At the end of the lesson, when everyone is gone, he takes me by the legs, from the chair next to my table, and he slams me on the desk with a violent and almost animalistic movement, making my spine vibrate all over.
I chuckle, leaning on just the necessary to make him pant in desire.
He's excited, I can feel it. He has that impatient smell of pre-sex all around him, that mix of sweat and fresh cologne that violently penetrates my nostrils. It makes me laugh because it just means he's in the palm of my hand.
I smile while he remains in silence, caressing me through the fabric of my clothes. Then I take him from the tie and I start licking his mouth with my tongue, slowly, leaving him to sink in the pleasure just enough to make him gasp, all while leaving dense traces of my spit on his chin.
"Oh, Frank. Fuck, fuck..." his body wants me, every single cell of him is screaming for me.
His body wants me, every single cell of him is screaming for me.
I feel powerful, filled with a new force that makes him obey me and only me.
Before this, he used to prefer my classmates Hanna and some other students, spoiling them by caressing their backs and gifting them warm smiles, or even his fingers, feathery touching them while they were hidden by everybody's eyes. He usually did it like this, a teacher selecting a group of few chosen and favorites: these kids were completely addicted to him, eating out of his hand and receiving rewards, cuddles, kisses. He used to take them to his house and he used to touch all of them, one by one, almighty. He would make them sit in a circle, in his living room, and he would walk around them for a while. Then he would start from the first, a guy called Eric Sanders, groping the boy with that soft way only his, making him scream while all the others, impatient, were thrilling on their chairs, enjoying that show as they waited their turn, dirtying slips and boxers with their liquids.
Then I decided I wanted him for myself and I claimed him, first slowly and then all in one.
If I want something I know for sure that I will have it but, more than anything, I'm a classy predator. I let my preys be the ones to feel this fatal attraction, to fall in this slow pleasure that drags them into my trap. I walk around and I barely touch them, taking them to the point where they desperately want to be caught, launching themselves into my arms.
And so I did with him.
I realized too late that this time the effect is double-sided. He is irresistibly attracted to me, the prey is torn apart by my claws, but I, the predator...I am curious towards him.
Even too much.
And this is why I took my decision.
"Professor, language..." I shake my head, pretending to be upset. Then I touch his lips with my fingers, those soft lips that are only for me now. His legs are shaking while that warmth starting from his abdomen makes his member swell incredibly.
Now it's impossible to stop ourselves. Until we don't kiss for real he won't stop and neither will I. I know it, I know it because I learned it during the long nights at his place, when I made the first move by attaching myself to his body with a violence almost childish. He, however, wasn't expecting anything different: he led me to his bed with a warm smile. He thought I would have been like the others, that he would have tamed me...but that night, confused, he realized it wouldn't have been like that. Smiling, in the dark, he understood that it was me the one leading and, docile, without a chance to resist, he let himself be dominated.
Oh, I give him an incredible pleasure. I became essential, he can't be without me: he has to touch me, he has to have my attention and my kisses, he's overwhelmed with jealousy if I look away and I ignore him.
