Step One: Be Fair at All Times.

There it goes, the devil within you tempting you and it’s only a matter of time before you give in.

The ebullient sounds of students roar around the classroom and beyond, as always, and it’s a natural phenomenon to even cause trouble somewhere near to where you are at. You can hear someone trying to separate them yet it seems like they’re failing, and nonetheless, you wouldn’t care less.

That’s you, evidently distracted as the miniscule resonance of sounds piques you as you blankly stare at the void of the paper that will define your future in this subject. It’s only a matter of time before the clock reaches zero, and you still can’t figure out why you can’t think of what can be the answer to such a simple question.

Final exam, final day, the final reckoning. The suffering is nearing its demise, but it seems to extend whenever you circulate around that damn question, and it’s just going to get worse.

You’ve cheated swiftly for god knows how many times and you’ve done it in times of desperation. Trying to cover it up with a hand up on your forehead just to look at what the girl beside you may answer—

“ Letter ‘B’, huh? Seems right?” Your devilish eyes scout the prey like an eagle, capturing it and rewarding yourself with the possible fruit of your sinful labor. It pretty much makes sense, mostly complacent knowing you’ve caught the answer from one of the brightest minds this class has ever known.

You circle your answer as the clock nears its end, just with two minutes left. You feel pressured, knowing there’s three more left two answers with such little time left. All of your classmates traverse their way onto the professor’s desk and slamming the test paper there, somewhat confident and increasingly anxious.

And you, huh, stuck with the hindrance that can defy expectations.

The sound of people sharing answers and conversations distracts you, always tempted to eavesdrop with the possible answers but you miserably fail. Time is running out and you’re just the only one left in your column to be answering and with the mindset of absolute indecisiveness, you let your gut feeling break the trance and answer for yourself.

Done—three questions, three letters answered.

You fidget the hem of your shirt as your friend just outside the classroom gets your attention, gesturing to quickly go with them once you’ve passed the papers. You placed yours on top of the stack of papers that you’re unnerved to see until a force stops you from advancing further and out of the classroom. You look back and fuck, it’s Ms. Son, an eyebrow raised, her hand gripping onto the hem of your jacket.

“Go beside me, we’ll have a talk once everyone is out.”

And there your future goes, possibly reduced to atoms as your gamble didn’t save you further, and your fate has succumbed onto an unfavorable one.

Knowing you’re not going to get out soon, your friends look over at you with a face teasing you and laughs reverberating around them, as you look at them with envy and disgust.

“Ma’am, what did I—”

“Just stay there.” Her tone is stern, composed like the finest as you gulp in nervousness, not knowing what her mouth has to offer later.

Oh— and your filthy mind is fucking you up with the possible thought about—

“ Not now, not now.” Is what you whisper on yourself, and it’s even making it worse knowing how every action of your professor sends those lustful thoughts up in your filthy mind.

You’re just counting each person that passes by and submitting their papers, until the last student bowed to her and shutted the door carefully, leaving you and the professor alone, and you, utterly unsure on how things may unfold.

“Take a seat.”

“Wha—what—”

“I said, take a seat and we’ll have a talk.” The look that she gave you shoots up a nerve up in your spine, and it’s intimidating, possibly coerced with those doe eyes. Your eyes are uneasy, incredibly cautious as you anticipate what she can say to you. It didn’t take long before you swiftly traverse your way onto the nearest chair and grabbed it, and seating with emotions evident precarious.

Well, it’s in ways knowing how your professor possibly caught you in the scene of the crime, and you fathom the inevitable consequence that may come right after.

“Your bright mind might know why I called you so suddenly, am I right?” In all honesty, you’d assume it’s all about how your eyes dart to the paper of others, relentless and desperate. It was the only strong answer that you can mutter to her, but your lips pursue itself to be shutted, unable to talk with how she’s getting you in this disposition of anxiety.

Then you gathered the courage, yet it wasn’t enough to be truly vocal. “N-no, Ms. Son…”

“Sure you do.” Quite the privy, and she read you like a book. “Speak up.”

