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2025-09-30 18:26:00POV Matthew
I was fucked.No, literally. Fucked.It was early—like birds-arguing-over-crumbs early—when Ava dropped me off outside my apartment. The sky was barely turning gray, the streets still soaked from last night’s rain.She didn’t even look at me when I stepped out of the car. Just rested her fingers on the steering wheel and said, “I’ll text you about the next time.”And I nodded. Like a toddler.Like a fucking toddler who didn’t know how to speak yet.I stood there in the dark, blinking like an idiot while her red taillights disappeared into the street. My legs felt like noodles. My spine felt like it had been removed.And my brain? That thing hadn’t rebooted since she told me to strip.When I walked inside, the place was silent. Thank God. The last thing I needed was Riley or Alex making some stupid comment about the fact I looked like I’d just been eaten alive and spit back out.Which, to be fair, I had.Ava wrecked the sh
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Bend me over, Professor 94
I built my empire on one simple truth: everyone has a price. Some people want money, others want power, a few want revenge. But everyone—everyone—wants something badly enough to compromise their principles.Floris Middleton was supposed to be no different.Sia handed her the cocktail dress at exactly 3:47 PM. "Corporate networking event in Rotterdam," she explained clinically. "TimeCorp's quarterly launch party. Timothy Hartwell will be there."I watched through security feeds as Floris held up the navy silk dress—expensive enough to open doors, subtle enough not to scream corporate spy."This looks like it costs more than my rent," Floris said."Mr. Brighton's events require appropriate attire.""And my job is to…?""Network. Listen. Report back on TimeCorp's surveillance contracts with the European Union."Standard corporate intelligence. The kind of thing I'd orchestrated for years without a second thought.What I didn't expect was finding myse
Bend me over, Professor 93
“I don’t like to repeat myself.”The words slipped through the speaker, low and unhurried. I didn’t need to raise my voice. I watched her stumble on the monitor, hands twitching. Her thighs pressed together like she could hide the reaction. Like she could pretend she wasn’t dripping.Sia stood beside her in perfect silence, hands folded behind her back like a funeral director at a wake. Floris turned to her, voice breaking with panic and defiance.“Are you really just gonna stand there? Like this is normal?”Sia didn’t flinch. “This is Brighton Systems, Miss Middleton. You agreed to our structure. That includes reinforcement.”Perfect delivery. Flat. Dead-eyed. That’s why I kept her.I adjusted the feed.On the other side of the glass, a carefully staged scene played out. A woman moaning into silk sheets, her wrists bound, my voice—recorded from an earlier session—crooning orders that made even the security techs shift in their chairs. Wet
Bend me over, Professor 92
She was exactly where I wanted her—on the floor, trembling, marble biting into her knees like penance. But it wasn’t pain she flinched from—it was the moment itself. That flicker in her gaze when she realized she couldn’t talk her way out of this. Not this time. Her body was caught between instincts: protect or submit. Her arms were stiff at her sides, fingers curled into useless fists, like she didn’t know whether to fight or beg. That hesitation—that crack between resistance and surrender—that’s where truth hides. I stood over her, silent, still. Sometimes stillness is more violent than force. She looked up. Didn’t look away. That was new. That was rare. Sia never looked this long. None of them ever did. But Floris met my stare like she was daring me to flinch first. “Just because my brother has medical debt,” she rasped, her voice fracturing like glass under a boot, “and I’m stuck paying it off—doesn’t mean you get to pull this twisted power-trip bullshit with
Bend me over, Professor 91
Part IV [POV Eric]I’d been watching Floris Middleton for three months before she even knew Amsterdam existed as anything more than a dot on her unemployment map.Digital surveillance beats stalking every time—cleaner, more efficient, zero chance of awkward grocery store encounters. I knew her shitty Boston café order (oat milk latte, extra shot, because apparently caffeine addiction runs in overachievers). Her brother’s medical records read like a medical textbook’s worst-case scenario. Student loans that could fund a small military coup. And those pathetic salary negotiations with companies that would ghost her faster than a bad Tinder date.Because I’d made sure they would.TechFlow position she was banking on? Bought them out two weeks before her interview. That Berlin startup showing interest? One strategic phone call about her whistleblowing history killed that opportunity deader than disco.Desperate people make the best employees. It’s basic psychological economics.From my
Bend me over, Professor 90
POV Matthew “A thank you,” she whispered, leaning over me, her voice soft and dangerous, “for my most dedicated student.” My wrists were bound to the headboard, the leather cuffs biting just enough to remind me I couldn’t touch her—not unless she let me. Not unless I earned it. My body trembled, straining beneath her as her perfume wrapped around me, that familiar jasmine spice and power that made me ache in places I didn’t have names for. Her fingers glided down my chest, slow and calculated. Like she was testing how far I’d let her go. How deep I’d fall for her. They trailed lower, teasing, until they wrapped around my cock, stroking me with maddening precision—tight, slow, dragging her palm up the underside just enough to make my hips jerk off the bed. “Ava…” I gasped, helpless, my voice a hoarse wreck. “Please.” She tilted her head, smiling like the wicked goddess she was. “Please what, bunny?” Her voice dipped into a purr, laced with condescension and heat.
Bend me over, Professor 89
POV Matthew The second I stepped onto campus, I barely got two feet past the main gates before Riley and Alex launched themselves at me like caffeinated squirrels. “Oh my God!” Riley shrieked. “I heard. Dr. Fowler—suspended.” Alex’s eyes were practically vibrating. “Is it true? Did you see his walk of shame? Please tell me he tripped over a recycling bin on the way out.” I grinned, couldn’t help it. “Yeah,” I said, slinging my backpack higher on my shoulder. “He’s gone.” “Look at you. Glowing.” Riley smacked my arm. “Glowing and doing heroic shit for your cougar.” I rolled my eyes and gave her a playful shove. “Stop calling her that.” “Oh, come on.” Alex nudged me with his elbow. “You saved her career. You hacked a system, exposed a predator, and got the girl. That’s like… hot boy vigilante behavior.” “Is this what being loved looks like?” Riley said with mock sincerity. “Because it’s making
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