Hot For Teacher -- A BDSM Erotic Romance Story (Submission University #1) (2 page)

“…Like you,” I blurted out.

His eyebrows perked up. “Like me?”

Shit.

Why did I always do this? Whenever I was nervous, I’d start babbling – it had gotten me into trouble plenty of times in the past. And now, I was sure my cheeks were turning a shade of crimson they’d never been before.

“Uh, well, you know…” I faltered. “I mean, you, um, you took control over the room, right? You started talking and we all shut up. So in this situation, you have the, um, the power…” I trailed off miserably, blushing hard and feeling totally humiliated. My eyes glanced to the exit, and I prepared to make a hasty getaway as soon as this moment was over.

But to my surprise, he seemed to like my answer. “That’s… excellent!” he said finally. “You’ve got it exactly right. That’s a wonderful example.” I couldn’t tell if he really meant that, or if he was just saying it to make me feel better – but either way, I was curious to hear what he’d say next.
He began pacing back and forth now in front of the podium, excited by the ideas shooting through his head. “The dynamic of a professor in a classroom is of
critical
importance to this field, and actually, it’s the subject of a landmark psychological study, coming out of Harvard in the 1960’s. We’ll spend at least one lecture later in the semester on this very topic.”

He paused, looking back to me and beaming. “Well done, April.”

“Thanks,” I squeaked.

He kept speaking after that, but for the next several minutes I was lost in my own little world. I kept replaying our conversation over and over in my head – it had only lasted a minute, but I couldn’t let it go. While I replayed the scene in my mind, I watched him move around the classroom. As the lecture continued, Professor Stone became more and more excited and animated, and his back-and-forth pacing reached a fevered pitch by the end of the lecture. He didn’t use any slides or notes, I noticed. For the whole hour, he delivered a lecture purely from memory. He kept calling on students periodically, and I noticed that no matter who he spoke to, he always subtly changed his demeanor to match their own personality. He was stern and sarcastic with the students like Brian, warm and friendly with the shy students like me. It was just like he’d said – he was continually taking control of the dynamic, always asserting himself as the one in charge, like the dominant partner in a dance. And he made it look so natural, so effortless. I was totally captivated.

After an hour of this performance, he brought his hands together in a gesture of closure. “…All right,” he said, “that’s enough for today. Thanks for your attention, and I’ll see you all Thursday. And for God’s sake, do the reading!” The class instantly broke into a chaotic hum of activity, 300 students all talking and laughing just as they’d been doing before the lecture started. They filed out quickly, and soon I was one of the last few people remaining in the lecture hall. As I collected my belongings and stuffed them into my bookbag, I felt Professor Stone’s eyes on me. I looked up at him and smiled; in response, he walked over to my desk.

“Thank you,” he said, by way of greeting.

I was surprised by his words, and a bit confused. “Thanks for what?”

“For giving me a straight answer,” he said, leaning casually on the chair of the desk next to me. “You have no idea how critical those first few interactions are in setting the tone of a classroom. These kids are like lions… or monkeys, maybe.” He laughed, shaking his head and grinning. Up close and personal, he was even more handsome. I felt butterflies rising in my stomach, and tried to push them away.

“Oh, um, don’t mention it,” I said. “As you can probably tell, I’m… a little bit older than most of the other students.” I didn’t know why I was bringing this up, but something about his easygoing manner made me trust him. I had a sudden urge to spill all my anxious thoughts to him, just to see what he’d say.
He’s a psychology professor, not a psychiatrist
, I thought to myself. Still, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

“Yes, I saw that on the roster sheet,” he said. “Don’t worry, April, you’re going to do absolutely fine in this class. I know I’ve got a reputation for being a hard teacher, but that’s just because 19-year-olds start complaining the moment you actually make them do any work.” We both laughed at this. He had such a magnetic presence that I couldn’t help but be drawn to him. I felt just like the 19-year-olds he was talking about.

Then, suddenly, his expression changed ever so slightly. He leaned in closer towards me, and narrowed his eyes earnestly as he spoke. “But seriously, April, if you ever feel you’re slipping behind in the course, or if you just want to talk about anything, my office door is always open. You know where to find me.”

“Um, thanks,” I said, blushing again despite myself.
Was he flirting with me?
His smile seemed different now, his tone almost flirtatious – but that could have been wishful thinking on my part.

Shaking the thought out of my head, I stood up abruptly from my desk. “Anyway, I’ll see you later, Professor,” I said, slinging my bookbag over my shoulder.

He stood up too, looking at me with a sly grin on his face. “Please,” he said, “call me Adam.”

I grinned. “All right, then,” I replied. “See you later, Adam.”

And with that, I sauntered out of the lecture hall with all the sass I could muster, trying to display an air of confidence as long as his eyes were on me.

But as soon as I’d left the lecture hall, I stopped walking and spun around to lean against the wall of the building. I had to pause a minute and catch my breath. 

“Wow,” I said out loud. “Did that just happen?”

