Office Hours (Closed thread)

[Bevatoria]

OOC: Shorter then normal; I've got more in mind though

IC:

What was a few seconds seemed like an eternity, as he heard her voice from behind the door, just before it opened. "Looks like you get this-" She held out a five dollar bill, clearly not for Adam as she recoiled at the sight of him, paling a bit.

"What the hell are you doing here?," she hissed.

"Some people are concerned about you." he smirked. "And I wanted to make sure you didn't...tell anyone about your weekend activities."

"I didn't say anything, I swear!" The redhead shook her head, gritting her teeth in visible anger. "Everyone thinks I'm a drunken whore because of you-!"

Adam pushed his way past her into her room defiantly; staying in the hallway was dangerous for him as he pushed the door shut behind him. "Well, I wouldn't put it that way. They think you drink a lot, maybe." Again, the teasing, inciting smile on his face. "The whore part, well, might be more of a judgment call-"

The defiance he sensed in her rasied his ire, and his stare bore down into her. "Your 'boyfriend' asked me to talk to you, so I'm here to make sure that happens. He thinks I might be able to...help calm you down." Another pointed look. "So you're going to come meet me during my office hours on Wednesday."

His eyes were drawn to the five dollar bill still clenched in her hand. "What's that for?" He ignored her statement, letting the question linger before he grabbed her arm, yanking her hair back. "Answer me, Becky. You were expecting someone else...who was it?"

 

[PollySays]

His sudden shove into her room broyght out a quick gasp, stumbling back to avoid getting hit by the flung door. It closed behind him, leaving her trapped once more with him, stuck in her own place of safety. The taunting tone of his voice as he commented on the believed views from others, the smirk he gave- they all burned straight into her, both anger and fear overtaking her. This was the same man she had tried to befriend?

Boyfriend?
Tom.
Tom had talked to him? What had he said? Tourast gave little hint to that, aside from worries and concerns on her wellbeing. "I think you'd know how that's faring," she snapped, though her voice trembled. He requested- demanded she come for his office hours later that week, leaving her to stare at him again. "I don't- I don't want to do th-"

He suddenly inquired furiously on the money in her hand. She clutched it a bit tighter, confusion on her face. "I just. I just ordered some food."

Another demand. Accusations.
He was scaring her again.
She cried out as he grabbed her, clutched her hair. Not again- not again-
"No one! I swear, I just- a pizza guy, that's it, that's all!" She was shaking, staring at him. "Please... Please, don't, its just a delivery guy..." She was crying now, her money falling from her hand.

 

[Bevatoria]

"No one! I swear, I just- a pizza guy, that's it, that's all!" Her body shook as she stared at him, pleading, begging. "Please... Please, don't, its just a delivery guy..." The money fell from her hand as she started crying, and Adam pulled her closer to him, whispering into hear.

"Shhh...shhh...don't cry. Don't cry." His comforting voice likely sounded like anything but, especially with hands still in her hair. Adam eyed her over, glad she had changed into 'comfortable' lounging clothes; the way she'd hidden her body earlier today had been distasteful, attempting to deny her femininity. "It's going to be okay. We're just going to play a little game." The arrogant smile. "You like games, right?"

One hand still entwine in her red locks, he bent down, grabbing the money and placing it in his pocket; indicating she wouldn't get it until he was pleased. "You said your pizza would be here any minute...so we don't have much time." Adam wasn't really sure why he was prolonging this; there was one way things would end, and it would be with him taking her, but even with as brazen as he was being right now, being in a student's dorm room was not the greatest of ideas.

Even with as terrified as Becky looked of him now. So he stood up fully behind her, releasing her hair from his grasp. He traced her body with his hands, craving to rub her soft skin again, but attempting to restrain himself. There would come a time when he wouldn't have to. "Do what I want and you can have your tip money."

He let the silence linger for another moment, so she could feel him behind her, inadvertantly (or so he thought) poking her with khakis, and he leaned in, breathing his command into her ear, his tone carrying the combination of breathlessness and forcefulness.

"Take off your clothes." It wasn't as if there was any doubt as to what he meant, but still Adam let a second or two pass before he finished his statement. "All of them."

 

[PollySays]

Becky whimpered weakly as he growled into her ear, requests for her to stop. Firmly gentle. He managed it, somehow. She attempted to end her tears, at least the frightened noises that came from her as he clutched tightly at her head. A game? Just the sound of it put a pit in her stomach, the smile he gave doing little to soothe it. He plucked the drop bill from the floor, repositioning in his return to standing. Close, tucked behind her, pushed against her and holding like. Like that night. She sharply drew a breath, her eyes closing as he gauged the time in the man's arrival.
Thirty minutes or less.

Professor's breath, his touch. Becky shuddered, trying to hold back a whimper. Her body knew him, knew his touch. So did her mind, her memories of it all. She squirmed as the warmth of his hands spread against her, touching as he held her, whispered into her ear. A promis of the bill back, if she listened.

His game.
"If it will make you go away," she choked out, her eyes barely open. She was afraid to close them too long. She didn't trust him. Not one bit. Even this game of his-

She gasped as he hissed his request into her ear, those eyes widening. "No!," she yelped quickly, shaking her head. "You're insane! I'm not-"

"All of them."
He wasn't even hearing her, was he?
She felt him still, pressing, caressing. Waiting.
He might go if she complied. She could get him to leave by listening.
Doubtful, but that gleam of possible hope on the matter.

"You'll need to let go," she choked out, taking a slow step from him. Her fingers caught against the bottom of her shirt, pulling it up over her head, her bra left behind. The pj pants next, Becky's eyes falling to the door rather than her professor. Panties remaining. She finally glanced at him, a bitter glare as an expectant look met her. He wanted it all.

She grimaced, yanking down the panties, kicking them aside, her bra quickly removed and tossed to her desk. "Are you happy now?," she demanded, trying to keep from crying again. "I did what you asked, now- just. Just give me back my money and go! Please!" A begging came with it, her voice strained. That look. God she hated that look.

