The Tessera Method

This sex scene took a long time for me to write despite the fact that the last couple chapters before this one have all been leading up to it. The key issue I face in my writing is that I only really get inspired by ideas that relate to my fetishes, but I struggle with getting actual sex scenes out onto the page. Hope this one came out good in the end!

The Tessera Method, Ch 05

Hannah Chung dreamed of old-fashioned romance.

She saw herself in shades of black, white, and grey, wearing kitten heels, makeup, a string of pearls, a pair of diamond earrings, an artificially-curled hairstyle, and a nice dress with an apron over it, bustling around a vast library with a feather-duster. All around her was dark wood, leather seating, lamps with green glass shades, vast windows showing a pleasant autumn day outside, and rows upon rows of books of every size, age, and genre. Histories, poetry, philosophy, good novels, trashy novels, two separate encyclopedias, reference texts on many subjects, even a small selection of manga discreetly tucked into one corner (as Hannah's taste for it was discreetly tucked into one corner of her personality), and a couple of ancient manuals she used to study the exquisite art of man-pleasing.

She dusted as she went, but this was light work, because these books were often and well used by the master of the house, and by Hannah herself. As she worked, there was a huge smile on her face, because Hannah knew her only responsibility was to keep the owner of these books feeling happy, loved, well-fed, emotionally and sexually fulfilled, and completely at ease while within these walls, and if she succeeded at this easy, enjoyable task, the rest of her time could be devoted to reading these books, curating the collection, and writing her thoughts on them. She had no other worries, no other obligations. She was free.

The front door clicked open, and Hannah's face lit up. Her master had returned!

In through the front door walked Dr. Asher Rosenberg, wearing an overcoat and a hat, both of which he swept onto a waiting coat-rack to reveal a white dress shirt, black slacks, and a black skinny tie. "Honey, I'm home!" The studio audience applauded for him. "What's for dinner?" he asked, after allowing a few seconds for the cheers to die down.

"Darling! Welcome home! I've got a roast in the oven for you," Hannah replied, batting her eyelashes, "but it won't be done for another half-hour or so. Would you care for a drink while you wait?" She gestured at an overstuffed easy chair by a roaring fireplace, with an end-table next to it holding a decanter of bourbon, a single empty glass, a fine wooden pipe and book of matches, and a well-worn Tennyson anthology. The studio audience reacted with a heartfelt

awwwww

.

"That's sweet of you, honey, but I had something else in mind," Dr. Rosenberg grinned. He took her by the waist and spun her into an ostentatious dip, kissing her deeply on the lips. The studio audience let out an ecstatic

woooooooooo!

Dr. Rosenberg reached out and switched on a large mid-century radio, and buzzcore music began to play, its high whine and low, bone-shaking tones rattling their way deep into Hannah's core. "Oh, darling!" she swooned. It was suddenly quite hot in here.

Over the music, she could hear the voice of Tyler from last Friday night, talking about old-fashioned romance and chivalry. "Most guys don't want to deal with the hassle or drama, but I actually like to give my best girl a chance to bring her friends around to join us in bed. It helps keep her female friendships strong, giving her a better emotional support system in case I ever can't be there for her. I find that

so

important." Tyler was on the radio? That was odd. Perhaps he was a buzzcore musician now? He did seem to enjoy it quite a lot.

Dr. Rosenberg lifted Hannah back to her feet, seized her dress in both hands, and pulled firmly, and it fell away like a tearaway suit. He discarded it, and it disappeared. Underneath it she was wearing nothing but an elaborately-tied rope harness, weighted nipple clamps, and a buttplug, and also somehow her hands were now tied to her thighs and her mouth wedged wide open with a spider-gag. Her kitten heels had been replaced with sky-high platform stilettos. The audience cheered and wolf-whistled.

He guided her over toward the chair and eased her to her knees in front of it, on a vintage bearskin rug, then got comfortable in the chair before unzipping his pants and pulling out a nice, big cock. A chorus of feminine

wooooooooo

s from the crowd rang in Hannah's ears alongside the buzzcore tones as he guided her head to it and eased it inside her wide-open gagged mouth.

"Most guys these days don't want to take on the responsibility of household discipline, either," Tyler's voice continued, "but I think the girls who ask for it have a point. It's a big scary world, and mindfulness is a good way to cut down on feminine anxiety. Keep your girl focused on her house, her family, her boyfriend, her stinging ass, this very moment, y'know? We really lost something as a society when that went out of fashion. I blame lazy men."

