The Professor's Secret

26. Perpetual Slave!

I thought that night would never end... But without me realizing it, it did: When I came to, a soft light stole through the curtains, announcing morning – How late in it, I didn't know!

How had I even fallen asleep last night? How had it ended? I poorly recollected, but I ventured to assume that my nerves gave out eventually, overthrown by the stress of embarrassment and overflowing feelings that I otherwise would have thought myself incapable of experiencing simultaneously.

As I tried to get up, I realized how much my insides hurt. I embraced my stomach to solace the bothering pain, and the memories slipped back to mind, making me twitch and squeeze my legs together in an automatic impulse of keeping their center from burning. Isolated images of his lips stretching, laughing and drinking cruelly of my suffering taunted me. My skin recreated random touches here and there, crawling with the intensity... Then... the first shock: his hands exploring me freely, a finger bravely thrusting inside me, gentle and decided, and his eyes studying my every reaction, holding me down like a fascinating experiment and thrusting deeper to measure how much my spine could arch. It was an unwelcome feeling of invasion, of utter vulnerability and imminent danger! And yet I couldn't keep my body still while he touched me ... I couldn't keep my breath from picking up so fast!

My lids grew dark, closed – two simultaneous invasions inflicted by Sycamore as he held me by the insides, his finger bending like a hook between my legs, and his tongue exploring my mouth, squeezing and biting my burning lips against his appetite.

The towel was pulled... I looked away, still conscious enough to blush – Sycamore snickered, deriving pleasure from my silly avoidance of looking at the hard member I had felt myself continuously pressed against – however, this time he resisted the urge of forcing me onto my fear, as he declaredly liked to do. He whispered that I could close my eyes if I wanted to – I did.

My thighs became very sensitive under his touch now that I didn't look at him... he moved them up, apart; I struggled against the scary temptation of pulling them back together. The altered perception my mind kept shifting to his strangled moan, to his arching breath... to the sting of pain that drew blood, that enlarged, squeezed inside, stretched, moved... and maddened! I felt him inside me – filling a tight space I could swear wasn't there before, as if he had created it for himself. I'd have thought myself unable to move when thus invaded – still, immobilized, fragile even – as if I could break if stirred against the hard member filling such a strange space inside me... But Sycamore's broad arms proved me wrong as they rocked me around, moved and bent me in different ways as the invasion shifted in speed, intensity and his moaning breath delighted itself into my ears.

When I came to again, I held a breast in one hand, teasing the sensation his forceful fingers had left on the soft tissue there when caught in his irresistible fury – during which he smiled through and through, making sure my face was positioned where he could see it. My lips had also opened up to the air, recreating the kiss of his large tongue... I came to my senses, though my body still burned, and looked around: I was alone under his sheets – the silk wraps blending with the bed, tainted... like he said they would be.

I picked up his robe from the floor, put it around me and got up – the first few steps were no easy task, as my legs were numb and weak. Luckily no one was there to notice the embarrassment of me realizing how oddly my body responded, and how many different sensations it bore at once, of bruise and urge: The living room was empty, and so was the kitchen, with the exception of a note on top of the cabinet. I was reminded of how beautiful Sycamore's handwriting was...

"Gone to the market, back in no time!", and a heart scribbled on the back of the note. I glanced at it for too long, then slid the paper inside the robe pocket, meaning to keep it.

Exploring the kitchen, I found an open cook-book covered in flour, next to an interrupted dough inside a mixer and a few eggshells spread across the sink: the recipe was for waffles, but apparently some ingredient was discovered missing a little too late. I couldn't help but smile picturing Sycamore diligently preparing a warming breakfast before I could wake up... and his frustrated expression in realizing he was short of something.

I walked around the house in an autistic distraction: I hovered a finger over every surface, on each corner, while chewing on memories and on thoughts from last night. It was scary, indeed! The single memory brought back the swirling in my stomach... but it was also like nothing I had ever felt before!

"Are you afraid?" his voice echoed in my memory, its sound hardly changed by memory's distortion. "Yes..." I moaned inside the confuse vortex, watching his smile stretch through a blurred vision "Yes... but you like it... Don't you?" I asked in a pitiful resentment. His smile stretched farther, his eyes narrowed then, and his palm held my face. "I do like it..." was his blunt, cruel reply "...you don't know how ardent it makes me feel!" and here, in my memory, the song of his voice changed "but If I enter you now, it will only be hurtful for you..." and it was then that his merciful fingers began moving me, comforting me... and making me moan. I stopped the hovering and touching on the shelves of his living room then, slightly touched by that memory. The burned scented candles were still there from the first time I occupied his house... it made me miss having his arms wrapped around me!

I now recollected clearly the pleasing smile stretching across his face as he first penetrated me and I squeezed in pain... And how his eyes drank from mine while I was terrified. He couldn't deny it – nor did he try to! – how much pleasing it all looked to him: how much my torment excited him! But he was careful nevertheless... He moved slowly, directing my feelings as best as he could through my reactions... making it so it would feel to me as it did to him. It was a long night of very intense feelings: pleasure, pain, fear... and my heart throbbing filled with an agonizing life - because I was with him... because I utterly, hopelessly adored him! For some reason, the resolution hurt me!

I suppose I secretly hoped that, in sleeping with him, I would put an end to that helplessness I felt in his presence. I hoped I would be free, not enthralled by heavier chains as my sensitive body suggested!

I took a quick shower under those thoughts – changed into my casual clothes coexisting with them, then sat on the couch in the living room. I was little to no surprised in finding there, next to me, a small chest with all my Pokeballs in it – it was not surprising that the Professor had retrieved them for me... Not surprising that he had no trouble or scruples against hacking into my account, invading my computer and bringing them out. I can't say, however, that his long reach didn't at least slightly intimidate me - The easily attained control he had over my feelings, my whereabouts and now even over my storage! With or without this new piece of realization, I felt it was time to leave. I picked up my bag, the rest of my stuff and went through the front door. The day was bright, warm, not too sunny... I was headed to a city called Laverre where I could gain my next gym badge and forget I ever slept with him. It felt right...

It felt suitably coward...