He wasn’t supposed to be there. Not a student like him. But rent was due, books were expensive, and scholarships didn’t cover everything. So three nights a week, he worked under the name “Kane” — dancing in a haze of smoke, lights, and wandering hands. Sometimes he just danced. Other nights... he was rented for more.

Tonight felt different the moment he walked into the private VIP room. The man seated on the couch didn’t belong there either. Clean suit, expensive watch, cold gaze — and familiar.

He froze in place.

“…Professor?”

Professor Maddox leaned back slowly, swirling a glass of scotch between long fingers. “Kane, is it?” he said coolly, eyes roaming shamelessly over the boy’s bare chest and tight leather pants. “I was curious what kept you so distracted in class.”

Blood drained from his face, but before he could bolt, the professor held up a black card.

“I already paid for the hour.”

His heart pounded. “You can’t—”

“I can. And I did.” He took a sip, eyes burning. “Now lock the door.”

He should’ve refused. Should’ve left. But his body moved on instinct. Click. The lock turned.

“Strip for me.”

His breath caught.

“You’ve seen me in a suit. I want to see what they pay for.”

Hands trembling, he reached for the button on his pants, lowering them slowly. Maddox’s gaze never left him. His cock was already half-hard from the shock and shame—and the thrill. He let the pants fall, stepped out of them, and stood there in nothing but a small black thong.

“Turn around.”

He obeyed.

“Bend over.”

He hesitated.

A cold command: “Bend. Over.”

He placed his palms on the velvet couch, feeling exposed, breath shaking.

Footsteps behind him. Then a hand ghosted over his bare ass, fingers sliding down the thin fabric, slipping under to press between his cheeks. “So wet already,” Maddox murmured, voice low and dark. “Is this what gets you off? Getting bought and used?”

“I didn’t know it was you,” he whispered.

“But you're not telling me to stop.”

Fingers slid in. Slow, deep, unrelenting. He bit back a moan, arching as his professor fingered him with practiced ease.

“Do you let them fuck you raw like this?”

He nodded weakly.

“That’s reckless,” Maddox hissed. “Filthy little slut.”

He was pushed down onto the couch, face buried in the cushions. Fabric rustled behind him. Then the press of something thick and hard at his entrance. He gasped as Maddox pushed in without warning, all the way, hips slamming against his ass.

“You’re going to take it,” the professor growled. “Every inch.”

He cried out as Maddox began to thrust—deep, punishing strokes that left him shaking, legs spread wide, body bouncing with every snap of hips. Fingers gripped his hair, yanking his head back so he couldn’t hide.

“Look at me while I use you.”

His cheeks burned, eyes wet with tears, lips parted in a gasp as he was pounded over the couch.

“You like being my little whore, don’t you?”

He whimpered. “Yes—fuck—yes—”

“Say it.”

“I’m your whore. I’m your fucking whore—please—”

His cock throbbed untouched, leaking against the cushions as his professor kept fucking into him, hard and rough, slamming into his sweet spot until he was a mess of moans and drool.

“I should fail you,” Maddox said, voice low and cruel. “But you’re so good like this. So eager.”

He slammed in one last time and groaned, filling him deep. Thick warmth flooded him as he shuddered under the weight of it.

And still, Maddox didn’t pull out.

“Time’s not up,” he murmured, grinding in slowly. “I rented you for the hour. And I always get what I pay for.”

He didn’t sleep that night. His body ached in all the ways he secretly craved. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt the way Maddox had filled him, stretched him, marked him. The warmth dripping down his thighs. The voice in his ear whispering filth.

But when the morning sun poured through his window, reality hit hard.

He had a 10 a.m. lecture.

With him.

He almost didn’t go. Almost.

But Maddox would notice. That man missed nothing.

So he dragged himself out of bed, sore and still trembling from the memory, pulled on his hoodie and jeans, and walked into the lecture hall with his head low, avoiding every eye. He slid into a back-row seat.

Maddox walked in five minutes later, suit crisp, hair perfect, cool and unreadable as always. Not a single glance in his direction.

He almost convinced himself it was over.

But when roll was called and Maddox reached his name, his voice shifted just slightly—cooler, slower. “Present?”

He choked on his own breath. “Y–Yes, Professor.”

A brief pause. Then Maddox smiled to himself and moved on.

The lecture went on for another hour, but he couldn’t focus. Every slide, every word faded into the pounding in his chest and the dull ache between his legs. His professor was talking about ethics. Boundaries. Consent. The irony made him want to scream.

As students packed up and left, he stayed seated. Frozen.

“Everyone out,” Maddox said casually. “Except Kane.”

The room emptied.

Kane.

That name was supposed to stay in the dark.

He looked up as the door clicked shut behind the last student. Maddox slowly walked toward him, hands in his pockets.

“Interesting performance last night.”

His throat tightened. “You shouldn’t have—”

“I paid. You agreed. Or have you forgotten how you begged for it?”

“I didn’t know it was you.”

Maddox stepped closer, towering over the desk. “Does that change the way you moaned when I filled you up?”

His face burned. His thighs clenched. The heat returned instantly.

“You came for money,” Maddox said softly, leaning down. “But now I know how tight you are. How good you look when you cry. That isn’t something I’m willing to forget.”

“What do you want from me?” he asked, voice cracking.

Maddox reached into his coat pocket and slid a black envelope onto the desk. “A private tutoring arrangement. Twice a week. My office.”

He stared at it. “What if I say no?”

A slow smile. “You won’t.”

And he was right.

The first session was the very next evening. The door clicked shut behind him in the professor’s private office. Books lined the shelves. A small camera light blinked in the corner — security, Maddox claimed. His hands trembled as he sat.

