Pleasing The Professor (The Professor's Student Series Book 1) Read online

  I had joined the BDSM community when I was younger. Eighteen to be exact. I had trained as a sub and worked my way to Dom through training and gaining the respect of the leaders. By my twenty-first birthday, they had agreed I was ready for my own submissive.

  Lena was beautiful. Tall, perfect breasts, virgin. Her darkened skin brought fire to me every time we played. My body craved her touch, but not the way I was craving Dora. I needed Dora on a primal level that I couldn’t understand.

  With Lena, though, it had been fun. We were playing one night and decided to go further than we had before. She wanted me to tie her up, like one of the pictures we had seen online. I started tying, knowing we should have called Dom Jared, we were supposed to be supervised trying new things. Somewhere along the line, I’d tied a knot wrong, and it slipped the rope up around her neck from her shoulders, effectively transforming the once harmless rope into a noose. I didn’t know until it was too late. With her airway blocked, and her hands and feet tied, she couldn’t struggle or call her safe word to let me know something was wrong.

  When I asked her how she was doing and got no response from her, I checked on her. It wasn’t uncommon for her to speak softly when she was highly aroused. Her eyes were rolled into the back of her head, and she was pale. I panicked and called Dom Jared, telling him what had happened.

  He calmed me and took care of Lena. I cleaned the room and tried to turn myself into the Yard, but since there was no body or evidence, they sent me home. I often wondered what had happened to her body, since the Yard never contacted me again. Dom Jared told me not to worry about things I couldn’t control, but this was something I should have controlled better than I did. He had only shaken his head at me that night and told me to stop worrying about it, because he was going to take care of everything.

  I’d found peace in my soul knowing I had done what I could, and I allowed myself to move on. No one ever spoke of Lena again, and I didn’t plan on telling anyone about her. Unless someone were to find her body. Since that night, though, I had avoided this room. I knew what brought me here, though. Dora. I wanted to bring her here, whip her, teach her to be mine. Ruin her so she would only belong to me.

  Going up the short flight of stairs that led to the patio, I opened the doors, letting the cool fall breeze in. The air was refreshing and replenished the room of more than just the stagnant oxygen. It helped fade the bad memories of that night, so I could make new ones. Happier ones, I hoped. Turning I scrutinized the room to see what I would have to do to get it back into shape and ready for play.

  Besides obviously being in need of a bad cleaning, I mean I could see my bloody footprints in the dust, I had to replace several of the toys. I had never brought anyone else down here, even after I had finished my training. I had buried myself in my studies, and the guilt of that night had been enough to scare me from trying again. I had found it therapeutic to try to move on. I left the community and hadn’t ventured back, even if it was still in my soul. My mind kept wandering to my past in this room. It was still so heavily connected.

  Sighing, I walked back upstairs, making a mental note to come back later and close the patio doors for the night. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, stilling as Dora’s face slid through my mind. Her shirt a mess, braless, her neckline barely hiding her bare breasts from me. I imagined her leaning against the wall to my kitchen, motioning me … no, drawing me to her with a finger while I watched her run her other hand down her front, toying with the hem of her shirt. It was then that I noticed, she wasn’t wearing anything but a shirt.

  Smiling ruefully, she turned and guided me to the bathroom, where I set the shower. I was ready for a release, even if she wasn’t physically there to give it to me. I slid from my trousers, staring at myself in the mirror, wishing I was talking with Dora, not this imagined succubus. Knowing I couldn’t help it, though, I let my thoughts run wild.

  “Dora, Sweet One. Come, help me with this. What do you say?” I asked the woman in my head.

  She dropped to her knees in front of me and smiled. Her plump, plum lips ready, hooded eyes begging me to tell her what to do.

  “Yes, Professor. I would love to help you solve your problem.” I could hear her sultry voice hum in my head as I took my cock in my hand. I was sliding my hand along my shaft, absently watching myself in the mirror. In my mind, Dora was taking me deep into her mouth, eyes closing in ecstasy as she swallowed me whole.

