Chapter 1

“Do you like it when I call you Professor, sir?”

Natalie’s voice was breathy and high as her massive tits bounced up and down in my lap. Her hands were wrapped around them, barely controlling the perky teenage funbags, while her fingers sank into the tanned titflesh.

I was grateful for my above-average cock. Even though I was mostly disappearing between the plush globes with every thrust, my student would lower her head to flicker her pink tongue across the engorged mushroom head whenever it emerged.

“Fuck me...” was all I managed to groan.

Natalie gasped, tossing back her long brunette hair with its sexy blonde highlights. She bit her lower lip and her warm blue eyes blazed up into my face. “God, sir...” she groaned. She was panting, titfucking me with those perfect bouncy breasts and practically cumming from the privilege. “I love it when you tell me what to do.”

“Fuck...” I groaned again. My fingers scrabbled backward on the desk, rustling ungraded exams, and around my ankles my belt clinked against the floor. I was still in shock, my mind reeling at this bizarre situation.

Luckily, my rock hard length didn’t have to deal with problems like thinking. I was throbbing with lust and pleasure, the 19-year-old’s perfect tits squeezing around me like fuckable pillows. Her lovely face, with its all-American cheerleader wet dream smile, beamed up at me.

“Do you like fucking my titties?” she asked, her full mouth pink and wet. “Do you like using my body like a hot little bimbo slut?”

I swallowed. My voice felt frozen in my throat as it squeezed closed. I can’t be doing this, I tried to think. I have a girlfriend. I’m going to lose my job...

But Natalie’s blue eyes sparkled so bright and happy, wide and full of pleasure.

I nodded and grunted. “God yes.”

“Good... “ The teenager’s eyes squeezed shut and her face glowed with a twisting contortion of pure bliss.

What—

And then she moaned, her tits slowing to a halt as they moved up and down my shaft, her fingers kneading into them, twisting and tugging at her nipples. Natalie pressed her thighs together beneath her plaid, schoolgirl skirt. “Ohmygawd...” she gasped.

I realized she was cumming. What the hell?

My cock throbbed at the sudden lack of sensation, and I let out a low, primal growl. I hadn’t even meant to do it, but Natalie’s blue eyes flashed open. “Oh, sir...” she murmured, releasing her bouncy breasts from around my cock and staring up into my face. “I’m sorry I got distracted.” Her slim hand reached out and circled around my girth.

She began to stroke, slowly. “Let me make it better...”

My student leaned forward and her eyes were still wide and blue as her pretty lips wrapped around my cock. She sucked, sliding slowly over the broad head.

Holyshit holyfuck ohmygod... My brain was going haywire. This was my first day on the job. I was supposed to be getting lost in the new school, barely tolerating it, hating my coworkers. Instead, I was up against my desk with—

Jesus...

Natalie had gently lowered her mouth onto my long, hard prick until I was nudging at the entrance to her throat. She looked up at me and then, ever so slowly, winked.

I grunted as she slid me easily into her throat and swallowed, squeezed around me.

I wondered if this was covered by the NDA.

***

Approximately 24 hours ago...

“And, of course, you’ll sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement.”

I blinked. “What?”

Joseph Clayton glanced up at me as he opened another manila folder. The principal of the Brighton Barnsworth Academy raised his eyebrows. He was a strikingly good-looking man, with strikingly well-groomed eyebrows. “You can’t be surprised?”

“Um...” I was caught off guard. “I mean ... This is the first school I’ve been where teachers are required to sign an NDA.”

The other man gave me a brief glance up and down. His eyebrows lowered. “And how many schools have you been with, in the past?”

The information was in my resume, which he had obviously read when I came for my interview last month, but I knew he was asking just to make a point.

“Just the one, sir.” My voice was low.

“Chin up, Mitchell.” Principal Clayton leaned partway across the desk to give me a bracing clap on the shoulder. “And we don’t hold that one against you.”

My eyes were on the neat stacks of folders and papers on the principal’s desk. I couldn’t think about Denton. I wouldn’t think about Denton.