Maddox didn’t even look up from his laptop. “Strip.”

He hesitated.

“Do you want the money or not?”

He stood, undressed slowly, silently, heat crawling over his skin as he stood naked in the warm lamplight.

“Hands behind your back.”

He obeyed.

Cold cuffs clicked around his wrists. Tight. Restrictive.

“Lesson one,” Maddox murmured, standing and circling him like a predator. “Obedience. You already know how to arch that back. Let’s see how long you last tonight.”

He was bent over the professor’s desk before the first word was even reviewed.

Papers fluttered to the floor as Maddox spread him open, teased him with a lubed toy, and slid it in deep—then left it there while he explained lecture notes, quizzed him between thrusts, corrected him with a slap when he got answers wrong.

Every wrong answer earned a deeper push.

Every correct one earned nothing but denial.

Until he was whimpering, leaking, close to the edge, hips trembling.

“Please—let me cum—”

“You want to pass this class?” Maddox whispered, mouth hot against his ear. “Earn it. Show me how good you are on your knees.”

He dropped to the floor, eyes dazed, mouth open.

The taste of power. The taste of shame.

And the start of a twisted education neither of them planned to end.

The desk was cold against his bare chest, and the sharp edge dug into his hips as Maddox shoved him down again. His ass was raw, slick, and still dripping. His cock throbbed, untouched, denied over and over until it hurt to breathe.

“Still haven’t learned,” Maddox muttered darkly, dragging the tip of his cock across his stretched hole. “Still acting like you have control.”

“I—I don’t—”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t have control—fuck—please—”

Another slap, hard, across his ass.

“Then stop pretending you do.”

Maddox spat between his cheeks. No lube this time. Just spit. Then his cock slammed in again, raw and merciless. The boy screamed into the wood as the thick shaft buried itself to the base, making his whole body jerk.

“Cry for me,” Maddox hissed, fucking into him fast and mean, using him like a toy, like nothing but a tight sleeve. “Let everyone in the hallway hear who you belong to.”

He sobbed. Loud. His hands scrabbled uselessly against the desk for balance, but Maddox grabbed his wrists and slammed them down, pinning him.

“Look at you,” Maddox growled. “A straight-A student on paper. But here? Just a cumdump. A little fucktoy.”

He moaned shamelessly, throat raw from earlier, voice broken.

“Do you want to be used?”

“Yes—fuck yes—use me—use me however you want—”

Maddox yanked him up by the hair, twisted his neck to kiss him brutally, biting his lips open, tongues messy and wet.

Then he was slammed back down, and Maddox didn’t stop this time — didn’t slow, didn’t tease. He fucked him like an animal. Brutal. Deep. No rhythm. Just destruction.

“God, you take it so fucking well,” he snarled. “You were made for this.”

The boy came without touching himself — full, hard, thick shots streaking the desk and his chest, cock twitching wildly, legs going limp.

But Maddox didn’t stop.

He kept going.

“You thought it was over? You think I care if you cum?”

He leaned over, voice hot against his ear. “I’m not stopping until I feel you give up. Until I feel you break.”

One leg was yanked up onto the desk, forcing him open wider. The angle had him crying out again, sensitivity turning to agony, to mindless ecstasy. His body jerked with every thrust, loud wet slaps echoing through the room.

“I’m going to fuck you until you can't think.”

“Please—fuck—Professor—”

“I’m going to fill you,” he whispered, voice guttural. “So deep you taste it.”

And then Maddox slammed in one final time, held him down, and came. Hard. Heat flooding his guts, cock pulsing deep inside, thick spurts painting every inch of his used hole.

The boy twitched.

Maddox didn’t pull out.

He just grinned against his spine and whispered, “One more round. Then I’ll let you crawl home.”

He couldn’t stand straight anymore.

His knees buckled as Maddox finally stepped back, his cock sliding out with a messy, wet sound that made the boy’s legs tremble harder. Cum dripped down his thighs in thick trails, skin flushed red from the slaps, bites, and handprints Maddox had left everywhere.

But the professor wasn’t finished.

“On the floor.”

The command dropped like a stone in his gut. He slid down to his knees shakily, naked, panting, arms trembling. His mind was fogged, a haze of pain and need. He didn’t speak—just opened his mouth.

Maddox smirked. “Learning your place.”

He grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled hard, making his neck strain back. His slick cock slapped against the boy’s tongue.

“Taste what you’ve earned.”

The thrusts were rough again, throat-fucking him without warning, fast and deep until his eyes watered and spit dripped freely down his chest. Maddox didn’t let him catch his breath, holding his head in place and using his mouth like it was nothing more than a hole to fill.

He groaned around the length, dizzy, his cock twitching uselessly again despite being overstimulated.

“Good little toy,” Maddox muttered, voice hoarse. “Didn’t even have to tell you. You just know what you are now.”

He pulled out, letting spit and cum fall from the boy’s lips, then slapped his cheek—not to hurt, but to mark. To remind.

“You’re mine now. This mouth, this body. You don’t cum unless I let you. You don’t breathe without permission.”

He was hauled back to his feet. Maddox turned him around to face the chalkboard, hands pressed flat against it, chest smeared with spit and sweat. The professor picked up a marker and, with slow precision, wrote on the boy’s back with it:

PROPERTY OF M

He held still. Silent. Breathing ragged. The words seared into his skin even though they weren’t permanent.

“Now,” Maddox said, stepping back and admiring his work. “Get dressed. And walk out just like that.”

He blinked, confused.

“Why?” he whispered.

“Because you’re going to remember with every step that your hole is leaking with my cum and your chest says who you belong to.” Maddox leaned close, lips brushing his ear. “And because we’re not done. This was just round one.”