  I couldn’t let the fact that it was my hand doing all the work bother me. I was too focused on my fantasy. Watching her suck me off in my head was doing wonders. I was lost in the moment, pulling her hair as I fucked her mouth. I felt my shaft harden, and my balls pinch right before my orgasm took me, and I came all over the counter, mirror, and to my chagrin, myself.

  Frustrated with myself, I took a quick shower to wash the day away, while I attempted to cling to the fantasy before I settled down for the night. If I was going to survive tomorrow, I needed a good night’s sleep.

  Chapter Four

  Dora

  The jet lag was still in control of my being as I awoke just after four am, wide awake, and riddled with anxiety. I’d fallen asleep holding my sweater. It smelled like the interior of his car. I pulled the woolen fabric to my face, inhaling the musky scent of old books.

  “Mm,” I hummed to myself, curled up the twin sized bed in my small room. I allowed out a huff, beyond frustrated with myself.

  I was running from a spoiled reputation, and here I discovered myself in a predicament, something that could honestly ruin my chances of having a clean rep, lusting for my professor.

  Rolling my body to my back, I stared up at the plain stucco ceiling. His face was clear as day in my mind. I saw the sensual blue of his eyes behind the rectangular frames of his glasses. The smile on his alluring lips, drawing me in. I was already in so deep, I couldn’t back out now, the buzzing between my thighs was already much too strong.

  The cotton of the new bedsheets brushed my bare arm as I drew my hand along my stomach, down toward my hips and the band of my panties. I bit down on my lip as I slipped my fingers under the elastic and down to my awaiting slit.

  I moaned softly as I dipped my finger inside, it was immediately engulfed in the warm and soaking heat of my core. It was as if I could hear his voice in my head coaxing me, “You’re so wet for me, Dora.”

  “Yes, Professor, always for you,” I mumbled aloud, finding my clit and beginning to rub at the aching nub of pleasure.

  “Let me satisfy you,” his voice hummed in my ears.

  “Yes, please Professor, fuck me.”

  I was a mess of desires for a man I barely knew. Thinking of his fingers deep in my heat, giving me pleasure I hadn’t really known.

  There were only two other guys in my past. My first boyfriend in high school, who I gave my virginity to on prom night. He’d gone out of the way to book us a room at the Holiday Inn after the night of dancing. It wasn’t exactly when I wanted to do it, but I gave into the pressure.

  My other boyfriend was a guy I dated my freshman year of college, the year I suddenly bloomed. I was a late bloomer. The summer before starting college, I got my braces off and finally got the boobs I’d prayed for since middle school. I seriously thought I’d be flat chested Dora for the rest of my life, but then BAM, the tits appeared, and those seemed to be a boy magnet.

  In my freshman year, I met my ex, he was a sweetheart, or so I thought, and a math major. The sex was okay for what little experience I had. I thought I was in love, until he graduated, leaving me behind like a nasty taste in his mouth.

  Removing those guys from my mind, I thought of only Ramsey, my professor. His charm, wit, and intelligence were unmatched, and with those looks of his, he threatened the single thread holding my sanity together.

  My free hand ventured up my thin spaghetti tank top, grazing over my hardened nipple, coaxing a gasp from my throat. I thought of all Ramsey would do to me, he had this air about him, it was dominating and ma
de me want to follow his every command.

  I pinched my swollen peak, moaning softly as I did so, imagining Ramsey’s fingers doing what mine were in lieu of his.

  A tingling sensation erupted in my belly and quickly began to entrap my entire body in its bliss. Rubbing faster at my clit, I bit down harder on my lip to keep from yelling out in the elation of my climax.

  “Professor.” The whisper escaped my lips.

  Thinking of his face, what it would look like, clearly pleased with his handy work of getting me off. I rolled to the side, my eyes drifting closed, falling back into the sleep I knew I needed. Energy and a strong will were the only things that would get me through his class.

  The loud serenading of a voice jolted me from my slumber. I groaned and peeled my eyes open. I glanced at the clock on the tiny wooden bedside table. It was ten minutes until seven when my alarm was set to wake me.