Your lips quiver, the damned hubris earlier instantly fell off into a cliff so easily. You’re definitely uneasy right now, all frozen as just wanting these things to end and learn your lesson. Your hands fidget onto your pants, as she inches herself closer and breaks you in that trance.

“You know, I’ve been watching you from the start when you took a seat in that chair. It became quite interesting considering the fact that what you’re displaying right now is clearly not what we are all used to.”

You gulped and stared at those dark orbs that emphasized that gravitas until day one, and it’s more evident with the point that she got you immobilized and that earns that subtle smirk curling up in the crevice of her lips. “And besides, you’re becoming too much of a problem, aren’t you aware of that?”

You grit your teeth not-to-harshly, lips continuously bearing the nervous state. “I am—I am p-pretty much aware of that, Ms. Son.”

Fuck, she is quick and it catches you off-guard—her hands tug on your tie, investing your utmost attention towards her and it just ignites her possibly sadistic disposition.

Then she clicks her tongue, and raises an eyebrow. “Are you?”

You nod, eventually getting frantic as she stops you, the tremble in your breath enough to make her reconsider her control and the ways of schooling you. She looks at you, eyes scanning your features which etches a question in your brain but quickly dismisses it. She’s close enough for you to smell that floral perfume that just intoxicates you into her even more.

You’ve never been this close to a girl like this, and you’ve probably hit the jackpot consider that you’re just inches away from a tempting action that you’d be too afraid to do, considering that you’re still daunted under her spell.

“I still can’t believe I can shut you up so easily like this.”

Then, she just pulled herself away from you gently, as she faces away from you, removing her glasses and tying up her hair with a dark-colored band which raises questions in your brain. It was out of the blue as your eyes are averted towards her and her only, then her voice heightened your senses even more.

“You’ve been a pain for the university, in case you didn’t know—multiple reports have been scattered all over our bulletin board, written with your name for god knows how many times and thinking to myself, if you’d be any better.” Her face is stern, eyes glued to your pupils ignited with disappointment and the possible anticipation, before shaking her head slowly and clicking her tongue to intimidate you. “Guess what? Probably you will. Considering the potential—your precarious self is finally showing its true colors, hm? Well, We would be doing something unorthodox.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, utterly confused at this point as you’re oblivious with what her true motives are. “W-what do you m-mean, Ms. Son?”

“Well, I need to ask you one thing first.” She then takes a seat, now face-to-face with you as you’re in all ears to listen despite the growing discomfort and awkwardness. “Do you want it the ‘straightforward’ one or ‘thoroughly explained’ one? Both end up in the same route.”

She is full of surprises, for what you can assume. Wanting things to end as soon as possible, you ended up choosing the former choice with a stutter, and that made her smile a little.

She’s a simple woman, and you’ll get what you’ve chosen.

“You, young man, would need to confess everything that you’ve done to besmirch your name in this institution while I—” She tugs onto your belt and the hem of your pants, earning a yelp from you as she continues her proposition. “—suck your cock, indulging in the pleasure while in the challenge of telling the truth while we are at it. That’s how straightforward it can get.”

Unbelievable. That’s what your mind concluded after hearing such words that you wouldn’t have thought would come out of her mouth.

It doesn’t fucking matter if you’re going to register such explicit and unethical words as her voice freezes you another time, and it’s commanding. “Stay still and say everything on my command. If I’m satisfied, I may even let you cum and consider this as something confidential.”

Jesus. You never thought she could be like this, evidently ambiguous yet here you are, unable to do anything but comply.

“Get up and strip. All the way, pants down.” You’re eager to do what she tells you to, nervously unbuckling your belt as your uneasiness earns a chuckle escaping her lips. It was quick from you, not wanting your future on the brink of collapsing, even though it’s most likely diverting to that path.

Your cock springs into life, throbbing and invigorated, and that alone, sparks the interest from her eyes.

“Looks like your little friend here is dying for some action—did I really rile you up, hm?”