 

[Bevatoria]

"All of them." He gently caressed her over her shirt, and she choked as she responded.

"You'll need to let go." He watched her as she slowly stepped away, pulling her shirt over her head; Adam admired her from behind, watching her smooth back come into view, the long hair cascading down it. Just like Catherine's used to. He couldn't help but notice her eying the door as she dropped her pants, her focus where he wanted it to be, for the moment; on the door, fearing the arrival of her pizza, not thinking of Adam's lustful desires. She glared at him, but his look was blank, indicating her work was not finished. Becky's exposure and vulnerability were not yet total.

And the sexiest way for a woman to remove her panties was for her to yank them down and kick them aside, and Adam took a moment to admire that even as she quickly unclasped her bra, tossing it aside.

"Are you happy now?," her voice was demanding but there was no strength to it.

"It's a start..." he responded, leering at her naked form once again; still not nearly as familiar with it as he wanted to be.

"I did what you asked, now- just. Just give me back my money and go! Please!"

Adam started towards her, knowing that it would be the right play, not hiding his eyes running up and down her body as he did; just because he's gotten her naked before didn't mean it wasn't just as exciting each time; this time, she stripped for him, willingly removing the barriers that separated his eyes from her darkest secrets. He went behind her, turning her to face him as he drew the bill out of his pocket.

"You did some of what I asked, Becky." He folded the bill, letting it point out as he ran it down her face, letting the paper push into her skin, gazing into her as he let the currency trace a path down the middle of her body (stopping briefly to poke into her breasts with it), before stopping near her navel. His other hand continued the path it had started, and Adam watched her eyes as he felt around her most intimate area as he placed the bill to his side, on her bed. He would give her the money, but he was not done with her yet, and he placed his hands on her shoulders.

"But you're not done." he whispered. He pushed on her shoulders, gently forcing her downwards. "Kneel, Becky." Adam's soft voice contrasted with what he was about to demand of her next. He wanted her naked, on her knees, totally submissive to him. He had one hand on her head of red hair, the other at his belt, unbuckling it.

 

[PollySays]

Becky tried to study him as he moved closer, a hesitancy as he reached out. A soft gasp left her as he ran the paper against her skin, cringing slightly, a tiny whimper of fear as the bill moved down her body. The poking edge ran against her, a moment taken to taunt against her breasts, causing his student to yelp and stiffen, trying to pull away before he continued onward. How he could make a mere piece of currency nearly as torturous as the things he wielded nights ago was frightening to her. His hand was traded for the bill, the touch of his somewhat rough fingers running down her stomach, down against her center- It pushed a gasp from her lips, a weak moan.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as he denied her the bill back, an act taken in confusion and frustration. But she had listened, she had played his game. What else did he possibly want from her? Standing there in the buff, staring at the man enjoying his game, Becky was trying to keep from either screaming or sobbing- both, a mix of both. That's what her body wanted to do.

All of it, aside from the part that seemed to ache for more of his touch. A traitorous twist inside her, that cared only on finding the same release he had brought to her previously. His method for it may have been cruel, left her hating herself, hating him. But her body still had enjoyed it, at least in that moment. It remembered who had provided it, the moment his hand had touched her skin.

But he wanted more games of his own. More cooperation.
Becky was defiant to give it, even as his hands found her shoulders and pushed, demanding her to her knees. She stared up into his eyes, hidden somewhat behind his glasses as he continued to press on her. "N-No... I'm not-" Heavier hands. Her legs buckled, finally giving in and bringing her knees down to the thinly carpeted floor.

That sick feeling again. It was coming back already.
It was made worse as she heard his belt, his hand atop her head guiding her gaze up to see him slowly undoing the clasp. Her eyes raised, trying to see past the slight glare of his glasses from this angle, to try and see him, his own eyes.
She could already guess what he wanted now. What the next part to this game would be.
"Please, Professor... I-I don't want someone to find me this way-," she whispered out, both frightened on what he expected from her, on the arrival of that delivery man.
Her stomach was a giant twist of knots.

She suddenly wondered what the pizza man would think if she screamed from the room. Would he find someone? Would he simply run off? Would he even try to come in and see what the sounds were about?

Professor's threat on what else could happen, vague as it was, left her hesitant to even test this theory.

 

[Bevatoria]

She'd resisted at first. But Adam felt her tremble against him, her body reacting to what her mind could not, would not with how he was associated with her now. She feared him, and craved him, at the same time, and he saw her scared, wide eyes looking up at him.

"Please, Professor... I-I don't want someone to find me this way-," Her whisper was desperate, pleading, but Adam was too far gone, his hands having already unzipped his khakis, lowering his boxers just far enough down enough. If she did decide to make things difficult, he would have to make a quick retreat, and he couldn't do that with his pants around his ankles.

So instead, with his manhood hanging out, he grabbed Becky's hair, boring down on her as he spoke.

"He won't find you like this as long as you work fast." His veins bulged as her eyes were drawn in front of her, and he tightened his grip for emphasis. "Service me well before your delivery person gets here and I'll let you cover up." Again, his phrasing was deliberate, mentioning nothing about him leaving (which he was planning on doing fairly quickly), or how exactly she was going to cover up. That would depend on her oral skills; he had gotten her off twice on Friday, so it was only fair that she start to return the favor.

The mere prospect of feeling her mouth excited him, his skin tingling his length hardening in front of her even as she stayed back. Like before, she knew what she had to do but Adam couldn't resist pushing her down further; the one hand tangled in her hair tightening just a bit more to hear her yelp, the other pulling her tender hand up to feel him, and his eyes briefly rolled back in his head at her unwilling touch before looming over her again, meeting her wide eyes as he uttered his last command. "Suck."

 

[PollySays]

"Ugh!" Becky groaned, growled a frustrated sound as he clutched her head and forced her closer. Her knees stumbled on the rug, glaring up at him before he pushed again, silently demanding she face what he presented. Awake and waiting. Demanding attention as he forced her to give it. She cringed, trying to push away from her professor's arousal, his grasp refusing the attempted motions.

