Chapter 8 John
JOHN
The start of the semester—when beginnings are new, hopes are high, and possibilities are endless—is my favorite time of year. This year should be no different, but a pit of dread forms in my stomach at the thought of where this year could take me if I’m not careful.
A Christian college may seem like an odd choice for someone who also moonlights as a dom at a sex club, but my strict religious upbringing was a huge factor in my decision to work at Faith Union.
It took a while to overcome the need to please my strict parents, but by then their chokehold on my life was too far-reaching.
I’m fairly certain my need to top—to be in control of a sub—stems from me wanting to break free of the church’s control over me. My own secret act of rebellion.
Even the fact that I teach Shakespeare is due to my parents deeming it one of the few appropriate types of literature I could read aside from the Bible.
Students begin filing into the lecture hall, and I push everything down, determined not to give in to my desires. I have more discipline than that.
I will control myself.
We’re a month into the semester at this point, and most students have developed a routine, sitting in specific spots throughout the room every class without fail.
I feel her presence before I see her. My eyes flick up, and I watch her make her way down the steps and across the second row.
She’s so fucking beautiful, so perfect, drawing me in like a siren calling to a sailor.
I’m enthralled by her beauty, enraptured by the sound of her voice.
I find myself calling on her before anyone else, desperate for the sweet lilt of her voice.
It’s probably shitty of me to tear apart her essays, but there’s a part of me that hopes it’ll be the reason she’ll come to my office and give me more of her attention.
A relationship between us is forbidden and wrong for more reasons than she’s aware. I am thirteen years her senior and her professor. There are rules that forbid me from acting on any of these impulses. And I can’t screw over Mary’s future, not when she’s depending on my help.
Pulling up my notes for class, I force down my desire, taking several deep breaths to even out my racing heart. This is the same thing I do at Pulse when I put my mask on. I am in control.
“Today we’re diving into Henry V. Can anyone tell me what you think the main themes of the play are?”
A student in the back raises his hand. “What makes a good leader.” I nod my agreement when Emma’s hand shoots up. I fight my smile as I nod at her.
“It goes deeper than that, exploring the complexities of leadership. Henry’s public persona versus his private self.”
“Could you expand on that a little more, Miss Black?”
“I think we should question what makes a good leader. Does he need fear or respect to be deemed good? Does he need to be ruthless in achieving victory and maintaining order? And how is that compatible with goodness, morality, and compassion? It examines how someone appears versus their true nature. The qualities that make Henry a great king are not the same qualities that would define a good person.” There’s a hint of a smirk on her face like she knows her words hold a deeper meaning, and fuck if it doesn’t make me hard.
“It must be hard having all those responsibilities. Worrying about your country, its people, their well-being and safety in the threat of war, and then having to put aside your own desires, your own needs, for the good of your nation,” she continues.
“I can’t wait to read more about your findings in your next essay, Miss Black,” I say flatly, giving nothing away.
While I’m no king, and certainly not leading anything other than a classroom full of half-interested students, I know what it’s like to have to subvert my own desires for the greater good.
To be part of something larger than myself.
And it makes me wonder what she’d think of me if she knew who I really was.
Once class is over, I pack up my laptop as Emma approaches. Her soft floral scent washes over me, causing my cock to thicken in my pants.
“Can I speak with you, Professor Ali?”
“Office hours are Tuesdays and Thursdays from two to four, Miss Black,” I reply, not making eye contact.
“It’s about my last paper.” She continues, not acknowledging my dismissal of her, and the fact that she’s obeying Daddy Dom’s rule makes me want nothing more than to bend her over my knee and spank her until she comes.
“What about it?” I continue packing up my bag.
“I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the grade. I worked extremely hard on that paper. I’ve never gotten a C before, let alone two, and I want to learn from my mistakes so I can improve my writing.”
I look up from my bag and make eye contact with her, doing my best to stop my perusal at her face. I cock an eyebrow, and she crosses her arms under her perfect rack, pushing them up so her cleavage is more prominent.
“Honestly, it was lacking depth. Your thesis was compelling, but you failed to provide sufficient proof to back it up. Most of your evidence was circumstantial, and what little that was spot on was overshadowed by your lack of analysis. You spent entirely too much time on quotes that didn’t prove your point while glossing over your valid evidence.
It was shallow drivel at best, and something that may have gotten you praise in high school but won’t cut it here. ”
She stares at me stunned, blinking several times as her mouth opens and closes.
“Thank you for that,” she says, waving her hand in a circle at me.
