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It was just one... (Bevatoria and skittish_butterfly)

It was as if in that moment, he realized he'd made a mistake. Grant had been the tentative, carefully manipulative graduate student until then, a man poking and prodding carefully at his subject to see how it moved, and reacted. But the panic in her voice almost made him panic, almost broke the spell that had passed over the conversation over his hand as he stroked his cock.

"Fucked?"

Yes, fucked. Bent over the table, my hand tangled in your hair, yanking you back as I take you for my own, you arrogant little-

"No, no, no. "

He couldn't breathe. Grant couldn't move, couldn't do anything until he knew. It seemed like he'd pushed her too far, finally found something that even science couldn't beat, that subtle biological manipulation of his cookies not winning over her years of a structured and conservative life style. Working in the lab, no social life, of course she'd have no interest in-

"No, well, I mean..."

The slight panting in her voice made him perk again, Grant's hand slowly going up and down his member as he couldn't wait for her to say more. He was finally breathing again at least, even as he eagerly awaited her next word. The next sound that crossed his ears was incredibly delicious; the ever familiar audible fragment of a button being pressed, and then background noise. Elizabeth had put it in speaker phone again, and from what Grant knew there could only be one reason for that. A slight moan, the heavy breathing, and a single word confirmed his hypothesis a moment later.

"Yes." The thoughts in her mind echoed the thoughts in his, about how much her behavior had changed under his molding, what she was wearing, her attitude towards guys, towards men, towards him...

"I need you tell me exactly what it is you want, Elizabeth." Grant said wearily, breathily, lost more in the fantasy of what he wanted from her then actual reality, desperately trying to control himself, his words as he listened to this once unattainable, bookish female student fasttrack her descent into a wanton creature of lust. Unchecked lust looking for and outlet, a release.

"Yes, I... I do... I think I'm looking to get fucked, that's what it means when a girl feels like this. I need to get fucked."

"Mhhhmmmmm....." Now it was Grant's turn to bite his lip as he felt his own high deflate, his own hand now sticky with the fluids of his body as he took a few deep breaths to steady himself. Normally, he'd just want to settle down, but the idea of taking Elizabeth was too strong. Even though he'd just orgasmed. He had to have her. Now. Tonight.

A few more breaths. "You won't find your release until you get fucked, Elizabeth." A simple statement that told very little of what he really wanted to say to her, instead leaving it for her to imagine, to dream about...to quiver at the thought of... She would find no settling down to 'work' on her solution until he deemed it right. Until Grant got what he wanted out of her, and what she thought she wanted out of him. Out of any man, but he would make it him.

"I will help you with what your body needs, Elizabeth." His voice was dark, almost a hiss now as he spoke to her. "With what you crave." A quick glance at the clock, as he dared not move his phone from its awkward perch against his ear, his body too tense, his other hand slimy and sweaty. It was late enough that the lab would be closed. "But you'll need to come to the lab tonight."

Grant knew he could beat her there, and wondered about his choice of venue. He definitely couldn't go to her place, and he dared not bring her here. And he was also very aware of the other subtle ways he could create associations in her mind; ones not necessarily implanted by his cookies. Linking certain images and thoughts to places was easy for anyone, and he intended to twist poor Elizabeth's mind while seeing opportunities in what she'd already seemed to create for him. She trusted him, and now Grant intended to see just how far.

"There's no need to do anything that would get in the way of what you desire, Elizabeth. Anything unnecessary can be discarded." Another moment's hesitation to explain his vague choice of words. "You only need to come wearing my lab coat and your high heels."

Because the thought of you coming all but naked in something that reminds you of me is incredibly arousing.

"The coat will cover you up, and it'll remind you of what you're doing and where you're going. Nobody else will have to know unless you want them to."

And because I think you're incredibly hot in your heels. Because nothing says sexy like the 'click, click, click...of a woman approaching them'

"Wearing your high heeled shoes will make sure you slow down enough on your way to appreciate what it is you're going to the lab to do. To deal with what's bothering you. That's all we're doing tonight." He'd slipped up without even realizing it, but Grant was too far gone to care. "You'll do this for yourself, right Elizabeth?"

You'll do this to satisfy me?
 
Elizabeth still couldn't believe she'd actually said it, let alone meant it. But she had said it, the words still hot on her lips and in her brain. She wanted -- needed -- to be fucked.

Was that really what all her recent distraction and pent up frustration was about? All the rubbing and stroking, just needing some boy to fuck her? Was she really no different than all those other dim bulbs giggling around campus looking to hook up with whatever boy would give their shallow lives the tiniest scrap of validation, spreading their legs rather than their wings?

