All Chapters of Forbidden Daddy Desires: Steamy MM : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

He was not wearing his academic armor. The tailored suit was gone, replaced by a black, silk shirt that was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a hint of the dark hair on his chest. He wore dark trousers that fit his long legs perfectly. He looked different, more relaxed, more dangerous. But it was him. The silver hair at the temples, the sharp, cruel jaw, the cold, gray-blue eyes that saw right through me. It was him. The man I feared most in the world. The man who held my academic future, my entire life, in his hands. Blackwood walked onto the small stage, his expensive leather shoes making no sound on the polished floor. His eyes were locked on mine, and there was no surprise on his face. No confusion. There was only a cold, hard look of recognition. And something else. Something darker. Something that looked like hungry, triumphant amusement. He stopped in front of me. He was so close I could smell his expensive, smoky cologne and the faint scent of the cigar on his clothes. He

My body was trembling, a fine, continuous shudder that started in my chest and radiated out to my fingertips. I was naked. Completely. The last scrap of fabric, the tiny black thong, was a dark puddle on the floor beside me. I was exposed, vulnerable, and my cock was so hard it was aching, curving up towards my stomach, betraying me with every frantic beat of my heart. Professor Blackwood Julian stood over me. He was a giant in the dim light, a silhouette of power and raw, undeniable masculinity. He slowly unbuckled his belt, the sound of the leather sliding through the metal buckle unnaturally loud in the hushed room. It was the sound of a sentence being passed. The sound of my life changing forever. He let his trousers fall, pooling around his ankles. He wasn't wearing underwear. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy and already hard. It was bigger than I’d expected, a formidable, intimidating length of flesh that jutted out from a neat thatch of dark hair. The tip was glistening,

Three months of talking dirty to a ghost. That’s what it felt like. Three months of spilling my guts, my deepest, darkest, most fucked-up fantasies, to a faceless name on a screen: ‘Master’. It started on a whim, a lonely, horny night scrolling through a dating app I was too scared to actually use for dating. I’d swiped right on a profile that was just black silk and a single, commanding line: “Tell me what you need.” So I did. I’d told him things I’d never said out loud. Things I barely admitted to myself in the dark of my own bedroom. And every single time, his reply would hit my screen with an uncanny, almost terrifying precision. It was like he had a direct line to the twisted, submissive part of my brain I kept locked away. ‘I want to be used,’ I’d typed, my heart hammering, my cock hard as a rock. ‘Good boy,’ he’d replied instantly. ‘You need to be put in your place. On your knees.’ And just like that, I was gone. Hooked. Line and sinker. The texts were just the appetizer.

My blood ran cold. My blood ran hot. I was a fucking paradox of terror and lust. Every cell in my body was screaming at me to get away, to run, to hide. But a deeper, darker part of me, the part that had been whispering “Yes, Master” for three months, was thrilled. It was electrified. This was the ultimate fantasy, the ultimate humiliation, brought to life. I scrambled backward on my hands and knees, a clumsy, desperate attempt to escape. I didn’t get far. His hand shot out, faster than I would have thought possible, and grabbed the back of my neck. His grip was an iron brand, his fingers digging into my skin with bruising force. He yanked me back towards him, and I cried out, a mix of pain and shock. I ended up on my knees again, my face inches from his crotch, his hand holding me in place, completely immobilized. “Oh, no you don’t,” he said, his voice a low growl. “We’re just getting to the good part.” He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear, his hot breath sending a shiv

The leather was warm from his body. The button had come undone with a soft pop. The zipper had been a slow, teasing descent. But this… this was the point of no return. Taking his cock in my mouth. It was a line that, once crossed, could never be uncrossed. I leaned forward, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I could smell him, a clean, musky scent that was purely, inherently male. I stuck out my tongue and gave the head of his cock a tentative lick. He tasted salty, a little bitter. It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. He let out a low groan, his hand tightening in my hair. “Don’t tease me, boy. I’m not in the mood for games.” I parted my lips and slowly, carefully, took him into my mouth. He was big, bigger than I’d expected, and he stretched my lips, filling my mouth completely. I could feel the head of him bumping against the back of my throat, and I gagged, my eyes watering. “Relax your throat,” he instructed, his voice a low, calming rumble. “Bre