Blue Book

*Written at the suggestion of my muse, MsMorrigan*

Professor Chase Edwards checked his watch as he stepped into the men's room five minutes before the his next class was due to start. As was his new custom, he entered the farthest available stall from the door. Why he wanted to be farther from the door didn't make any sense, other than the idea that retreating into a corner felt "safer" -- safe, from what, he couldn't say. His own sense of embarrassment, even shame?

He was in a stall because he had to sit to urinate. As he had for the past six days, ever since he had let a 20-year-old undergraduate talk him into letting her lock him into chastity and keep the key.

As he stood up, he took a moment to examine the stainless steel chastity device for the tenth time today. Just thinking about the young woman again was causing him to get aroused; causing his penis to strain fruitlessly against the bars of its cage. In three minutes he was going to have to deliver a lecture, and he knew full well she was going to be sitting in the front row, smiling coquettishly at him. The predicament was only serving to make his body work even harder to become erect.

He also briefly wondered, again for the tenth time today, how difficult it would be to just cut the damn thing off. He had spent more time in the past week reading about and looking at chastity devices than in his entire previous life. If his devious, irresistible student had presented him with a cage with a padlock, it would be easy enough to just clip the hasp of the lock. But she had placed him in one of those devices with a built-in internal lock. He wondered whether she had actually planned it that way. He really wasn't comfortable with applying a pair of bolt-cutters to several of the bars of this cage, with the tender flesh of his penis pressed against them.

That, and, he had to admit, the fact that he was now so completely at her mercy was far more compelling than he could have imagined.

So he sighed and walked down the hall and entered the classroom. Sure enough, Nova was sitting in the front row, dressed in not-so-casual tight jeans and a burgundy silk blouse. As he opened his notes and began his lesson, he watched her unbutton the top button of her blouse and begin to toy with the silver necklace around her neck. A tiny key dangled from it.

***

*Six days earlier*

Nova looked again at her blue-book essay from her mid-term exam, and scowled. She couldn't believe she had only got a B on it. She kept reading Professor Edwards' comment: "Ms. Simpson, You write very well, and your reasoning is solid. But it's obvious that you didn't include any of the perspectives from the extra reading assignments. You're capable of much better."

She could read between the lines. If she wanted the highest grade, he was saying, she had to do more than the minimum required reading. Okay, she admitted, she could see that. And she was going to do exactly that. But she was also going to give *him* more than *he* bargained for.

Her friends Amy and Jen joined her in the dorm lounge. They were even more unhappy than she was -- they had only received C's on their exams.

"What an asshole," Jen sputtered. "He probably expects us to fuck him for a better grade."

"Ugh," Amy said. "He must be, what, seventy years old?"

"Actually, he's 52," Nova countered. "I looked him up on Linked In."

"Fifty-two?" Jen mused. "I guess that's not so bad."

"My dad is 52 years old," Amy retorted.

Jen grinned and shrugged. "Hmmm. Your dad's kind of hot. I'd fuck him."

"Gross," Amy said, but they all laughed.

"No, nobody needs to fuck Doctor Edwards," Nova stated. "I've got a better idea."

***

Nova entered Professor Edwards' office and closed the door behind her. She had carefully arranged to arrive at the very end of his posted office hours.

He looked up with a mixture of emotions. Nova Simpson really did intrigue him. She had all the makings of an outstanding scholar, in addition to being quite lovely, in her own distinctive way. But she seemed to have ignored every one of his verbal cues to push herself academically. Still, it had almost hurt to admonish her in writing on her mid-term.

"Ummm, hello, Ms. Simpson," he managed to say. "How can I help you?"

"Oh, Professor Edwards, I just wanted to talk," she said, approaching his desk, and then walking directly past it to the window behind him.

He swivelled in his desk chair to follow her. "About your midterm?"

"Yes," she replied, gazing out the window. "But only to say thank you."

He leaned back in his chair, surprised.

"You know, this is my third year here," Nova continued, "And you're the first professor to tell me that I could do better."

She turned from the window to face him. Her blue eyes locked with his, and she pursed her glossy lips as she gave a little shrug. He was intensely aware that she was on the same side of the desk as he was. It seemed incredibly forward, even brazen.