“You must understand,” he continued. “Here at the Academy we cater to the elite de la elite. The, ahem ... daughters of moguls, industry leaders, presidents.“ He emphasized the last with obvious pride. “It is important that we maintain total discretion. The NDA is simply a legal safeguard.”

I nodded slowly, glancing back up into his face. It was weird, but I wouldn’t make waves. I couldn’t make waves. I needed this job.

Joseph Clayton looked like an ancient Roman Senator. Or, at least, how I imagined a man of power and dignity and philosophy would look. He was giving me a smile and pushing a small stack of papers toward me. “Just sign here.” He gestured with a commanding finger.

I hesitated. Then I glanced around, reaching out searchingly.

“Here. Use mine.”

The fountain pen felt heavy and expensive in my hand. The ink flowed smoothly out onto the paper as I scratched my signature. It was a dark blue color.

“Congratulations, Mitchell,” Principal Clayton said. He nodded firmly, with a handsome smile. “Or should I say, Professor Sands, Department Head of Mathematics?”

I must say, it felt good to hear my job title. NDA or no, I thought. I might like it here.

I was reading in the living room of our apartment when Julia came home.

“Hey, baby!” Her voice was cheerful and I glanced up with a smile.

The door swung closed with a thud and she strode to the kitchen. I watched her. Her legs looked fantastic in a pair of light blue jeans and her long, dark hair was pulled back in a cute braid. There was only the counter separating the living room and kitchen, so I watched my girlfriend as she dumped a brown paper bag of groceries onto the table.

“Need any help?” I asked, after my brain had been able to absorb the image of her high, round breasts perfectly outlined by her tight black turtleneck sweater. I realized I’d pushed myself to my feet when I offered my services.

Julia turned and smiled. “Nope. That was it.” And then, “You were checking me out...” she accused.

I glanced back up to her eyes.

She was biting her lip mischievously.

I grinned, sheepish. “Guilty.”

My girlfriend’s teeth flashed in a smirk. “What a naughty boy...” But she said it in a way that sent a trickle of heat down my spine.

I felt myself grin back in anticipation. She’s in a good mood, I thought.

Julia approached, sidling around the counter and sashaying toward me. She wore a pair of dark ankle boots that gave her hips a sexy sway. Dark brown eyes stared into mine. The woman entered my personal space, lifting a hand to my chest and giving a gentle shove.

I took a halting, half-step back and bumped into the couch. I went down, falling heavily to the pillows.

Julia followed me.

I was grateful to whoever invented stretchy denim, because Julia straddled my hips no problem. Her hand came up to my chest and pressed me down, then her fingers twisted in my shirt and pulled me up into a hungry kiss.

She dropped me back down to the couch several seconds later and I took the chance to snatch my glasses off my face. I didn’t normally use them except for long stints of reading, but Julia had caught me wearing them. They were special order from a company out in Canada. I’d never seen anyone else wearing the style, but I got compliments all the time.

“Mmm...” she pouted cutely. “I liked those. They gave you a ‘sexy professor’ vibe.”

I snorted. “Right,” I agreed. “Girls can’t get enough of a guy in glasses.”

My hands circled around her hips and pulled her down into another kiss. My cock was throbbing, hard in my slacks. I hadn’t changed after my meeting, and so I was still wearing the starched white button down and dark blue pants that were part of my Brighton Barnsworth uniform.

Julia ground herself against my erection, a painfully pleasurable sensation. Her lips were hot and eager.

“God, Jules...” I gasped when our mouths parted. “I want you so much...”

“Mmm ... Good, baby,” she murmured back. She knelt back across my hips and tugged the sweater over her head in one smooth movement. Her braid fell free, as did her globular tits, bouncing in a clingy sports bra.

My hands moved almost without a thought, rising and cupping them. I squeezed gently, almost reverently, and my girlfriend moaned. Julia loved when I played with her breasts. I pinched at her nipples through the thick fabric, teasing her.

“I want you too, Mitch...” Julia said it hungrily, kissing me again before swinging off of my hips. She stood and her fingers began to scrabble with the button and zipper of her jeans.

