The washroom door flew open with a force that cracked it against the tiled wall. The sound was a gunshot in the humid, sex-filled air.
I froze, Vikram’s taste still on my tongue, my lips still stretched around his softening cock. Rohan whipped around, lowering the phone, his face a mask of pure panic.
Standing in the doorway, his face a thundercloud of academic disdain, was Professor Pritam. His eyes, sharp and critical behind his glasses, scanned the scene: me on my knees, my mouth full of a senior’s dick, Vikram with his pants around his thighs, Rohan holding a recording phone.
“What in the absolute hell is this?” Pritam’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble, nothing like his dry lecture-hall monotone. “Sharma? Malhotra? Explain yourselves. Now.”
Vikram jerked back, scrambling to pull up his jeans, his face flushed with a mixture of shame and irritation at the interruption. “Professor, sir, it’s not what it—”
“It looks exactly like what it looks like,” Pritam cut him off, his gaze locking onto me. I was still on my knees, paralyzed, a slick trail of Vikram’s cum connecting my lower lip to the floor. “Dhruv. My office. Now. The rest of you, get out.”
Vikram didn’t need to be told twice. He shoved past the professor and fled. Rohan looked at me, a silent question in his eyes. I gave a tiny, barely perceptible shake of my head. He pocketed his phone and slipped out, leaving me alone with the enraged professor.
The walk to his office was a death march. My mind raced, trying to fabricate a lie, any lie, that could explain what he’d seen. He didn’t say a word, just held his office door open and pointed to the chair in front of his large, mahogany desk.
He closed the door. The click of the lock was deafening. He didn’t go to his chair. He stood over me, his arms crossed, his presence dominating the small, book-lined room.
“I could have you expelled for that,” he said, his voice quiet and lethal. “I could call security. I could call your parents. Your academic career would be over. You’d be a disgrace.”
Tears welled in my eyes. “Professor, please…”
“Please what?” he sneered, leaning down, his hands gripping the arms of my chair, caging me in. The scent of his cologne, mixed with the faint smell of chalk and old paper, was overwhelming. “Please don’t tell anyone that I found you on your knees in the north block washroom, sucking off a cricket player like a common whore? Is that what you were going to beg for?”
His words were a lash. I flinched. “Yes, sir.”
He studied my face, his eyes dropping to my lips, still shiny with saliva and spent seed. His expression shifted, the anger melting into something darker, more curious. More hungry.
“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” he whispered, his face so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. “You liked being on your knees. You liked having your mouth used. I saw your face. You weren’t scared. You were eager.”
I couldn’t lie. The truth was a fire in my veins. “Yes, sir.”
A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. “And you’re still eager now, aren’t you? Even while I’m threatening to ruin your life, that filthy little part of you is thrilled. It’s getting off on this.”
My cock, still trapped in its humiliating pink cage, gave a painful, aching throb. He was right. The danger, the power he held over me, it was all flooding my system, mixing fear with a depraved, shocking arousal.
“You’re a fucking natural-born slut, aren’t you, Dhruv?” His hand came up, and he didn’t slap me. He ran his thumb over my lower lip, collecting the remnants of Vikram’s cum. He held it up, then slowly, deliberately, brought it to his own mouth and sucked it clean.
Oh, fuck. The world tilted.
“I think your punishment should fit the crime,” he murmured, his voice now thick with an arousal that mirrored my own. He grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked me out of the chair. “You like using your mouth so much? You’re going to learn what it’s really for.”
He half-dragged, half-led me to the small, private washroom connected to his office. He shoved me inside, following close behind and locking the door. It was cramped, all cold porcelain and stark lighting.
“On your knees. Again,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.
I dropped instantly, the hard floor familiar and comforting in its submission. He unbuckled his belt, the metal clinking a sharp counterpoint to my ragged breathing. He didn’t fumble. Every movement was precise, controlled. He pushed his trousers and briefs down, and his cock sprang free. It was thick, uncut, and already fully hard, a dark, intimidating presence.
“Look at it,” he ordered. “This is what a real man looks like. Not some boy on a cricket team. This is the cock of someone who owns everything in this room. Including you.”
“Yes, sir,” I breathed, my mouth already watering.
“Open that pretty, filthy mouth. You’re going to suck me until I’m satisfied. And you’re not going to gag. You’re not going to cry. You’re going to take it all like the perfect little cocksucker you were born to be. And if you do a good job, maybe… just maybe… I won’t file that expulsion notice.”
The threat was the hottest thing I’d ever heard. I leaned forward, my lips parting, and took the head of his cock into my mouth. He was thicker than Vikram, and I had to work to relax my jaw. I swirled my tongue around the head, tasting his clean, musky pre-cum.
“Deeper,” he growled, his hands tangling in my hair, not guiding, just holding. “I want to feel that talented throat.”
I obeyed, sinking down, taking him inch by inch. He filled my mouth, my throat stretching to accommodate him. I focused on my breathing, on the feel of him, on the incredible, degrading fact that I was sucking my professor’s dick in his office bathroom.
“That’s it,” he moaned, his hips giving a slight thrust. “You’re even better than I imagined. Such a good fucking mouth for a bad little boy.”
His praise, wrapped in degradation, sent a jolt straight to my caged dick. I moaned around his length, the vibration making his thighs tremble. I set a rhythm, bobbing my head, using my tongue to lick the sensitive underside of his shaft every time I came up for air. I was a mess of spit and need, but I didn’t gag. I didn’t cry. I served.
“You want my cum, you filthy thing?” he grunted, his thrusts becoming harder, fucking my face in earnest now. “You want to swallow my load like the good little academic project you are?”
“Yes, Professor! Please!” I begged, the words garbled around his cock.
“Then earn it! Milk it out of me with that perfect throat!”
I redoubled my efforts, hollowing my cheeks, sucking hard, taking him deep until my nose was buried in the coarse hair at his base. I could feel him swelling, pulsing, the rhythm of his hips becoming erratic.
With a guttural roar that was nothing like his lecture voice, he came. Hot, bitter jets of cum shot down my throat. I swallowed desperately, greedily, not wasting a single drop. I kept sucking, milking him through the aftershocks, until he was soft and sensitive in my mouth.
He finally pulled out, panting. I stayed on my knees, looking up at him, my lips swollen, my chin slick. He looked down at me, his expression one of awe and raw lust.
“Stand up,” he said, his voice rough. “Turn around. Bend over the sink.”
My heart hammered. This wasn’t over. I obeyed, presenting myself to him, my bare ass exposed in the fluorescent light.
“You took my cum in your mouth so well,” he said, his hand stroking his already hardening cock again. “But a true punishment needs to be more… memorable.”
I felt the blunt, wet head of his cock press against my entrance. This was different. This was real. No plastic. No cage.
“Please, Professor…” I whimpered, unsure what I was begging for.
“Please what?” he demanded, not pushing in, just applying pressure. “Use your words, Dhruv. Tell me what you need.”
The dam broke. “Please, fuck me! Please, sir, I need it! I need you to fuck my ass! I’ve been such a bad student, I need you to punish my hole! Please, give me your creampie! I need to feel it! I’m begging for it!”
My desperate, filthy plea was all the permission he needed. With a single, brutal thrust, he sheathed himself fully inside me. I screamed, a raw sound of pleasure-pain that echoed off the tiles. He was so much bigger than the cages, stretching me, filling me in a way I’d only dreamed of.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, his hands biting into my hips. “You really are a virgin back here. This ass belongs to me now.”
He didn’t wait for me to adjust. He set a punishing pace, pounding into me, his body slamming against mine with each thrust. The sink rattled against the wall. I was bent over......
