The Professor Novels & Stories

Will she really be seeing them all the time, as far as she knows, two of them are her professors. "Good morning. My name is Alistair King. I will be your professor for this year. You may only call me Professor King, and if I call on you, the reply is Sir, nothing else. Now in this class, I want contribution, utmost respect for me and eachother. This class is going to be difficult and if you feel like you can't handle it, walk out now. I will not be dealing with complaints at the end of any test or exams. Assignments will be given at the end of the week, individually or in groups, and every mark counts."

The halls are a bit quiet, with only two to three students pacing the corridors. "Four." Azalea peaked inside, noticing the semi-empty classroom. She's sure she counted about ten students. Her eyes then landed on her professor. He's dressed like any other male professor. Khaki pants, white button up, circular glasses, all the usual. Only thing that's different about him and the others is that he's got just a few strands of grey and he looks like the gym's best friend. He set the marker down and turned to the class. "So when you here about Alberto Dephonso you think-

I chipped away at the golden image everyone saw. But now..now she was slipping through my grasp again. She had the janitor looking at her like she was worth protecting. Like she was the only one worth saving. And worse…the professor. That man. Professor Black. I noticed it. The way his gaze darkened when she entered a room. The way his voice dropped when he spoke her name. That wasn’t a teacher’s look. It wasn’t discipline. It was something primal, something dangerous. Something I wanted for myself.

Every other thing would fade into nothingness whenever she was in the room. I distracted myself with my phone, and I scrolled aimlessly through TikTok. I soon got engrossed, and I didn't notice when the class quietened down until a deep voice that commanded attention said: “Good morning, 2025 Freshmen, welcome to ***** College. I'm Professor Stephan King, your lecturer for IHS 101: History of the unknown world.” I looked up, and my world tilted over in the most horrible way possible. Because standing on the podium and introducing himself as the lecturer of the most important course in our 100 level was the man I hooked up with yesterday, the one I rode with reckless abandon.

He’s close now, he looks at me as if he’s studying me. “Higher, stretch.” His hand moving near my ribcage but not touching. “I need to see how the muscles look.” I stretch higher. His eyes track the movement of my body like he’s memorizing equations. “Turn slowly.” He takes a deep breath. “Something wrong, Professor?” “Your posture.” His voice sounds strained. “Your back curves here.” His finger runs down my back, the first time he’s touched me since I stripped. “Do you feel that?”

He is a person under forty and looks suspicious too. “Sorry for the delay,” the professor said after giving me a quick look. “Oh, what is a pretty girl like you doing here?” The teacher said as he approached me. "You take care, Grandpa," I said sarcastically, then sat down on the chair and heard laughter, and it turned out to be one of the boys. "Oh look who's on fire," said Jackson, mocking the professor. "Sit down, everyone; I don't want to hear any sound," the professor said angrily.

Feeling wet and uncomfortable, I don’t focus on most part of the lesson as my eyes are glued to this man. Professor Quinn? Standing tall in front of the class in a pair of classy black dressed pants, square rimmed glasses that makes his nose pointier, and his beard. Everything about this man screams wealth and dangerous mixed together. I should focus, but I find it hard when my Professor is the same man who had had his fingers rubbing my panties until I cum shamefully, screaming profanities at the same time. With rosy cheeks, I lift my head from my desk to face this man, and I gasp when I notice his eyes on me.

Two minutes later, Professor Yousef strolled in with his signature aura of quiet authority. Setting his coffee cup down on the podium with deliberate slowness, his sharp gaze swept across the entire room. "Before we begin," his clear, commanding voice echoed through the room, "I'd like to address a small matter. My personal phone number is my private property. When I provided it to this class, it was strictly meant for academic inquiries and coursework assistance. So... watch your texts and mind your manners. Understood?" As he launched into his lecture, his eyes kept drifting back toward Hala's row. He had picked her out the moment he stepped in—the sheer panic written across her face was i

Nikolai “Bloody no fucking way.” I frowned, anger bubbling through me. “I’m not fucking participating in any fucking tutorial program.” Professor Keller flinched. Actually flinched. The man was in his late fifties, balding, wire frame glasses sliding down his nose. His office smelled like old books and cheap coffee. Diplomas framed neatly behind him. Awards. Certificates. All useless. He cleared his throat. “Mr. Carrington, this isn’t optional.”

Somehow, the mansion. "You edit like a pro!" Patty exclaimed and raise up a thumbs up. "Thank you." I look at Krisha and she seems to be very proud of her boyfriend. "Just let Cassandra and Jasper see it later. Our professor for today is coming." I said as I fix myself when I saw our female professor for now. ### "So, how are you students? How was the vacation?" We all laugh by the word 'vacation'. "You all seems to be having a great fun out there."