Hannah moaned around Dr. Rosenberg's cock as she bobbed up and down on it, taking it as deep as she could. He sighed with contentment and poured himself a glass. Hannah basked in his approval and the warm glow of marital bliss. Tones buzzed within her, and so did something else, between her thighs. Did she have a vibe in her pussy? It felt amazing. The audience clapped to the rhythm of her bobbing head. Hard cock bumped against the back of her throat until she finally took a deep breath through her nose, held it, opened up her esophagus, and swallowed the cock into her throat, to ecstatic cheers from the crowd.

Tied up, stuffed full of sex toys and cock, focused on nothing but pleasing her man and enjoying the sensations growing in her own body, Hannah felt utterly at peace. All was right with the world. Well. Almost all. Something was off. It was the smell. Dr. Rosenberg didn't smell like cock, or male sweat, or precum. He smelled like... Mackenzie. He smelled like Mackenzie's pussy. Everything smelled like Mackenzie's pussy. Even Hannah's own lips tasted like Mackenzie's pussy.

Holy shit, she'd licked Mackenzie's pussy.

With that, Hannah stirred awake. She wasn't sucking dick in bondage on an old black-and-white TV show after all; she was on her couch. Naked, with Mackenzie, who she'd just had sex with. So that was big.

She wasn't as stoned as she'd been at the time (although she was still a LITTLE stoned) but was relieved to find that she didn't regret it. She'd been thinking about doing that, in the abstract, for quite some time, and was glad she'd just gotten it done. Things didn't have to be weird now, if she didn't let them.

Also, it looked like Tanya was here now. She was naked too. Hannah's brow furrowed. That was odd. She was about 85% sure Tanya hadn't been involved.

Well, that didn't have to be weird either. Hannah got up and grabbed a nearby blanket, and draped it over herself and her two friends. This was a nice nap. No reason to mess it up.

----------

The next day at about 2:58 PM, Hannah took a deep breath and stared at the door to Dr. Rosenberg's office. Was she really ready for this? She looked herself over one last time. Her hair looked great; her makeup was pretty but not overstated; her skin was moisturized and radiant; she smelled clean and a bit floral but not overpowering; her breath was fresh but not mediciney; her legs and pussy were shaved and lotioned baby-smooth. Check, check, check, check, check, and check.

Her outfit had been a group effort and the result of much deliberation. Tanya had tried to get her to wear what had turned out to be a schoolgirl fetish outfit she had purchased for herself at a sex shop, claiming that Hannah needed to crank the kink factor up to 11 to shock Dr. Rosenberg into violating his ethical code. Mackenzie, somewhat surprisingly, had argued that this would scare him off and instead suggested Hannah wear a classic little black dress to emphasize how mature and sophisticated she was despite her age, thus implying how Not Weird it would be for Dr. Rosenberg to fuck her. ("The schoolgirl outfit is a fun idea, but it can wait until the third date or so," she'd smirked.) Tanya had countered that Dr. Rosenberg would probably just ask why Hannah was dressed for a cocktail party at 3:00 PM on a Tuesday. Mackenzie hadn't really had an answer for that.

In the end, Hannah had split the difference between these two plans: she was wearing a short floral spaghetti-strap sundress, a pastel blue cardigan, a pair of wedge-heeled sandals, a heart-shaped pendant necklace, a pair of simple pearl earrings, a shiny barrette in her hair, a pink lace thong, and nothing else. The dress, necklace, and heels said "I'm a young, beautiful girl enjoying spring and the vigor of youth", but the earrings and cardigan said "I'm a mature sophisticated adult and scholar you can engage with intellectually". ("And once you're in the door and you've gotten him comfortable," Tanya had nodded as she began to understand, "it's all 'oh my, isn't it hot in here' and boom, off comes the cardigan. Great move. Classic.")

The thong, of course, said "aren't you glad you got my dress off me".

Cindy Nguyen had been successfully fended off - Mackenzie had been correct, and Tanya had been so happy her friends had reconciled and were working on this project that she'd agreed to help immediately. She hadn't actually had to show Jimmy Albano her boobs to get Cindy tied up at work all afternoon, or not all of them, anyway. Letting them bounce around a bit in a low-cut top with no bra while she asked politely had been more than enough. Cindy would be working until the dinner shift started. Plenty of time. And assuming Dr. Rosenberg was telling the truth about nobody ever coming to office hours, Hannah didn't have to worry about interruptions, either. The coast was clear.

