probably the co-author..." Sabrina grabbed Jason, yanking him into her arms from behind and almost doubled over to give him a rib-cracking squeeze. "Let them talk! It's just gossip. I'll set Lindsay straight tomorrow after her poetry reading, remind her to keep her trap shut." Sabrina and Jason had made it for an embarrassing short while as a secret couple before Lindsay had walked in on a topless Sabrina straddling Jason in his little apartment. To her credit, the little ditz had kept their secret well, and indeed that embarrassing moment had only cemented Sabrina and Lindsay's friendship. "God, you're going to another of her readings?" Jason moaned. "I was messed up in the head for a week after the last one." Lindsay was going through an unfortunate goth phase, black lipstick and all, following the bitter breakup with the latest of her long, long string of lovers. Her writing was suffering as result. Sabrina shrugged. "She's my best friend." Jason laughed and twisted around to kiss his girlfriend's chin. "C'mon, Sabrina. It's really late. Let's go to bed." Sabrina smiled and kissed the boy back, over and over, and followed him back into the bedroom. She changed out of her robe and into a pair of boxers and a T-shirt—Jason's boxers, and Jason's T-shirt, emblazoned with Charmander, her very favorite Pokemon. Sabrina settled into bed first, as always, with Jason cuddling in under the covers atop her moments later. The boy settled his face in home between Sabrina's breasts. She squeezed his head against her with one hand while caressing his back with the other, kissing his scalp and savoring the hot weight of her beloved kiddo draped over her. "It's really not so bad, huh?" Jason murmured drowsily against his girlfriend, his teacher, his mentor. "In a few more days, you can finally meet my parents. And in a few months, we can finally stop sneaking around and be open about what we are. Be a normal couple." Jason snorted and snuggled closer Sabrina. "Normal! Ha!" "Heh!" Sabrina said, her eyes suddenly wide open. "Heh heh..."