Chapter 14
Sam
I drive Laura to school the next morning.
We are not supposed to be dating, of course, but I cannot imagine anyone having the nerve to bring the matter up.
I watch her cute little ass sashay into classes and have the satisfaction of knowing that she is protected properly.
I am prepared to do literally anything to keep her safe.
I am also prepared to enjoy everything I do in service of that goal.
The day proceeds in the normal fashion. When the afternoon rolls around, and my office hours are in session, I get a rather cute little visitor.
Laura comes in and perches on the desk, smiling at me.
“Lock the door, Miss Brown,” I tell her.
She reaches over and snaps the latch. We are alone now. She is looking at me with a certain level of expectation.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I smile at her. She wants something, and she’s prepared to be cute in order to get it.
“How safe am I now?”
“Very,” I tell her.
“Does that mean I can take a little trip with my friends? We want to go out for the night. I want to stay around at their place. They room together, and we’re planning on it being kind of a late one…”
Adorable that she is asking me for my permission. Laura is being very good today. I wonder if the fright of being taken has made her more submissive to me. That would be an unintended benefit.
“Depends,” I tell her. “You haven’t done your homework for my class yet, have you?”
“I’m going to get the assignment in on time,” she says.
“I am sure you are. But this time you are going to have to find source material other than a partner.”
“Really?” She gives me a naughty little grin. “You don’t want me to send you an analysis of yourself?”
That would be fascinating and amusing in equal measure, I am sure. Laura has a natural understanding of my personality, and an equally natural complementary character. A woman like her was made for a man like me. She is soft where I am hard, and she is strong in the very few ways I am weak.
“I want you on your knees,” I tell her.
She blushes and looks back over her shoulder at the door behind her. She is worried about being caught even though she knows the door is locked.
“On your knees and you can go out with your friends,” I smile. “Be a good girl for me, and I might even give you a little play money.”
That nervousness remains, but she does as she is told. She gets on her knees and she unzips my pants with a delicious submissiveness I have only dreamed of.
My cock is rock hard from the moment her hand wraps around it. She looks up at me with an adorable innocence, and presses a kiss to the throbbing head of my rod.
I wonder what has made her decide to be such a good girl for me.
Is she settling into her submission, or is something else at play?
I reach down and run my fingers through her silky hair, pulling her head down on my cock.
I throb at the idea of what would happen if anybody were to find us like this.
She would likely be suspended, unless I intervened. A lesser lecturer would be fired, but they wouldn’t dare fire me. There would be a scandal, but nothing would be done. Thinking about that turns what could be a fairly trite little BJ into something far more subversive.
She is trying so hard, putting her mouth to good and eager use, working her lips and tongue along the length of my shaft.
The physical sensations are wonderful, but it is the submission that makes my balls tighten.
I am going to come down her throat and leave her with a belly full of my cum.
I wonder if she is pregnant yet. If she isn’t, she will be soon.
I imagine her swollen with my child, her sweetness and her youth surrendered to me, the entire course of her life forever changed because she spread her legs and took my cock.
She is going to be mine forever. Her body will grow my babies.
She will nurture and tend to them. And I will make good and thorough use of her.
Her sweet tongue laps along the underside of my dick, and I shudder as climax overtakes me.
I pull her head down deep, ensuring that every drop of cum slides down her throat.
She doesn’t struggle. She takes my cock as deep as she can.
I feel her swallow before I release her, cradling her face in my hands and bending down to drop a sweet kiss on her forehead.
“Run along, sweet girl.”
She beams broadly and stands up slowly.
“Thank you,” she says.
She pauses at the door and looks back at me, as if she wants to say something. There’s definitely something in the room between us. It feels like guilt, but not for something she’s already done. Something she’s going to do, maybe.
I could interrogate her now, but I am inclined to let her do whatever silly thing is going to get her in trouble. Punishing her is half the fun.
