Mafia in College 7 (Patreon)

Since I didn’t hold teaching in high regard, usually I didn’t feel any excitement as I walked towards the classroom. Most days, it was yet another boring session where we dissected the writings that long lost their relevance. But today was an exception, which was more about the changes in my students rather than the topic of discussion. Two of them, in particular, Megan and Camilla, a red-haired heiress with a personality to match, and her Latino fling with a body die for, whom I managed to suborn after a particularly ill-thought attempt to ruin my career. 

With all that was going on, for once, I was going to the classroom earlier than the required time, wanting to be in the classroom before they arrived. After what happened at last night’s visit, my new toy -assistant, I corrected in my mind with a smirk- was likely in a fragile state, and spending time alone with Megan risked reversing her progress. Coming to the classroom ten minutes earlier was a small price to prevent such an occurrence. 

It proved a wise choice. Camilla had come to the class five minutes before the start, wearing jeans and a conservative shirt, true to her usual standards of dressing. An attempt to compensate for the last night, no doubt. When our eyes met, a sudden blush assaulted her face, but she managed to hide it before another student could take note of it. She took her path towards the front row, trusting for my presence to blunt Megan’s assault, but I had other ideas. I gestured her to sit one of the seats on the back of the classroom. She was obedient enough to follow it, especially after I followed up with a stiff glare to reinforce the message.

Then Megan walked inside, two minutes before the class officially started. I could see more than one student looking surprised at her unexpected arrival. “Well, isn’t that a rare sight. Our resident princess decides to come the class early for once,” I said, referring to Megan’s habit of arriving late, and in a way that would be quite annoying if I had the slightest concern about the subject I was teaching, or the official authority I had as an instructor. Normally, Megan would have entered the classroom five to ten minutes late, her thin-heeled shoes clicking loudly in every unhurried step she took, her smirk telling that she was aware just how big of a distraction she was being, and enjoying every single moment of it. 

But not today. Her clothing was the only thing that hadn’t changed, sexy as always. A loose short skirt, combined with a tight tank-top, both dark red to reflect her negative yet angry mood, searching for her target to explode. She had a red leather jacket on top, and dark makeup to complete her dangerous image. Of course, it was really hard to pull a dangerous aura with designer clothes, and it hadn’t needed pointing out that Megan failed in it. 

But the rest was unusual. Her haughty expression was replaced by stark annoyance, though students seemed obvious to it as Megan quickly glanced around. Front rows at first, looking for Camilla in her usual seat, though several seconds later she managed to notice Camilla was sitting on the back of the class, whose efforts to make herself unseen had just failed. 

Anger was in her steps as she climbed the classroom stairs. I wasn’t surprised by her mood shift. She had been blackmailed humiliatingly less than a day ago, and Camilla’s sudden silence couldn’t have helped. I started talking about today’s topic halfheartedly, keeping one eye between Megan and Camilla. Her earlier capitulation in my hands hadn’t helped my regard towards Camilla’s willpower, and I didn’t Megan to waste a whole night’s effort, which she seemed to do effectively. I wasn’t able to hear what she was whispering, but her aggressive gestures were enough for me to take a wild stab at them. And Camilla’s expression told me that she was not far away from breaking. 

I had no intention of allowing Megan to achieve her objective. “Miss Collins,” I suddenly called, referring Megan with her surname. “Why don’t you explain your precious insights to the whole classroom,” I added. 

The classroom fell silent, surprised, all of them turning toward Megan, trying to see what she had done to trigger me. I didn’t blame them. It was the first time I called someone about their behavior in the class explicitly. I could see a blush creeping up Megan’s neck, disliking the attention she hadn’t receive in her own terms. Still, her voice was quite even as she spoke. “Sorry, professor, but we were discussing a personal matter. I’ll make sure to keep my voice lower.” 

She assumed it was it, already turning back towards Camilla. “I’m afraid it won’t do,” I said, and just like that, her attention was back on me. “It’s one thing that you are not paying attention to my lesson, Miss Collins. Unfortunately, I’m used to it. But by distracting other students, you cross the line. Come sit on the front row, please. If you’re going to insist on acting like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.” 

It was amusing to watch the seeds of another rage explosion appear on her face. “Are you serious?” she murmured in shock. I just nodded, letting my smirk widen in a very peculiar way, like how it was just before I had stolen a kiss off her pouty lips. “This is bullshit,” she added as she took her stuff. She started walking, each step a thunder. I didn’t say anything until she passed the first row of seats and turned towards the entrance. “You can leave of course,” I added. “But let me remind you that you’re already risking to fail, and your spotty attendance is not exactly helping. If you step out, I cannot guarantee that you won’t receive an F.” 