His words reminded her how simple it would be to make him stop. Just cooperate, just take him, do as he said. Hadn't he done enough to her? She hated how close he pressed now, pushed her against him. She jumped slightly as he grabbed her hand, bringing it to grasp against him. Becky's fingers tried to pull away, that churn in her stomach returning. That confused twist of want and disgust. Made worse by her teacher's groan above her. She hesitantly glanced up, met by his impatient wanting gaze.

Another push.
A single word command.
Becky squealed again, forcing her eyes closed as she leaned in towards him, opening her mouth to slowly ease him past her lips. Another noise, a frightened one, simply holding his cock in her lips for that moment, her hand still placed against him. The realization of what she was doing.
Professor... Professor, please, please, don't make me do this.

She knew the words would fall on deaf ears. He no longered cared. He had what he wanted.
The girl swallowed down the developing pool of fluid her mouth had created while keeping that delicate hold, finally building enough strength to do as he demanded.

Her teacher's manhood, taken deeply into his student's mouth. His promise to let her dress drove her, a mix of her frustration lingering into it. An added furious touch as her lips pushed down him, her eyes still tightly clenched as she gave a heavy groan against him. He felt so thick in her mouth, every vein running against her as his arousal grew still in the warmth of her mouth. A hard, angered force of herself against him. Her hand was still there, clenching hom tightly, a milking motion towards her meeting mouth.

She finally cracked her eyes open, peeking a quick glance upward.
Is this what you wanted? Are you happy now?
Words spoken with merely a look.

 

[Bevatoria]

He grinned at her squeal, watching her closer her eyes as if to force herself out of the moment, a futile effort with her mouth slowly encircling him. She would taste him now. For the rest of the night when she took a bite of her pizza, he would be there. And as Adam took pleasure both even the slightest touch from her and the thought, he wondered how much he would end up adding to it.

It all depends on how good she is, or whether she's a naughty girl.

Adam saw her hesitation, could almost feel her pleading, but the gentlest push from him caused her to swallow, forcing her even more against him as she enveloped his manhood. He couldn't keep his eyes on her now, as he lost his focus in the pleasure she was giving him. His hard stare was no longer as he clenched his eyes shut, weak with the knowledge that it had been so long since he had been pleasured by a woman, so long since he'd been able to lose himself in release....

He looked down to her, on how beautiful she looked. Felt her hand around him, looked in awe at her beautiful red hair, unclenching his hand to watch it fall around her shoulders. Her head bobbing on him; she seemed driven by anger and determination; the best blowjobs were angry ones. Just like angry sex was the best sex. But Adam hadn't had any of either for a long time. And how long had it been since his wife had started going through the motions?

He couldn't be sure. Adam didn't dare go back that far.

He finally recovered enough to look down at her, felt himself hardening further as she looked back at him, pleading. Begging, wanting to be let out. He did smile, but not in acquiescence as he pushed her further onto him, his free hand reaching down to tweak her nipple.

"You're not a tease, are you?" he teased. "You're not done here until I say you're done." Adam squeezed her breast for emphasis as he kept a firm hand on the back of her head; no longer entangled in her hair, still keeping her close. She probably didn't need more incentive, there was no harm in giving it to her anyways...and to put more images in her head. Ones she wouldn't want to see.

"What if he shows up soon?" taunted Adam, hiding the fact that he wanted to finish as much as she wanted him to before he got here. "Any minute now, we could hear him knocking..." Another smile. "I didn't lock the door, you know...he could just open it and see you here, on your knees, naked, your clothes strewn around the room, sucking my cock..." He found he had to shut his eyes again, he was so close and it had been so long....with great effort, Adam found the strength to add his last statement.

"He might even want something else as a tip..."

 

[PollySays]

Becky grimaced slightly around him as he grabbed at her hair once more, pressing her further against him, causing another quick choke and gag as he pushed the back of her throat. She felt tears brim her eyes with that, trying to choke that down as well. Don't let them fall. A whine came against him as his fingers found her breast, claiming her nipple briefly as he spoke, reminding her that there was no letting up until he allowed it. Her eyes narrowed briefly, another gag against him as she tried to make this go faster. The sooner she could get him out of here, the better she would feel.

His taunts, however, were not helping.
Where was the driver?
Any minute.
He didn't lock the door?

The image he left in her mind with it all caused her to whine out again, sucking his shaft desperately to make it stop. She felt the dribble of her own spit leaking from her lips, trailing down her chin as she focused more on doing what he demanded than any attempts at cautiousness now.

His voice was a growl now, forced and heavy. Almost straining to get those words out as he cupped his hand against the back of her head.
Oh thank god, she had to be nearly done with this.

But what he said.
Becky shrieked against him, trying to shake her head. He wouldn't dare. He wouldn't want someone else to know what he had done, if he left her at someone else's mercy like that. Her fingers tightened, working harder against him, that growl growing a bit louder.

 

[Bevatoria]

He couldn't help it. Every time she moved, it took every ounce of Adam's willpower not to roll his head back and just let go. Her moaning, squealing - especially after his last statement - he could feel it with her mouth around him. Every noise, slight movement, every little grasp, pushed him further. In a way, she had more control over him then he had over her. Of course he had no intention of making her blow the delivery guy; Adam wanted to push her boundaries gradually, not obliterate them.

He felt her grip around him get stronger, and he rewarded her by pulling his hands back, tightening into fists as he felt his release coming. Becky's work on him, the wanton display of her body submitting to him pushed Adam's arousal even higher, one hand gently running through her hair; not as a reward, but as a reflex. He didn't know what else to do with himself, fighting both the urge to release, and the urge to push her back, throw her on the bed and....

No. Not yet. It was one thing to lust after Becky; he had done little else lately in his free time. It was another to do so when he was next to her and all but had her at his mercy. What was the saying? You could only gut a sheep once, but you could shear it as many times as you wanted. He took another look at his beautiful student, allowing himself a brief thought of how he would use her...