Son Chaeyoung and her choices of words are really something else, and it’s just bringing you down to your knees. Who would have thought that such a professor that looks so innocent and bubbly could be so intimidating and stern?

The duality drives you insane, moreso, the way her small, dainty fingers wrapping around your shaft, stroking it so leisurely that it makes you moan so sexily. Her modicum of patience is tested, and eventually, she’ll start the final nail of the coffin.

“Let’s start off with the tip of the iceberg, shall we?” She kneels down, abrupt with her movements as she spits onto your raging crown, lathering it with lubrication that can elevate on what’s about to happen. “Why’d you cheat, hm? You better tell me the truth.”

As you’re about to speak and look over the distance, you throbbed and moaned her name with the dismissal of honorifics, her lips quick to envelop itself on such an insatiable meal that she’s been deprived of, obviously.

“I w-was desperate t-to just, uhm—shit, oh—uh, just c-can’t think of the answers—god.”

Her bobs are consistent and moderate, her fingers massaging your base as she looks up with you, ejecting herself onto your cock with a big pop. “Tell me more, that can’t be the only reason you can come up, hm?”

You look down and admire her gradually messy façade, but then stand your ground knowing it’s the right answer. “But, Ms. Son—I a-am telling the truth—oh, shit.”

She continues to bob her head onto your shaft, skilfully impaling her throat with more than half of it, and makes one hell of a mess all around it. Her hands find their way onto your thighs, grasping it for some leverage as she wrings out the best bits of pleasure you’ve ever experienced in your entire life and adds up to the pleasure you’re experiencing.

“I j-just w-want to pass, that’s al—oh, fuck, really, Ms. So— god.” Her vibrations onto your shaft sends you in short circuits, even more with the ways she’ll hollow up her cheeks to prove a point and to diligently test your capabilities.

You weren’t taking it like what she’s possibly expecting, but it doesn’t matter—you’re fighting for what could be better here despite the challenge brought by her pleasurable mouth.

She’ll pull away from your cock, covered with her saliva and her face, getting messier that even turns you on even more. “Desperation? Wasn’t that in your vocabulary? Maybe you just wanted the fun of doing something that isn’t right, hm?”

At this point, it’s just throwing water at the ocean, because no matter how honest you can be, she’ll continue to make you cry in pleasure. Admit or not, she’s great at giving you head, possibly the best contender that gave you one and that definitely surprises you.

And you can’t think straight again to come up for a reason, as her head continues to deliver such gratification, evidently running those mascara tears on her cheeks and the lipstick that smudged onto the base of your shaft, considering how talented she is with her own limits.

She’d eventually gag, and you’d orchestrate another reason with the mix of a cry of her greatest product. You’d swim onto what her lips can offer, and you’re loving how great she blows you as the effects of anxiety fades away ever-so-quickly.

“God, that’s w-what I can j-just say—p-please, Ms. Son.”

She pulls away, and you’re throbbing relentlessly, precum spilling out and unshackled, signaling what may come closer to the promised land. “It wasn’t such a hard task, hm? Now, tell me everything you’ve done to earn yourself such a vice spot in the vicinity.”

Then, it can just spiral out of control there. You’re fighting for what you can and she’s determined to do absolutely everything to get what she wants, and you’ll give it to her, whatever it takes.

“E-Everything, Ms. Son?” She’s really testing you, revealing secrets no other ethical person should ever know but with her continuous bobs and her lazy stare towards you, seals the answer for such a rhetorical question. She didn’t even mine pulling out to let herself be clear, as actions speak louder than words, her hands gripping you tighter than usual as frantically gratifying you to satisfy her truly with your genuine answer.

Only if she knows the battle you have to go through to articulate thoughts in your head just for the urge to finish this mess of an interrogation even though it’s the natural human instinct to really indulge with such pleasure, no matter the time or place.

The struggle is stating the obvious, and that curls up a smile on her mouth between numerous frantic bobs as you whisper how good it feels, closing your eyes as the information your lips escape was reaching her wit’s end. Then she pulls, eyes darting and feels like could kill and she’s tantamount as before with the objective on why she’s doing this in the first place. “Why can’t you talk, hm? Am I making it too hard for you?”

