Professor 3

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.”

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