**”Office Hours”**

I was the last one to leave the seminar room again, my notes still scattered across the desk as Professor Vance loomed behind me. He knew I had been struggling with his class—knew I was desperate to pass. His hand clamped down on my shoulder, firm enough to make me freeze. “Still not getting it, huh?” His voice was low, rough, and way too close to my ear. “Maybe you need some… extra tutoring.”

My heart hammered as his fingers dug in just a little too hard, the meaning behind his words hitting me like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t subtle. Nobody in the department was. The rumors about him—about how he “helped” certain students—weren’t exactly quiet. And here I was, alone with him, my stomach twisting with something too close to anticipation.

“My office,” he ordered, already walking away like he knew I’d follow.

I did.

The door locked behind us, the click final. His desk was cleared, like he’d been expecting me. Or someone. His grip was on me again before I could think, spinning me around and shoving me face-first against the wood. A sharp gasp escaped me as his body pressed into my back, his cock already hard against my ass through his slacks.

“You’re gonna take what I give you,” he growled, one hand fisting in my hair, yanking my head back. “And you’re gonna fucking thank me for it.”

I whimpered—couldn’t help it. His free hand shoved my pants down hard, not even bothering to take them off fully before his fingers were pushing between my cheeks, rough and demanding. No prep, no warning. Just his thick finger prodding at my hole, dry, making me wince. “Fuck—Professor, wait—”

“Shut up.” A sharp slap landed on my ass, stinging enough to make me clench. “You don’t get to talk. You’re here to be used.”

And then his finger shoved in, knuckle-deep, the stretch brutal. I cried out, squirming, but his grip on my hair tightened, holding me still. “Fucking tight,” he muttered, working his finger in and out, the drag almost painful. “But you’ll loosen up.”

A second finger joined without mercy, scissoring me open as I bit back another whimper. My cock was stiff, aching—I hated how much my body was betraying me. His breath was hot against my neck as he leaned in, his other hand already undoing his belt. “Gonna fuck this ass raw,” he promised, voice dark. “Gonna make sure you remember who owns it.”

I heard the slick sound of him spitting into his palm, then the wet slide of his cock against my hole. Big. Too big. The head pressed in, relentless, stretching me wider than his fingers had. “Fuck—fuck, Professor, please—”

He didn’t stop. Just shoved forward, burying himself inside me with one brutal thrust. The pain was white-hot, tearing through me as my back arched, my nails digging into the desk. He didn’t give me time to adjust, just started fucking me hard and fast, his hips slamming into my ass with every snap forward. “That’s it,” he grunted, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. “Take it. You wanted my help? This is how you fucking earn it.”

I was so full, my body split open on his cock, every thrust punching a gasp out of me. The pain was still there, sharp and bright, but under it—fuck, under it was something else. A filthy, creeping pleasure as he hit deep, over and over. My cock was dripping now, untouched and leaking onto the desk.

“You like this?” he taunted, his pace never slowing. “Like being my little fuckhole?” His hand left my hip, reaching around to grab my dick, squeezing just shy of too tight. “Bet you’d come just from my cock in your ass, wouldn’t you? Pathetic.”

I was close. Too close. His thumb swiped over my leaking tip, and I shattered, cumming untouched as he fucked me through it, his cock still hammering into me. “Fuck—Professor—!”

He didn’t stop. Just kept using me, his rhythm turning erratic as his grip on me tightened. Then he was groaning, burying himself deep, his cum flooding my ass in hot, thick pulses. His weight pressed me harder into the desk as he caught his breath, still inside me.

When he finally pulled out, I winced at the empty ache, his cum already leaking down my thighs. He tucked himself back into his slacks like nothing had happened, then reached down to yank my pants back up, ignoring my shaky legs.

“See me next week,” he said, straightening his tie. “We’ll go over your… progress.”

I knew I’d be back.