He idly moved a hand to his head to straighten his glasses; they'd almost fallen off with all of the moving he'd done. It was starting now. "Yes...oh Becky..." he groaned, looking to the ceiling as he felt a feeling from his depths; one he hadn't felt in a long, long time. She had finally finished him off.

His lack of concentration (plus an ever so slight weakening of his legs) made him lose his balance, ever so slightly. As he felt the first shots of seed come from him, he wondered just how deep he'd been in Becky's mouth, and how firm her grip was...

 

[PollySays]

"Nn-" Becky struggled to stay against him, wanting terribly to just pull away, to get away from him, whimpering again as he dragged his hand down her hair. Petting her. She growled with that, not wanting him to even touch her anymore. She was doing what he wanted, and the sooner she got it over with, the sooner he would be out of there. That was all she wanted now. Just make him go away.

Her fingers grasped at him, stroking his cock upwards until she felt her own lips, sucking and leaving the drool that came off her motions to lube her touch. The groans that left her teacher reddened her entirely, feeling even the tips of her ears burn from both embarrassment and anger.

The worst of it all, was her body getting aroused by this. She could feel it, the throb inside her, a desire to have more than just Tourast' length buried in her mouth. She wanted more. Her body wanted more, anyway. The girl herself wanted him to just leave, let her be.

He suddenly pushed against her, as if using her to catch himself. He jerked in her mouth, stabbing himself into the back of her throat as he came. Becky choked again, trying to pull away as he pulsed into her mouth, releasing streams of his seed into her struggling lips. He was too close, too tightly embedded into her mouth. She couldn't spit it out. All of it made its way down her throat, his student forced to swallow down every last bit of what he had made her take.

She finally managed to pull away, gasping for breath, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. She could taste him, even now. She stayed upon her knees, staring at the floor for a moment, then hesitantly glanced up at him. Anger. Hurt.
Aching.
Damn him.

A knock at the door.
Becky paled as the sound came into the room, staring up at him with widened eyes. Her mouth was left open, horrified. She didn't know what to do.

"Please," She choked out, trying to keep her voice low. "Professor, please. I'll make them leave. Let me put a dress back on or something. I can't answer it this way, I can't."

 

[Bevatoria]

He saw her choking, and tried to pull back; hurting someone and harming them were two very different things, and he had no desire to harm Becky. Adam still watched as he emptied inside of her, his first release in such a long, long time. There was a lot of it, but she took it all; forced to swallow him. She gulped several times before they pulled away from each other, still somewhat entranced by the sight of her heaving body, gasping for air as she stared at the floor before looking back at him.

As calmly as he could, he tried to make himself presentable again; boxers back up, pants rezipped, belt redone, but there was no hiding his hesitation, his unease. Even with all of the power he had, the silence was still awkward, another line broken. Adam took her in, seeing the hurt, and anger in her eyes, also spotting another, foreign emotion, both in her gaze and her subtle body movements. Could it be that she-

The knock at the door stopped the reverie, and Becky's eyes widened at him, her expression how clearly scared, terrifed at her current predicament. "Please." she almost whispered to him. "Professor, please. I'll make them leave. Let me put a dress back on or something. I can't answer it this way, I can't."

Despite the urgency of the moment, a brief, angry, lustful thought flashed through his head. Can't. No, *won't*. Let's see how you do when I throw you out that door with nothing but your-

Patience. Adam took the moment to keep his own voice low, attempting to put menace into it. "The man's come to deliver your pizza, Becky." With his leering smile, faking a peace he wasn't really feeling, he 'helped' her to her feet by pulling her up. "You should take what you've ordered and we can 'finish' our evening." Brief thoughts of how their last 'evening' went flashed through his mind; maybe through hers, too, although he had no intention of going that far. She just had to be made aware of...what she would have to do next, and the consequences for disobedience.

As he reached for two of her clothing items - one for her top, and one for her bottom - he quickly scanned the room; he'd only have to stay hidden for a short while, but still be nearby in case she tried to out him. Assuming she didn't open it all the way, behind the door *should* work, he hoped. "Put these on." Two of the items for her to cover up with, as opposed to the four she was wearing before, laid on her bed; again, Adam wanted to tease every slight bit of hesitation, intentional or not.

"It's that or you can hide behind the door when you open it...."

 

[PollySays]

Becky tried to read his face as he reminded her on who was out there waiting, jumping slightly as he pulled her up to her feet. She started to glance towards the door, pausing and looking back to him in horror as he told her to get it, to let them finish their evening. Panic and worry, a darting glance between his eyes, trying to find out if what he said was intending what had happened before. Or at least, what she remembered of happening before.

He reached over to her bed, simply pulling up the underclothes she had worn before he came in. Her eyes widened at first, looking back up to his face. "I can't-!," She started hastily, a tiny whine coming as the man outside called out for anyone in. "Just a moment!," She yelled back, grabbing the items back from her teacher and frowning up at him, shoving the panties back on and fumbling to readjust her bra.

She finally made it to the door, the man looking down at the receipt as she opened it. "Okay, I'll just need you to sign- Woah."

"You caught me after a shower, okay?" She reached out, snatching the paper and scribbling her name onto it, then shoved it back at him.

The tip.
She peered back around the open door, to the man standing behind it and gave him another look. All that was to make sure this guy could get his money, wasn't it? So she needed it back now. "Just getting my money from back here," She called back to the guy, who seemed less than attentive to her words at the moment.

 

[Bevatoria]

He grinned as Becky gaped; both at him, and at the skimpy items he laid in front of her; merely her bra and panties. "I can't-!,"she started, her voice pitching into a whine as the man outside demanded her presence. "Just a moment!," Becky frowned back at him as she slipped her panties back on, fumbling with her bra before heading to the door, Adam slipping off to the side to stay out out of sight; hiding his smile as he saw the one thing she *had* forgotten, sitting idly on her bed. Right where he'd left it.

I didn't even have to plan it that way.