"I think everything's better when you have to work for it. Maybe even struggle a little bit."

"That's... a very... mature perspective," he told her.

"No pain, no gain? That's what my high school track coach always said," she added. Then suddenly she hopped up on his desk, crossing her bare legs and making her modest skirt hike up her shapely thighs. One of her calves brushed up against his knee.

He was glad she had closed the door behind her, because he was becoming uncomfortable with how downright seductive this young woman was being. But he didn't ask her to get down. In fact, his eyes were glued to her pretty legs, just a couple of feet from his face. He found himself wondering what events she had run in track. Her legs were nicely muscled; the limbs of a hurdler, perhaps, not a distance runner.

"You know, there are easier classes to take as electives," she continued. "I signed up because I heard you were the best teacher in the department. And they're right. I love listening to you lecture." She put her hands on the edge of the desk and leaned toward him a bit, and his eyes rose to her face, pausing to notice the lace of her bra through the opening of her simple white blouse.

"But, honestly, I didn't realize what a good teacher you were, until you took the time to tell me how I could improve." She leaned into him a bit further, and suddenly he could sense her breathe, sweet and warm.

"In fact," she offered, her voice down to a conspiratorial whisper, "It made me wet."

Edwards' eyes widened and he had to clear his throat. Okay, no doubt about it now, he thought. She's seducing me. And, it's working.

"As a matter of fact," Nova continued, "I'm wet right now."

"Ummm," was all Chase could say.

"Would you like to find out how wet I am, Professor?" she breathed. Then she added, "I want you to taste me."

He was speechless, but his face must have been asking, "*Taste you?*" because she was staring back at him with wide eyes and nodding slowly. This was getting way out of control, he thought, but he felt powerless to resist. In fact, he found himself moving to part her legs right there on his desk, in his office, behind the unlocked door, when she stopped him.

"Not here," she said. "Somewhere more comfortable. Okay if I come to your place this evening about eight?" Again, all he could do was nod, as Nova hopped up off the desk and leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. "Good. See you then."

***

Chase left campus early to swing by a store and pick up some wine and cheese. When he got home, he promptly decluttered the living room and kitchen, and changed the sheets on his bed, just in case. She hadn't suggested actually "taking her to bed," much less saying anything as explicit as "fuck me." She had only suggested that he please her orally... and he was already picturing her in a corner of his sofa, one foot on the floor and the other over the sofa's back, with his own face buried between her legs.

As he showered and shaved and manscaped himself, he fought against an instinct to step back from this brink. He had never had sex with an undergraduate before, although it certainly wasn't unheard of. He knew several colleagues who had done it, some quite regularly, and no one had ever been formally disciplined for it; although there was certainly a stigma attached, especially among the female faculty members.

But now... the combination of Nova's bright, fresh young face and nubile body, along with the stunning brazenness with which she had seduced him, made her irresistible to him. When she finally showed up at his door, dressed in a teal silk blouse and a short charcoal skirt with her hair loose around her shoulders, he struggled to not allow his jaw to drop open.

He offered to open a bottle of wine and she accepted, and strolled through his living space to take a seat on the very sofa where he had been hoping to have her. He handed her a glass and took a seat on the sofa a respectable distance away from her, letting her make the next move.

"So," she said, after a sip, "Do you want to talk about the extra-credit reading list for the final?"

He snorted out a laugh, grateful for her attempt to defuse the tension with a bit of humor.

"I'm serious," she continued. "You've taught me that if what I want is worth having, I need to work extra hard for it. You do believe that, don't you, Professor Edwards?"

"Well, I suppose that's one way to put it," he replied. "But, you don't have to call me Professor Edwards, Nova..."

"Oh, I think I should," she smiled, a devious twinkle in her eye. "And I think you should keep calling me Miss Simpson."

His eyes narrowed. Was she just here to tease him, or was she intentionally ramping up the taboo element of this encounter? "So," he ventured, "do you still want... me..."

