Professor Meera's words sliced through the tense air of her office at Rovery College like a blade. "Should I report the principal about you and Joita?" Her voice was low, laced with a dangerous edge, her sharp eyes pinning Abir to the chair. The book-lined room felt claustrophobic, the heavy wooden desk a silent witness. Her sleeveless black blouse strained against her full breasts, and her white, nearly see-through saree draped over her curves, a single loose strand of hair framing her face with deceptive innocence.
Abir lowered his gaze, his heart slamming against his ribs, fear twisting in his gut. "Please, madam, I…" he stammered, his voice cracking, hands gripping the armrests until his knuckles whitened.
Meera's lips curved into a playful smile, her tone shifting to something teasing, almost wicked. "But if I, myself, were somehow involved in the same crime, then I couldn't report you to the principal, could I?" Abir's head snapped up, meeting her gaze. She bit her lip, her eyes smoldering with a hunger that made his breath hitch. She leaned closer, her saree slipping from her shoulder, revealing a tantalizing view of her cleavage, the black blouse barely containing her. "You know, we don't have enough CCTV cameras in this college. None in here, either." Her voice dropped to a husky whisper, her breath warm against his face. "I can't force you to do something like that. But you could force me to do anything you want with the man inside you. Now, what will you choose, Abir?"
He knew where this was going, the invitation hanging heavy, her words a siren's call wrapped in threat. The fear in his chest ignited into a dark, surging desire, brutal and unyielding. With a primal growl, Abir surged from the chair, his hand clamping around her neck like a vice, yanking her forward as he crushed his lips to hers in a savage kiss. Meera's mouth yielded under the assault, her tongue battling his with desperate hunger, a muffled moan vibrating against him. His left hand shot to her breast, squeezing hard through the taut blouse, kneading the full mound with bruising force, feeling her nipple harden under his palm. She gasped into the kiss, her body arching toward him, but Abir didn't relent—his grip on her neck tightened just enough to make her eyes flutter, her pulse racing under his fingers.
When he tore his lips away, Meera's eyes burned with raw need, her voice a breathless, hungry whisper. "Be a man, Abir. Claim me with your strength."
That was all the permission he needed. Abir's restraint evaporated, replaced by a feral dominance that mirrored her twisted desire. He shoved her back against the office wall, the impact rattling a nearby bookshelf, books tumbling to the floor. Her saree bunched at her waist as he hiked it up with one hand, the sheer fabric tearing slightly under his rough pull. With his other hand still fisted in her hair, he yanked her head back, exposing her throat, and entered her in one brutal thrust, pinning her back to the wall so hard the plaster seemed to groan. Meera's scream was sharp, a blend of shock and ecstasy, her body jolting as he thrust with savage force, each powerful slam driving deeper, as if pounding her very soul out through the wall. Her full breasts heaved with every impact, the black blouse ripping at the seam under his squeezing grip, her legs wrapping around him instinctively, heels digging into his back. "Yes… force it," she gasped, her voice breaking, nails raking his shoulders as pain and pleasure blurred, her body surrendering to the relentless assault.
Abir didn't let up, his hips pistoning with unbridled fury, the wall thudding rhythmically behind her. Meera's cries filled the room, raw and unrestrained, her saree pooling at her feet like a defeated flag, her skin slick with sweat. He varied the brutality, shifting to a grinding twist mid-thrust, rotating his hips to stretch her limits, drawing a whimper that turned into a scream as he slammed back in, her body quaking against the unyielding surface.
But he wasn't done claiming her. With a snarl, Abir spun her around, forcing her to face the wall, her palms slapping against it for balance. He kicked her legs apart, yanking her arms behind her back with one iron grip, pinning her wrists at the small of her back like restraints. Entering her again in doggy style, he pulled her hands hard, arching her spine into a bow of submission, each thrust a vicious, backward yank that buried him to the hilt. Meera's screams escalated, her face pressed to the wall, cheek smearing against the cool plaster as pain lanced through her shoulders, but her hips bucked back greedily, chasing the brutal rhythm. "More… break me," she begged, her voice hoarse, tears of overwhelmed ecstasy streaking her face, her body convulsing with every forceful pull and slam, the office echoing with the wet, savage sounds of their union.
Finally, Abir hauled her to the floor, flipping her onto her back for missionary on the scattered books and papers, her legs splayed wide. He hooked her knees over his shoulders, folding her nearly in half, and drove into her with punishing depth, his weight pinning her down like a conqueror. Each thrust was a full-body collision, her breasts bouncing wildly, the ripped blouse offering no barrier as he mauled them, pinching and twisting her nipples until she howled. Meera's eyes rolled back, her screams turning to guttural pleas, her nails clawing bloody trails down his arms as waves of brutal pleasure crashed over her, her climax ripping through her in shuddering spasms. Abir followed, burying himself deep with a roar, their bodies locked in a final, trembling vise.
The office fell silent, save for their heaving breaths, Meera's body limp and marked—red handprints on her hips, hair disheveled, saree in tatters. She looked up at him, a satisfied, wicked smile breaking through her flushed exhaustion. "That's my student," she whispered, her voice raw with delight.
---
The next day was Sunday, the midday sun casting a lazy glow through the windows of Abir's house. He sat in his room, a book open on his lap, but his mind was a whirlwind—reeling from Meera's office ravishment, Joita's washroom screams, the five girls' lustful stares. The weight of it all left him restless, his thoughts a tangle of desire and unease. The calling bell rang, sharp and unexpected, jolting him from his haze. He opened the door to find one of the five female students standing there, her presence a surprise that made his pulse spike.
"Hi, Abir," she said, her voice soft but laced with intent. "I'm Ananya. You don't know, but I live nearby. May I come in?" Her eyes, familiar from the classroom, held a bold glint, her simple kurta hugging her slender frame, her long hair tied loosely.
Abir hesitated, glancing around the empty house. "Sorry, no one's home right now. My parents and sister went to a relative's house. They won't be back until tonight."
Ananya's smile widened, a knowing edge to it. "Yes, I know. I saw them leave this morning. Now, may I come in?"
Abir sighed, the weight of her words sinking in, a mix of curiosity and wariness stirring within him. "Yes," he said finally, stepping aside, the door creaking open to let her in.