He watched as Becky dealt with the pizza guy in her underwear. "Okay, I'll just need you to sign- Woah." Adam imagined his eyes widening, Becky's fear at being looked at, lusted after by a guy she didn't know as she responded.

"You caught me after a shower, okay?" Maybe a lie not entirely far from the truth; she *had* showered at some point today. A lie of misdirection, as she had been naked merely moments before. Maybe he was imagining her like that now. Probably. Adam spotted her looking back at him. "Just getting my money from back here," Another look, a nod from him to behind her, back on her bed.

Right where he'd left her five dollar bill. Another grin at the look on her face; this time, it was her mistake that would push her boundaries further; no longer the short 'accidental' flash of this delivery man; she would have to let him see her from behind as she went back to the bed to grab the valuable currency. Adam risked a slow grab at the doorknob from the other side; of course he couldn't hold it open if she really chose to shut the door, but still he held it open, inclining his head again towards the bed.

Go and get it. It's right there...

 

[PollySays]

Becky looked blankly to the man behind the door as he simply nodded towards her. What did he want now? Hadn't she done enough? After what she had just done.

He didn't mean her.
Past her.
The bed.
He mouthed to her, to go get it. A smile curling his lips as he reached down, grasping the door handle on his side firmly. Her eyes narrowed a touch, glancing back to the delivery man and sighing. "Excuse me a moment."

"Yeah. Yeah. No problem." He certainly didn't sound to have any complaints on waiting, Becky closing her eyes in frustration as she turned around and headed back for the bed. Snatching the bill off her sheets, she returned, shoving the money out to to the man of her own age now smirking.

"Here you go." Her voice was crisp.

"Thanks. A lot." The guy was still grinning. Becky was seething.

The door closed, the food in her hand, though her appetite was long gone. She brought it back to set upon her desk, glancing back at the teacher hiding behind her doorframe. "I'm never going to be able to order there again," She noted softly, shaking her head as she sighed, hugging her shoulders. "God. The way he looked at me. It reminded me of- It reminded me of you." She glared at him again. "The way you looked at me before. The way you still do. I see that look in my dreams. You just. God, you're everywhere. You scare me. And you know it."

Why she was confessing these things to him, she wasn't sure. It was merely rambling now, her way of dealing with stress and fear. This was her room, supposedly her safe place. And yet, there he was, standing right in her door. And right there beside her bed, he had made her-

She shivered again. She wasn't sure if she could even stand there without thinking of him now.

Her clothing. She needed them back now, some type of extra security to keep his eyes from roaming her. Becky returned to the bed, taking up her pajama pants, the little tank top she had been wearing previously. Something made her stop, her tongue running against her lip. A taste. Something strange.

She realized what it was. "Oh, god."

 

[Bevatoria]

Adam saw her eyes narrow at him, but she had no choice. Well, there was *always* a choice, but rational thought only led one way as she turned to the driver. "Excuse me a moment."

"Yeah. Yeah. No problem." I can imagine that. To her credit, Adam's student showed no hesitation, acting as if she was fully dressed as she grabbed the bill off of the bed, moving to hand it to the driver.

"Here you go."

"Thanks. A lot." Adam could imagine the look on the driver's face; similar to the one he was wearing, probably, as the door finally closed. One ordeal done, another beginning.

Becky took the box, putting the pizza on her desk, looking back at Adam. "I'm never going to be able to order there again,"

"Why not?" asked Adam innocently. "It's not like you'll always get the same driver...you'll have plenty of time to flash the rest of them."

Becky sighed with a shake of her head, hugging her shoulders as if that could hide herself from him, from what she'd shown. "God. The way he looked at me. It reminded me of- It reminded me of you." This time, the glare got harder "The way you looked at me before. The way you still do. I see that look in my dreams. You just. God, you're everywhere. You scare me. And you know it."

Dreams? Her phrasing was interesting. It was as if she wanted him to know that what he was doing to her wasn't entirely unpleasant. He looked back at her, taking her in. Adam watched her shiver, not entirely due to the cold, he figured. She was scared. He felt a feeling inside of him, and at first thought it fear, but as he folded his arms in front of him, he realized it wasn't fear. It was excitement.

Becky went for her clothes, the tiny tank top she'd been wearing, and her pants. Adam saw her stop, her face frozen in confusion, licking her lips. Adam saw why, and smirked. He saw it, which means the delivery man definitely did. It was a little droplet of cum on her lips; there was no mistaking what it was with her disheveled appearance, her tank top and pants visible. The driver could have guessed what she had been doing; or maybe fantasized about it.

"Oh, god."

Adam stepped forward, never looking away from her as she licked her lips. He grabbed her tank top and pants from her, pulling them out of her grasp and gently putting them on her bed. "You can't hide what you've done, Becky." He grabbed her wrist; again gently moving her towards the mirror in her room, wanting her to see them together, to see what he was about to do with her. "You can't hide what you are...or what you want."

He looked at her, in the mirror, his hands going back to the bra she had just put on. "I've seen everything." He gently teased the clasp, before popping it, looking in the mirror as he ran it down her arms, making her watch. "You shouldn't try to cover yourself up." The sound of her bra hitting the ground, his hand free to explore her chest once again, his shirt buttons rubbing against her heating skin as he gently pinched and rolled a nipple with one hand, the other travelling to her panties. He gently ran his hand across the front of her as he spoke"I don't want that. And Tom doesn't want that too, I'm sure." His voice was a whisper.

"On Wednesday, you're going to wear more...feminine attire." He rudely jammed his hand under her panties, strumming her pussy and clit. "And you'll be in my office at 5:00." His voice, and his motions were more urgent as he snaked across her skin, craving to touch more of her as he grabbed and pawed at her; desperately resisting the urge to rip her panties off. If he did, he knew what would happen, and time was growing short. "Disobedience will carry a price...after all, your boyfriend is expecting you to talk to me." His hand pulled at her breast roughly then, as if explaining what that would entail.

