Mafia in College 12

The next day, I was sitting on my office despite the fact that it was a weekend, the burner phone in my hand, my fingers dancing over to type a new message, like I had been doing for the last twenty minutes. ‘Yes, dear leader. I’m serious. That’s your punishment. You’re going to send him a mail, asking his urgent assistance, and go wherever he was.’ 

‘It’s degrading,’ the answer came. ‘I can’t do the things you asked. I have my pride.’

‘You should have thought that before failing at your sacred mission of guarding the recordings of our Sisterhood,’ I answered, amused by the fact that my silly student was yet to realize who was responsible for the messages. I had expected that my over-the-topness would have clued her in, but it seemed not to be the case. ‘Until further notice, you can threat your pride like a shirt of last year’s fashion, shelved until further notice.’

‘Can I at least dress normally,’ she asked almost a minute later.

‘You have your orders. Either follow them, or an email will find its way to the Alumni, informing them about your lack of diligence.’ 

‘You win,’ she sent back, leaving me smirking as I imagined the flash of defeat that passed over her face as she pressed the green button to finalize her message. Currently, I didn’t have a real-time feed to her room to validate that -as it was too dangerous to bring that computer anywhere outside my room- but I had watched her enough to get a solid hold of her reactions. 

With that task done, I turned towards the book I was reading, Tractatus Politicus, from Spinoza. Just because I was bored from teaching a bunch of entitled kids who didn’t bother to read even their assignments, didn’t mean that I lost my fascination with the topic. Then, my reading was interrupted by an email to my official account. I wasn’t surprised to see that it was from Megan, asking for an urgent meeting. I answered it with an alternative meeting on Monday, but in a follow-up mail, she insisted that we needed to meet today. 

Several more exchanges, where I tried to halfheartedly convince her for an alternative date, while making sure not to position my rejection too hard. It was a tight balance I needed to walk. She needed to think that I was reluctant to meet, while giving her enough hope that she could change my mind. After fifteen minutes, and a lengthy email chain later, I ‘graciously’ allowed her to visit me for fifteen minutes. 

After her final message, informing me that she would be in there in ten minutes, I stood up, and checked the cameras in the room, making sure they were well-hidden, and recording cleanly, not only to have recording for personal pleasure, but also to prevent her going around, telling tales of big bad teacher dominating a poor student. Admittedly, it was exactly what I had in mind, but if there was one thing the Mafia thought me that the records didn’t have to match with the reality. 

With everything in place, and the burner phone safely locked in a drawer, I sat back, trying to squeeze a few pages in before my guest arrived. It took another fifteen minutes for a knock to be heard on the door. “Come in,” I called, and the door opened, revealing Megan. Honestly, I had been expecting her to come wearing a coat, like Camilla did when she was trying to get a recording of me for blackmail. 

But instead, Megan was wearing a white shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down, enough to reveal her absence of a bra. To accompany it, she wore a red and black plied shirt, far too short to be worn safely outside, even the slightest breeze enough to reveal her deepest secrets, especially if she had followed rest of the orders I had sent. The set was complete with her knee-high black stockings, and to top it all, her red hair was gathered behind her in an innocent ponytail to enhance the image. 

Altogether, she was the Platonic ideal of a hot schoolgirl, one that was willing to get anything to get the grade she deserved, except maybe her homework. I was almost completely sure that she didn’t look as sexy until she reached to my door, where she folded her skirt a few extra times to shorten it, while loosening the constricting grasp of her buttons, but I didn’t say anything. 

“Hello, professor,” she said with an exaggerated gasp, but pulling it much better than Camilla ever could, almost enough to convince me that she was here in her own volition, in the form of a dare that was common in the sorority houses. Only the tightening on the edges of her eyes suggested that it might be anything other than a horny sorority dare. 

“Megan,” I said, leaning back with a smirk. While I would have preferred to play obvious professor, to see just how far she was willing to go for her task, considering my earlier actions, it wouldn’t have been believable. “Considering the way you have dressed, I’m willing to bet that you have reached a decision despite my warnings.” 

It was clear that she wasn’t expecting to be confronted that directly. She froze at the entrance for a moment, the door still open. “Yes,” she managed to murmur after a moment’s despair. 

“Excellent,” I answered. “When, why don’t you close the door and take a seat,” I added. 

She took a deep breath, closed the door, and for good measure, locked it as well, another sign of her deep commitment to her supposed task. “Excellent,” I murmured as she walked towards her seat, while I didn’t bother hiding my gaze as I explored her body. While it wasn’t the first time I was getting a glimpse of her body, it had a different taste when she readied herself for my attention only. 

She managed to gather her wits on the distance between the door and the chair, and sat down slowly. For anyone else, I might have thought that she might try to keep herself from flashing, but I was starting to get a handle of Megan’s reactions, enough to know that she was trying to maximize the impact. Then, after sitting down, she crossed her legs, trying to replicate the most iconic scene of the Basic Instinct. Trying, because she lacked the calm poise and the killer instinct that made the moment in the film enchanting, but other than that, I had no real complaint. With her rather noticeable lack of panties, she was really beautiful. 