I was lucky that she didn’t have any superhero heat gaze, because if she had, I would have been vaporized in a moment under the heat of her fury. I wanted to let my smirk widen even further, to make her know that it was just another intentional dig I prepared in the way of ruining her, but I kept my expression neutral, not wanting to anger her to a point she found a failing grade acceptable. “Okay,” she murmured, her voice laced with venom, and she took a seat on the first row. 

I struggled not to make a victory sign when I saw her sitting on the uttermost left seat, which was partially covered by a support beam that bulged from the wall. And since none of my other students preferred to sit on the first row, Megan was mostly hidden from the view of the other students. A perfect development. 

I didn’t bother to say anything when more than one student reached for their phones, filling the school gossip mill with their perceptions about what had just happened. Megan glared them, hoping to stem the tide, but her glare was not effective, the fingers continued to dance over the keyboards of their phones. 

I continued to teach, waiting for the excitement to lessen. Five minutes later, I walked back to my desk, and opened my burner phone under my desk, hidden from the view. From there, I sent a message to Megan. ‘I heard even that loser teacher had put you in your place. First, failing to protect our sacred recordings, and now, humiliated by a no-name assistant. What a shame. One might think that you’re losing your touch, our dear leader.’ 

When she pulled the phone, annoyance was the dominant emotion on her face. The message managed to shift that into anger. Her fingers drummed on her phone, and her reply appeared on my screen a second later, which I read from the corner of my eye. ‘What are you talking about?’ she asked, trying to deflect the situation. 

‘Everyone is already talking about it, which is yet another failure. You are clearly lax in establishing your authority if the rest of the students could gossip about you this easily.’ 

‘What do you want?’ Megan wrote back, trying to go into the root of the issue rather than lengthening the discussion pointlessly. 

‘I want you to take revenge against that insolent man. What he had done is unacceptable,’ I typed. 

‘It’s nice to see you care,’ came the sarcastic reply. 

‘Don’t be absurd, I wouldn’t have cared even if that man bent you over in the middle of the classroom and spanked you, if the other students hadn’t seen you. But your role in the sorority makes it an insult to me as well, which I find unacceptable. You need to make him pay.’ 

‘What I’m going to do in the middle of the class, flash him?’ she wrote back.   

‘Yes,’ I wrote back, and an expression of total shock passed over her face, her mouth agape. “Miss Megan,” I said loudly. “Do I need to take your phone as well?” 

“Sorry, professor,” she answered in a panic, clearly not willing to lose her phone right now. ‘What the fuck are you talking about!’ she wrote after I returned to presenting my lesson. 

‘Simple, I want him looking at you with obvious arousal, and with a tent on his pants. With that, it would look like he was picking you up to get a better view under your skirt, making his poor impulse control responsible.’ 

‘Amazing solution! It only requires me humiliating myself,’ she wrote, the anger that invaded her face intensifying to a point that didn’t allow anything else, so much that I was surprised she didn’t smash her phone against the wall. 

‘That is an acceptable trade-off for me, as long as rest of the students doesn’t realize it,’ I wrote, then sent a second one before she could reply. ‘That’s all I’m going to say. Do it, or I call the alumni council about your poor leadership. And don’t forget, I have a couple of friends that are telling me what’s going on in the classroom. You better perform to my satisfaction, or more accurately, to his satisfaction.’ 

It was a credit to her health that Megan didn’t suffer a heart attack or a stroke in her anger. She typed a couple more messages, but her mysterious blackmailer ignored them, leaving her on the verge of an explosion. Seconds passed as she managed to suppress her anger, in which she was partially successful. The anger was still apparent on her face, but at least she didn’t look at the verge of a stroke. 

But she did nothing else after managing to control her anger. Minutes passed, and I was about to write off my plan as a failure when Megan raised her hand. “Go ahead,” I said. 

“Professor,” she said with a sweet voice that had no bearing to her real feelings. “I’m not sure I understood the last part. Could you repeat why parallelism is important in there.” It was a pointless question that had little to do with the topic I was explaining, not that I found it annoying. The important thing was not her question, but the fact that her legs were parted open enough to inform me about her choice of the panties for the day, a g-string that matched colors with her jacket. 