Elizabeth couldn't answer that fully just yet, not while she was busy trying to keep her phone from rattling off the little table while her grinding hips slowly shoved it forward. It was too hard to concentrate on much beside her own wobbly, tiptoeing steps as she desperately followed that wonderful table corner, needing to keep herself straddling it, humping it as the wooden legs slowly screech-screech-screeched across the kitchen floor. It was too hard to focus, and really, part of her didn't want to, didn't want to face what she suspected her answer might say about herself.

The sound of Grant's voice on the phone sent waves of pleasure rolling down Elizabeth's body, so powerful she thought she might wash up on the table top like a rising tide. But it wasn't his voice, not words at least, not that she could make out. It was a groan, long, and drawn out. Elizabeth almost asked if he was ok, it sounded so intense, almost painful, but she was too breathless, too focused on her own need. She just kept rubbing herself against the table, one hand reaching up and teasing her swollen nipples too, noticing how the touch was almost electric.

Grant sounded almost as out of breath as she was, but she couldn't hang up, couldn't stop, and for whatever reason Grant didn't close the connection, letting her humiliating sounds play out on the phone call. Finally he spoke and suddenly her attention, what was left of it, pounced on his every word. He was going to help her, he promised. He owed her. She needed to hear it from him, what he would do, what she should do. How to fix her formula maybe, or a better doctor, something, anything...

His words seemed strangely calm, like he was just stating a fact in a tired voice, that she wouldn't find her release until she really was fucked. She shook her head, no, no, not wanting to hear that, her hair flying loose as she gave in to denial, rubbing harder, needing release *now*, without having some idiot boy fuck her, waste her time and try to drag her into some stupid relationship. That couldn't be his answer.

She sighed audibly as his next words gave her hope Grant had more to say than just that. He would help her. "Yes, please Grant. Just tell me. I could... my formula, I'm sure if you could just help me clear my head, help me tighten it up, something, I could do the rest myself, please, though, I can't do it myself, not like this." The table screeched and shifted as she pressed against it again, holding herself down with a firm contact she absolutely needed, but which still just wasn't quite enough. Oh, God, please don't let him be right, she thought, don't leave me like this until... until I let... until...

He interrupted her awful thought process, his voice coming up softly from the phone's speaker on the table. He wanted her to come to the lab that night. Her formula! He was going to help her fix it, make it better! "Yes, yes of course, I'll... right away!" Of course he was too stupid to do it himself, but if he could just help her focus, run the tests and follow her instructions, maybe it would be ok. Only... only... her thoughts drifted to the desire for release, to thoughts of someone fucking her, one of the boys in the stairwell who always teased her but not today, not dressed like she was... No release until she...

Grant spoke again, rousing her from her hip thrusting reverie. Her thoughts were swirling in a tight band around the intense heat of her need. She needed to be fucked. Fix the formula. Listen to Grant, and then get fucked. No listen to him and fix the formula, then get... No... get fucked and then...

Discard whatever wasn't necessary? Elizabeth didn't understand, and she hated that feeling, which made her squeeze her nipple a little harder, readjust her position a little more snugly over the corner of the wooden table, needing a little more pleasure to compensate for the unfamiliar feeling of not knowing. "Discarded? What... I don't...."

Grant interrupted, saving her from the full admission of ignorance. Only his lab coat and the heels? His lab coat. Elizabeth looked at it, stared at it there on the table, and she pulled herself back off the table just a little, feeling the skirt up around her hips, the corner of the table looking dark and wet. Grant's lab coat. That was Grant's. He wanted her to wear it, just the coat, all she needed. She thought about his words, playing them over and over in her head in his voice, unable to stop. She reached out with one hand and touched it, then touched herself between her legs with those some fingers, closing her eyes and sucking in a sharp breath.

She nodded weakly. No one would know. No one would see. She never wore a lab coat, everyone knew that Grant did, but it didn't matter. It was just a coat. His coat, on her naked skin. That's all she needed, and then he would help her. She needed his help. "Yes, Ok... the coat, but the heels? Grant, please, I can't stand these heels, they're so uncomfortable and I can barely walk in them and... and they attract... attention... please, I don't even know why I wore them today. I can't wear them, please..."

