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FIFTY: I Haven't Given You Permission
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2025-12-01 17:00:56My eyes flutter shut and I whimper beneath his kiss. "N-no, please."
"Please what?" He mutters against the crook of my neck. His breath buzzes across my skin. "You want to show me you can be a good girl?"I nod heartily.With the sound of rattling metal, I hear his belt buckle go free, and the sound of a zipper indicates that he is unsheathed.Suddenly, he roughly hikes up my skirts. All the fabric of the gown is gathered at my waist. Harlan's hand snakes through my hair and forces me downward. I catch myself on my forearms, which prop me on the top of the dresser. Through the reflection, Harlan watches me watch myself. I am naked save the fabric pooled around my waist, breasts exposed directly before my own gaze, hair tousled from his grip. I breathe heavily and watch my chest rise and fall, my lips part with want.With a flick of Harlan's wrist, I feel, unmistakably, the head of his cock tease my wet folds.I deepen the arch in my back."Good girls beg
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SUBMISSION 101 100 + NINE: Promise
In the next instant he releases me only long enough to stand, gripping me by the arm to force me to my feet. I gasp as I land against his chest where he holds me snug and tight. I can feel his heart hammering against mine. And I am melting beneath his grip.He releases me with one hand only to trail the hem of my panties. “You’re mine,” he reminds me. “I think I need to be sure the message sinks in.” He pulls away, studying my face. And he quirks a brow. Condescending. The only man I know who can wear that infuriating expression deliciously.My eyes are wide, but I nod.Professor Harlan takes a step back, letting his eyes trail down the entire length of my body before they make their way back up again, drinking in every inch of my exposed skin. “Bra.” The command is incomplete but perfectly clear.I slip my arms behind my back to relieve myself of the garment.He nods to my panties. Excitement mounts within my belly, the sensation sudden and overtaking. I slip th
SUBMISSION 101 100 + EIGHT: You're Mine
I swallow thickly as I cross the room to land in front of him. His hands find my hips and I forget how to breathe.“And uh—” I clear my throat. “In the not-so-immediate sense?” I whisper.Professor Harlan takes my chin between his fingers, lifting my head so I am forced to meet his eyes. “Are you worried I’ll leave you again?” His voice is low and gravelly.My eyelashes flutter, and I do not know what to say.“No,” he purrs. “I’m not going anywhere. You already know that you’re mine.”His hands trail upward. The moment they encase my ribcage is the same moment I know I am a lost cause. My eyes flutter shut. And everything else is gone.He captures my mouth, drawing me in, arms encircling my body. My breath hitches, my mind melts, and the only sensation that enraptures me as much as the kiss is the feeling of every nerve in my body standing on end, sparking within my skin.He grips me tighter. I claw at his collar, pressing him equally as hard against me.
SUBMISSION 101 100 + SEVEN: You Came Back
“I wonder how things will change for me. When you’ve left this place. When you’ve moved on, and all I have left of you is the memory of you walking these very cobblestone streets.”Mid-motion, I stop, halting my mug of coffee just before it meets my lips, quirking my brow at Armitage. “We’re feeling very dramatic today, aren’t we?” I muse.Armitage leans back in his chair, staring up at the sky. I watch the steam from his tea curl up into the air and lick the sides of his jaw. “I’ve been getting back into Jane Austen.”“Ah,” I reply. “There it is. Why are you even thinking about that? It’s barely even November. Graduation is practically eons away.”“I don’t know,” he muses. “I guess your sacking from the Bulletin got the wheels turning about your inevitable departure.”“Okay. First of all; I wasn’t sacked. I resigned.”“Preemptively.”“Second of all,” I continue, ignoring him, “when I’m finally out of here, your life is probably going to get a hell of a l
SUBMISSION 101 100 + SIX: How Dare You?!
Everything that happens next is an eruption. Bazine’s jaw falling open is the last moment of peace before the blow comes; “what?!” she screeches, standing up and fuming so forcefully Professor Harlan can almost see smoke pouring from her ears.“Miss Netal, I suggest you say nothing further.” The attorney snaps the binder shut and flies to his feet, shoving his notes back into his briefcase as if they too are now incriminating.“How dare you!”“Is this on record?” asks the secretary, scribbling furiously into her notes.“Don’t write another fucking thing,” Bazine snaps.The secretary stands too, holding her notes closely to her chest, bless her, glaring at Bazine from across the room. “That’s against protocol.”Everyone is on their feet, everyone arguing, hollering across the room. Everyone except Professor Harlan. Professor Harlan, who sits calmly at the head of the table. Professor Harlan, who clasps his hands atop the surface, staring at them as if doing so
SUBMISSION 101 100 + FIVE: I Do Not Feel A Thing
“Can I get you anything while you wait?” Grace does not meet my eyes when she speaks, pouring me a glass of water from the Brita filter at the bar without waiting for an answer. I try to thank her when she sets it on the table in front of me, but I choke on my own vocal cords and can only swallow thickly instead. “Can I uh…” I clear my throat, shocked by how hoarse and dry my voice sounds. Not only do I sound choked, but I also sound like I have aged about a decade. And that checks out; it is pretty much how I feel too. “Should I… I mean, I would just like the chance to defend myself.” Only then do I find the courage to meet her gaze. Only then does she find the courage to meet mine. I am not sure if she pities me, or if she has played some part in all this. Perhaps both. She gives me the saddest of smiles, an expression that brims with sympathy, or maybe guilt. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” she tells me. “This won’t take v
SUBMISSION 101 100 + FOUR: The Girl Or Your Career?
Her eyes narrow as she stares at us: Professor Harlan fully sheathed inside of me, clutching me at the hips. And then there is me; legs spread and skirt pooling indecently at my waist, clutching his arms for support. Professor Harlan barely registers the pain of my fingernails, having burrowed into the skin of his biceps. After a few moments of painful silence, Bazine straightens up, expression calm, eyes empty as they fall upon me, lips almost curled up into a smile. And she politely lilts: “Get out.” “Professor Harlan,” I whimper, staring up at him as if pleading for instruction. But his eyes are locked with Bazine’s. This is his fight. He straightens up, stuffing himself back into his pants, zipping up the fly. “Go,” he murmurs, fingers still trailing my waist as he steps away only far enough to allow me to close my shaking legs and smooth my skirt. He can feel me trembling as I readjust my top to cover myself as much as I can. “Professor
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