Todos los capítulos de UNHOLY CRAVINGS: Dirty Shorts : Capítulo 81 - Capítulo 86

The first request came three weeks later. I was in the basement locker room tying my shoes when the shift supervisor called my name. “1208 asked for you specifically. Business traveler, monthly stay. Said you did a good job last time and he prefers consistency. You okay taking it?” My stomach flipped. “Yeah. I’ll take it.” Room 1208 was two doors down from the original. Same floor, same layout, same late-afternoon light through the sheer curtains. The “Do Not Disturb” sign was already hanging. I knocked once. The latch was on. When I pushed the door open Elias stood by the window in a white dress shirt and nothing else, the shirt open, his cock already half-hard against his thigh like he had been thinking about the moment since he checked in. “You accepted,” he said. “I did.” He nodded at the door. I locked it. The cart stayed in the hall. By now we both knew the towels and toiletries were not the reason I was there. Elias crossed the room, backed me against the closed door, an

The blinds closed with a soft, final rattle. Stripes of gray light cut across the desk and the open textbook I no longer pretended to care about. Professor Voss sat back in his chair and regarded me the way he regarded a problematic paragraph—calm, precise, already several steps ahead. “The formal options remain available,” he said. “You can still stand up, unlock the door, and walk out with your fifty-eight intact. No one will know what was discussed in this room.” “I’m still here.” “I see that.” He steepled his fingers. “Then here are the terms. You need a passing grade. I control the remaining points in this course. The work you have not done cannot be retroactively made excellent overnight. What can change is my evaluation of your participation, your revised submissions, and the weight I assign to the final. That change is not free.” My mouth had gone dry. I kept my hands flat on my thighs so he wouldn’t see them tremble. “What’s the price?” Professor Voss’s eyes moved over

The portal updated every week. Sixty-four became sixty-nine. Then seventy-three. By the middle of the following month my average sat at a clean eighty-one and the red warning flag that had started everything was gone. Each jump corresponded to a locked door, a closed set of blinds, and the time I spent bent over Professor Voss’s desk or on my knees between his chair and the wood. Thursdays became fixed. Four o’clock. I stopped needing the formal email reminder. I simply arrived, locked the door behind me, and waited for instructions. Some weeks he had me strip from the waist down the moment I entered and bend over the desk with the week’s reading still open under my hands. He would fuck me in long, measured strokes while discussing the text in the same calm voice he used in lecture, as if the two activities belonged together. Other weeks he sat in his chair and had me crawl the last few feet, open his trousers with my mouth, and suck his cock until he decided I had earned being bent