All Chapters of Bend me over, Professor : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

POV Matthew I sat on the edge of the bed, shirt already off, fingers curled around the waistband of my boxers when her voice stopped me cold.“Not yet,” Ava said, firm and calm.My hands froze.She moved toward me, heels tapping on the polished floor, her black coat sliding off her shoulders like a silent command. She nodded at the bed. “Sit. Legs apart. Hands behind you.”I obeyed, breath shallow, pulse crashing in my ears. The mattress dipped beneath me. She reached into the leather bag and pulled out two silk restraints—deep red, soft but unyielding. She tied my wrists to the headboard first, fingers brushing my skin in a way that made me shiver. Then she moved down, lifting each of my ankles and tying them to the posts at the foot of the bed. My legs spread wide, completely exposed, caged by her control. My boxers stretched over my erection like they were mocking me.She began undressing—slowly. Torturously slow. Unbuttoning her blous

POV Matthew I called in sick. Told the university I had food poisoning, which wasn’t technically wrong—the thought of home made me want to hurl. But Tommy’s texts this morning were desperate. Literally begging.Tommy: Please come home, it’s getting out of hand.Tommy doesn’t beg. Ever. So here I am, stepping off the train into the armpit of Ohio, breathing air that tastes like industrial failure and childhood trauma.“Yo,” Tommy greets me at the station, throwing up a fist bump like we’re cool. Like the bruise on his cheekbone is just a fashion statement.“Jesus, Tom.” I grab his shoulder, studying the purple-yellow mess near his eye. “How bad?”“Scale of one to ten? About a Tuesday.” His laugh sounds like broken glass. “Come on. Mom made soup.”The house looks smaller. Sadder. Like it’s been deflating slowly for the past four years. Mom opens the door before we knock, because of course she’s been watching from the window.“There’s my

POV Matthew “She’s just a girl I’m talking to,” I said, slamming my laptop shut with the kind of guilty panic usually reserved for getting caught watching porn by your grandmother.Except what I’d actually been doing was infinitely worse—messaging someone who’d me tied to a bedframe while whispering absolute filth in my ear. So yeah, definitely porn-level mortification.Riley spun around on the secondhand couch like some kind of predatory ballerina, grin stretching across her face wide enough to cause actual physical pain to witness.“OH MY GOD.” She pointed at me like I’d just confessed to tax fraud. “So there IS a girl.”“Well… yeah. Kinda.” I wanted the earth to develop sudden tectonic ambitions and swallow me whole. Maybe spit me out somewhere less humiliating. Like a volcano. “YES!” Riley shrieked, launching herself off the couch with enough enthusiasm to power a small aircraft. She jabbed her finger down the hallway like she was summoni

POV Matthew They both stared at me.Dr. Fowler’s eyes narrowed like I’d walked in covered in crime scene tape. Ava’s were harder to read. First blank, then sharp. Almost scared. That was new.I cleared my throat, trying to sound normal. “I wanted to ask Professor Wells about something I missed yesterday.”“Is that so?” Fowler’s voice scratched like rusted steel. “Because from where I’m standing, it looked a lot like you were eavesdropping, Mr…?”“Jefferson. And I wasn’t,” I said, fast. “I was just outside the door a second ago. I didn’t mean to overhear.”He tilted his head, smug. “Intent doesn’t erase the act.”Ava hadn’t moved. Her hands were still clasped behind her back, shoulders stiff, chin lifted. She didn’t look at me. Didn’t look at him either. She just stared at nothing, like the whole room was a trap and she was calculating which wire to cut.Fowler smoothed down his tie. “We’ll talk later, Ms. Wells,” he said, voice heavy w

POV Matthew I stepped into the apartment and dropped my bag by the door like it weighed a hundred pounds. My shoulders ached from carrying too much—books, tension, secrets—but there was something underneath all that heaviness that almost felt like relief. Satisfaction. Like my body had finally been seen, understood, used the way it was meant to be. The office. The sound of her voice. Her eyes watching every twitch of my hand… I’d come harder than I ever had in my life, and it wasn’t just about the orgasm. It was the way she looked at me after. Not cruel. Not mocking. Just calm. Like she expected me to fall apart, and knew how to put me back together when I did. But even now, as I stripped out of my hoodie and collapsed onto the couch, that warmth twisted with something colder in my gut. Something I couldn’t shake. I trusted her. I did. But there was something she wasn’t telling