I looked around, grinning like an idiot, filled with the excitement and electricity of our conversation. There was no way to be sure, but I definitely felt a spark between us, and I couldn’t help but suspect he felt the same way. That type of chemistry isn’t something you can just imagine in your head. It was real, and we both knew it.

This was going to be an interesting semester, that was for sure…

Chapter 2: Background Reading

I had two more lectures that day, but they flew by in a blur. My thoughts were swirling in a whirlwind, and I found it incredibly hard to concentrate. Try as I might, I just couldn’t stop thinking about Professor Stone – or should I say, about Adam.

This was one of those crushes that hits you instantaneously, almost overwhelming in its intensity. I knew I wanted him, and I suspected he wanted me too – our flirting, brief as it was, had assured me of that. And what’s more, I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied until I had him. So if I wanted to have any chance at being able to focus on my schoolwork this semester, I needed to find some sort of resolution to the situation.

But the question was, how would I do that?

To help me answer that question, I jumped on the computer as soon as I got home and started Googling for his name. My curiosity was just too much to bear. Luckily, college professors are pretty easy to find online. Within a few moments, I’d pulled up his faculty page from the university website, complete with his campus address, office phone number, and a list of his published works.

“Hmm,” I said to myself. “Let’s see what this guy is interested in…”

I don’t know what I’d expected to find
– some psychological studies, I guess, and maybe a book about assertiveness in human interactions or something. But what I saw made my mouth drop open in shock.

The titles of his publications read like an X-rated bookstore’s catalog:

“Bondage and Submission in Human Sexuality
.”

“The Kink Subculture in Modern Society: An Insider’s Perspective.
”

And his latest work, published just last year, was called
“Whips, Chains, and Love: A Modern History of BDSM.”

Okay,
now
I was curious.

Digging further through his faculty page, I found a link to a review of “Whips, Chains and Love,” written by the Cambridge Psychology Journal. My eyes bugged out even further as I read what they had to say.

“Stone’s work is a revelation,” it began. “He traces the history of BDSM from its origins in ancient Rome, through the Renaissance, and all the way up to today’s modern practices. Stone is a master at exploring the root of these kinks. And what’s most impressive is the way he gets at the nature of human psychology underlying it all… He makes a clear case for why we, as humans, are naturally drawn to the delicate mix of pleasure and pain – and the intense, complex power dynamics at the core of these sexual fantasies…”

As I read on, I felt my fingertips start trembling slightly. It was a hard feeling to describe, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. It was as if, reading the words on the screen before me, I was realizing the answers to questions I’d never thought to ask. I’d heard a bit about BDSM before, and from what I knew about it, I was incredibly interested. But for whatever reason, my sex life up to this point had been incredibly vanilla. So even though I was interested, I’d never been able to act on any of these inclinations.

But If Adam Stone was into this BDSM stuff, then I could only imagine what I’d be getting myself into if I tried to pursue things further with him. And I could be pretty sure he was – because, hell, he’d written
books
on it, literally.

Was I ready for this?
With every passing moment, my mind was filling with sexy images: me, tied up on a bed, with him ripping my clothes off my body and taking me from behind. Blindfolds, ball gags, handcuffs, and who knew what else.
Oh, yeah
, I thought to myself. I was ready, all right. And if anyone could introduce me to this alluring, exhilarating world of my fantasies – if anyone could take me past my boundaries and help me explore my sexual horizons – it was Adam.

I decided then and there that Adam Stone was going to be my guide. A sex instructor, if you will. He just didn’t know it yet – but he was about to find out. Filled with the excited self-confidence that comes from acting on one’s impulses, I found his e-mail address on the faculty webpage and dashed off a message to him. “Your willing student,” I said in the subject line.

Professor,

I’ve done a little background reading
, and I see you’ve got quite the naughty streak. I’ve got that streak too, and I need your help exploring it. But I’ve never done anything like this before… do you think you can show me the ropes?

Write back soon – don’t keep me waiting…

April

As soon as I finished the note I hit SEND as fast as I could, before I had time to second-guess myself. It was a good thing, too, because no sooner had I sent it than I was hit by a massive wave of self-doubt.

“Oh, God,” I groaned. “April, what have you done
now?”

I seriously considered sending a follow-up email, saying “please disregard everything I just wrote!” But that might just seem even weirder and more pathetic. The best thing to do, I decided, would probably be to just drop the class immediately, and pray I never ran into him on campus after that.

In the midst of my self-recriminations, I was so preoccupied that I almost didn’t hear the ‘ding!’ indicating I’d received a new e-mail message.

It was from him.

Taking a deep breath, I moved the cursor over and clicked ‘open message,’ shutting my eyes as it loaded, as if I were at a horror movie. But when I opened them, there was just a short message on the screen:

April,

As I told you this morning, my office is always open.
And again, as I told you -- don’t call me Professor.

Adam

I re-read the message five or six times, not quite believing my eyes, and not sure what to do next. This was serious.
My mind started racing with questions. I couldn’t believe he’d actually responded – what did that say about him? Was he just looking for an easy lay? Was I being a naïve idiot, making a huge mistake?