She'd made sure to actually bring her Keats book and prepare a few discussion topics related to it, to break the ice - she would have to successfully move the topic away from poetry for this to work, but it still probably had to start off there. And of course, she had Mackenzie's secret weapon, to use as a panic button. She was prepared. In every way she could really expect to be prepared, and even a couple that nobody could reasonably expect, she was prepared. Now there was nothing left to do but walk in this door and seduce her professor.

Now or never.

She forced her hand to rise and knock on the door before she could overthink it any more.

"Come in!" Okay. He was there, and he wanted Hannah to come in. She could do that. She could do this. She took one more deep breath and pushed the door open.

Dr. Rosenberg smiled as Hannah entered the room. "Oh! Hannah! What a nice surprise."

Hannah smiled back. He'd been expecting to see Cindy, and was pleased to see her instead. "Were you expecting someone else? I can come back later." She tried her best to keep any note of triumph out of her voice.

Dr. Rosenberg gestured at the chair across the desk from him. "No need! Office hours are so boring most of the time. Either no one shows up at all, or some kid just shows up to try to get me to do their homework for them. It's a welcome change to see such a good student here instead. I always enjoy hearing your thoughts and I'd love a chance to discuss them with you in more detail."

Hannah was blushing so hard she felt dizzy. She stumbled to the chair with a good deal less grace and poise than she had practiced, and lowered herself into it before she fainted. "Thanks!" she had the presence of mind to say. "I don't know why I don't come in more often. Your class is probably my favorite one this semester. It's great to just relax and enjoy some poetry right before having to get through Intro Lit Criticism."

Dr. Rosenberg snickered good-naturedly. "Oh, c'mon, Dr. Boudier isn't

that

bad, is she?"

Hannah smirked. "Last week I scanned the room and

the majority

of students were asleep. Plus one of her TAs."

Dr. Rosenberg laughed aloud. "I guess the numbers don't lie! Have you tried taking a class with Andrew Van Noy? That man could put a speed addict to sleep. Last month he gave a talk at the Faculty Club about Proust. I think every single person in the audience had their phone out under the table by the time he was done introducing himself. All professors! And I'm pretty sure he's had tenure since before I was born. I'll be lucky if I ever get there."

Hannah smiled and shook her head. "I can't imagine how stressful that must be. Do you think you've got a shot at tenure anytime soon?"

Dr. Rosenberg groaned a bit. "Ugh, don't get me started. I can't believe the games you have to play to survive in this world. I just wanted to teach Byron, and instead I'm playing politics. I had to go to this party at Professor Warren's house last month..."

Hannah had been to Dr. Rosenberg's office hours once or twice before - back at the beginning of the semester, when she hadn't been sure whether she would be taking the course - but she'd never gotten him talking about himself. She was unsurprised to find he was just as fascinating when discussing personal topics as academic ones. He was funny, engaging, insightful, not stuck-up about his higher position than hers, effusive in his praise of professors he admired and his criticisms of those he detested.

"What I really want to do is write," Dr. Rosenberg eventually confided to her, "but instead I have to spend all my time trying to game the system or my job won't last, and then I won't even get to teach. It's kind of a dilemma."

Hannah nodded. "And... what does your girlfriend say you should do?" Her hands gripped her thighs tightly with anxiety. This was a big risk, but he was so wrapped up in what he was saying that he might not even notice.

He barked a short laugh. "If she existed I'm sure she'd let me know." He paused for a second, as if realizing how far he had gone in his self-disclosure, and then coughed nervously. "But enough about me. Did you have a Keats discussion topic in mind for me today?"

Hannah restrained herself, but couldn't help letting a small victorious grin creep onto her face. "Yes! I was reading through 'On First Looking Into Chapman's Homer', and I know we haven't actually discussed it in class yet, but I really felt I needed some context. Why was Keats so blown away by the Odyssey? Had he really never read it before Chapman's version came out?"

Dr. Rosenberg smiled, at home in his element once more. "Excellent question! George Chapman actually lived centuries before Keats, and his translation had been around that whole time. But it wasn't the most well-known one! Alexander Pope, for example, did a much more widely-known translation which was meant for a casual consumer, but a poet like Keats could find a certain quality in Chapman's interpretation which..."