If it had caught me with a surprise, it might have affected me negatively, but not when I was prepared. I still let my eyes to dip down a moment, informing Megan that I indeed noticed what she was trying to do. I let my eyes grow slightly, enough to be noticed by someone that knew what she was looking, before pulling them away and launching a short explanation about her question, namely, why it was irrelevant, and why she needed to be more attentive while listening to me. 

My action was enough for Megan to notice, but it stayed hidden from other students, who weren’t paying much attention to my lecture. During the explanation, she closed her legs a couple of times, only to open them wider every time, with her skirt sliding upwards with every repeat. Once again, I was careful not to gaze it by any more than a glancing view. There was no point of letting her succeed after all the effort that went into setting her up. 

I could see desperation growing on her face with each passing second. She grabbed the edge of her tank-top, surreptitiously pulling it down, creating a nice cleavage on her shirt. I let my gaze dip down into her amazing valley for a second, trying to show her that her efforts weren’t in vain completely, but still far from the success. She pulled her shirt even lower, but this time, enough to risk revealing her areolas, but the only thing she was able to get from me was another moment’s gaze. Still, I admired her. She was using her location, covered by the support beam, to the maximum impact. Too bad the game she was trying to win was rigged from the start.   

With her latest plan failing to bring the desired impact, she stilled, thinking about the next step. My gaze flickered over her occasionally, enjoying her cleavage, which she hadn’t bothered to fix. But her next move was a nice surprise for me. Her hand disappeared under her skirt. When it appeared once again, it was dragging a particular baby-blue colored string along. That one managed to put a slackened expression on my face for a moment, surprised by her courage to remove her panties in the middle of the class. Maybe I had been underestimating the importance of that sorority thing for the girls. 

She raised her legs to pull her panties, a move that treated me with a perfect view of her slit, helped by the looseness of her skirt. I let my gaze fell to that. Her panties disappeared into her bag. She deserved a victory for her daring, I decided, trying to plan the best way of letting her off the hook. Of course, she managed to make me change my mind soon after. Her lips turned into a smirk that simultaneously managed to announce her upcoming victory and informed me that I was an inferior being, unable to resist her perfection. 

Just like that, I decided against giving her any reprieve. I pulled my gaze away from her and walked to my desk. I checked my normal phone, and put it back in a calculated image of carelessness while leaving its video-recording function running, its camera pointed towards Megan. 

Her victorious expression replaced with another frown as I continued the lesson, acting impervious to her shenanigans. Soon, angry sparks joined her expression, and she didn’t even bother to hide them. Instead, she pulled her skirt up, removing its already restricted ability to hide her nether lips. She brought her hand there, but instead of using her fingers to hide, two of them delved into her tunnel, starting to masturbate in the middle of the lesson. 

It was an impressive display of dedication. She could be valedictorian of the school if she had bothered to show half of that commitment to course material. I continued teaching the lesson, only paying occasional glance to the sexy redhead that was playing with herself. I turned my gaze to Camilla, who was watching me with a confused gaze. She clearly had a good idea of what was going on, but she knew neither the reason, nor its true extent. 

The situation continued without a change, except her fingers, which started to move with a desperate hurry, afraid that she was about to fail her task. I didn’t bother to look at her, fanning her desperation even more. “And that’s it for today,” I suddenly called, a few minutes before the scheduled time, leaving Megan scrambling to cover her body. She pulled her shirt to its previous place, her legs sealed shut, her head lowered to hide the blooming panic. 

The students get out one by one, but I gestured Camilla to stop before she could leave. “Can you visit me in my office tomorrow at noon,” I said her. “I have something I want to discuss with you that you might be interested in.” She left as well, leaving only Megan in the classroom. I walked to my desk, stopped the recording before engaging the voice recorder. When I turned to Megan, I saw her trying to leave the class. “Where do you think you’re going,” I said. 

“The lesson is over, isn’t it,” she shot back angrily, but I was wordy enough to know that her anger was paper thin, and her face was red with embarrassment. After all, she had spent most of the lesson masturbating, and to insult to injury, failed to impress her target with it. 

“For the others,” I said. “There are still a couple of things we need to go over.”

“I’m not interested,” she said. She continued to walk towards the door. 

“If that’s what you prefer,” I added, and she continued. “I would walk directly with the administration if you’re unwilling to resolve it,” I added, and her steps froze. 

“You wouldn’t,” she spat as she turned with great speed, a movement that treated me with the full view of her lower half as her skirt fluttered. 

