Healslut Academy Healdomme Lecture

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

the practice, you don't have the

context

, and you are completely unable to appreciate the true value of the archetypes you've been presented with over the course of this lecture series.

"Fortunately, Ms. Elthorpe has presented us with the perfect opportunity to display the full extent of the power of archetype-matching."

Margot sat up a little taller, wincing as she bumped her wrist, but managing for the most part to keep the pain off her face.

"Ms. Elthorpe. Please describe to your classmates the nature of your primary injury."

Margot swallowed hard. "Oh. Well, uh, I hurt my wrist, Professor."

For several moments, Professor Kogo looked out on the auditorium, the students before her giggling nervously. Margot shrank in on herself. She almost felt as if she could

see

the stress headache building in the back of her professor's skull.

"You are a sophomore, here at the Healslut Academy, yes?" the professor asked icily.

"Y-yes, Professor."

"So you've had to pass through two years' worth of increasingly difficult subject matter, this joke of a class notwithstanding?"

"I...um...yes, Professor."

Professor Kogo whirled on her heel, affixing Margot with a wilting gaze.

"So when your professor asks you to describe the nature of your injury," she said in a hard, cold voice, "do you think a simple 'I hurt it' is the appropriate response?"

Margot quickly shook her head from side to side. Taking a deep breath, she placed her uninjured hand an inch or two away from the opposite wrist, closed her eyes, and began chanting quietly. She stumbled over the words at first, thanks to her nerves, but soon the familiarity of practice overrode the anxiety of performance. A purplish light briefly glowed at her fingertips, and when she opened her eyes the class could see her irises fade from violet back to brown.

"Scaphoid fracture," she said, grinning weakly. "I must have fallen harder than I thought."

"Fascinating," Professor Kogo said drily. There were a few more snickers from the audience and the teacher turned towards them.

"At this point," Kogo said, "each of you should be able to perform a simple fracture heal." She began her slow pace in front of the class once more. "Again, I suspect that your summer internships are where you'll

actually

..."

The Professor stopped, frowning. In the audience, Eliza had raised her hand.

"Yes?" Kogo said, icicles forming on the sharp edge of her voice.

"I've done over thirty hours of volunteer work in the clinics this semester," Eliza said proudly. Behind her, Divad rolled his eyes. "If you'd let me, I'd like to demonstrate my knowledge by healing Margot's wrist."

Margot swallowed hard, her eyes wide and her flush even deeper than before. As embarrassing as it was to show up late to class with a broken wrist, and now be on display in front of everyone, having Eliza heal her would just be way too much...

"No...no need," she said weakly. "I can..." she swallowed hard through the shame, realizing that everyone knew what her proposal would entail. "I can heal it myself when I get back to the dorm-"

"Hush," the professor said simply. Margot's mouth closed with an audible

click

of her teeth. The professor, meanwhile, had dropped the temperature of her voice several more degrees.

"If I wanted a slipshod demonstration from one of you," she said, "I would have asked for it straight out."

She glared at Eliza until the girl turned her eyes down to her notebook. After allowing her glare to linger, the professor began strolling once more.

"What are the two dimensions that determine a Healslut's Archetype?" Kogo asked. Eliza, cowed, but still addicted to her ambition to be the most annoying fucking tryhard in the program, raised her hand. Kogo ignored her.

"Ms. Padlore," Kogo called. Lalulena raised her head and spoke delicately.

"Appearance," she replied, "and temperament."

"Yes," Kogo said. "Appearance and temperament. And what happens when a patient is matched up with a Healslut Archetype with whom they share high synergy?"

"It gets fuckin' hot, yo," Ayimee called out.

Professor Kogo crossed her arms. "Would you like to rephrase your answer?"

"Uh..." Ayimee looked to her brother, who refused to meet her gaze.

"Um, like, the intensity...you know it like...makes it all better...and stuff..."

