Author's Note: All parties depicted are over 18, and the scenes within this story take place in a university/college environment.
'Hey Mr. Carpe, sorry to bug you like this, but I wanted to ask you about the--'
Lucille was tucking a strand of her recently-dyed blonde hair over her ear as she spoke, which was why she didn't notice it right away. It was only as she took a step into the classroom in which she had been learning along with the rest of her classmates only ten minutes earlier that she looked up from her phone, tapping the send key on her text message, and saw it.
'Oh my god. Oh, my,
fucking,
god!' Lucille exclaimed. She stood in the doorway, frozen in space for a second, caught like a deer in the headlights. It was a little like a train wreck; too terrible to see, yet impossible to look away. As such, she had plenty of time to take it all in.
Carpe, trousers around his ankles. Reclined on the wall, whiteboard shelf supporting his bare backside. Exposed,
erect
penis out, and disappearing repeatedly into the mouth of... Holy shit. Zara
fucking
Maisie. And Zara - Zara was on her knees, skirt around her waist, legs spread, one hand disappearing between them while the other cupped his balls, fondling them as she sucked, apparently willingly deep-throating her teacher. She didn't turn her head as she bobbed, a soft 'gluck gluck' sound emanating from where his erection penetrated her throat.
But he did.
Lucille was already half-way up the hallway when she heard his call, and for a fleeting instant, she faltered, her rushing legs stumbling. Then, momentum carried her onwards, and she resumed her mad rush, her shoes pumping as she ran to the front desk in the other building across the way, books clutched desperately to her left breast, phone clamped tightly in her right.
Back in the classroom, John Carpe let his head bump the whiteboard as the young university student ran, not bothering to halt the oral sex he was receiving. Indeed, he stroked the kneeling woman's hair, gently urging her on as Lucille's footsteps echoed away.
'There's a good girl, keep going. Faster, faster now... Very good. Every thrust making you wetter, every inch making you more obedient. You're almost there, my pet, just a few more and you can finish with-with me-oh,
oh fuck!'
Carpe stiffened, his hand hardening on the kneeling girl's head, driving it home as her rubbing tongue and suctioning lips brought the ejaculation out of him. He stiffened, tightened, groaned, and felt the first wonderful load rush along his length, disappearing into the mouth clamped around him, never to be seen again. At the exact same time, the woman began to shake, her breasts jouncing as she mirrored his orgasm. A few short, high-pitched squirts emanated from the space beneath her skirt, along with a wet dripping sound and a lot of rapid
schlick schlick schlick
noises - the sound of her squirting past her vibrating hand, which rubbed and finger-fucked the feminine ejaculate out of her in time with her male counterpart.
Lucille ran, panting, into the front office, finding the usual person attending to the desk; the university's general coordinator, a black-haired, late-thirties woman named Rosanna. Rosanna smiled as Lucille entered, the smile quickly turning into a look of concern as she saw Lucille's face.
'Holy shit, quick,' Lucille said in a rush, 'you've got to come, Mr. Carpe is having sex with a student!'
Six minutes later, Rosanna and Lucille strode into the classroom Lucille had said it was happening in, finding it occupied by one person - John Carpe. He smiled as the pair came in, leaning back in his chair.
'Ah, Lucille, Rosanna, great to see you both.'
'Shut it, dick-stain,' Lucille said, fury boiling over. 'I know what you made Zara do, and I know it's probably to get better grades, and Rosanna and I aren't going to let you get away with it.'
Rosanna held up her hand, unsuccessfully stemming the outburst until that point, when the angry and adrenaline-pumped Lucille finally noticed it. More calmly, Rosanna interlaced her fingertips in her lap, her professional black pencil skirt and smart low heels complimenting her professionalism.
The words, however, that came out of her mouth, belied that strong, professional female archetype.
'Master Carpe, how can I serve you?'
Lucille actually took a few seconds to digest what Rosanna had said. When, at last, she did, she recoiled from the woman. 'What the
fuck?'
she exclaimed.
Carpe, for his part, was as unperturbed as he had been when Lucille had first caught him. 'Rosanna, wonderful of you to join me. Please, if you would assume tabletop.'
To Lucille's incredulity, she watched as the responsible, head-strong Rosanna calmly strode towards the nearest student table, hiking her skirt up her thighs as she walked, before she positioned her backside on the edge of the table and effortlessly tipped herself onto it, allowing the edge of the table to part her legs, revealing a pair of maroon-red panties underneath. As Rosanna exposed herself, Carpe pushed his chair back, revealing that he had not in fact been alone; with a soft wet smack, his half-erect manhood slipped from the lips of Zara, who was kneeling underneath his desk. Gesturing, she emerged, licking her lips.