"Oh, I do," she cut him off. "I really, really do." And as if to prove it, she set her wine glass down and abruptly swung one leg over his, pulling herself quickly onto his lap. Instinctively, his hands went to her waist, to the swell of her hips, and she let them stay there. Her otherwise-demure skirt had ridden up her thighs, and he could see that, whereas this afternoon her legs had been bare, tonight she was wearing sheer nude stockings, the black garter fasteners just visible. He felt himself becoming uncomfortably hard in his slacks, and he could tell she felt it too.

"But first, I want you to do something else for me," she said, and reached for her purse. And withdrew a shiny metallic device, reminiscent of a misshapen birdcage, melting in a Salvador Dali painting.

His heartbeat quickened. Well, this was an unexpected turn. "What..."

"It's a chastity device," she said. "Or, as some call it, a cock cage."

"I know what it is," Chase responded. "But, why... I mean..."

"Well, Professor," she purred, "I think anything worth having is worth putting in a little extra effort for, don't you?"

She leaned forward and ran her tongue up his ear, sending shivers throughout his body. "Now, I'm going to have to work really, really hard to get the grade that I want. Are you willing to do something really difficult to get what you want?"

She sat back up and twirled the chastity cage slowly in front of his face. "See, this little thing helps make sure that a man doesn't put his... pleasure... before a woman's. And ever since you told me that I needed to do something extra for you... I've been really, really excited about the thought of you doing something extra... for *me.* No pain, no gain, Professor?"

"So, you want to put that thing... on me..."

"Well," she corrected him, "I want *you* to put it on yourself, *for* me." And then she ground back and forth on his erection. He could feel her heat through his slacks.

"It doesn't look like you're in any condition for *me* to get you into it right now,anyway," she laughed. Then she pulled back off of him, and sat back down beside him, handing him the cage. "So why don't you go into the bathroom and figure out how to get yourself into it."

He laughed nervously, trying to think of which way to dismiss this crazy idea. Except, he realized, he wasn't really sure he wanted to. And so, almost as if he wasn't even in control of his own body, he found himself taking the device from her, and heading to the bathroom.

Once he did close the door, he was surprised to find his erection began to flag a bit as he fiddled with the cage, figuring out how to remove the key and the built-in lock. The cage portion disconnected from the hinged ring, and he laid the components on the vanity. He had never worn something like this before, or even seen one in person, but he had seen videos, and the process was straight-forward enough. The ring was a tight fit, and by the time he had managed to get it closed around the root of his penis and the neck of his scrotum, his cock was back to being semi-flaccid. With a dollop of hand lotion, it slipped into its new prison, and he felt an odd thrill as he put the lock mechanism into place and turned the key.

Then he pulled his slacks back up and went back into the living room, where Nova was still sipping her wine. Immediately he found his erection returning -- or rather, trying to. The pressure, the constriction, the sense of submission was overwhelming. So this is what it's all about, he thought. And as she extended her hand to him and said, "Key, please," he understood. And he surrendered the key to her without hesitation.

And then she stood up, and began to walk toward the door.

"But... I thought you said you wanted me to... taste you," he stammered.

She paused and turned back to him. "I did. And I do," she responded, coyly. "But, I didn't say *tonight*."

She looked into his incredulous eyes. "I think it'll be better for both of us if we let the anticipation build for a while."

"How... how long?" he rasped.

"Until the end of the semester," she replied. "Until I know that Jen and Amy got at least B's in your class."

He stood, dumb-founded, as she blew him a kiss and left. So, fuck, of course there was a quid pro quo. He had allowed himself to believe, over the course of a few hours, that this sexually precocious young woman had actually been attracted to him, to his intellect, to his firm tutelage. But, no, she was just using him, and humiliating him to boot.

But he also realized at the same time that that shameful epiphany was arousing him immensely. He felt the weight of the relentless foreign cage digging into his swelling flesh as his body reacted to his predicament with excitement.

He had certainly played games of tease and denial before, albeit with more mature partners. It dawned on him that it was precisely Nova's illicit youth, her preternatural wickedness, combined with his humiliation, that was overwhelming him with desire.

And, apparently, the promise that he might get to slip his tongue into her was, in fact, still on the table. All he had to do was to make it to the end of the semester...