Monday February 28th

Steeling herself, Isabel knocked twice on Professor Reed’s door. There was a prolonged pause, before she heard a voice call out, “Come in!”

Typing the code into the keypad lock, she opened the door and entered the office. Professor Reed was seated behind her desk, her eyes fixed on the papers in front of her. She looked up and smiled at her TA. “Isabel, you’re still here! Haven’t you got a home to go to?”

Isabel smiled weakly in response, taking in the sight of her boss. At 36, Christine Reed was easily the youngest member of the history department, as well as, Isabel noted, the most attractive. Objectively speaking, of course. Isabel had no lustful feelings of her own for the Professor - that would be inappropriate, and Isabel was very conscious of impropriety. But even so, Reed was undeniably gorgeous, with olive skin, hazel eyes, a slim figure, perfectly-proportioned breasts and hips, and chocolate-coloured hair that cascaded down her back and shoulders. She was also the most glamorous Professor that Isabel had come across, with makeup, eyeliner and lipstick that was always noticeable but never obnoxiously so, perfectly highlighting her angular features and full lips rather than obscuring them. She typically had her fingernails painted various shades of brown or purple, which usually varied depending on the colour of her clothes (today they were deep indigo to match her suit and tie). Her appearance had attracted derisive comments from other staff, who seemed to take it as proof that she was more beauty than brains - but she had proven them wrong time and time again with her impressive intellect and sharp wit.

However, at this moment, Reed didn’t seem as immaculately put together as usual - her hair was untidy, and there was visible sweat on her brow. Isabel couldn’t help but feel a pang of concern, followed by guilt over her reasons for visiting the Professor.

“I was just about to leave,” Isabel started, but then stopped short. Did she really want to do this? Reed might be stressed, or ill - would it be kinder not to confront her now, and wait until another time?

“What’s stopping you?” Reed asked, still smiling.

Just say it, Isabel urged herself. If Reed was ill or stressed and couldn’t talk, she wouldn’t have let you in. “I-I just wanted to ask you about the last paper...” She hesitated again.

“What about it?”

“Well, it’s just... Adam Fisher.” No going back now. “You gave him the highest grade, but I don’t think he really earned it,” she blurted. “I read his essay too, and it wasn’t up to his usual standard at all. There were about a dozen spelling and grammatical mistakes, and even a couple of dates were wrong.”

“Oh, really?” Reed frowned in obvious consternation. “Well, that’s peculiar. I can’t think why I’d grade such a paper so highly... Maybe his argument, or his underlying point, were so strong that it made up for the errors?”

“I guess...” Isabel mused that Adam’s argument actually was solid, so maybe in that case the mistakes were forgivable. “But this isn’t the first time it’s happened. Adam’s been top for months now, but he’s turned in at least two other substandard essays recently...”

She trailed off as Reed’s eyes narrowed. “What are you trying to say, Isabel?”

“Well, I don’t know, exactly... I mean, I’ve been assisting you for nearly two years now, and this is the first time anything like this has ever happened...” Isabel trailed off again, staring at Reed. The Professor seemed distracted - she was looking past Isabel rather than straight at her, and was it Isabel’s imagination, or was she breathing a little heavily?

Before Isabel could ask if she was alright, Reed’s eyes snapped back to her. “Are you trying to accuse me of not doing my job properly?”

“No! No! God, no! I know how good you are, Professor, I would never think...”

“Then are you trying to accuse me of favouritism?”

This time Isabel hesitated slightly before answering. “No... I’m sure that’s not the case. I know you’re not like that, I’m just... confused, that’s all...”

“M-my decisions when it comes to grading papers may not always make absolute sense to you, Isabel, but believe me, they are sound,” Reed said through gritted teeth.

Isabel raised her eyebrows. Reed just stammered. She never stammered. And her breathing was still remarkably heavy, her hands were clenching and unclenching, her brow was increasingly sweaty... It could be that the conversation (let’s be honest, it was more of a confrontation) was causing her a great deal of stress. That was more than likely. But Isabel could’ve sworn Professor Reed was... aroused.

No. No, that wasn’t possible. Reed was the embodiment of professionalism. She’d never dare to so much as blush around any of her students, TAs or colleagues. She’d had to fight too hard to defend her reputation against the dinosaurs of the department as it is. If she was feeling horny at work - and that was a big if - she wouldn’t have let Isabel into her office. There had to be another explanation...

“Are you OK, Professor?” she asked, taking a step forwards.