 

[PollySays]

She was still horrified at what the driver must have seen as he approached, the sudden loss of the clothing in her hand snapping her out of the momentary daze. She started to look up at him, gasping softly as he pulled her over to him and brought her before her mirror. She saw herself then, the touch of his mess left upon her lips, the sheen that stood out and left a questionable trace of what she had done. She tried to look away, grimacing as he spoke.

She wanted to hide.
She didn't want to see herself, not like this.
Not with him.
But his words. They burned to her ears, embedded into her mind.

There were no attempts to fight back, Becky seemingly lost to watch him in the mirror as though she were viewing someone completely different. That the hands touching her weren't the ones she was viewing. She drew a breath as those hands crept upwards, along her hack, to undo the clasp of her bra. Every motion, drawn out, made a display as he stared into the mirror, stared at her, guiding her bra free of her arms.

A gasp came free as his roving fingers found her breast, pulling her back against him as he teased against her. She was trembling again. She didn't want to see. But she couldn't stop watching. A whimper pushed out from her as his other hand slipped down her stomach, already knowing its course. His voice was still in her ear, Becky nodding slowly to show she was somewhat listening, her breaths slow and shallow.

"Gah!" She cried out sharply as he forced his hand into her panties, fingers claiming against her quickly and rubbing urgently. Her legs quaked at this, the girl in the mirror shaking and nodding. She heard. Becky heard.

Wednesday.
Clothes.
Office.
Five o'clock.

"Y-Yes, Professor." Her voice was a raspy sound, his hands both possessively claiming her sex and her breast, Becky's body braced up by his own. Watching this. How lewdly he pawed at her, the force of his hands. The weakness of her own body. "I understand. I understand!" She finally broke her gaze from the mirror, crying out again as he grasped and tugged at her breast, shaking her head. "I'll behave, I'll listen!," Becky pleaded, her head rolling against his chest. "Please, j-just stop!"

She wasn't sure if she actually wanted that.
Her mind didn't.
But his touch was maddening. Everything he had done, even the incident with the pizza man. He had to have felt it when he dove into her panties, touched against her pussy.
Becky hated him for this. Hated herself even more.
Her hips rocked upwards against his fingers, her sounds more earnest now. Stop it. Stop.
"Please. Just- make it stop." She whimpered the words, another plea. But a far different tone to them than before.

 

[Bevatoria]

He watched her legs shaking, her body pulsing and wracked by his claiming of her with his hands, a shaky, husky voice answering him. "Y-Yes, Professor." Still, he persisted, not yet sated in her using of her body. Adam groped more and more incessantly, thrusting greedy fingers inside of her, reaching around to molest her other breast as her crying grew. "I understand. I understand!" Becky no longer looked at the mirror even as Adam bore his gaze into it, watching her shake her head. "I'll behave, I'll listen!," She was begging for him to cease. "Please, j-just stop!"

Even as she said one thing, Adam knew her body said something else. It was more then its natural reaction to defend itself; something about what had happened had turned her on. Did she like being pushed beyond her limits? Punished? She didn't carry herself like other coeds who would screw anything on two legs, but as Adam felt her pushing back against his fingers, he decided he had to know what it was that got her going, and try to use it against her. He knew he'd certainly have time to find out.

"Please. Just- make it stop." Another plea, a whimper. But it was not for him to stop. It was for him to stop something withing her. As he kept fingering her, pushing her near the brink, Adam found himself instinctively kissing her earlobe, her neck. He was almost past the point of no return now, and so was she. Becky was close; he could tell by what he'd seen before.

No. It was too soon. Not now, not here-

Adam pulled the finger out of her depths before giving her release, trailing it to her mouth. "Taste yourself." he growled, moving to kiss her other ear and shoulder as he pushed her fingers into her lips. He wanted to taste her himself; her sweat, her skin. His other hand instinctively reached back down to her sex, pulling down her last covering, past her knees as gravity did the rest, leaving them at her feet.

Naked. Defenseless. Obedient.

"To the bed." He whispered, the need desperate in his voice, not believing what he was about to do. "Hands on the sheets." His tone was dead and desperate at the same time, wondering if she'd comply. "Spread." His hands on her thighs, opening her for him, leaving her completely vulnerable for whatever he wanted to do, Becky bent onto her bed, her beautiful ass and pussy staring right at him. The sight left him breathless, the view of her body available for all of his wishes, pure and otherwise. He found himself gaping at it, the sounds of their two bodies heaving and breathing the only things breaking the silence. He didn't know how long he stayed there. It felt like forever, but was more like one or two minutes; an eternity to keep someone waiting in a position like that.

Which left Adam just as surprised as anyone as he quietly backed out of the room, the soft click of the door the only hint at his exit, breaking into a cold sweat as soon as he got inside the employees door near her room. How he'd found the strength to do that, he didn't know, but he somehow got out of the building without further incident.

 

[PollySays]

She didn't understand. Not at all. She hated him so badly. And yet she felt she couldn't get away, not even in her thoughts. He was always there, always. The things he had done frightened her, left her so hurt and angry, feeling so horrible, disgusted. Then why did she tremble like this at his touch? He had done something she didn't understand at all. As much as she hated everything he did to her, she felt an ache for him.

His touch now. Forceful and controlling. His fingertips keeping her his puppet as he drove them against her, within her. Becky cried out once again, her eyes clenching shut as she tried to stop the sounds pouring from her lips. Thin walls of the dorm would lead to curious neighbors. Whimpers and moans, buried to clenched lips. She felt his breath, his lips. Kisses against her skin. The knot inside her tightened even more, gasping out and forcing her lips to part. "Professor-," she hissed, whining softly as he growled into her ear upon withdrawing from her. Wet digits pressed her lips, his fingers demanding entry. Becky's eyes opened slightly, another rolling moan leaking to his fingertips as they pushed into her mouth. She suckled softly against them, the taste of her own essence melding with the remaining flavor of his seed. She could see him, staring into that mirror. Watching the man who held the girl, the girl who buckled against him.