“So, Megan,” I murmured, leaning back even more. “You have been really insistent on your urgency to meet, and now, here we are. How can I help you?” 

She raised her head and sighed, like she was trying to put her words in order, but I realized her objective when she pushed her chest forward, further inflated by her deep breath. I licked my lips, examining the way her shirt stretched, particularly in relation to showing the contours of her breasts, bereft from the protection of a bra, however flimsy. “I have a problem, professor,” she murmured, doing her best to sound cute. Unfortunately, she was far too sexy to pull that particular impression effectively. 

“That, I deduced after your tenth mail,” I answered, not bothering to hide my smirk. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what is your problem, and I’ll see whether I will be able to help you.” 

“It’s my grades, professor,” she continued, literally acting out the bare-bones plot of a significant portion of the porn plots. “I’m doing my best, but I’m barely able to scrape a D, but I need at least B+ to maintain a decent average.” 

“And you’re here to ask me for some private tutoring,” I continued, not letting go of my smirk “Unfortunately, it isn’t possible with everything else I  have to deal with, but I’m sure I noticed several young men with good grades that would be more than willing to help you.” 

Her fake-innocence flickered for a moment, replaced by annoyance, before she schooled her expression once more. “I wish that was possible, professor, but unfortunately, I have too many other commitments I have to handle due to my extracurriculars, contributing to the school a lot.” 

“And…” I said when she stopped for a couple of seconds, inviting her to continue. 

She took a deep breath as she brought her hands together, wringing them nervously. At first, I thought it was a natural reaction, another crack in her role, but only after she pulled her hands away, I noticed that she had positioned her hands rather high, directly above her highest button that was unopened. I noticed that, because as she pulled her hands away, her cleavage expanded in an attention-grabbing way. “I was hoping that maybe I could do some extracurricular assignments for you to get some extra points.” 

“Interesting,” I said as she pushed her chest forward with another nervous breath, straining the limits of her shirt to keep her treasures hidden. “I might be amenable to that,” I answered. “But why don’t you show me what you have in mind.” 

“I can, professor, but are you sure you can handle it,” she answered. “I don’t want risk your heart giving out midway.” I nodded, but noticed her hand reaching for the small bag she had, pressing to something. She was considerably better than Camilla in keeping her move hidden, though not enough to avoid my gaze. I didn’t let it bother me, as I had access to her computer, therefore all of her cloud accounts. Erasing or corrupting any record she took would be trivial once I’m back to my room. 

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” I answered. “However, you need to work really nice to get a B or above. I’m willing to give up to C+ for effort, but for anything more, you need to impress me,” I said, still keeping my levity. Then, I added one more word, but letting my sharp side to the surface. “Understood?” 

As I expected, she was suddenly frozen at my last word, but a shake of her head later, she was ready to dismiss it, probably thinking that she had imagined it. A big mistake, as it was the most accurate glimpse she had to my personality, but not a surprising one considering her lack of survival instinct, something a rich, spoiled girl would never need. “Of course, professor,” she murmured in conviction. “You’re going to be very satisfied with the results.” 

She untangled her legs, giving me another interesting glimpse before she slowly stood up, leaning forward to ensure her cleavage had the maximum impact. Then, with a little sexy twirl, she turned her back, her bottom losing its protection as her skirt flew. Then, she leaned, which rode her skirt even higher, giving me a full glimpse of her body. 

Clearly, she was hoping that the sight of her naked booty would distract me enough to miss her fiddling with her small handbag, or the fact that her phone was peeking through the corner, with its camera facing towards me. Not a bad assumption, as her bottom was perfectly toned, betraying the hours spent in the gym to sculpt it to perfection. And since I already handled the risk of her making a recording, I had no problems acting obvious. 

She was much more careful with her next turn, with her hands taking a hold of her skirt, preventing it from flying like the previous time, trying to maintain the mystery. “Professor,” she said, bringing her finger on her lips, smirking slightly as she leaned forward. “Would you mind changing seats,” she said, pointing at the small, two-person couch at the corner. “I think you will appreciate my efforts more without a barrier.” 

“I like the confidence,” I said, and before standing up, stuffed a couple of condoms in my pocket just in case. If the things escalated to that point, not losing any more time might be strategic. “Let’s just hope that you will be able to back it up.” 

Questioning her capabilities managed to spark her anger, which I had no problems with. From what I saw, she had a tendency to be singleminded when angry, which would make her miss any inconsistency in my behavior. More importantly, I had my filling of docile sex thanks to my professor and my new assistant, and some rough, combative sex was just what I needed to bring some variety. 

Still, I was surprised when I was walking next to her, she grabbed my arm, and pushed me in a sitting position. I chose not to resist, curious how far she would go in her riled up state. After all, the last few days had been quite difficult for her, and she had been deprived of her favorite toy. 