You can’t lie, not when your heart is racing so fast that you can’t pull up a game that can possibly encourage her to believe your lies. She has the utmost authority, the unbreakable control that you wouldn’t dare break, because assessing this situation, you have everything to lose.

“Seems like you’re pretty scared, hm? All of that tough and hubristic side gone just because of my mouth—hah, it’s pretty surprising. I possibly thought you’d take me better, but it looks like this isn’t going to work so well for you, won’t it?” She’s right, goddamn right. She’s stroking you leisurely, not giving a care for what her hands can do to you as she looks, sighing in disappointment as she continues. “Look at you, all groaning and an utter mess, dying to cum—you’re going to cum, aren’t you?”

She got you into this pliant disposition, biting your lips repeatedly as the pleasure is getting too much, even if it’s just her fingers alone. You’re nodding evidently, desperate for this to be over but then you’re pretty hypocritical if you’ll deny how great she offers you pleasure.

You’re begging and she chuckles lightly with the despair and pleasure distorting your face. “Too bad you still can’t release everything yet—you still have to answer my question.”

She lets your length throb uncontrollably in the air, the poor twitching of it as it needs someone to aid it is just a sight of her own pleasure. She’s keeping her promise, words sealed and etched, and knowing you want to cum to her so badly, you’d gather up the mental drive to confess everything to your heart’s content.

“Now, speak.” She indulges down hungrily and god, you’re figuratively on your knees as her mouth is your kryptonite.

You’re doing your best, and you’d do whatever it takes to end this up on a good note, even if it takes both your names to be besmirched, and hers with a more weighted punishment.

The sudden, lazy bobs helps you to think more clearly, and that alone is a sigh of relief. “W-we have taken a video, a h-humiliation just for fun—oh shit…”

That possibly piqued her, pulling out and looking up with that ruined countenance that you’re dying to cum onto. “We possibly came around that case, go on, don’t keep me waiting.”

“We just f-felt like it—we had some issues—oh god, uhm—l-like back then—shit.” It was a true struggle to fight it, you’d eventually give in as her head pumps onto your cock vigorously with the words you’ve said, earning more moans that just amplifies the experience. You’re possibly adapting to her patterns and the pleasure that she brings on your shaft, a scrutiny with evident efforts from you to possibly know whenever she’s satisfied or not. You still need more information to come up with reasonable conclusions, yet it’s a challenge considering the gratification that’s the bottleneck of this hypothesis.

Screw the science behind this stuff or whatever articulative, because you’re just moaning uncontrollably with faint begs that you didn’t even know your mouth could utter.

“We’re getting somewhere, huh? What issues? Anf why do it within the premises? Care to elaborate?” It’s her stare, that damn, sullied stare that’s remarkable and etched within the deepest parts of your brain, even so, making you twitch evidently that made her smile devilishly. She’d deliver such feverish then sluggish strokes that make your thighs shudder, precarious to just indulge and swim into the pleasure, yet her hands are the only one preventing the possibility of tearing down such robust architecture.

You’re trying to speak up yet you struggle, and she assures you equivocally, even though you’d know how this can end in both ways.

“Come on, you can do it—it’s just my hands.” She continues and you’re groaning in need, even tempting to grab those blonde locks just for leverage. “Elaborate.”

It’s another cycle of agonizing pleasure, and you wholeheartedly acquiesced it—the lingering anxiety of being caught and what can destroy your image is what is keeping you away to dismiss such pleasure, and it feels wrong received something sinful with one of the most respected professors in the university.

You have a strong claim whenever things go downhill—she initiated this in the first place.

You can feel yourself getting nearer and even if she tells you not to, you feel like the d in you will break loose once she continuously pumps her head onto your ruined length. You struggle to provide details, as the play within the temperature of her warm mouth and breeze of the air conditioner really adds on riling you up, and it’s not helping whenever you look down with such a sullied visage of hers—chin dripping with her own saliva, face ruined with her makeup and tears, her necktie drenched with her drool and most of all, those unholy set of bobs that could milk the living reservoir your balls can hold.

