Semua Bab Bend me over, Professor : Bab 111 - Bab 120

I sent the dress up with a note and waited.It was petty, yes. Deliberate? Absolutely. After that disaster with Sia—after hearing Floris throw words like “maybe I’m different” like a lit match into a powder keg—I needed to remind her who held the script.But when I checked the camera feed and saw her open the box, hesitate, then slip into the green silk anyway?I felt something I hadn’t in years. Victory laced with dread.Because I knew, with a sick twist of certainty, that she was about to walk into a night I hadn’t planned to weaponize. And yet, I still needed it to happen. Not for control. Not for dominance.Just for… proof. That maybe she could handle all of me.At exactly 7:00 PM, I knocked.She opened the door in that dress like she’d been born for silk. The neckline, the way it pulled against her waist—effortless and yet perfectly measured. I almost forgot my line.But I held out the bouquet instead. White lilies. Her mother’s favorite. I remembered that detail from a single

She should’ve known it was a trap. But she came anyway.Green silk clung to her like sin, hair coiled tight at the base of her neck like she was trying to contain herself—still foolish enough to think there was a version of this that didn’t end with her on her knees.She stepped onto the stage like a sacrifice, but she didn’t run.Not when the red light found her. Not when the shadows peeled back to reveal the audience. Not when the truth of what I’d brought her into started to sink in.Rows of men in dark suits. Women beside them—collared, glossy, silent. Submissives are reduced to status symbols, treated like luxury watches or imported wine. Not one of them flinched when Floris appeared beneath the spotlight.Because they knew the rules here. And now she would too.She didn’t speak when I touched her back. Smart girl.“Face the cross,” I said.She stiffened—but obeyed. That mattered. That meant something.I took my time strapping her in. Leather

“You’re getting soft,” Helena’s voice cut through the phone like a surgical blade. “Because of that girl.”Maybe I was. Definitely I was. But admitting that to Helena Brighton was like handing her a loaded weapon and asking her to aim for my throat.“I’m handling the situation.”“Are you? Because your father’s humiliation is trending on Twitter, darling. The stock price is in free fall. Our European contracts are being ‘reviewed’ by very concerned clients.” Her laugh was ice-cold satisfaction. “Perhaps your little pet isn’t as harmless as you thought.”The line went dead before I could respond. Classic Helena—drop the psychological bomb and let the shrapnel do its work.My hands were shaking. Actually fucking shaking like some amateur who’d never handled a crisis. But this wasn’t just crisis management. This was personal annihilation, broadcast globally.I found Floris in her room, sitting cross-legged on her bed, lapto

I didn’t sleep. Didn’t even try to.My office smelled like fury—aged whiskey, sweat, metal. I’d been pacing for hours, wearing a groove into the obsidian floors, replaying the night on loop. The binding. Her tears. My voice—sharp, accusing, wrecked. And her face… when I said the words.“You’re the only one who knew about the tapes.”She’d looked at me like I’d stabbed her. Maybe I had. But betrayal was betrayal. It didn’t care about good intentions or soft voices or the way someone looked at you like they saw the person underneath the armor.And still… Some part of me didn’t believe it.Which made me hate myself even more.The sun was rising behind the skyline—Amsterdam’s rooftops dusted in light, too soft for the way my insides felt. I sat behind my desk, pulled up the security audit logs again. Line after line of IP timestamps and access paths. I’d gone through them twice already.Nothing. No obvious break. No amateur fingerprint. Ju

Watching Sia fight security like a rabid animal was peak corporate entertainment. Two guys in cheap suits trying to restrain a woman who’d spent fifteen years perfecting the art of psychological warfare? Amateur hour.She was screaming—actually fucking screaming—in the middle of Amsterdam’s most prestigious tech conference. Every CEO, CTO, and trust fund baby with a LinkedIn account was witnessing the complete meltdown of my director of operations.“You chose her!” Sia shrieked, clawing at the security guards like they were personally responsible for her decade-and-a-half of delusion. “That disobedient American bitch who can’t even follow simple orders!”The irony was beautiful. Sia calling anyone disobedient while literally fighting police custody.“She doesn’t deserve you, Eric! She doesn’t understand what you need!”What I needed was for this psychotic breakdown to happen literally anywhere else. The networking oppo