Note: For reference - a "healslut" is a person who combines anatomical knowledge with sexual magic to heal the wounds and afflictions of others. Usually through sexual submission, although not always...
It wasn't Margot's intention to announce her entrance to the lecture hall. But the tall oak door was heavier than she remembered --
and
she had to open it with her left hand --
and
when it started closing faster than she expected, she instinctively reached out with her right and yelped as a fresh wave of pain shot through her injured wrist. She lost control of the door and...
BOOM.
Seeing as how this was the final lecture of a second-year elective seminar, there weren't a lot of students in the auditorium. But each and every one of them turned around when they heard the creaking crash of the great oaken door slamming shut.
"Oh...daffodils," Margot said under her breath, cradling her injured wrist. She grinned shakily, pushed her thick glasses back up onto her nose, then waved to the group.
"H..hi, every-
ow!
" she hissed, bringing her busted limb close to her body. "Ow, ow, ow."
Her shoulders slumped and she let out a long and shaky breath. Fortunately, it seemed like the guest lecturer hadn't yet arrived. So even though she was late, she-
"Nice of you to join us," said a sharp voice to Margot's left. The tardy student jumped, yelping even louder than she had before.
"P...Professor Kogo," she said, trying to ignore the sweat beading on her forehead. "I'm sorry I'm late. I..."
She thought about explaining...but then thought of the reaction she'd get if she described what had happened. How she had seen a sad-looking squirrel on her way to class. How she had knelt down to offer it a peanut. How it had jumped at her, landing on her ample chest and causing her to fall backwards, squeaking in fear (Margot, not the squirrel). How she had landed on her palms, the right one twisted at just the perfect angle to sprain it or even...
Margot lowered her head even further. "I'm sorry."
Professor Kogo didn't seem to hear her. The older woman's fingers slowly traced down the page of the slender volume in her perfectly manicured hand. She touched the end of each printed stanza with the lightness of a raindrop dimpling the surface of a pond. Reaching the last line, she flipped to the next page, raised an eyebrow, and then closed the book.
That's when the professor turned the full attention of her gaze on Margot. The nineteen-year-old quailed beneath the intensity of the woman's stare.
"Up to the front," Kogo ordered, gesturing with the book.
"Y-yes, Professor. Sorry, Professor," Margot said, nodding and making her way down the sloping lane of carpet between the rows of seats. She kept her eyes glued to the ground in front of her, her cheeks burning as she approached the giggles and whispers of her classmates.
She half-stepped into the row of students furthest from the stage, preparing to squeeze past Sami's long, tanned legs and take a secluded seat into which she could disappear for the remainder of the class. But before she could even say "excuse me" to the quiet, wide-eyed girl in the back row, a sharp voice behind her made her jump once more.
"I said, 'to the front', Ms. Elthorpe."
"Of course, Professor. Sorry, Professor."
Margot wilted. There would be no disappearing today. As she approached the very front row, she tried to make a quick decision as to what side to sit on. To the left, Gothikka glared straight ahead as if trying to set the ceiling-high blackboard on fire with the intensity of her gaze. A small, brown bat clung to the girl's thumb, suckling at a dripping cut it found there. Margot shuddered and turned away.
To the right, Eliza triple-checked her audio-recording crystal before rearranging the colored pencils next to her notebook. Margot knew to expect a snarky comment or five from the try-hard, whose annoyance at the late start to the lecture would quickly transform into acid in Margot's direction. Meanwhile, a few seats down, Brak sat as he always did -
squarely
. The arms sticking out from his tank top bulged with blocky muscles, made somehow even
more
rectangular by the way he crossed them over his chest. Like Gothikka, he too was staring hard at the board -- but instead of an expression seeking its spontaneous combustion, his was a squint that sat somewhere between a need for glasses and a reflexive distrust of what he saw written there.
Brak would never say anything to Margot. And yet, that could sometimes hurt even more than Eliza's cutting complaints. It was a question Margot often asked herself -- is it worse to be insulted or ignored? She had yet to come up with an answer, and as a result, she feared both.
Margot knew she was hesitating for too long. But just before she was about to back to Gothikka's row, she felt a small, strong hand squeeze the curve of her hip. Professor Kogo abandoned the sharp whipcrack tone from earlier in favor of a deep, yet still feminine voice that slid sultrily into her student's ear.
"I want you in the
very
front," Kogo said. "Where they can see
all
of you."
Margot shuddered in pleasure. The strong touch at her hips, coupled with the almost purring tones and tingling breath rushing into her ear sent electric currents tingling throughout her body.
"
Nyuh,
" she moaned quietly as the flush of embarrassment rose up and filled her chest with heat.