Grant seemed to hear her, but instead of letting her wear her flats or her walking shoes he was insistent, explaining why she was wrong to disagree with him on this. She nodded as he talked, stroking herself with her fingers at the strange sensation of being convinced by Grant's words, having him explain things to her. But he was right, why was he always right? They would make her walk slower, make her think about why she was going to the lab, think about what was bothering her, what they were... what were they doing tonight?

"I... well, maybe you're right." What were they going to do? Fix her formula. Fuck. Listen to Grant. She was too mixed up to protest anymore. "Ok, yes, I'll come. To the lab I mean." She wanted to come. In every way. Even if it meant she was going to get fucked this night. She needed it. She could hear his voice in her head, all of his words still rolling around, two days worth of Grant's help. Need to be fucked. Discard everything. Come to the lab. Cum Elizabeth.

"Yes, yes, I'll do it for you, for me I mean. I'll be there. J-j-ust, help me. Help me get out of this mess, please Grant." She didn't even close the phone. Grant seemed satisfied for the moment, and Elizabeth was too busy looking at his lab coat, touching it and herself, to ask any more questions, to beg for his help anymore.

If he hung up, she didn't hear it and didn't know. She was too busy stripping out of her sexy outfit from the day, staring at herself in the mirror and holding onto the wall for support in her heels as she stepped out of the skirt and her damp panties. Her face and chest were flushed bright red and her nipples were so swollen, she could see it clearly. Some of her hair was flowing forward over her shoulder and gently grazing her left nipple with a soft silky caress that made her gasp, but do nothing to stop it. She needed to be fucked.

Why? She didn't know. How could she? Why did any girl need to be fucked? Hopefully there was a different better answer for her, but all she knew was she needed to be fucked, needed that release and needed to get to the lab for Grant. Nothing else mattered. She picked up Grant's lab coat and held it to her nose, smelling the scent of the chewing gum he sometimes kept in his pocket and the ridiculous aftershave he sometimes doused himself with. It smelled like him. She flapped it in the air and found the arms and then slipped her naked body into the coat. This time she buttoned it all the way, but the buttons stopped right around her pelvis. No matter. Elizabeth knew she was going to have to walk so slowly in the heels hopefully it wouldn't matter.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her dark hair looked a little wild, trapped inside the back of the coat. It bothered her for some reason and she reached back to gather it up and pull it loose, flipping it back over her shoulder and behind her. She was still blushing but she couldn't stop that. Didn't matter either, not in the dark outside. And she needed to get to the lab, needed to be fucked.

The coat looked 2 sizes too big on her in the mirror. Even with the sleeves gathered up a little at the elbows her hands were still swallowed up in them, just her fingers sticking out, making her look like a kid -- a kid in high heels with a grown woman's curves under the lab coat, but small.

None of it mattered. She took a ragged, hitching breath and turned on her heels, almost stumbling on the heels into the wet spot on the table before catching herself. Then she slowly, carefully made her way to the door, pulled it open and went down the hall, her hand grazing the wall and the passing doors as she went, touching everything with fingertips, ready to catch herself if she wobbled or toppled on the heels. But she was getting a little better at it, especially going slowly like Grant had wisely told her. Her hips swayed more, she couldn't help it, but it balanced better when she let them go, when she put her toes and heels down in the right order, focusing just on that and her need to be fucked. She didn't think about having left the lights on in her room, or having left her phone on the table probably still connected to Grant's, or that her door wasn't even locked and her keys on her bed. She didn't think about her formula, or trying to be more celebrated than her dad, didn't think about missing her mom. She just needed to be fucked.

The guys on the second floor stairwell were speechless when they heard the sound of her heels on the stairs, all of them looking at her in unison, following her slow passage. She was starting down to the first floor when she heard one guy back on the landing say something like, "I would definitely..." but she wasn't paying attention. Only the heels, walking just right, the sway and the steps. And needing, aching to be fucked, to find release.

Across the campus, through the quad she walked, avoiding the dimly lit grass in her high heels, the click click click on the pavement, a slow steady metronome keeping her focused on getting to the lab like Grant told her. Some men stopped and stared as she passed, while others just glanced out the sides of their eyes. She knew what they were looking at, her bare legs at the bottom of the coat, the lack of any kind of shirt at her throat and the top of her chest, all of them wondering, probably wanting to fuck her. She thought about each one of them, what it might be like, but never stopped her steady careful pace toward the lab.

The door opened, not locked yet. The halls were dark though. She ran her fingers along the bulletin boards, found the railing to the steps to the second floor, then toward the light shining through the little square window up ahead in the lab door. Was someone else working late? Had they left the light on? Was Grant there already, waiting to help her? She didn't know. It didn't matter. She just walked along, slowly, letting the sound of her heels announce her arrival long before her small hand reached out of the sleeve to pull open the door.