Reed leaned forwards, folding her arms across her desk. “I’m perfectly well, Isabel, apart from having my professionalism questioned.” She sighed. “I apologise for being so terse, but I have enough enemies among the faculty without my TA questioning my judgement as well. I stand by my grading decisions, but if you truly are concerned I’ll revisit Adam Fisher’s essays and see if my opinion has changed. Does that sa-satisfy you, Isabel?”

“Uh... yes, I guess so. Thank you, Professor.”

“Very good. Email me the other two that came to your attention, and I’ll look them over when I get the chance. Now, you should be getting home.”

Clearly, the matter was closed. “I... yes, Professor.” Isabel backed out of the office, shooting Reed one last bemused glance before closing the door.

She stood in the corridor outside for a few seconds, contemplating what just happened. Though she’d come out of that meeting with supposedly everything she’d wanted - a review of Adam Fisher’s recent work - it felt like a hollow victory. Reed was usually fair and pleasant with her TAs, so her hostility was unexpected (though, Isabel supposed, understandable, given the implied attack on her reputation). But her demeanour was troubling. Was there something wrong with the Professor? And could it be connected to her apparent lapse in judgement and display of favouritism? Or was Isabel reading too much into this?

Isabel began walking away from the office, her short blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders with each step, her brow furrowed in thought.

***

Once she was certain she’d heard Isabel’s footsteps fade into the distance, Professor Reed leaned back in her chair and peered down at the striking scarlet head of hair between her legs. “S-stop, Sadie,” she spluttered.

The head moved back, revealing her face, which was adorned with a rapturous smile. “Yes, Professor,” Sadie said, in that soft, submissive voice of hers that drove Reed wild.

“That might have been a mistake,” Reed muttered, trying to catch her breath. “I should’ve told you to stop before, but the idea of you still going while I talked to someone - that was just too hot... But it was too big of a risk. I could tell Isabel was getting suspicious. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Sadie said nothing - she hadn’t been given a specific command, so she remained as she was, kneeling under Reed’s desk and staring up at her attentively. Reed stared back at her, and an excited smile spread across her own face.

“Alright, I think that break was long enough,” she purred. “Continue.”

“Yes, Professor,” Sadie said silkily, and began to run her tongue over the Professor’s bare pussy once again.

Ever since earning the title, she had relished hearing people call her ‘Professor’. It reminded her that she had power. Power over her students, whose futures depended on her harsh, but fair, judgement. Power against her stuffy, traditionalist rivals in the department, who were given no choice but to concede that someone as beautiful as her also possessed more than enough intelligence to teach as well as they did - or better, in some cases. She even enjoyed the power it granted her against her loved ones - friends, family, and romantic partners alike, many of whom couldn’t hope but measure up to her position of academic importance.

But nothing quite compared to hearing a naked twenty-year-old girl - who had spent the last half hour relentlessly pleasuring Reed with her tongue, and whose head was still nestled between her legs - say ‘Yes, Professor’ to her. The sound of it - and the feeling of such unlimited power over a willing sex slave - set her on fire.

Isabel’s implied accusation of favouritism was accurate - Reed had been showing favouritism to Adam Fisher, and Sadie was the reason. The Professor reflected with amusement on how alarmed he had been when she had first confronted him about the rumours she’d heard. Well, not so much rumours as a half-heard conversation in the ladies’ room at a local bar. Two students - though not two of hers - had been discussing their respective experiences with Sadie, and Reed had understood enough of the details they mentioned to deduce that Sadie was some form of escort and that Adam was her pimp. No wonder he was so popular around campus.

Reed had considered reporting him immediately, but something stopped her. She didn’t even know what it was until she approached Adam directly and questioned him about Sadie. His eyebrows almost went into orbit with shock as she laid out what she knew - which admittedly wasn’t that much, but was clearly enough to panic him.

Then she said the magic words: “You had better give me a very, very good incentive not to turn you in to the police.”

He hesitated for maybe two seconds before blurting, “I’ll let you have her for an hour a week.”

Reed surprised even herself by saying, “Two.” They shook hands, and it was a done deal. Walking away from the encounter, she couldn’t stop asking herself, what the hell am I doing? Hiring an escort? Am I seriously going down this road?

