The study was a sanctuary of old-world charm, its walls lined with shelves that sagged under the weight of leather-bound tomes. The air was thick with the scent of aged paper and lemon polish, a familiar backdrop to the countless tutoring sessions that had taken place here. Leyna sat in her usual spot, a high-backed velvet chair that had seen better days, its fabric worn thin from years of use. Before her, the heavy oak desk loomed, its surface cluttered with calculus textbooks and loose sheets of paper scribbled with equations. The books lay abandoned now, their pages forgotten as Mr. Blackwood's piercing blue gaze locked onto Leyna.
"The variable isn't the problem, Elise," he rumbled, his voice low and resonant, vibrating through the floorboards. His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Leyna's fingers tightened around the edge of her chair, her knuckles turning white as she fought the urge to shrink away. She knew her name wasn't Elise—it was Leyna—but Mr. Blackwood had taken to calling her by the wrong name ever since she'd started tutoring with him. It was a small thing, but it felt deliberate, a way to assert his dominance, to remind her of the power dynamic between them.
"It's your approach," he continued, leaning back in his chair, his long legs stretched out before him. "You're too hesitant. You need to be bolder." His eyes narrowed, assessing her, and Leyna felt a flush rise up her neck, warming her cheeks. She was acutely aware of the fifteen-year age gap between them, of the way his broad frame dwarfed her small figure. At nineteen, she still felt like a girl in his presence, her youth and inexperience laid bare under his scrutinizing gaze.
Leyna met his stare, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the weight of his words, the challenge implicit in them. Boldness wasn't something that came naturally to her. She was shy, reserved, always more comfortable in the background. But there was something about Mr. Blackwood that made her want to prove herself, to show him that she wasn't just another timid student.
His shirt strained across his shoulders as he leaned forward, his movement deliberate, calculated. Leyna's eyes flickered to the way the fabric pulled tight over his chest, the hint of muscle beneath. She quickly looked away, her cheeks burning hotter, but not before she noticed the way his lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.
"Focus," he commanded, his voice cutting through the charged silence. His hand reached out, long fingers wrapping around the silver letter opener that lay on the desk. It was an elegant thing, a miniature replica of a rapier, its blade glinting under the lamplight. He held it up, turning it slowly in his hand, the metal catching the light and throwing tiny reflections across the ceiling.
Leyna's breath caught in her throat as she watched him, her gaze drawn to the way the letter opener gleamed, a silent challenge hanging in the air. She felt small in that moment, insignificant, like a pawn in a game she didn't fully understand. But there was also a spark of curiosity, a flicker of something dangerous and exciting that she couldn't quite name.
Mr. Blackwood's eyes never left hers as he set the letter opener back down, the soft clink of metal against wood echoing in the quiet room. "Mathematics isn't just about numbers, Leyna," he said, his voice soft now, almost gentle. "It's about strategy, about knowing when to take risks. You have the intelligence, but you're holding back. Why is that?"
Leyna shifted in her seat, her fingers twisting in her lap. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't just about the math, that his presence unnerved her, that the way he looked at her made her stomach flutter and her thoughts scatter. But the words stuck in her throat, and all she could manage was a faint, "I don't know."
He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "You're a terrible liar," he said, his lips quirking up at the corners. "But that's alright. We'll work on that too."
The room felt smaller now, the air thicker, charged with an energy that Leyna couldn't quite place. She felt his gaze on her, heavy and insistent, and for a moment, she wondered if he could see right through her, if he knew the thoughts that raced through her mind whenever he was near.
"Let's try something different," he said, pushing his chair back and standing up. He was tall, towering over her, and Leyna had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. "A little experiment, if you will."
Her heart skipped a beat as he reached out, his hand hovering just above her shoulder. She held her breath, her body tense, waiting for his touch. But instead, he gestured to the desk. "Stand up," he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind.
Leyna obeyed, her legs trembling slightly as she rose to her feet. She felt exposed, vulnerable, the desk now a barrier between them. Mr. Blackwood circled around it, his movements graceful, predatory, until he was standing directly in front of her.
"Close your eyes," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.
She hesitated, her pulse racing, but then she did as he asked, her eyelids fluttering shut. The room was plunged into darkness, the only sound the steady rhythm of his breathing. She could feel his presence, close, too close, and her skin prickled with anticipation.
"Tell me," he said, his voice a low murmur, "what do you see when you think of boldness?"
Leyna swallowed, her throat dry. Images flashed through her mind—a leap of faith, a daring move, a challenge accepted without hesitation. But there was something else too, something darker, more primal. She thought of him, of the way he looked at her, of the power he held over her.
"I... I see you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He laughed, a soft, knowing sound, and then his hand was on her waist, pulling her closer. Leyna's eyes flew open, her breath catching as she found herself pressed against him, her body flush with his. His other hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin, and she felt a jolt of electricity run through her.
"Boldness," he said, his lips brushing against hers, "is about taking what you want, without fear, without hesitation."
And then he kissed her, his mouth firm and demanding, his tongue sliding past her lips to taste her. Leyna gasped, her hands coming up to clutch at his shirt, her body responding to his despite her shyness. He tasted of coffee and mint, his kiss deep and hungry, and she felt herself melting into him, her resistance crumbling.
His hand slid down her back, pulling her tighter against him, and Leyna moaned softly, her head spinning. She could feel the hardness of his body, the strength in his arms, and she knew, in that moment, that she was no match for him. He was bold, fearless, and she was just a girl, caught in his orbit, helpless to resist.
As he pulled away, his lips brushing hers one last time, Leyna's eyes fluttered open, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Mr. Blackwood's gaze was intense, his blue eyes dark with desire, and she felt a flush of heat spread through her.
"Now," he said, his voice hoarse, "do you understand?"
The tutoring sessions take a kinkier turn as Mr. Blackwood incorporates light bondage, using silk scarves from his desk drawer to restrain Leyna's wrists, teaching her that surrender can be the ultimate form of control and pleasure.
The soft fabric wrapping around Leyna's wrists made her whole body and soul shivered. Leyna's got on her knees and looked up at Mr Blackwood who was visibly pleased by this sight. He caressed her cheek then his hand slowly trailed down to grab her neck applying a slight pressure enough to make her breath hitch.
''Good girl...knowing your place. Let's see how much you can take for your professor''