“Even if it was a pedantic take on a decent essay,” she mutters the last part, and I get a little hard at her willingness to stand up to me, while also fighting the urge to toss her over my knee until she submits.
“What was that, Miss Black?” I taunt.
“I’ll work harder to make it a decent essay.” She smiles as she marches up the steps of the auditorium, my eyes tracking her perfect ass as she goes.
——————
Once I make it back to my room later, I text Alyx, silently cursing myself for being so quick to break a rule and talk to her outside of the club.
Is it technically breaking a rule if I told her that we can only see each other at the club?
This isn’t part of our dom/sub dynamic. It’s a gray area, and I’ve learned how to bend my morals to navigate those over the years.
I’m still in control, and while I feel my resolve slipping, I’m confident I could rein it back in when it matters.
I need Emma’s number.
Always so bossy.
Do you want me to continue helping your friend or not?
Don’t be a dick, of course I do.
Seconds later, her contact is saved in my phone. I don’t give my cell out to students, only my office number is in the syllabus, but it forwards calls to my phone when needed.
Have you been a good girl for me, pet?
I cringe when I realize how creepy that must sound coming from an unknown number.
Who is this?
Who do you think?
Daddy Dom?
Know anyone else that calls you pet?
How should I save your contact?
Fishing for my name?
Maybe…
How about Batman Dom?
***
You know, because of the mask, and the voice.
I laugh. This feels natural, familiar, like I’ve known her for years. I get comfortable, lying back on the bed.
I’m taking your silence as permission.
I’ll allow it.
Goody! To answer your first question, I have been a good girl. You’d be proud of how I stood up to my professor today.
I smile at her confidence. This is what I was hoping to instill in her.
Want to see how proud I am?
Yes
I snap a pic of my hand gripping my erection through my slacks. Once I look it over, making sure there are no identifying details, I send it to her. What the fuck am I doing?
Holy erection, Batman!
Laughter spills out of me at her ridiculousness as I somehow manage to get even harder.
My laughter quickly dies when I see the picture she replies with.
Instead of calling me out for breaking a rule I created, she’s seeking her own pleasure from me, sending me a picture of her skirt hiked up so I can see her lacy white panties and the hand she’s slipped into them.
I need to be the adult here. I should stop this and follow my rules.
Fuck it.
Breaking one won’t hurt, and really, it’s more like bending since we can’t technically see each other anyway.
I free my aching cock from my pants and give it a few hard strokes as I stare at her picture when my screen lights up with a call. Scrambling off the bed, I grab the mask with the built in modulator buried in a bag at the bottom of my closet and slip it on as I hit the answer button. “Yes, pet?”
Silence permeates the line, and I pull it away from my ear to be sure the call connected when I hear her stuttered breathing. Holy fuck.
“That’s my good girl. Touching yourself, taking what you want. I’m so fucking proud of you,” I grit out as I continue fisting my cock.
“I’m your good girl. I’m being so good. Waiting for your permission,” she breathes.
The way she naturally submits to me is the biggest fucking turn-on. “I want you to take two fingers and slowly rub circles around your clit.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So fucking good for me. But only for me, pet.”
“Only you.” A soft whimper hits my ear.
“Now slip those fingers in your soaking cunt and use the palm of your hand to apply pressure to your clit.”
“Oh, freaking A. Oh God, I’m so close, sir.”
“Don’t come until I command it, pet.” I continue working my cock, pumping furiously as I imagine her pretty lips swallowing me down while I fist her hair.
“Yes… sir,” she moans like it’s hard to speak.
“Ughhnn, fuuuuck, now. Come for me, Emma,” I groan as hot ropes of cum spurt out of my dick, coating my hand and stomach.
Her answering moans are music to my ears, and I can picture her writhing around on her bed as her fingers fall still.
“You called me Emma,” she pants as I reach for a towel to clean myself up.
I falter for a moment, trying to remember if I’d called her by her name as Daddy Dom. I’m sure I have. “That is your name, no?” I say with confidence though I’m still questioning myself.
“Yeah. I like it when you call me that. I mean, I like ‘pet’ too, but you hardly use my name. It feels more meaningful when you do.”
What the fuck do I say to that? What did I just do? It’s obvious that she’s getting attached, and based on the fact that I demanded Alyx give me her number just so I could check on her after our run-in after class today, it’s safe to say that I’m getting entirely too comfortable with her.
This is why I have rules. I’m not supposed to get attached, but I can already feel myself slipping.