“Why wouldn’t I,” I answered calmly. “It’s clear that you’re trying to get both of us kicked out of the school with your ridiculous antics. I’m just trying to save my job.” 

“You think the administration would believe you before me?” she said with a laugh. “All it would take a sob story about the big-bad professor threatening me with bad grades, and you’re history.” 

“You’re right,” I said, surprising her. “Or more accurately, you would have been right, if I hadn’t been recording the lesson for reference, to identify my own improvement points.” And just like that, her skin turned whiter than a supremacist rally. 

“You what!” she exclaimed. 

“I said I have been recording the lesson for my personal reference.” A smirk danced on my lips. “Of course, I wasn’t expecting it to net some scenes that would fit perfectly for some late night distraction, but that’s luck.” 

“You…” she stammered, unable to continue for a moment. “You pervert!” 

“Keep it low if you don’t want others to come here,” I warned her. “And I don’t think you could call someone pervert, miss I-masturbate-in-classrooms.” She coughed in shock, not expecting me to call her this explicitly. “What do you have to say for yourself,” I added. She said nothing, realizing, for the first time, the stupid situation she had pushed herself in. “Miss Collins, an answer please,” I said. 

“It was a bet,” she said, her voice a bit more than a whisper. “The girls in the sorority dared me for it, and I didn’t think much about it. I’m sorry, professor,” she said, her expression turned into a fake vulnerability. The shift was impressive, though obviously not enough to trick me. 

“Apology not accepted,” I said, and her fake expression melted instantly, leaving anger alone on her face. “I’m not in the habit of acting nice to people who tries to ruin my life, Miss Collins, so you need to work better before convincing me to your sincerity.” 

“How,” she murmured. 

“Let me show you,” I said before suddenly starting walking towards her. I let my teaching persona to crack, giving her a glimpse of my true personality. Not fully, of course. I didn’t want her run away screaming, or faint helplessly. Just enough to make her realize that she was messing with someone she didn’t fully comprehend.

As I walked towards her, she walked back, trying to avoid me. But she lacked the awareness to realize that she was walking deeper into the classroom as she tried to avoid me. She realized it when her back hit to a wall, but it was too late to do something. I was already in front of her, cutting her path to escape. Even better, the weird shape of the wall blocked the view from the entrance. 

“So, Megan,” I whispered. “Do you have a guess what is next.” 

“N-no,” she stammered, gasping slightly. 

“Let me enlighten you then,” I said, and pressed one of my hands to her shoulder, pinning her in place. The other slid underneath her skirt, caressing her wet folds. 

“What are you-” she tried to exclaim, but I had no intention of letting her finish her sentence. And, since my hands were currently busy, the task fell to my lips. I pressed mine against hers, enjoying her warmth. Her mouth opened in shock, and I leveraged the opportunity to slide my tongue into her mouth. She stiffened even more. I knew how to loosen her up. Two of my fingers disappeared into her wet tunnel, dancing inside her mercilessly. 

It took a while for her to start reacting, and her hands found my chest. She tried to push me away, but it was a soft one, lacking conviction, easy to ignore. I continued. Her next attempt to push me away came from her tongue, trying to launch an ineffectual counterattack to balance my assault. Not only that one failed as well, but also its only effect was to increase the pleasure I was feeling even further. 

I let my hand, the one that was on her shoulder, to travel lower, until it found the edge of her top. I didn’t waste any time before pulling it down, though I was careful not to rip it off. The last thing I needed was the gossip it would create if someone saw a student with a ripped top leaving my class. Still, I pulled her top enough to put her bra on display, a flimsy piece that barely resisted when I pulled it down as well, leaving her tits bare for my attention. 

I didn’t lose any time before sinking my fingers into their expanse, tasting their softness, their malleability. I could feel her lips trembling as she moaned helplessly, the taste of cherry filling my mouth. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than whipping my cock free, and taking her hard until she begged for mercy, her body trembling with orgasm. 

Unfortunately, the location was not conducive for that, so I did the only thing I could. I pulled back without a warning, leaving her gaping with the sudden absence. She stumbled forward, her trembling legs unable to keep her weight, and she found herself on her knees. It was a perfect position to introduce her to my rod, but someone could come in any second. “That was just a sample of what might happen if you try to push your luck, cutie,” I said. “Think hard before trying anything else. You have been warned.” 

Before she could process her shock, I walked away, leaving my student behind, gaping in shock, and trembling with the sudden absence of pleasure…