Professor 2

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.

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