I pushed myself up into a sitting position and ripped hastily at my belt. My cock was hard and straining to get free, throbbing with lust. The thought of fucking my gorgeous girlfriend right here on the living room couch was almost unreal in its sex appeal.

I shoved my slacks down my legs while, in my peripheral vision, I watched Julia peel the jeans off her legs. “Jesus, Jules...” I moaned. “You’re so fucking hot...” My cock throbbed and pulsed as I tugged away my boxer briefs, springing free and swaying between my thighs.

Julia turned toward me, kicking the pants away and leaving herself bare but for her simple pink panties. She leaned in and kissed me, her hand stroking gently at my rigid pole. “I want you inside me, baby,” she panted. She pushed aside her panties and then guided me to her entrance.

I knew that with her hang ups, Julia would want to be in control, so I just relaxed and focused on the sensation of her hand on my needy cock. I groaned as she started to lower herself toward me, her outer folds welcoming the wide mushroom head of my manhood.

Then, suddenly, my girlfriend cried out softly in pain, her muscles hard and tight.

Crap, I thought. The lust in my belly froze cold. “Jules?” I asked. My hands were on her hips, steadying her as her face crumpled and she slowly pulled herself back onto the couch away from me.

It was a moment before she spoke, and I felt the cool air on my naked skin. I knew that I couldn’t push her, had to wait for her to answer.

“There was a car outside the hospital today,” she said finally. “It wasn’t his, but it looked like his. I thought it was, just for a minute...”

We’d been dating a year before Julia told me about Derick, her ex. Apparently he had been abusive, and then when she finally left him he’d stalked her for several months. She’d moved out here to get away from him, but it had been another year since she’d told me and Derick was still messing up my girlfriend.

“I could go down on you...” Julia was trying to sound eager, but I knew she was just offering to make up for disappointing me. The thought twisted my stomach.

Instead of saying anything, I just put an arm around her and kissed her temple. “Thank you, lover,” I murmured. “But I’m good.”

Occasionally Julia would come home like this, or I’d get back after work to find her all dolled up, waiting in bed wearing a lacy teddy and nothing else. She would work herself up into making another attempt, and then she would fail. Sex, when we had it, was a hurried affair. Usually we’d both had too much to drink. Most the time, especially when she was thinking too much, penetration was painful for my girlfriend.

I ordered myself not to complain. We had a perfect relationship.

Except for the sex, a small corner of my mind whined.

It was slowly driving me mad.

“So the final meeting went well?” Julia’s voice was quiet. “Everything ready for your first day tomorrow?”

I nodded. I tried to put on a cheerful smile, like my balls and the pit of my stomach weren’t tight and aching with pent up need. “I had to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement,” I commented offhand. Too late, I wondered if the NDA prohibited me from talking about the NDA. I suppose maybe I should have read it more closely. Oh well, I was grateful to have a job at all after what happened.

Julia frowned thoughtfully. She reached out and retrieved her sweater from the arm of the chair, tugging it over her head. Her expression was calm and placid again by the time it emerged. “That makes sense though, doesn’t it?” she asked. “I mean, they’re private, and super high end. It’s probably just to make the parents happy.”

I nodded. “Yeah,” I agreed. “That’s what Principal Clayton said.”

My girlfriend nodded several more times. “I’m gonna make some food,” she told me, and pushed herself to her feet.

Dinner was probably delicious, but I barely tasted it. The combination of nerves about my upcoming first day and the ashen disappointment of frustrated lust meant my body was tense and jittery. I had trouble falling asleep that night, and I knew that Jules was tossing and turning over on her side of the bed.

When I finally woke up the next morning, I barely felt like I’d rested at all.

***

Approximately six hours ago...

It was my first day, but I didn’t have class until the afternoon and Principal Clayton had encouraged me to take the morning.

“I want you nice and rested and relaxed now that you’re here with us,” he’d told me with a friendly smile. He seemed to be the kind of man who did most everything in a friendly, relaxed way. There was nothing implying that he was at all sinister. But for some strange reason I had felt like he was sinister. Like his smile was genuine, only for an entirely different reason than I expected.