Hannah gazed at him as he talked. She was sure he'd make a great author, but it really would be a waste if he couldn't continue to teach, because that was where he was truly gifted. His passion on the subject of poetry was infectious. He could sweep you up in his enthusiasm. If Hannah wasn't careful, she'd get caught up in his explanation and let him spend the whole office hour talking about this one point, and she'd never get to seduce him. She took this opportunity to slip off her cardigan, leaving her in only her dress and the thong beneath it. It was time.

She waited until Dr. Rosenberg paused to take a breath, and interjected. "I could listen to you talk forever."

For his part, he just smiled. "...Eh? Why, thank you, Hannah. I guess I tend to just talk and talk and talk about poets and poetry. I can't help it."

Hannah leaned forward further than strictly necessary, elbows on her knees, pushing her tits together. Her boobs weren't the biggest in the world, but this dress hugged them snugly enough that it did a good job of giving her decent cleavage without the need for a bra, especially if she helped it out with her posture. The dress had worked like a charm getting her laid multiple times in the past; time to see if it came through in the clutch.

Boobs don't fail me now.

"I don't mind at all, you make it sound so fascinating," she smiled, noting with some satisfaction that he was having trouble holding her gaze due to the all-out assault on his visual attention being waged by her tits. "But," she added, "you could talk about anything and I'd be spellbound. Quantum mechanics, the Bible, the price of tea in China..." Her left spaghetti-strap fell off her shoulder to rest against her upper arm. She let it lie. Her dress drooped without its support; her left nipple juuuuust barely stayed covered. Perfectly executed.

"I'm not sure I could, uh, speak as effectively on any of those topics," Dr. Rosenberg gulped. His eyes darted down to her chest for just a millisecond.

Hannah had him now, she was sure of it. She stood up, walked around to the right side of his desk, and pushed herself up to sit on it. She crossed her legs. Her skirt rode dangerously high on her thigh. "Oh, you could just make it up as you went along," she purred. "As long as you were talking, I'd be the happiest girl in the world." She rested both her palms on his desk, on the left side of her lap, to allow her to lean toward him again. The time for subtlety was long past.

Dr. Rosenberg blinked a couple of times. Then, he smiled. "And if I'm not talking?"

"Well," she said quietly, "I suppose it'd depend what you were doing instead." She chewed her lip, for effect. She was pouring it on thick, she knew, but she wasn't nervous anymore. He was participating now. She had him. And soon he'd have her.

"What did you have in mind?" He pushed his chair out from his desk and raised an eyebrow, smirking.

She understood completely. The ball was in her court, as the person with less to lose. She had to be the one to take this to the next level.

What was it Mackenzie had said?

You flirt with him and show off your body for him until he's horny, and then you sit on his lap or something.

The rest of the plan had worked pretty well; no reason to deviate from it now. She rose to her feet, stalked over to him, and sank down onto his lap, sitting sideways across it. Their arms enveloped each other, his hand rested on the back of her head, and he kissed her.

A shock ran through Hannah's body as he kissed her. It was working! She couldn't believe it, but Dr. Rosenberg was really kissing her! His lips and tongue felt so good on hers, and his hands running up and down her body made her shudder with desire and sensation. This was really happening, and it had been so easy - that could only mean he'd wanted her, as much as she'd wanted him!

A wave of arousal washed over Hannah as she realized this, and she swung one leg over his lap, to straddle him, and took his chin in both hands as she kissed him hard. He groaned a bit under his breath and kissed her back, his hands sinking down to grab her ass through her skirt.

That skirt was clearly in the way. Time to do something about that. Hannah pulled back, but maintained eye contact as she reached behind herself and unzipped the back of her dress.

"Wait a second, Hannah," Dr. Rosenberg panted. "Are you absolutely sure..."

Hannah wasn't waiting, though. She pulled her dress up over her head and discarded it on the floor next to the chair, leaving her in her thong and heels, and Dr. Rosenberg's objection died in his throat as he looked over her near-naked body for the first time.

"I'm

very

sure, Doctor," she purred, rubbing her crotch against his obviously rock-hard cock through his pants. "I've been thinking about this all semester." It was true, although she hadn't really realized the extent of her feelings until yesterday.