Thesis on Pleasure - Chapter 5

He finally gazed at her, his dark eyes smoldering behind his glasses.

"I want to hear you say it."

She could feel the blush creeping up her neck, but she didn't avert her eyes.

"I enjoyed it."

He smiled, slow and predatory, then slid something across the table to her.

It was her underwear.

"Keep it."

She hesitated, but picked up the soft fabric, still slightly damp, and tucked it into her pocket without breaking eye contact.

"Why do you do this?" she whispered.

He leaned in, so close that she could feel his warm breath against her lips.

"Because you let me."

And then he pulled away, closed the book, and stood up, as if the conversation was over.

"Tomorrow. Room 108." He adjusted his glasses, looking at her like a teacher assigning homework.

"And this time, wear a skirt."

Before she could respond, he was already leaving, his silent st

eps disappearing among the bookshelves.

She knew he would.

He always did.

***

The message arrived at 3:17 in the morning.

"Did you dream about me today?"

No one else sent messages at that time. No one else spoke to her that way.

She typed out a reply before sleep could muddle her thoughts.

"Yes."

Three dots appeared. Then vanished. Then reappeared.

"What did you dream I did to you?"

In the dream, he had trapped her in the library's file room, one hand over her mouth, the other—

The cellphone buzzed once more.

"Meet at the file room tomorrow. Midnight."

She didn't reply. There was no need to.

The following day was a blur. She floated through her classes like a specter, her skin tingling where he had left his mark the previous day. When the Literature professor brought up Crime and Punishment, she nearly toppled her chair by standing up too abruptly.

By 11:55 PM, the campus had already emptied out.

The library shut its doors at 10, but he had left the back entrance unlocked. He always did. She slipped in quietly, her heart pounding so fiercely it hurt.

The file room was located in the basement, a maze of metallic shelves and dusty folders. The emergency light bathed everything in a blood-red hue.

He was waiting at the heart of the room, seated at a dark wooden table, his glasses glinting in the low light.

"Late," he stated, not even glancing at the clock.

She halted just two steps away.

"It's precisely midnight."

He finally lifted his gaze, and the smile he flashed left her breathless.

Remove your clothes.

She was dressed in the skirt he had asked for—black, fitted, with a side zipper. Her hands quivered as she tugged at it.

"Slowly," he commanded, taking off his glasses and cleaning the lenses with his shirt. "I want to watch you squirm."

She inhaled deeply and complied, allowing the skirt to glide down her hips to the floor. She was wearing the same underwear he had returned—the ones she had left in his pocket.

He observed every movement, his eyes as dark as daggers.

"Now, the blouse."

The buttons took longer to undo than they should have. As the fabric dropped, she was left in her bra, her skin tingling in the chilly basement air.

He then rose to his feet, bridging the gap between them in two large steps. His fingers traced the outline of her bra, coming to a halt at the center of her chest.

"You're wearing black. Good girl."

The compliment stung more than any physical touch.

He whirled her around with a quick jerk, forcing her torso against the table. The cold metal clung to her bare skin.

"Count to ten."

She swallowed.

"One."

The initial slap landed without warning—forceful, accurate, on the right contour of her buttocks. She let out a scream, her fingers gripping the edge of the table tightly.

"Two."

The second strike was more potent. She could feel her skin warming up, the pleasurable pain radiating.

By the time she reached ten, her legs were shaking, and she was too aroused to deny her desire for more.

He spun her around once more, his eyes sweeping over her face, flushed with pleasure.

"In the dream, I took you from behind," he murmured, his hand twining in her hair. "But now..."

The table groaned as he seated her on the edge, parting her legs with his knees.

"Now you're going to see me."

He filled her in one thrust, and she arched, his fingers branding her hips. Each motion was designed to hurt—to leave a lasting impression.

When she started to wriggle, he drew her to the edge of the table, compelling her to kneel on the coarse floor.

Open up.

She complied, extending her tongue, and his moan echoed as he released into her, the taste salty and warm.

He drew her back up, cleaning her mouth with his thumb before passionately kissing her.

Your turn.

His fingers discovered her warm and eager, and it only took three strokes for her to crumble, clutching onto him as if he were the sole anchor in the universe.

When he assisted her in dressing afterwards, his hands were remarkably gentle.

"Tomorrow," he said, sliding his glasses back on, instantly transforming back into the flawless professor.

She was aware it wasn't an invitation.

It was a command.

And as always, she was already primed to comply.

The hallway light was blinding as she emerged from the basement. Her footsteps echoed in the quiet campus, each click of her heels on the asphalt seemed to match the rhythm of her racing heart. Her skirt was now slightly crumpled, and the zipper was pulled up entirely - as if trying to conceal what had transpired below.

But she understood that nothing could be concealed.

The night air was crisp, a stark contrast to the heat that still smoldered beneath her skin. She traced her fingers along her neck, where his lips had left marks that would undoubtedly deepen by morning.

"You'll be wearing a scarf around your neck tomorrow."

The order wasn't voiced, but she understood it was his expectation. Just as she understood that if she didn't comply, he would take notice. And then...

An involuntary smile tugged at her lips.

And then, there would be consequences.

Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, and she didn't need to glance to know the message it bore.

I'm looking forward to seeing the marks tomorrow.

She halted mid-way, her fingers quivering slightly as she typed:

"You will."

The three dots came into view and then vanished. He wouldn't reply again. He never did after she complied.