Without resistance, I hit the couch harshly, and she didn’t lose any time before putting her hands on my shoulder, pinning me in place. She leaned in, and while her cleavage created a captivating view, I was more interested in the angry flames in her eyes. They would be doused appropriately at the end of the day, but for now, I let her hold the reins. 

“Are you ready, professor,” she said, stretching the last word mockingly. I nodded, and she didn’t lose any time before straddling my lap, pulling my head to her cleavage. A bit hurried, I thought, mentally marking her down. I could see how it would impress a young football player or give heart-attack to a nerdy boy, but I wasn’t in the same group.

“Go ahead, Miss Collins, impress me,” I said as I leaned slightly forward, bringing our faces closer that one last push would be enough to connect our lips, but I avoided that. It was too intimate to support my objectives for the day. 

“As you wish, professor,” she answered as she squirmed on my lap until she was directly above my shaft, in full erection thanks to the anticipation. It was amusing to watch the way her eyes grew as she moved forward, acquainting herself with its size. She let out a surprised gasp, and I smiled smugly, showing her that I caught the reason for her momentary lapse. “Don’t get cocky,” she answered sharply, trying to re-establish her authority. “I was just surprised that you didn’t have a micro-penis, you seem like the type.” 

I didn’t bother to respond to her poor attempt to rile me up to balance the situation. Instead, I leaned back, making myself as comfortable as it was possible on the uncomfortable cushions of my guest couch. “Are you going to start, or are you waiting for an invitation?” I asked. 

My dismissive tone sparked her to action. She tightened her hold on my shoulders, started rocking her hips rapidly. Admittedly, it was quite enjoyable especially thanks to her lack of panties, if a bit amateurish, but I didn’t let my expression to reflect my enjoyment of the situation. 

And it worked just as intended. She kept her eyes on my face, her outrage getting more defined with each passing second. Soon, she stood up with a huff, making me worry that I pushed her too hard and she was scuttling the plan. I wouldn’t have lost a lot, but I didn’t want all my effort to go to waste. But that concern faded when I watched her hands reaching the buttons of her shirt, and instead of moving upward, which was necessary to close them, they moved down, the wrap of her shirt loosening. 

When she turned to face him once more, her shirt was completely unbuttoned, and parted enough to give a vision of her flat stomach. Even better, her breasts were mostly on display, her nipples barely hidden by her shirt, a barrier that looked like it was about to fall off with the slightest wind. 

And that wind came in the form of a forward step, showing that she was willing to push to erase the expression of cold amusement off my face. I decided her commitment deserved a reward, and let my expression flare with amusement for a moment before continuing forward. 

Apparently, she thought that my momentary ‘slip’ was really valuable, because she doubled-down on the impression. Her shirt flew away after a few sharp motions, giving me an unobstructed view of her breasts. I waited for her to use the same treatment for her skirt, but instead, she chose to sit on my lap once more, this time her back pressing against my chest, giving her more freedom of movement as she twerked on my lap. 

Then, she did something that reasonably surprised me after twisting her neck to see I had the same slightly amused expression. She grabbed my wrists, and brought my hands on her breasts, giving me explicit permission to touch her. It wouldn’t be gentlemanly to reject such a kind offer, so I sank my fingers into her breasts, testing their firmness once again, this time unburdened by the concern that someone might enter and discover a rather illicit scene between a student and a professor. 

I would have liked to leave my mark on the pale skin of her neck, attractively wrapped by the red strands of her ponytail, but that would have ruined the impression I was trying to give. Instead, I let her continue her improvised lapdance while I enjoyed the texture of her breasts. Under my attention, her moans slowly turned from artificial to natural. It was good to see I was starting to get her. 

She kept the position for a few more minutes, though didn’t bother to change position, going for repetition rather than creativity. I guess it was my job as her teacher to educate her about the better way of doing it. Then, she stopped. 

“How was it,” she said as she slipped forward a bit, taking a seat on my knee, her hand slipping through my hair. A nice touch, I had to admit. 

“Barely a C,” I answered without missing a beat. 

“What!” she answered, jumping up her feet, which caused her tits to jiggle attractively. “What do you mean, a C, you bastard.” 

“Well,” I said, raising my hand as I started listing the reasons. “First of all, you were quite repetitive,” I said, folding one of my fingers. “Then, you didn’t even bother to turn on the music before starting to lap dance. Not to mention you limited yourself to dry humping like we’re high school freshman, experimenting for the first time. To sum up, you have a nice body, but there is a significant lack of effort, not to mention I expect more creativity from a woman.” 

For a moment, she just stood frozen, her anger flaring higher and higher. “I’ll show you effort,” she said as she reached down, and for a moment, I couldn’t help but stiffen, but relaxed what she was trying to do. With a sharp pull, she unzipped my pants, and a brief struggle with my belt later, my erection jumped open. 

She fell to her knees in front of me, her eyes fixed on my shaft. “I’m going to show you that I deserve an A,” she murmured as she leaned forward, while I was curious just how far she would go for a slight on her pride… 

I was enthusiastic to discover her limits…