Caelum entered the Professor's private office, the heavy oak doors clicking shut behind him with an ominous finality. The room was dim, lit only by the violet glow of the alchemic jars lining the shelves and the dying embers in the hearth.
**Professor Vespera** stood behind her desk, her silhouette sharp and imposing. She had removed her outer cloak, leaving her in a **tight, silk-lined indigo bodice** that pushed her **ample, mature breasts** upward, nearly spilling over the lace trim. Her **sharp, black hair** was pulled back so tightly it tilted her eyes into a feline, angry glare.
"You took your time," she hissed, her **long, pale fingers** tapping rhythmically on the mahogany desk. "Checking on knights? Tending to students? You are acting as if you own this Academy, Caelum. You've tainted Isolde's core with your heat, and you've disrupted the departmental balance."
She walked around the desk, her **high heels** clicking sharply on the stone. She stopped inches from him, her **heaving chest** nearly brushing his. "I am your superior. I am the one who facilitates your research. You will explain yourself, or I will have your Aether-licence revoked."
Caelum didn't speak. Instead, he took a single, predatory step forward, forcing Vespera back against the edge of her desk. The **Gold Aether** in his veins began to hum—not a gentle warmth this time, but a heavy, crushing pressure that filled the small office.
"You speak of 'Superiority,' Vespera," Caelum murmured, his voice a low, vibrating growl. "But your Aether is screaming something else."
He reached out, his hand—still encased in the **Mina-gauntlet**—gripping her chin and tilting her head back. Vespera's breath hitched, her **dark, pouting lips** parting in a silent gasp. Her indigo eyes, which had been so full of authority, were now dilated with a sudden, overwhelming fear—and an even deeper arousal.
"Look at you," Caelum continued, his other hand sliding down to her waist, pulling her **wide, soft hips** flush against his hard frame. "Your logic tells you to command me. But your body... your body is already vibrating at my frequency. You aren't angry that I 'tainted' Isolde. You're jealous that she felt my heat while you were stuck behind a podium."
Vespera tried to summon a retort, but her indigo Aether was already melting. She felt the liquid-gold warmth of Mina seep through her silk robes, the sentient slime subtly massaging the **sensitive curve of her neck**.
"I... I am the Professor..." she whimpered, her legs beginning to shake. Her **voluptuous frame** felt heavy, her **plush thighs** rubbing together as she fought the urge to slide down to the floor.
"Not in here," Caelum said.
He didn't use a spell. He simply exerted the raw, sovereign weight of his presence. He forced her down into her own mahogany chair, then stood over her, his golden eyes glowing like twin suns in the dim room. He gripped both of her wrists, pinning them to the armrests.
"You wanted a debriefing? Here is the report: Every woman I touch becomes a part of my laboratory. Including you."
He leaned down, his lips inches from hers. "You aren't the scientist anymore, Vespera. You're the **reagent**. And a reagent doesn't give orders to the Alchemist."
Vespera's dignity finally shattered. She let out a soft, broken sob—not of sadness, but of total, ego-destroying relief. She looked up at him, her **violet eyes** wet and pleading. "Master..." she whispered, the word tasting like a forbidden chemical on her tongue. "I... I surrender. Just... give me the heat. Don't leave me cold again."
Caelum smirked. He reached for the buttons of his tunic, his eyes never leaving hers. He had broken the Ice Queen's pride in the forest, but breaking the Professor's authority in her own sanctuary was a much more potent synthesis.