A day or two goes by, and Laura does not come back from her little girls’ trip. Her phone, which I would usually use to track her, has been left at the house. At first, I think she’s just going past curfew to test me.
Then, as time continues to go on, I consider that she may have been taken. It would be a very brazen and indeed reckless act to do so after I made it quite clear what happened to those who touched her last time, but some people are slow learners.
I recall overhearing a few snippets of conversation between Laura and the good doctor the other day. She feels comfortable talking with him about quite intimate and personal subjects.
I call the doctor, in case he has some insight on the matter. Aside from me, he has spent the most amount of time with her lately. It’s possible she’s said something to him about her plans.
“She might have run away,” Dr. Black suggests almost immediately.
“Why would she do that?”
“Why does a rat chew out of a cardboard box?”
I frown. “Are you suggesting she is a rat?”
“I am suggesting you are a cardboard box. And before you kill me and put my limbs on display, remember you need me for various things.”
He has an abundance of attitude, and I have no patience for it.
He is right, though. I cannot afford to kill him, not even under the guise of teaching him a lesson.
I end the call, and think. This is probably not all that complicated a problem. She does have some cash thanks to the fact she sold the car I tried to give her, but I don’t think she has the kind of personality that leads to really running away, not far, anyway. She’s very anchored in her world.
She might have left her phone here, but I don’t need to track her anyway.
She’s quite obviously gone home. She’s too invested in the lives of her family to abandon them.
Of course, I know where her mom lives. I know everything I need to know about Laura.
I have a file on her that comprises all the information that’s ever been made available about her.
There are even some little finger paintings in it she did when she was small. I am a thorough stalker.
I go to her family’s house and watch from the road for some time.
Small children play via the medium of hitting each other in the garden.
A middle-aged man sits on the front step, drinking beer and watching them.
The house has a lot of aged wood siding from which the paint has been peeling for far too many years.
The whole place has an air of cozy decay.
One day this will be a fond memory, an image that will be yellowed even though there’s no reason for it to be because nobody uses film anymore.
The yard is roughly mown with tall weeds along the fence line, and dotted with myriad toys for the clearly spoiled youngest siblings who have the benefit of their father being able to maintain a relationship with their mother.
She ran from my much nicer home to this. I could feel a pang of rejection, but I am aware that Laura suffers from an abundance of sentimentality when it comes to her family. It’s a common enough trait, even if I do not share it myself.
It’s possible that Laura is inside with her mother, but I do not catch sight of her through the windows. The directional sound machine is somewhat useful, but it mostly picks up the sounds of disgruntled offspring.
“Mom! She’s wearing my tank top! I’m going to kill her!” A teenage girl’s voice is raised in angst.
“Do it in the bath,” their mother replies.
I’m not sure if she heard what was said to her or not. Either way, it’s amusing.
I decide to simply go and ask after Laura. I am wearing a suit with a vest and I am aware that I will make a mostly positive impression on these people who do not have the benefit of such fine attire.
A low chain-link fence keeps the children in the yard. I step through the gate, though it would be just as easy to walk over it. There’s a garden path going to the house, but it is cracked and crumbling in multiple places. Laid without any kind of reinforcement, I suppose. A DIY job.
Laura’s stepfather stands up as I approach.
He is wearing loose two-tone blue on blue shorts and a band t-shirt.
His hair is thinning at the front and long and messy at the back.
He makes eye contact with me while the small children ignore the both of us in favor of finding new things to hit each other with.
“Hello. I’m Doctor Rollins. I’m a lecturer at…”
“I know who you are,” the man says.
“You do?” I do not need to feign surprise.
“I saw you on TV once,” he says. “You’re the psychologist who says women shouldn’t date using apps.”
I have a faint memory of a puff piece I did for one of the major networks a year or so ago. I do them from time to time, for moments like these. People trust people they’ve seen on television.
“So I did,” I say. “I’m also teaching a class at the local college. I was wondering if Laura was in. She was supposed to pick up some extra credit work, but she didn’t show up, and that’s very unlike her.”