She felt much better about the arrangement after her next conversation with a much more calm and composed Adam, who laid out a few ground rules. Reed could have sex with Sadie in any way she wished, and could also use her as a household servant or ornament (the girl was so submissive that she would literally stand still as a statue for two hours if instructed), but she was not allowed to do anything that would endanger Sadie’s safety or health, or leave her with any permanent marks or scars. Reed had to provide proof that she had recently tested negative for any STDs, and in return Adam would provide proof of the same on Sadie’s behalf - apparently he made her get herself tested once every few weeks at a local women’s clinic. The usual price for an hour with Sadie was $250 (which explained why Adam always wore such smart designer clothes and had all the latest gadgets), but he was prepared to waive that in exchange for Reed’s silence. Then he showed Reed a few photos of Sadie - both with and without clothes. The last of Reed’s misgivings evaporated at the sight of the buxom red-haired beauty.

That was two months ago, and the Professor’s doubts were a thing of the past. Since then, she had enjoyed over a dozen blissful hours with her new fucktoy. This wasn’t the first evening where they’d enlivened a marking session with some oral sex, and they had explored plenty of other sexual acts as well. And though it was not part of the original arrangement to give Adam such good grades, she couldn’t help feeling like she owed him a little more for letting her use Sadie. If she was honest with herself, her silence was more than paid for by the first six or seven hours with the girl, so she told herself that she’d pay for the rest by putting him at the top of her class. To be fair, he was usually top anyway, so it wasn’t that hard. But Reed had to admit she’d let a few of his subpar essays slide in recent months, something she would never do with any of her students normally. And she clearly hadn’t covered her tracks very well.

As Sadie’s agile tongue brought her to a juddering climax, Reed clapped a hand over her mouth to suppress her cries of pleasure. After risking everything with Isabel, the last thing she needed now was for a passer-by in the corridor to overhear her yelling in orgasmic ecstasy.

Panting for breath, she slumped in her chair. Sadie shuffled back as far as she could go beneath the desk, closing her eyes and enjoying the sticky warmth of the Professor’s juices on her face. Reed noticed, to her amusement, that one of her pubic hairs was stuck to Sadie’s top lip.

The Professor’s feelings of bliss soon faded, as anxiety took hold - she should’ve been more subtle in her favouritism towards Adam, or concealed the evidence from Isabel. And she really shouldn’t have talked to Isabel while Sadie was eating her out. What if the TA figured out what was going on? Isabel had been her brightest student and was now her most valued TA (and yes, Reed was aware that this was another example of her preferential attitude, but in the case of Isabel, it hadn’t ever come back to bite her - until now). There was a real risk of Isabel finding out about, and ruining, Adam’s operation - not to mention robbing Reed of her career and, possibly, her freedom. Panic set in as Reed realised that she and Adam could both go to jail.

She had to deal with Isabel, and quickly.

Pulling up her panties, which had been around her ankles, she got to her feet, sparing Sadie a glance. “Our time’s almost up, so I’m heading home. Are you OK to wait here for Adam to collect you? He knows my door code, but I don’t know how long he’ll be.”

“Yes, Professor,” Sadie replied, as brightly as ever. “Master shouldn’t be too long, he’s just meeting a friend for drinks. I know the code too, so I can get out in case of emergency.”

Master. Reed licked her lips with aroused curiosity at the sound of Sadie’s term for Adam. Those two had a very strange relationship, unlike any pimp-hooker relationship she could imagine.

Picking up her purse, the Professor made her way to her door and opened it. She looked back at her desk - Sadie was still kneeling underneath, and was not visible from Reed’s current vantage point. It occurred to her that unless she told Sadie otherwise, the girl would remain on all fours under the desk until Adam arrived to take her home.

Shrugging, she switched off the light, stepped out of her office, and closed the door, hearing the mechanised lock click behind her.

As she strode through the corridor, she drew her phone out of her purse and pulled up Adam’s number. She clicked the green call button and held the device to her ear.

“Hi, Adam, it’s Professor Reed,” she said a little breathlessly, not breaking her stride. “We might have a problem. No, Sadie’s fine, she’s waiting for you in my office... It’s Isabel, the TA - I think she might be onto us... She noticed I’d been marking you a little generously of late... It might be nothing, but she’s smart - she could be a danger... I’m not sure what to do...” Trailing off, she listened to Adam speak for a while as she exited the history building into the parking lot outside. The unseasonable warmth of the night, heralding the approach of spring, washed over her.

“You can deal with her? Are you sure? Oh, thank God,” she said at last, relieved. “But whatever you do, do it fast. We may not have much time.”