You try your best but then you can’t take it anymore and she knows it, evident with the way your cock throbs and your plethora of pleas.

It’s coming until she pulls out again for the umpteenth time, and the climax that was supposed to hit an all-time high dies down, depositing such miniscule amounts of cum that you pray for her to be oblivious about.

“Fuck—s-shit, Ms. Son.”

She analyzes your shaft like she’s thoroughly checking test papers—eyes darting on every inch, hands inspecting and possibly admiring such a wonderful and delectable sight. “Looks like you came a little. Don’t worry, I know you can’t hold it anymore but you know that right from the start that I never break promises.”

“But, Ms. Son—”

“I said what I said.” Her fingers trace and tease your thighs, and it sends shivers with you. You know she’s just going to edge you and hinder your euphoric high when your answers are not in her favor. Again, you can’t play any games against her and not when she’s controlling you like a puppet. “Whenever I’m satisfied with your answers, I’ll let you cum, and it’s going to be better than this.”

You know the key to achieve such euphoria, yet it barely registers within you to utter what can satisfy her for two reasons: the first one can be the cause of just the immense waves of pleasure just coursing within you that makes you think that everything that you’ve been saying is disparaged, as well as the effort of articulating them with honesty; and the last, possible reason could be the criteria that doesn’t really meet the standards, therefore, the prolonging effect of an ecstatic denial.

Or the worst part is just the fact that she’s doing this for the sadistic pleasure of hers—you name it, as anything can be possible at this moment.

“Care to also explain how you had something special with a student?” Her strokes are practically in a more of a massage, dearly pleasurable and soothes you, calming your nerves and fading that anxiety away. Even with all of these, her questions still hit like a truck, getting yourself to think about the ways to feed off her satisfaction while making yourself in a great position. “A classmate rather, in fact. Really putting it up to the test, hm?”

Her strokes suddenly become frantic, mustering a velocity that plays within the limit of her wrists, and the devilish look on those eyes of hers really concludes the fact that she’s possibly playing you know. You groan repeatedly, the sea of symphonies orchestrated to best fit her satisfaction with your struggles as you deserve it (honestly, you really do, considering the defamatory things you’ve done inside the premises).

You feel yourself shuddering and begging for her mercy inadvertently, and just laugh as her strokes maintain that pace like before. “No, no—tell me why the both of you did it inside the library out of all of the other places, hm? Possibly can’t hold it in?”

Now, it seals the deal that she’s just playing with you right now, a toy that can’t do anything but release the indulgence of her dexterous masterclass. It’s definitely equivocal, and right now, the answer can possibly be obvious but it’s a must to answer her correctly, if you really want your reward.

She stands up, looking up a little while she manages those pleasurable strokes, one and another, and you, eliciting a groan every three or two. “What about the unapologetic behavior towards your peers when playing basketball—gosh, that was a disappointment.”

That look on your face while she spills every defamatory act you’ve done says it all—frozen, eyebrows furrowed and your eyes permeated with fear and defeat. The apprehension lingers longer than before, yet it feels contradictory considering the pleasure she delivers with every stroke.

Then she speaks again, earning a shudder on your shoulder and your gaze locking into hers. “And the worst of them all—” She tilts her head a little, eyes scanning you from head to toe, and her lips curling up that hubristic smirk, subtly nodding right after. “—is that you can’t even talk properly when a professor’s hand is diligently stroking your dick—it’s pretty much a shame, no?”

You subtly nod as your lips quiver right after, a breath summing up a note which just explains the nervousness that is still within you. Her boldness still catches you off-guard, maintaining her composure even with the investment of such an act and her ruined face thanks to her.

“But I really appreciate you trying your best even with the fact that it’s incredibly hard to think straight. Am I right?” You utter a ‘yes’ and nodded, and that made her smile in satisfaction. “But since you’ve been compliant, I think it’s time to relieve your nerves a little.”