Trailing hand. Intent. Becky watched the mirror man, felt Professor touch her skin. Exposed once more. Left to feel her arousal open to the air once again. Her lips tightened to his fingers, groaning as he pulled them away.

Why. Why did she. Why did she comply to him like this?

He told her to move. Back to her bed.
She moved slowly, almost hazed in her motions. Led more by the desire inside her that begged for him. For more. She stood alongside it, lowering down, clutching the sheets tightly as she closed her eyes again.

Shaking. Trembling so badly now, her body waiting. Anticipating anything. Something. A strike. A finger. Simply waiting felt maddening, only adding to her ache, her confusion. His hands simply ran against her thighs, then nothing. The wait. The fear, anticipation. She gave a soft sound, a pleading noise, refusing to open her eyes. She could feel it. What he had done, evidence of her need leaving her, coating her waiting sex.

The door closed.
He.
He had left. Left her on her own. Left her to suffer with thoughts of what she had done. What he had done. What he. They. Had almost.

Her knees fell, no longer keeping her hips raised high, no longer waiting. They found the floor, bringing Becky to hang off her bed, her head buried against her sheets. Sobbing. Just sobbing.
There were no thoughts, impossible to think. Just that emptiness, that confusion, both in her mind and within her core.

No food.
Just sleep, that fell upon her after a time of staying in that position. No movement, no attempts to renew herself. Even the hottest showet, the heaviest soap, couldn't remove this from her. She simply slept, exhausted from her frustrations and his work upon her.

 

[Bevatoria]

He didn't remember how he got home that night. How he'd managed to get in his car, to drive to his house. Making his food, eating it, trying to watch television to take his mind off of her. Trying to read, to prepare for his classes tomorrow, to do what he had to do to keep working. Checking his emails - that had been a bad idea. Finally, he went down to his basement, to the increasingly unfamiliar place of refuge.

Now, it was a corner of refuge; his punching bag. He laced up as quickly as he could, ignoring everything around him. His stretches were forced, at best; all he wanted to do was to get this feeling of want, of need, out of his system. The sounds of his hands hitting the bag reverberated through the basement; his hands clenched, arms straining, tiring as he pounded at the unforgiving bag.

He had had her. Completely exposed. Willing. Wanting him.

And he'd left her there. Nothing could force those memories away. Of Becky's lips pulling at his fingers. Of her panting, her subtle movements as she had leaned against her bed, indicating her desire for him, her submission. And what had he done? Left. Pulled back. If her neighbors hadn't heard anything before then, the sounds they likely would have made after that would have.

Control paid a heavy price. Not just on the one being controlled. The moment he stopped, he felt how tired, how strained he really was; he'd likely pulled a muscle during his bout.

Laborously, he pulled off his wrappings, taking a quick look around his no longer crowded basement. Looking at what he'd set up for her.

To use on her.

**************

Tuesday passed in a haze. He had slept like a baby that night, but Adam was on autopilot the whole day. Was it what he'd done the day before, or the promise of the day after?

Rente had asked him if he needed someone to talk to.

"I'm trying to work my issues out in other ways." One of the few truthful admissions he'd made over the past few days.

A knowing nod, and a smile. Or at least what Rente thought was a knowing nod.

****************

Wednesday came, and he walked into the classroom. Back to his normal attire of a slightly worn jacket, brown pants, and the off-white shirt. No tie, the top button undone on his shirt. "Good morning, class." He looked back at the room, scanning over each of their faces; lingering quickly in one particular corner on Tom, and the person beside him. Letting his peripheral vision run over her body; over what she was wearing.

To see if she had obeyed.

 

[PollySays]

She remembered bits and pieces of Tuesday. How a day could both drag by and seem to pass in moments was confusing, but seemingly possible that day. Classes. An afternoon with Tom- mentions of his meeting with Tourast and a confession of concern on her well being. You've seemed so distant. So out of it. I thought if anyone could help draw you out of it, it might be him.

He had thrown her right into the lion's den. Made Tourast completely aware of what he had done to her, the impact of his work upon her personal life. She wasn't sure if she even had a personal life anymore. He seemed to be in all of it, even in her head.

Becky felt a zombie through her classes for that day. Answering questions asked of her, but not really paying attention to the words. Every hour that passed, a sense of dread on the day to come. Tom asked to see her again that night.

"I have a headache." She refused to even look at him. She simply walked back to her dorm. At least there was some leftover pizza to nibble on, to soothe the faint appetite that had developed. Sleep. Sleep was nearly impossible.


She woke just as early as that Monday. It couldn't be called waking, really. Simply sliding back out of bed, her eyes barely closing more than an hour or so in the night. What waited for her in that office? In that classroom? What was he planning?

He had demanded something feminine. Something more fitting.
Pink. Frilly. Flowers. Chiffon.
She pulled the dress from her closet, shivering softly as she slipped it on. She had intended this to be used for a date with Tom. Not a day with him. A thick pale pink silk headband was slipped into her hair, pulling back the softly curled red locks, a pair of single pearl earrings slipped into place to dangle above her shoulders, a matching single pearl necklace hanging about her neck. White platform sandals. Becky looked herself over in the mirror, then drew a heavy, deep breath.

Time for class.

She picked up her books, her purse. Headed to the door, hoping the day would go well enough. As well as it possibly could. That nothing too frightening, too overwhelming-

"Impossible." She whispered the word to herself as she crossed the campus, shivering again. Tom met her outside the building, smiling broadly as he looked her over. She shook her head as he started to speak, pushing right past him and into the doors. "I'm just not feeling well," She explained as they came to the classroom, Becky once again hiding into a back corner and Tom following suit.

"Maybe you should get to a doctor," Tom started, glancing up as the Professor strode into the room. He looked different today. Different, as in himself. He made his way to the front of the room, his blunt mood of Monday seeming less so today. A greeting given, a quick peering at the group gathered. Becky slipped her books up a bit more, trying to hide.

She knew he would see. She just didn't want to see him.