'Good. Rosanna, panties off. Zara, be a sexy little darling and eat Rosanna out until she ejaculates, please.'
As if it were the most normal thing in the world, the youthful university student shifted to the space between Rosanna's spreading legs, and, as Rosanna shuffled her panties away from her flesh, she leaned in, helping the red fabric as it went, searching tongue seeking and finding the older woman's sensitive flesh.
'What the
fuck.
' Lucille said again, staring in horror. Her eyes shifted, taking in the man who now approached her, cock still hanging freely before himself, his semi-hard manhood gently swaying.
'Relax, my dear Lucille. You can ask for anyone in this school you like, but I assure you, no one is going to help you do anything but
obey my orders
.'
'Fuck,
you,
you rapey, creepy mother
fucker,
' Lucille said, pointing at the half-naked man. She glanced downwards, seeing the pendulous appendage. 'Fuck
all
of you!' She turned to run, to fetch the principle if she could. One word stopped her.
'Lucille.'
There was an obvious grin in his voice as Carpe spoke to Lucille's backside. 'What's the use, little lady? You're already mine. Just give in, you know you want to. Running is so hard, but submitting to my cock is so
very
easy... Just relax and obey. Turn around and kneel for me, girl.'
Lucille felt a strange, almost magnetic pull filling her. Something inexplicable was drawing her towards her teacher, something that seemed to centre itself on the cock hanging from his body. Her mind screamed, her heart racing faster than if she'd just run a triathlon. A shudder of something she desperately didn't want to acknowledge rippled through her, ending with a hatefully blissful electricity between her legs. For a moment, Lucille wanted, more than anything, to turn, to gaze at his cock, and to fall to her knees before it, where she could obey freely, do as she was told, let him control her mind as he did her body, use her as he saw fit like the mindless toy she--
Lucille snapped. A second later, she was outside. Tears streaked as she ran, blindly fleeing the classroom. She didn't know how, why, or where she was going; all she knew was to run, a wholly instinctual act of utter animalistic flight.
Back in the classroom, John Carpe shrugged. Some were harder to break than others, and, unlike the two women currently interlocked in oral-vaginal coitus behind him, Lucille had only attended classes since the middle of the year, instead taking hers at another school. The attractive twenty-something had only moved here after her parents had shifted states, bringing the single and otherwise broke daughter along with them. As such, Lucille had only been exposed to a small portion of the subliminal implantations he'd given to all his other classes, his colleagues, and even the school board. Someone like Zara, whom he'd known since last year, when she'd joined straight out of her regular schooling, had been indoctrinated for a long time, and had first obeyed a direct command from John back when she was freshly nineteen. Now, a few weeks before her twenty-first birthday, she was as dominated by him as the much older, much longer-exposed Rosanna was. The older woman, whom Carpe had begun working with six years ago, had been his subservient slut for more than five of those, and had cheated on her husband--both of them--with him more times than he could count. He wondered idly if, at this point,
they
were cheating on
him
-
if
they ever had sex.
Sighing, Carpe glanced at the two women, then picked up his pants from the back of his chair and lazily began to tie them up.
He'd need to pay a visit to the principle.
Lucille ran until she found herself at the tennis courts, where she finally stopped, allowing herself to fall to her knees, where she cried. Strained by something she didn't understand, Lucille forced her addled, weak mind to regather, and, after a minute or so, she stood, brushed herself off, and resumed her speed - this time to the central offices.
A few minutes later, Lucille burst into the office block, punched the elevator, and was two floors up before her heart caught up. Aware this time that her hysterics wouldn't help, she paused to regather herself, straightened her trousers, tucked her hair, and knocked.
'Come in.'
Thank god
the principle was in. Though not like a normal high school, this university had a sub-section across the road for primary and secondary school attendance, and so to keep things simple, it labelled its directorship 'principle' even though this office was better titled 'managing director'. Lucille couldn't care if she was the chief knitting instructor, first-class in that moment; she knew the woman was her highest possible escalation point and knew she needed her help.
'Ah, Lucy Beverly, is it?' the middle-aged woman said, her greying brown hair up in a tidy top bun. At forty-six, the woman looked good for her age, keeping fit and healthy, though nature's signs were unavoidable nonetheless.