Kogo chuckled briefly in her ear. "Get up there." Her hand slid down the curve of Margot's hip, but it wasn't until her fingers started sliding beneath the young woman's pleated skirt that Margot started moving again.
Taking quick, short steps, and with her eyes still locked on the carpet, Margot made her way over to the stairs to the stage. She ascended quickly, wincing as her injured wrist bounced against the book bag at her side.
Margot stood still for a moment on the stage, unsure of where to go. Kogo's sharpened voice called to her from down below. "Up on the table, please. Sit and face the class."
Slowly, Margot made her way over to the table in the very middle of the stage. She turned her back to it, her eyes still downturned, and tried to figure out how to get herself up on top of it with only one hand...and without flashing her underwear to the rest of the class.
Then Professor Kogo was in front of her. Surprised, Margot looked up and right into the woman's steely-gray eyes. She felt hypnotized by that stare, barely able to move as the professor removed the messenger bag slung over her student's shoulder. Despite the older woman's tough attitude, she was still surprisingly gentle...and attractive enough to make Margot's mouth go completely dry.
Kogo put the bag on the floor, leaning it up against the leg of the table. Then, without warning, she put both hands on Margot's waist and boosted the nineteen-year-old up onto the table with such strength and ease that it took the girl's breath away.
The professor stood there for a moment, her hands squeezing Margot's soft sides. Then her gray eyes closed, and Kogo tilted her head back slightly. The stage lights glinted off of a stylish pair of half-moon glasses affixed to her almost-too-sharp nose. The woman's nostrils flared as she took in a deep breath, and for a brief moment Margot wondered if her teacher could
smell
her embarrassment...or even
worse
, the growing physical arousal that Margot was trying to ignore.
The older woman's mouth twisted up into a smirk and Margot swallowed hard. She could feel sweat collecting beneath her heavy breasts and in the small of her back. The room was incredibly hot all of a sudden, and she wondered if she'd even be able to get through the next few seconds without passing out.
Meanwhile, Kogo had come back to herself. She picked up the slender book of poetry from where she had left it on the table, then turned around to address the lecture hall.
"Who lent this to me, again?" she asked the class. There was a long silence. Finally, Eliza turned around to scold the girl behind her.
"Ayimee!"
"Hm? What? Oh, yeah, right here, professor dude," said a pale elf with dreadlocks and a nice sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Professor Kogo tossed it to her. Even though she hit the elf's hand directly, the book still ended up on the floor.
"Whoops." The dreadlocks disappeared from view. Eliza rolled her eyes and removed a microscopic speck of dust from her notebook page.
Kogo straightened her clothes, ran her hand through her short, silver hair, and prepared to begin her lecture. But before she could speak, she was interrupted by the reappearing Ayimee.
"But like...what did you think of them stanzas, bro?"
The professor narrowed her gaze at the young elf, who was completely oblivious to the intensity in the eyes directed at her. Next to Ayimee, a very similar-looking elf -- this one a boy sporting a shock of bright, sideswept hair that changed color every few seconds -- was looking at her fearfully, as if these were her last moments on earth.
"Like all elvish poetry," Professor Kogo said, "it sucked."
Divad turned away from his sister to gape at Professor Kogo. His gasp was equal parts audible and dramatic, and a second later Ayimee finally reacted to her professor's comment.
"Whoah. Harsh."
"Yes," the professor replied icily. "Harsh. A good segue into today's lesson."
She paced slowly across the stage as she spoke, making eye contact with each of the seven or so students in the audience. At the same time, she completely ignored Margot, who still sat on the table with her ankles crossed, trying to ignore the pulsing pain in her wrist.
"This is the last lecture in Course 234: Healslut Archetypes. I am Professor Kogo, but if you didn't know that already, then you've got bigger problems than trying to make it through this class."
"Ko...go..." said Ayimee, scribbling in large letters in her notebook. Eliza, meanwhile, sat up even straighter, as if hoping her posture would help her win the professor's favor. On the other side of the aisle, and one row back, Lalulena nodded slowly. Her hands were neatly folded in her lap, but her arms pushed her massive chest forward, her breasts almost comically huge beneath the conservative frill of the neck-high blouse she wore. Margot realized that she was staring, and quickly shifted her gaze to the floor between her heels. She'd always been partially proud, and partially embarrassed of how large her own chest was...but Lalulena put her completely to shame.
"It is my opinion...and all of my colleagues are aware of this, including those colleagues who have served as your guest lecturers over these past twelve weeks...that this class is utterly
worthless
."
"Worth...less," Ayimee intoned as she wrote it down.
Eliza looked like she had been hit by a meteor.
"You're all sophomores," the professor continued. "You've been taking in theory for the past two years, sure, but you've had little chance to apply what you've learned. Hopefully, your Healslut Internships this summer will help switch you over from theory to practice. But because you don't
have
