femdom/malesub oneshots and short stories

teacher x student (part 2)

(This chapter has smut)

"What are you carrying in that bag?" 
Marcela eyes me suspiciously. 
"Just some stuff for Mr. Larsen." 
"What stuff?" She is staring at the big bag. 
"I brought some stuff that will teach him a lesson." 
"No shit! You have—" she whispers, "sex toys in there?" 
"Yep." 
"Okay, you're crazy. If they catch you..." 
"They won't. Besides, I don't even mean to do anything; I just want to scare him off a bit." 
"Jesus, okay, let's go in." 

She pulls my arm as we walk through the door. My breath catches in my throat. He's already there, sitting at his desk, grading some papers. 
We walk by him, and he looks up but immediately turns his gaze when he sees me. 

The lesson

"Okay, can anybody tell me the answer to this question?" 
I raise my hand. I studied ahead so I could prove him wrong. 
"Anybody?" 
I raise my hand higher. 
"Okay, well, guess not. The answer is four, by the way. What a shame. It was an easy question, that one." 

Okay, this bastard is ignoring me! 
Not for long, Mr. Larsen. 

"Next question... anybody?" 
This time I don't raise my hand. 
"Emily, how about you?" 

Guess he got confident since the last time he saw me. 

"It's 10." 
"Uuuu, so close; it's eleven." 

This goes on for about 45 minutes until the bell rings. As I'm packing up my things, someone calls my name.

"Miss Emily, could you stay a bit after class, please? I have something to discuss with you."

Marcela gives me a look. "Good luck," she says and blows me a kiss, then walks out the door.

When the room is empty, I make my way down to Mr. Larson. His big, and I imagine soft, hands are messing with the buttons on his shirt. A piece of his brown hair has fallen over his eye, and I can see that it's bothering him. So I reach out and smooth it back with my hand. Then I smile.

He's staring at me. His lips are so pink and beautiful.

He snaps back into reality, though. Crossing his legs, one in front of the other, still standing in front of me, he says, "So I, uhh, have noticed that you—you're not doing very well—" his voice goes up. How cute. "In my, like... classes. So I thought that I could... help you?"

He looks down at his shoes when he's asking. "Where did all the confidence go, hmm, Mr. Larson?"

He turns bright red and starts looking all around but at me, trying to move so I wouldn't notice, but he can't because he is standing so close in front of me, trapped between the table and my hips.

"Uhh, I don't know where it's uhh gone. But do you... so can I?"

"I don't know if I want to spend more time with you. You haven't been very nice to me so far, have you?"

His shoulders slump, and a little frown is set between his eyebrows.

"Well, guess no," he mumbled. "But it's because... uhhm..."

I took hold of his face and turned it gently so he was looking at me. "Why haven't you been nice?" Now he looked embarrassed. I could see that it took everything in him not to look away.

"Because I thought... that you were uhhm pretty so-sometimes."

I pouted mockingly. "Oh really? Poor baby didn't know how to tell me I was pretty, so he decided to be mean?"

Now we were standing really close—too close for a student and their professor.

"I wasn't mean! Just wasn't super nice."