Maybe the NDA had just put me a little bit on edge.

I wasn’t sure why the Non-Disclosure Agreement was bugging me so much. I understood that the Brighton Barnsworth Academy was a private college, catering to a small number of exceedingly-wealthy patrons. And I understood that exceedingly-wealthy people often prefer discretion. I just wasn’t sure I understood what it was that the Academy might need to be so secretive about.

When I arrived just before noon, Joseph Clayton met me outside the front office to escort me to my classroom. He handed me a small key ring with two bronze keys. They were shiny in a worn, well-used way.

“Your office and your classroom,” he said. “Department heads get their own office, of course,” he added, though he’d never mentioned it before. “For study hall, tutoring, et cetera.” The athletic man strode purposively down the hallway, out into the central quad and toward the furthest building.

The tall, modern-looking blocks of glass and steel that housed classrooms and offices loomed on all sides. The quad was just a square of grass, bordered by a sidewalk and peppered with lovely wooden tables, chairs and umbrellas. The umbrellas were probably for show, because I couldn’t imagine the internal courtyard getting much sunlight with looming buildings on all sides.

He gestured as we went. “You remember everything from your tour, I hope,” he continued, over his shoulder. “But I must say that we recommend our teachers to stay in their classroom or office at all times.” He glanced back, as though it was important that I take him seriously. “You never know when a student might show up needing help.”

I chuckled nervously. “Not even for a bathroom break?”

Principal Clayton frowned thoughtfully at my poor joke. “Bathroom breaks are allowed,” he said. “The bathroom is just down the hall. But visits to other buildings? Not so much.”

I couldn’t tell if he was pulling my leg, but I figured it was best not to pester him with too many questions on my first day. I looked around. That’s the Biology and Chemistry building, next to us for convenience. And over there the History and English departments, with the Computer Science people, for some reason. And then Engineering all alone in one tall spire. To be clear, I hadn’t been inside any of the buildings. But they’d been pointed out to me when I was here for my tour and interview.

My boss used his own ring of keys to unlock the door to my building, and I wondered why the Mathematics Department was locked during school hours.

What a strange place... I mused when Principal Clayton finally delivered me to my office.

“Remember,” and the man looked very Roman Senatorial with his serious expression.

I was sitting down across the desk but I felt like he loomed over me.

“We overlooked the Denton incident for this. If you want us to continue overlooking it, then you’ll follow our rules. No straying from your office, classroom or restroom. You are here to teach and nothing more...” He looked especially grave when he said the last.

I swallowed and looked away.

“It may seem strange,” he continued. “And I don’t mean to sound overly harsh. But some very important and powerful people have entrusted us with their charges. We must be worthy of that trust by following specific procedures.”

I glanced up, nodded my understanding, and waited for him to leave.

After he nodded back, shook my hand one more time, and strode away down the hall, I checked the clock. I still had almost an hour before my first class, and my classroom was just across the narrow hallway. How would I fill the time?

I felt a sudden surge of rebelliousness, and an accompanying flutter in my stomach. My curiosity was always one of my most distinct traits. That’s why I loved mathematics, after all. In math I could be infinitely curious and there were always more questions to ask. I felt, as I walked around my desk to the door, that I was being presented with a strange puzzle. And I would get to the bottom of it.

The knob turned easily. I was almost surprised, like some tiny part of me had expected it to be locked. But I was just being paranoid. Man, that NDA really freaked you out, I commented inwardly.

The hallway outside my office was clean and carpeted, with white walls that seemed only slightly less glaring than sterile white. The floor was a dark tile, marble or something, very expensive. The doors were a dark wood, really rich, with big brass knobs and keyholes. I felt, I realized, like I was in a box made of ice. An igloo school. Or a chess board. An igloo board?

Weird, I told myself, and pushed the errant thought away.

I glanced left, then turned right and headed in the direction of the Bio and Chem building. If I remembered correctly, there was a covered walkway on the ground floor.

Down several flights of stairs — Principal Clayton hadn’t pointed out an elevator — and then across to the door. I pulled it open and crossed to the adjacent building. Then, I wondered why the Academy didn’t just invest in some card scanners, because the large glass door was locked.