  “What in the world?” I questioned aloud as I dragged my body from bed.

  My room had gotten warm in the night, and I’d discarded my pajama pants on the floor. Picking them up, I slid them over my legs and went toward my door. I opened it to an empty hall, the voice still singing loudly and the lyrics of I’m Every Woman echoing through the deserted hall.

  It didn’t take too much investigation to find that the singing was coming from the room directly next door to mine. Approaching the door, I rapped on it loudly three times.

  “Woah, Woah, Woah!” the voice sang before the door swung open.

  Standing before me was a young man about my age, he wore a leopard print moo moo, his dirty blonde hair messy as if he must have woken up that way, and earbuds in his ears.

  “Excuse me,” I began in frustration.

  “Huh?” he asked before realizing he still had his buds in. “Oh sorry, dear.” he mused in embarrassment as he removed them.

  “Hi, I’m your neighbor, and you just woke me up with your very nice, but very loud singing. Can you keep it down?” I asked, trying to be as polite as possible. Though, this guy had just woken me up with his inconsiderate wailing.

  “Goodness, I’m so fucking sorry!” He threw his hands over his face in embarrassment. “I was practicing my lip sync, and I think I got carried away. Serves me right, though. At least I hope my singing was good or did I sound like a dying monkey?”

  I giggled. “No, it was really good actually. I enjoyed it, just not so early.”

  “That’s at least good. I’m Simon by the way. Simon Bailey.” He extended his hand to mine. I shook it. “And you dear are American.”

  “I am. I’m Dorothy Monroe, but please, just call me Dora,” I introduced, happy to have met someone. “And you, Simon, must be a Whitney fan.”

  “Whitney, my dear Whitney, my late Queen.” He wiped away a mock tear. Simon already seemed to be a fella with a flair for the dramatic. He reminded me very much of my little brother.

  I couldn’t help but laugh at my flashy and kooky neighbor. My year with him living next door would, no doubt, be entertaining.

  “It is very nice to meet you, Simon. I should start getting ready for class. It’s a pretty far walk from here, and I should leave early to keep from being late like I was yesterday. Though, I will definitely see you around,” I expressed to him.

  “Most definitely, Dorothy-Dear!” he cooed happily.

  “Dora,” I corrected.

  “No, you’re Dorothy-Dear.” He flashed me a smile that made me shake my head. With a wave, I allowed him to close his door as I headed back to my room.

  Getting ready, I’d gotten the song Simon was singing stuck in my head and hummed it to myself. I pulled my light gray chiffon top over my head. Paired with my dark skinny jeans, I caught myself, the girl who rarely wore makeup, putting a light dusting of eyeshadow on my eyes, and brushing my lips with a touch of tinted gloss.

  The walk to my class was a long one, I cursed myself for picking a class so far from my residence, but then again, without that class, I wouldn’t know Ramsey. During the walk, several other students passed like lightning on bikes. I made a mental note to get myself a bike ASAP.

  Arriving at the classroom, I mentally prepared myself for the moment I’d see him again. I took a breath before opening the door to the lecture hall to find he was nowhere to been seen.

  With a breath, I stepped into the classroom that was peppered with students. Taking the stairs down to the spot I’d been assigned due to my late arrival the day before, smack dab in the middle of the front row, I wondered where he was.

  In the final minutes leading to the scheduled start of class, the room quickly filled to capacity with all my fellow students taking their seats. At the final minute, when the room was naturally hushed, the door opened. My head shot around and there he was.

  As if a magnetic energy took us, our eyes met before he looked away and his eyes went over the room. I looked forward, and in only moments he was at the front of the room, throwing his worn leather satchel onto the desk, removing his gray tweed jacket and placing it on the back of his chair.

  My eyes refused to leave him as I watched his every move. He removed a few folders from his bag, one he took into his hands before standing and facing the room.

  “Good Morning class,” he said as he leaned against his desk, hand in one pocket of his dark khaki pants, the other holding the folder. “I apologize for being here a tad later than normal. Let’s get started right away, shall we?”

