Life after divorce: The billionaire’s crazy proposal

A Slut For My Professor (Part 1)

SUMMARY: A young lady gets initiated into the world of BDSM and meets her college professor who is more than ready to make her beg for more.

•KRISTEN•

I was twenty-two when I first had sex, barely three months ago. 

I thought I was waiting for the right person, someone who’d make my first time matter, but it didn’t. It meant nothing to Edward, my ex-boyfriend. 

To him, my virginity was a prize. A fucking milestone.

When he finally got me in bed, there was no tenderness, no slow build, no care. Just rough, clumsy thrusting that barely lasted thirty seconds. The pain came fast before I even had a chance to feel the pleasure. Afterwards, he didn’t ask if I was okay. Hell, he didn’t even look me in the eye.

Days passed, and I sent text after text, yet he never replied to any. It felt like he had cut me off completely, and that’s when it hit me: none of it mattered to him.

I was a name, more like a box checked off on his list of girls he’d fucked, nothing more.

But here’s the truth: I didn’t want sweet romance, neither did I want gentle.

I craved more.

I fantasized about surrender. I secretly desired to be broken open and owned. I dreamed of being collared, silenced, bent over and fucked until I forgot who I was.

I wanted to be devoured, and taken like an animal in heat. I wanted to surrender and go on my knees to please a man who could make me beg for more. 

A few weeks after my ex-boyfriend dumped me, I decided to explore an anonymous online BDSM community. The moderator of the website reached out to me shortly after I had filed out the application form. 

The next day, I received an invitation to meet him in person at a local restaurant in the middle of the city. He refused to tell me his name or give me any information about himself. Instead, he told me he’d be in a white suit that had a pink pocket square.

********

NOW.

It’s 6 p.m., and I’m standing at the entrance of The Velvet Fork, the restaurant, as my heart pounds in my chest.

“Phew. Are you ready for this, Kristen?” I mutter to myself, smoothing the front of my dress. I scan the restaurant, discreetly trying to identify my “initiation guide.” 

My gaze lands on a man in a white suit leaning against the wall in the corner. There’s no pink square pocket on his jacket, but the face?

Oh fuck. I gasp.

I know exactly who he is. Cassian.

Professor Cassian Ashbourne, my psychology professor. He’s staring at me too, but quickly looks away.

I freeze. This is seriously messed up.

I’m rooted to the spot just by the entrance, torn between turning around and walking out. I watch as Professor Cassian pulls out his phone and scrolls for a second before lifting it to his ear.

Is he about to call me?

Before I can think too hard, my feet move on their own. I walk toward him, eyes locked on his face, silently convincing myself this is just a coincidence.

But as I get closer, my denial starts to crack. His jawline is clean, sharp, and ridiculously sexy. What the actual fuck? He still avoids my gaze, looking straight ahead.

When I finally reach him, I do the only thing that makes sense in the moment..I walk right past him and into the restroom behind him.

I slam the door shut and lock it, gripping the edge of the sink. My reflection stares back at me, eyes wide with panic. And something else.

A thrill.

He’s not just any professor. He’s the sinfully hot Professor Cassian Ashbourne and I’ve nursed a stupid little crush on him for months, fantasized about what he’d look like shirtless, what his voice would sound like against my neck.

And now he’s supposed to be my Initiation Guide? Into BDSM?

What the hell do I do?

 "Leave," I mumble to myself. "Run. Pretend this never happened."

But my body betrays me, and as I watch my reflection in the stained bathroom mirror, my nipples are hard, aching against the soft fabric of my dress. I went braless tonight because I wanted to feel sexy. And now… I’m wet. 

Shit. I shouldn’t be turned on by this, but I am. 

I have two options here. I could walk out of the restaurant and forget about this or I could walk up to my hot professor and submit to him. For almost two years, he had been the subject of my dark sexual fantasies, and right now, he is only a short distance away from me, probably waiting for me. I am his student and if I follow through with this, he's probably going to fuck me before midnight. 

I draw in a deep breath. 

My panties are soaked now as I rub my thighs against each other. 

What is the worst that could happen if I went on my knees and let Prof. Cassian do anything he desires with me? 

I do not wait to think of an answer. Instead, I push open the door and step out of the restroom. 

He's right there, waiting for me.  A faint smile plays on his lips as he watches me, his suit jacket now draped over the back of a chair. He’s left in a crisp white shirt that hugs his broad shoulders in a way that should be illegal. He gives me a small nod, gesturing for me to follow him.

He walks over to a quiet corner and takes a seat at a table. I hesitate for a second before sitting across from him.

“Good evening, Ms. Thorne,” he says smoothly.

I swallow hard. “Good morning, I mean, evening... Professor Ashbourne.” My words come out a little rushed. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Especially not as the BDSM moderator.”

A wave of nervous heat floods my body. My palms are damp, and I can barely control my breathing. What is he thinking? Is he judging me? Is he going to shut this down completely?

When I meet his eyes again, he smiles and leans in slightly, “No... not here. Outside school, I’m not your professor. Just call me Cassian.”

I nod. 

His gaze searches mine. “If having me as your guide makes you uncomfortable, I can ask someone else to step in.”

God, no. Please don’t. My heart jumps, and I force a tight smile.

“I…um... no, profe—” I catch myself.

“Cassian,” he gently corrects.

“Right. Cassian,” I murmur, placing a hand over my chest to steady the anxious fluttering. “Will this... affect anything back at college?”

He raises a brow. “No, Kristen. It won’t. And is it alright if I call you by your first name?”

I give a small nod.

“Kristen,” he says again, his voice lowering just a bit. “Everything that happens here stays here. It’s completely confidential. You have nothing to worry about. Do you have any questions for me?”

I nod again, this time more slowly. “Yes... I do.”

He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing with interest. “Then go ahead. Ask.”

That look he gives me…it's intense and focused, like I’m already stripped bare beneath it. The way he stares at me makes my mouth dry.

And then a filthy thought hits me: I was just about to discuss BDSM with my college professor, and all I could think about was dropping to my knees under this damn restaurant table… and tasting him.