I looked at both of my big brass keys on their tiny ring and knew they wouldn’t fit in the shiny steel lock mechanism. “I should just need a teacher pass,” I muttered. Turning, I skirted back around Mathematics and in a few moments I was facing the nearest door to English and History. And Computer Science, I added inwardly a beat later.

I shrugged. I was just exploring, one building was as good as any other. I knew that my key wouldn’t fit this door either, but when I yanked on the handle in frustration it swung open easily.

I blinked in surprise, then hurried furtively inside.

Instinctively, I had the feeling that I should not be here. There were the explicit instructions of my employer, of course. And there was the fact that the door to the other building had been sealed shut. But there was also the strange sensation I had when I entered the darkened interior.

There were no people.

The hallway stretched ahead, empty and silent, a practically perfect replica of the building I’d left. The doors on the left and right were the same dark wood, and the one difference was that these ones had windows set into the upper half.

I walked forward, glancing side to side until through the nearest door I began to hear something.

The room was dark, but there was actually a dull bluish glow coming through the glass pane of the window. I approached and glanced through, keeping as far out of sight as I could. Unfortunately, that meant all I could see was the front wall of what seemed to be a classroom. There was a giant projector screen rolled down in my view. On it, a man with glasses was standing in front of a spinning, glowing image of what looked like the solar system. I couldn’t tell, but it was dark with sparkling white lights and it was spinning at a strange pace. The strangest thing about it, though, was that the flat panes of the man’s glasses were also spiraling with the starry lights.

I watched for a moment, spacing out, but it was at an odd angle so I couldn’t really concentrate.

Then I blinked and realized that the man on the screen was speaking. He was saying something — the low bass of his voice through the door was the sound I’d heard— but it was too smooth and monotone for me to understand.

Then the man paused, as though waiting.

I held my breath. Had he stopped because he knew I was here? But that was a silly thing to think. The man was a video recording. Why was I being so childish? Then my train of thought was distracted.

Another murmur, this one a bit louder. Other voices were responding to the man on the screen. He’d been waiting for them, like one of those interactive television shows for kids.

Yes? That was what they’d seemed to say. Yes, something, I thought. But I hadn’t heard. This was the English and History building — and Computer Science — so I was wondering why an astronomy class would be taken here.

Then I shook my head, realizing that my knees were straining and I wasn’t sure how long I’d been standing in the darkened hallway. I didn’t have a watch, and I didn’t want to pull out my bright smartphone in the shadowy corridor to check the time, so I turned and sneaked furtively back to the exit. I was through the door in a flash and crossing the quad at a brisk walk. I eased through the door to my building and headed up the stairs.

I was most of the way down the normally-lighted hall to my office when I heard the sudden sound of shoes on the tiled floor behind me.

I froze.

Did someone see me? I asked myself. Then, I wondered why I was so nervous just to be walking around the building at my place of employment.

I turned, plastering what I hoped was an innocent look across my face.

Joseph Clayton was approaching me. He wore a neutral expression, so I had no idea what to expect.

“Out in the hallway, Professor Sands?” he asked. “Going somewhere?”

I breathed a massive, and internal, sigh of relief. So he hadn’t seen me. I shrugged, trying to seem relaxed. “Just had to take a trip to the restroom before class.”

The man stopped a few feet in front of me and then grinned. He winked conspiratorially. “Don’t be too nervous, Professor,” he counseled. “The girls may be intimidating, but just treat them as regular students.”

I nodded. “Did you come around just to check up on me?” I said it in a joking way, but I wondered if I imagined a slight tightening around the principal’s mouth.

“Just wanted to be sure you were ready for your first class,” the man said easily. He checked his wrist, where a watch the color of running mercury gleamed. “Just a couple of minutes to spare,” he said.

“Well then, sir,” I said, “let me get into my classroom and finish prep.”

Principal Clayton nodded, smiled warmly at me, and turned on his heel. “Swing by my office at the end of the day,” he called over his shoulder. “You can let me know if you have any questions after your first few classes.”