  He began taking roll. Reading off the names of students in alphabetical order as he’d done on the first day.

  “Amber Milton,” he called before nodding, acknowledging a student at the back of the room. “Dora ... Monroe.” The way my name rolled off his lips, sensual and inviting. I raised my hand slightly, his eyes on me, glancing over his glasses, almost undressing me. I looked away, my cheeks warming at his intense gaze. “Frederick Pearson.” He moved on with the attendance.

  There was something about watching him lecture. His dedication to his profession and English Literature was shining through his every word. He taught with a passion and conviction that drew me into the lesson, my hand jotting down notes in my notebook.

  Throughout his lecture, I watched his eyes as they frequently landed on me, watching me, studying me, calling me.

  “Now, who has started To Kill a Mockingbird?” he questioned as he turned back to the class from the chalkboard.

  Timidly, I raised my hand. His blue eyes were on me right away, a smirk lining the end of his lips before he searched around the rest of the room.

  “Only Dora?” he questioned before letting out a frustrated huff. “Okay, I think I see a couple more hands, but that’s all. Who can tell me a little bit about the book? Who is telling the story?”

  I waited a second as he stepped to his desk, slender fingers tapping on the wood. A look of disappointment washing over him. I raised my hand.

  “Yes, Dora.”

  “Umm,” I nervously began. “The book takes place in Maycomb County Alabama, and the book is in the POV of Scout Finch. She’s telling the story of a part of her childhood as an adult.”

  “Thank you very much, Dora, for actually beginning the material. It seems that Dora’s arms will be getting a workout in this class as the rest of you lack the enthusiasm and motivation to do the required reading.” He cracked his knuckles as he spoke, clearly disgruntled. “It looks like we’ve run out of time today. Next class, come prepared. Read chapters one to ten in To Kill a Mockingbird as well as pages ten to forty in your textbook. Your first character sketch assignment will be due, and always be prepared for a quiz on any of the reading.”

  He was barely finished as students around me were throwing their supplies into their bags and standing to fight their way from the room. I, on the other hand, jotted down his words in my notebook and waited for him to finish before I began to pack away my things.

  Swallowing hard, I wasn’t sure if I should say anything to him or not. When I looked up, he was occupied with putting his things away. I dec
ided against it and began to ascend the staircase.

  “Leaving without a goodbye?” his voice called to me in the classroom that was now empty besides the two of us.

  I sharply turned and faced him, he leaned against his desk, relaxed yet controlling the air. I inhaled at the authority his presence held over the large classroom.

  “I take it you got some rest?” he questioned, picking up his satchel from the desk and strolling in my direction.

  “Yes, sir, I did,” I answered as he approached me.

  “I’m glad.”

  He took a step toward me, I stepped backward, nearly tumbling over the stair, but I managed to catch myself on the edge of a desk before whirling back to him, using the surface to keep my stance.

  “You okay?” he asked quickly lunging toward me to assist after my embarrassing fumble.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, just being a klutz apparently.” I nervously giggled.

  “Random thought, why do you go by Dora rather than Dorothy?” he asked, placing his hands in his pockets, seeming rather relaxed as he questioned me.

  “I hate my name, Dorothy is such an old woman name. My mom, she’s into Old Hollywood. Her favorite actress is Dorothy Dandridge, and there’s where I got my name. My brother’s name is Sidney after--”

  “Sidney Poitier,” he answered quickly.

  “Yeah. I prefer going by Dora. My grandma always called me Dora and it kind of stuck. I like it better anyways.” I shrugged.

  “I like it too,” he hummed, eyes glazing over.

  “Err—I better go I suppose,” I breathed as we stood for that moment together, pulled into the quiet of the room.

  “Yes, umm—let me get the door for you.” He rushed before her jogging up the last few stairs to open the door.

  I slipped by him, his body heat enticing me as I passed, taking a whiff of his spicy and citrus scent. I closed my eyes for the smallest second, taking in his aroma, wanting it wrapped around me. Upon opening my eyes, I glanced up into his face.