"Mr. Starr," Kogo said, moving on.

"Efficiency," Brak replied, his arms staying crossed over his barrel-like chest. "Effectiveness."

"Efficiency and effectiveness," the Professor said. She looked around the room. "Anybody want to elaborate?"

Eliza's hand waved in the air.

"Anyone who hasn't pissed me off?"

Very slowly, the hand in the first row went down. Kogo smirked.

"Well, let's see for ourselves, shall we?"

She turned, a deliciously evil look on her face as she walked over to where Margot sat. Slowly, almost sensuously, she helped the younger woman take off her blazer, mindful of the girl's fractured wrist bones as she did.

"Nervous?" Kogo asked quietly as she slid the jacket down Margot's shoulders, her chest practically pressed up into the injured woman's face.

"Oh, definitely, ha ha," Margot laughed nervously. She wanted to wipe the sweat from her forehead, but Professor Kogo was way too close for that...plus, she suspected that her sweat was obviously staining the fabric beneath her arms, and she really didn't want to show

that

to the class.

"Oh good," Kogo said. "That'll make it that much more fun for me."

And before Margot could fully process what the professor had said, Kogo had grabbed the front of the younger woman's dress shirt and tore it completely open. It happened so quickly and unexpectedly that everyone could hear the dislodged buttons bounce across the stage before the first chorus of sounds rippled through the small group.

Eliza let out a short laugh that she quickly strangled. Lalulena coughed politely. Divad gasped, and Ayimee let out some sort of variation of "whoah". Only Brak and the long-limbed Sami remained quiet; the man in front still wearing the same suspicious expression as he had earlier, while Sami's already wide eyes opened even further.

"Sick tits," Gothikka said from her seat in the front.

"They are rather nice, aren't they," the professor said in a calm, off-hand sort of way. Margot, who had yelped loudly once her shirt was torn open, was trying hard to cover herself with her one good arm and her one busted one.

"Of course, you've all done your physiomagical studies on erogenous zones and how to activate them," Kogo said blandly. With a single finger, she pushed Margot's injured wrist down so that the girl's hand was in her lap. Margot whimpered. When she shifted her good hand to cover the heavy globes straining against her bra, Kogo fixed her with a glare as hard as the edge of a blade.

"Hands in your lap,

slut

."

She commanded. Margot obeyed. And from behind the straining material of her bra, she could feel her nipples start to harden.

"Good girl," Kogo said cheekily. Seeing Margot squirm, she grinned and leaned forward.

"Oh," she purred, "you like when I call you that, huh?"

Before Margot could answer, Kogo reached out and pinched the student's nipples through the thin fabric covering them.

"Oh

guuuh

," Margot moaned, her head tossed back and her eyes closed. Kogo tugged briefly. Then she let go, leaving Margot gasping for air. Weak, barely noticing what the professor was doing, she allowed the torn remains of her shirt to be pulled down off her arms and put to the side. Then she felt gravity tug at her heaving chest, and realized that Kogo had undone her bra.

"Oh, n...I..." she stuttered, a flush on her cheeks and her chest both. The professor ignored her weak protests and slid the straps of the undergarment off the student's arms. Without thinking, Margot tried to cover herself once more. But her injured hand was slow and ineffective, and the professor was able to snag one of Margot's large, pink nipples in between her thumb and forefinger.

"Hands. In. Your. Lap.

Slut

," the professor said, punctuating each word with a hard tug.

Half-moaning and half-whining, Margot obeyed, squirming for several more seconds as Kogo continued to pull, affixing her student with a gaze that dared the girl to disobey. Somewhere in the back of Margot's mind, she could feel some of the pain in her busted wrist begin to recede. She realized that Kogo must have started using healslut magic on her -- however, in two years of careful study, Margot had never seen such powers used like

this

.

Finally, the professor let go and turned back to the class, leaving Margot gasping and trembling slightly in her spot on top of the table.