Lady Lesso's Impact

New trouble

The next few days felt like a dream. A nice fever dream, to put it more precisely. Everything was a bit unreal – our secret meetings in passing, Lady Lesso's tongue between my legs in the library, on her desk and up in the tower, which had become something of our secret place. It was hot and fuck I couldn't complain, I hadn't had such good sex since- ever. Lady Lesso had wrapped me around her finger with such ease, I should probably worry about my standards.

But I didn't. Instead, I enjoyed the moments when we were together, either openly or via stealthy glances and whispered dirty messages. And when I wasn't around her, I would yearn for her, whether in the classroom or alone in my bed (which, admittedly, wasn't very common anymore – this woman had sexual energy, let me tell you).

In short, it hit me hard. While I tried to appreciate the good moments (incredibly awesome sex) and not follow too many negative thoughts, I found it hard to forbid my mouth to express the feelings of my heart. I liked her. More than just someone who took you to the most wonderful heights of sexual activity. I really liked her. I liked the way she walked, the way she dressed, the way she styled her hair – not only because she looked incredibly hot, but because I liked her aesthetic charisma. Because I liked the way she came towards me, with security and power in her footsteps. I liked the way she looked at me – not only because the lust in her eyes made me melt, but also because she had just very beautiful eyes. I liked it when she spoke to me, not only to tell me in which positions she would take me.

But if Lesso shared those feelings. . . still unknown. Maybe. She had hinted at it herself, and even though she didn't say so, her constant search for closeness to me didn't mean that she didn't at least like me. Maybe it was just sex, but it didn't feel that way to me. My biggest fear was that I only imagined that and destroyed our pretty little thing myself. I mean, at the end of the day, Lesso's emotional life was probably a lot more complicated than mine, and when I thought about it, how could you not have a bonding problem when you're told half your life that you couldn't love? Besides, love was different for everyone.

In the end, I guess it was more about how I handled it. And if I could get my own feelings under control, but Lesso really made that fucking hard. Every time we were together, I had half a heart attack, because of how hot she was and I couldn't stop wishing I would never wake up alone again.

Anyway my lover definitely was wicked, and I couldn't (and didn't want to) deny that she was a villain. Even if she couldn't keep her hands off me, the teasing had only increased. She knew what impact she had on me and used that knowledge in every conceivable situation. Whether she said something dirty to me before class and left me completely horny, nervously waiting to finally let the students go, or whether she fingered me mercilessly between two hours, just to keep me half-finished, gasping and waiting.

I had also noticed that our conversations had never gone in the same direction as on the tower. She was like a closed book, still seldom let slip anything personal that went beyond our joyful affair. And to Dovey she was more repulsive than ever before. I felt sorry for the Dean of Good, who had reacted so supportive and had been quite happy for us. Now she avoided the subject as much as possible and Anemone did not dare to question me either. A hollow feeling gnawed inside me when I ate with the two good-natured ladies, and I couldn't shake the idea that they felt uncomfortable around me like they couldn't talk freely. Two friends would do me good to talk about the chaos inside me and some female advice on "how do I get over my crush on the Dean of Evil without stopping fucking her" would really be helpful.

Well, two weeks had passed and I right now I was on my way to breakfast. On firm feet and with straight steps, because I hadn't actually met Lesso for two days. She must have been pretty busy right now, doing some dean stuff, so much I had gotten between intense eye contact over the dining table and written, folded messages on my desk. My work efficiency thanked her, because without Lesso's "distractions" I could actually go through with my training sessions. Tedros and Hester (both of whom had certainly become suspicious) no longer complained about last-minute delays (because Lesso had briefly fucked me senseless) or my lack of preparation. Good for them. For my part, I was beginning to long for the dean.