I jerked my head in agreement, realized he wasn’t looking, and called after him, “Yes, sir!”

But there was no acknowledgement before he turned the corner at the end of the long, white hallway and was gone.

I fished in my pocket for my ring of keys, opened my classroom and closed the door behind me. I frowned, then, glancing at the clock hanging over the whiteboard.

I had left my office just after noon. Was I to believe I’d been crouched outside a classroom watching the solar system for more than half an hour? Weird again, I thought, and busied myself with prepping for class.

I took a dry-erase marker and wrote “Professor Sands” on the board in neat, upright letters. Then, I stared at it.

I’m not old enough to be a professor, I thought. But I left it up there, because I could guess without being told that the Academy frowned on the idea of students calling Professors by their first name.

I glanced around, noting the simple, elegant setup.

The front of the classroom was dominated by the whiteboard and a plain, heavy desk of dark wood. Behind the desk was a rolling chair of rich leather. It was the kind of seat that I had seen by the dozens in computer labs at university, but this one had been upgraded with a heavy-duty frame and plush leather cushions. Across from the door, windows looked out several floors above the quad. There was a thick woven carpet on the floor, and maybe a dozen desks and chairs of matching wood filled the space. The desks weren’t in rows, but scattered with a careless artfulness.

I sat down in front of the whiteboard and kicked my feet up carelessly, laying one ankle over the other on top of the desk. They hit the floor an instant later when I remembered I needed to be way more professional on my first day. And then, “Shit!” With three minutes to go, I realized that I’d forgotten my lesson plan in my office. I hadn’t gone back since I snuck out almost an hour before.

I shoved myself up out of my chair and strode to the door.

Where are my students? I wondered as I tugged it open and swiftly crossed the corridor to my office. I glanced left and right, saw no one, and went in. I closed the door, sprang to the desk, and tugged open my messenger bag.

Useless notebook. Useless folder. Textbook. Here!

I clutched the thin sheaf of papers in my fist, yanked them free without ceremony and accidentally tipped my bag. Papers spilled across the desk and onto the floor. The thick brown textbook slid across the papers and then tumbled with a heavy thud onto the carpet.

I blinked in surprise, muttered a swift fuck and decided I could deal with that later. I glanced down to confirm that the thin stack of printer paper in my hands was marked with the neat notes for today’s class. I would be picking up where their last professor had left off, before his unfortunate illness.

The foundational steps into multivariable calculus. Perfect. I could handle this in my sleep.

I crossed the corridor, closing my office but leaving the door of the classroom open. I sat, skimmed over my lesson plan in a dozen seconds, and then paused. I resisted the urge to check my nonexistent watch, considered craning my neck to look at the clock behind me, and then tugged my phone from my back pocket instead.

12:59. I frowned, wondering where my students could be.

Then, at 1 o’clock precisely, like they’d been waiting just around the corner in the hallway, I heard the sounds of multiple footsteps. A second later, the low murmur of voices. And then—

I sat and stared, forced myself to blink and then hurriedly stood.

When Principal Clayton had described the girls as intimidating, I had assumed he meant in terms of their wealth and influence. I hadn’t expected him to mean physically intimidating.

Any one of the young women who entered my classroom could have been a supermodel.

I had to force myself to make eye contact with each one as they sashayed, pranced and glided into the room. It was the only way to keep myself from admiring a procession of perky breasts, bouncy asses and long legs. Normally, I would have no trouble with resisting the momentary urge to check out a woman. But I was just like any other red-blooded male. Some things I can’t help but appreciate.

To be fair, I was lost either way. It wasn’t just their bodies that were stunning. Sparkling eyes with long, luscious lashes batted back at me. Dark green, light hazel, molten chocolate brown, glowing blue...

Blue stopped, and one of the young women, a cute brunette with blonde highlights, stepped from the line and held out her hand.

“Professor,” she said smoothly. Her voice was surprisingly rich, and I realized she might only be a few years younger than me. “My name is Natalie. I just wanted to thank you for filling in on such short notice.”

“Of cou—, I mean ... well, yes ... You’re welcome.”