Those words would make you erupt at any second, as your reservoir is filling up quickly, accumulating and savoring the last bits of pleasure before the climax hits you like a truck. With the persistent throbs and begs coming out of your mouth, she wouldn’t be oblivious about how damn close you are.

Then she speaks, a command eager to ignite the fuse that’s been lit up since she started this mess. “Cum. Cum for me.”

Her words unlock something within you, and it’s the best of both worlds as you grab onto the blackboard, releasing everything with your heart’s content. Spurts erupted like a volcano, shooting multiple projectiles up in the air and landing on her hand, arm, and maybe even the floor with how thick the volume of your load is. She didn’t flinch nor faze with the amounts of cum that had been deposited and made sure that she wouldn’t be as messy as she was earlier. Albeit the composure, you could tell on those eyes that she loves how hot the scene is, gleaming in satisfaction in your orgasmic trance. You feel yourself extending more than what you can bear, her strokes evident to be the contributor to the gratifying element of her dexterous expertise.

“God—seems like you’ve not been blowing it for weeks, possibly months—god, there’s so much.” Her hands feel glued to your shaft, stroking your shaft fully with a leisure pace as she kneels down, then looking up to you with a possible action in mind to conclude this denouement.

She didn’t even dare to ask you, as she indulged into tasting you again, her lips meeting your sensitive head and her tongue dancing around the messy slit, cleaning you off. Once she feels like she’s done what she can, those inviting licks on her fingers to tidy it up makes you lock your gaze onto hers, riling you up with how sensual her tongue dances around her fingers and tasting every bit of your cum, not wasting any drop.

“Gladly, your cum is enjoyable to even swallow—it tastes pretty good, possibly greater with the way I treated you.” She stands up modestly, fixing herself up as you’re still frozen on the spot, mind-boggled with what she had made you do. Then, her eyes dart that telepathic question, a confused expression of hers that is enough to break your trance and work onto dressing yourself up.

She was quick to apply makeup on herself and maintained that professional composure even with the sinful act the both of you had invested into. “Glad you’re cooperative with me—I even expected worse but I like the way you tried. Consider this as a start of an agreement that should be strictly clandestine except for the both of us.”

You paint that confused face, unsure of what your professor is implying. “W-what does this mean, Ms. Son?”

She stares onto you with such seriousness, and then grabbing your necktie and tiptoeing a little to whisper in your ear. “I’ll ensure that I’ll cover up your defamatory acts in these premises under one condition.”

You gulp, then tilt your head a little bit and ask. “What’s t-that, Ms. Son.”

“This cock—” She cupped the bulge onto the clothed fabric, making you shudder in response as well as your eyes lighting up in anticipation of her following words. “— is the condition. I need someone to vent out my stress sometimes, and I possibly found someone who can do a great job at it.”

Now that regains the confidence within you that was dead into the greatest depths earlier, curling up a faint smile up your lips.

“But for now, let’s get out of here before anyone suspects us.” And so the both of you did, deftly to check and clean everything, making sure that nothing around the vicinity can spark any suspicious marks.

This feels surreal, every event happening in such quick succession yet you will not complain, but rather thank the gods above that this is the reality.

As the both of you part ways like it’s just the wind breezing by, you notice a paper that’s been in your pocket for who knows how long, and it’s surely your professor’s fault. You’re quick to unfold and open it, only to reveal such a note that can defy the future of your academic path.

“Be at the front of the women’s bathroom at 6 pm. Third building, fourth floor. See you there, I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh god, this is real, is it?” You still can’t believe what’s happening, utterly perplexed with how she possibly orchestrated this mess yet everything is certainly bona fide.

Holy shit, what can possibly fuel this of yours? Did she intentionally call you earlier because she wanted you physically? Did she want more from you? Is this just a test and you’re being lured with one of her games?

No one knows and no one probably will, because you’re living in the reality that the respected Son Chaeyoung is now something more than just a professor. Guess you may have learnt your lesson in such an unorthodox way, but it’s probably going to elevate your experience here from now on, for what it’s worth.