 

[Bevatoria]

Adam started into his lecture; he'd seen enough. She was wearing a frilly pink dress which certainly fit the desire for 'feminine' clothing. Even a subtle cue from Tom's body language indicated what he thought about her outfit. Despite her antisocial behavior over the past few days, he was leaning in ever closer, stealing glances when he could. Adam wished that he had the time or the inclination to look further, but he had a class to run, and plenty of time to 'inspect' her later. Not that he wouldn't take an opportunity to push her a bit even in class, though.

"Today, we'll be talking about the 'responsibility of the media in political campaigning'." Adam changed his tone when he said responsibility. "Every headline, every poll released, every debate analyzed...every time a newcaster says the name of an incumbent or a candidate...our views are subtly changed." A quick look down. "Obviously, I don't mean political advertising or third party campaigning; we'll be breaking that down another time. But I want us to critically think about how exactly we form our viewpoints..."

Examples given from American history, especially Presidential campaigns, where the students would be more likely to remember the principals involved. Dewey and Truman. Both races involving George W. Bush. Reagan and Carter, to show how popular perception became reality. But it was Kennedy and Nixon where Adam found his chance.

"There is an old wive's tale about how after the first presidential debate, that the polls claimed Nixon won among radio listeners and Kennedy won for those who watched it on television." The small, subtle smile. "An easy claim to make, especially since Kennedy did 'look' much more polished and relaxed. He prepared extensively, making sure to look right, while Nixon campaigned extensively right up until the debate." Another smirk, and a knowing look. "It's a good thing for Nixon it wasn't in high definition; we might've been able to call the election right then."

"It's obviously that visual media plays a part in what we perceived; I would also like to propose that it also helps us to..." Another quick look around the room. "...create myths, to explain what we *want* to see." He looked pointedly at his students. "I suggest that it is *because* Kennedy was seen as the more polished, prepared candidate, looking more handsome and striking on television, is exactly the reason that Nixon was perceived as the more cerebral candidate." Even after a few classes, some of his students tensed, seeming to know what was coming; he tended to pick someone out to respond to his comment to keep everyone engaged,

His target was at the back of the room. The pretty redhead wearing the silk headband, matching the dress. The pearl necklace, resting on her collarbone, as he imagined it heaving with every breath she took. White sandals for her feet; he saw them hanging off of her feet when she lounged. The fear in her eyes, trying to hide behind the books on her desk. It wasn't uncommon for him to call some of the more active students by name, the class blissfully unaware of how active this particular student had been...

"What do you think about all of this, Becky?"

 

[PollySays]

Though her head was wandering, Becky attempted to keep some touch of focus upon the class. Focus more on the words he gave, the actual lesson he was giving, not what the sound of his voice could do to her. Keeping from meeting his gaze helped greatly, afraid to even catch a second's crossing with his eyes' path. Her book remained open, her eyes locked down into unread words, listening but refusing to raise her head.

There was a brief upward glance. Not to him, but to merely view the far wall. The subject. Media views. Outward projections. Candidates putting on the appearance to impress the masses. Kennedy had used media's new venue to his advantage, as he used in his lesson, but he himself was using it, wasn't he?

The caring, somewhat fun-natured professor.
So willing to help a student, from Tom's decision to reach out to him for her predicament.
A man attentive and focused.
That part, she certainly found herself agreeing with. He kept that in all his efforts. A soft shiver ran through her at the events of Monday night. How he had just. Left.
It had made her realize so many things. Things that made her so sick inside.

Her name.
He suddenly said her name. Becky finally looked at him, the action she had been trying so hard to keep from doing. Like staring at a Gorgon. She froze, panicked, her mouth left open slightly as a weak lost noise came out. Thoughts?

Visuals and perceptions.

"Eye of the beholder," she finally managed to get out. "He was aware of what the public wanted to see. The expectations and ideal most seemed to hold on what they thought was supposed to hold such a position. Nixon's faults were openly displayed, and made worse by his interactions with media. Only once he realized his mistakes did he try to rectify. But Kennedy was already seen as the golden child, Mister American Dream. It wasn't until later that his own faults were made notiicable. A repeat of this could be seen with Clinton. No one realized what else he was doing until after he was already there." She paused, another look directly at her teacher. "With enough effort, they can hide anything under a groomed suit and fancy words."

 

[Bevatoria]

A moment passed as Becky hesitated, but Adam locked his gaze onto her, demanding an answer. Eventually, an inspired one came forth.

"Eye of the beholder. He was aware of what the public wanted to see. The expectations and ideal most seemed to hold on what they thought was supposed to hold such a position. Nixon's faults were openly displayed, and made worse by his interactions with media. Only once he realized his mistakes did he try to rectify. But Kennedy was already seen as the golden child, Mister American Dream. It wasn't until later that his own faults were made noticeable. A repeat of this could be seen with Clinton. No one realized what else he was doing until after he was already there." A deliberate pause as his young student finally found the courage to lock gazes with him. "With enough effort, they can hide anything under a groomed suit and fancy words."

A double meaning. Becky wasn't just talking about Kennedy, he was talking about him. Looking at him as he did. Daring him.

Adam pondered a response. "Fair points, young Becky. But..." He smirked at her. "What if that is who he was? Could it be possible that television, for all of it's glorification and distortion of who people are, does occasionally show someone *exactly* as they are? It could just be that we are looking for the wrong things." Another quick look down, before looking at the class. "That's a fundamental truth of this course - that for all of our examination of others views, perspectives, and analysis, that it is we who need to change. It is we who need to examine ourselves, to look at how we perceive things. Not at what is being perceived."

************

OOC: If Becky has a response, we can continue the dialogue a bit, but I'm looking to bump us forward, too.

IC:

Adam sat behind his desk. His computer was on, but he wasn't looking at it. His phone had some text messages, but he wasn't checking them. He just stared blankly out the window. Not aimlessly. But patiently. His clock reading 4:59. His door was left slightly ajar, as Adam wondered what he was going to do. He had a few ideas.

And a familiar black bag, just behind the desk. Just in case.