Chapter 143/Call Me Sir

Chapter 143: 143/Call Me Sir

Chapter 142

Stephanie’s Point of View

I didn’t fully process the words he cast over my ears in that rasped voice at first. Though the demand itself was entirely outside anything custom or natural in a relationship between a student and her professor—much like all those alternative strict boundaries and decrees he was accustomed to dictating to me within the walls of this office—my body was already moving in absolute compliance and surrender.

I was driven by a mysterious, overwhelming force that rendered me completely prepared to execute anything that emerged from between his lips without a single second thought.

I rose from his thigh with slow, heavy, and quiet steps, my heartbeats threatening to rip my chest entirely out of its place.

My trembling fingers extended automatically and descended slowly toward the small metallic zipper resting on the right side of my navy school skirt. I unfastened it with a breathless slowness, allowing the woolen fabric to slide smoothly and collapse under its own weight onto the floor, leaving me standing in merely my tight black cotton underwear.

I immediately cast my gaze downward, anchoring my glassed, wandering eyes onto the grain of the wooden floorboards so they wouldn’t collide with those sharp blue eyes that were penetrating my body like straight razors. I was genuinely suffocating from the sheer magnitude of the mortification and degradation, feeling the painful, wounding vulnerability and thinness of my frame.

In that exact second, a definitive conviction took hold of me that my weak form and protruding pelvic bones were entirely unsuited to be bare or a subject of interest—especially before a man like Alexander, who overflowed with a dominant masculine handsomeness and a supreme aura that made full-grown women and girls kneel for a single glance from him, whereas I, in this pathetic state, wasn’t fit to even be a maid standing in his vicinity.

The crushing silence that enveloped the drawing parameters of the room was severed by his strict, rasped voice as he demanded with an icy, unshakable detachment: "Will you confess the names of those bullies now, or do we advance to significantly deeper practices and measures than these, Stephanie?"

Damn this man... how did he utter the letters of my name with such depth and that commanding masculine cadence? The muscles of my neck convulsed violently under the weight of the shiver that raced straight through my body as I asked him in a faint voice that was barely audible from the sheer terror of my shame: "Professor Thorne... why do you insist on humiliating me in this manner? And why do you insist on knowing this specifically?"

He anchored his ice-blue eyes onto me, delivering with a sharp finality that sliced through the thread of my confusion: "I am the one who poses the questions here in this office, not you."

I nodded my head in absolute submission and surrender to his authority, stating automatically: "Understood... Professor Thorne."

His eyelids narrowed with a suspicious cruelty, his aristocratic features hardening as he delivered in an imperative tone that dripped with condescension: "Address me... as Sir."

I swallowed my saliva with immense difficulty due to the absolute dryness of my throat, stating in fractured, trembling breaths: "Understood... Sir."

He moved from his position behind the desk with a calm, deliberate momentum. I took a small step backward in a fearful, automatic reflex to clear space for his massive physique, but he aggressively breached my personal boundary with a decisive speed.

His large, powerful fingers gripped my slender arm with force, and with a firm, sudden movement, he forced my torso to bend forward over the flat surface of the wooden desk until my face was pressed flat against the cool wood and my breaths fanned the papers and scattered files beneath my chin.

He picked up the ink pen once more with the tips of his long fingers, turning it slowly to the rounded plastic back cap as he looked down at my bent body, delivering in a low promise: "I will teach you right now how to address me as ’Sir’ in a submissive cadence that satisfies me."

I felt the hard, cold tip of the pen pressing with distinct force against the fabric of my black underwear, and he began to drag it in a straight vertical motion, rising and falling from top to bottom with a lethal slowness. The fabric was already damp from pure natural arousal and the intense tension caused by his prior caressing of my nipple with that exact pen, and bending over in this exposing posture exacerbated the matter in a way that drove my adolescent body into absolute madness and disarray.

I began to pant violently, my small chest rising and falling in rapid succession as the plastic friction rubbed against the most sensitive zone of my body, while the pen aggressively traced and pressed along the length of my pussy opening from above the thin fabric.

He asked me in a suspicious, low tone as he maintained the rising and falling pressure: "Who am I? Tell me clearly now."

I dug my fingernails tightly into the edge of the wooden desk to tolerate that blistering pleasure that began to surge wildly through my blood, stating in choked, suffocating breaths: "You are... Sir."

He accelerated the motion of the pen with rapid, powerful strokes that drove my senses into absolute frenzy, delivering in a tone devoid of satisfaction: "I do not care for this faltering cadence... repeat it with obedience."

My entire body convulsed and my pelvis locked as I stated, holding in a burning breath: "You are Sir... Sir!"

He lowered the hand holding the pen, lifting it a few millimeters away from me, and stated with calm stability: "Exemplary... that is exactly how the response should be."

In that exact second, a rush of bizarre joy and psychological euphoria washed over me simply because my manner of submission had garnered his sufficient approval. Naturally, this entire scene was not something a conscious mind could accept or process with moral logic, but in his presence and beneath the weight of his aura, my intellect and sanity had abandoned me a long time ago.

The pen abruptly ceased its rolling and friction, and a lethal, sudden coldness settled between my thighs due to the draft in the office. I was screaming silently in sheer desperation for him to continue for an eternity, particularly since the peak of a powerful climax was rapidly approaching and shaping itself within my depths. Yet he cut it off with absolute cruelty right in the middle to torture me with deprivation.

Before I could even process this sudden halt, his broad, massive palm descended with a powerful, resounding, and stinging slap against the bare skin of my ass. A muffled cry ripped from my throat due to the sudden pain and the hot pleasure that doubled in intensity because of the blow.

He delivered in a strict, commanding hiss as he stepped a single pace backward: "Take off your underwear now, Stephanie."