Lahat ng Kabanata ng Forbidden Confession: Kabanata 71 - Kabanata 80

A week. A full, torturous week of sitting in his lecture hall, my skin crawling every time his gaze swept over my section. He never lingered. He never gave any sign that he remembered the taste of my skin or the way I’d screamed his name. He was Professor Croft—brilliant, distant, and completely in control. The silence was louder than any threat.Then the notice went up on his office door: "Mandatory Mid-Term Meetings." A list of time slots on a crisp white sheet of paper. My eyes scanned the page, my heart hammering. The last slot. 4:30 PM. Friday. When the building would be almost empty. It was a test. An invitation. A command. My hand shook as I scrawled my name.On Friday, I walked into his office, the air thick with the scent of old books and his cologne. It was exactly as I’d pictured it—dark wood, leather-bound volumes lining the walls, a massive oak desk dominating the space. He was standing by the window, looking out, but he turned as I entered.“Mia,” he said, his voice a lo

!! LESBIAN SEX !! The white dress was a ghost hanging on the back of the hotel room door. It watched me as I paced, the plush carpet doing nothing to soothe the frantic energy thrumming through me. “I can’t do it, Hayley.” The words tumbled out, a confession I’d been holding in for months. Hayley looked up from the magazine she was pretending to read. Her expression was all soft concern. “Can’t do what, Joye? Get married? It’s a little late to be backing out.” She tried for a teasing smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “No, not that. I mean… the other thing. The… after.” I hugged myself, my arms a flimsy shield. “The wedding night.” I saw the understanding dawn on her face. She put the magazine down and came to sit next to me on the edge of the king-sized bed. “Hey. It’s okay. Anderson loves you. It’ll be okay.” “But what if it’s not?” My voice was a panicked whisper. “What if I’m… bad at it? What if he thinks I’m just… a prude?” I finally looked at her, my best friend, the only

The expulsion letter sat on the polished mahogany between us, the paper thick and creamy, the university crest embossed in gold at the top. It was the only thing in the vast, silent office that seemed caught my attention.The rest—the leather-bound books that had never been opened, the faint, cloying scent of lemon polish, the heavy tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the corner—felt like a dream I couldn’t wake up from.Headmaster Patel hadn’t said a word in five minutes. He just watched me, his hands steepled under his chin, his face a blank, hard mask. He wasn’t angry. He was worse. He was patient.My throat was a tight, painful knot. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry, Ella. Crying was weak. I was a nineteen-year-old woman who’d just torched her entire future over one stupid, drunken mistake.“There’s nothing?” I finally whispered, the sound swallowed by the heavy silence. “No appeal? No… anything?”He sighed, a soft, almost bored sound. “Your actions were a clear violation of the cod

The summer heat was heavy, thick and still in the old house. My stepdad, Dean, usually wasn't home this much. He was an architect, always flying off to new cities for big projects. But this summer, he was here. All the time. It was strange. But I liked it. He was handsome, with eyes that saw everything and a quiet way that made me feel safe. I was sixteen. My body felt new. It had curves now, and big breasts that felt heavy. I didn't know what to do with them.He worked in his study most days. I tried to draw in the living room. Our talks used to be short. Now, he asked about my day. He listened. Really listened. It was different. He asked about my feelings. He said my art needed more life. He said it needed more real emotion.Last night, the night before the storm, I was bored. I went to his study. He was on his computer. He looked at me."Bored, Angela?" he asked."Yeah," I said.He nodded. He turned the screen a little. He looked at me. His gaze was steady. "Want to see something i

My cheek was pressed against the plush, expensive carpet, the fibers still damp with my own sweat. I was trembling, my body a live wire of aftershocks from an orgasm so violent it felt like it had ripped my soul out. His cum was a hot, heavy pool deep inside me, a brand marking me as his.He pulled out slowly, his cock sliding from my pussy with a wet schlick, leaving me throbbing, spent, and utterly drenched. He stood up, his gaze raking over my trembling, naked body. “That was just the first lesson,” he said, his voice a low, possessive purr. “The first payment.”He walked over to his desk, and my eyes, wide and trembling, followed him. He opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of hundred-dollar bills. He walked back to me and knelt. He didn't give me the money. He just held it.“Your next payment is to get me hard again,” he said, his voice a low growl. “You will kneel, and you will suck my cock, and you will not stop until I tell you to. Do you understand?”“Yes, Master,” I whispe