She couldn't tell if she wanted him to be here already or not. Was he going to... how would... she pushed all thought away, even thought of her formula. She knew she should probably work on it if he wasn't here yet, but she couldn't. There wasn't room in her head for it. Just thoughts of the men who had stared at her on the way over. Thoughts of what Grant's coat felt like against her bare skin, grazing her nipples with each step. Needing to be fucked. Thinking of Grant. She headed for her work station, figuring she'd either see him around the corner, or sit down at her work station and... and... rub herself until he arrived, knowing full well it wouldn't do her any good, not until she was fucked, but she couldn't think of anything better she could still do.
 
Even as his adrenaline rose even at the mere thought of her obeying him, as she'd hinted at thus far, Grant found his body relaxing, as if coming back to a natural place from the unnatural pleasure he'd experienced a short while ago. The moment paused, sat, built in the air as he waited for her answer to his baited question. For Elizabeth to make what was supposedly her decision.

"I... well, maybe you're right."

Hesitation, and then confession. Admitting he was right. Unintentionally (as far as he knew) uttering a double entendre of her own. She'd be coming, all right. In every way. Any way he wanted. In his mind, anyways.

Somehow, she perceived the meaning behind his statement. She was doing this for him, for the need he'd manipulated into her. Her need for pleasure, to touch herself, for release packaged in the guise of a tempting treat. A treat he would continue to perfect even as she worked against him, fighting one battle behind the curtains even as their real battle waged in front of it. The battle Grant was winning. "I'll always help you, Elizabeth, in any way I can." He responded, ending the call there. It wasn't for her that he hung up, as he knew he had much to do before going to the lab.

This wasn't just a booty call. And Grant was well aware of what men did when they were thinking with their dicks rather then their brains. Hell, he'd just gotten away with it by getting Elizabeth to agree to show up in every lab guy's secret fantasy of a lab coat and heels. Getting her to the lab was to avoid suspicions, not arouse it. Once on a campus like this could be passed off as any number of things; every day Grant saw something, small or great, that he would never see again. This was a time for expression for a lot of these 'kids' (listen to him, calling adults a few years younger then him kids), and the community was generally tolerant of it.

But it wouldn't be tolerant of a graduate student using the lab for constant late evening trysts. It would only take one person spotting them together, a few seeing them together in non academic places to get the rumors to start. Rumors brought questions, question brought more prying eyes and Grant wasn't ready for that. He hated attention, and even as he reveled in the complete success of his formula, he still had no idea as to how he was going to deal with it once it became public.

Questions for another time. For now, he had a booty call to deal with, a woman's artificial need that had to be sated. A need he'd created, for exactly this purpose. Not because he wanted to fuck her (although Grant would admit under oath that he did want to fuck Elizabeth). But because he wanted her under his thumb; to make it so that if he wished to fuck her, all he had to do was make it a trigger.

A trigger he knew he'd have to get more creative in harnessing and controlling. He got up, heading to the bathroom to clean up from the mess he'd made on himself and his clothes. He'd have to change for the evening anyways; Grant had never really been comfortable in shorts at the best of times. Soap and hot water on his hands, his face, quickly splashing it as he took one look at himself in the mirror.

He looked ragged; with a bit of a five o'clock shadow forming. More like an eight o'clock shadow, he mused, looking at the time. The lines on his face ran deep despite his youth, and his eyes...Grant cocked his head. They looked back at him in questioning expression, as if to ask are you sure about this?

Grant stared back at his image. Long enough that the water dried from his face, and only the lightest of brushes from the towel were needed to dry his hands. His only answer was to slide on a pair of blue jeans and a tight dark brown t-shirt for the journey back to the lab; fumbling with his belt. The roads were open, and as he pulled into his parking spot, he found the quiet of the evening peaceful; a few students milling about, paying him no heed as he walked back into the building. Or at least little enough heed that he didn't care; his reasons for being here didn't matter to them, because they didn't know them.

If they did, they'd probably want to watch.

A click of his key, and the door into the dark room opened, and a breath came out that Grant didn't even realize he was holding; Marie was gone, and the lab was empty to him. A quick flick of the lights, and the spotless room was revealed to him. Immaculate, as the lab always had to be under his watch. Free of any contaminants and outside influences of any kind.

But the experiment he was about to do would not be clean, and most definitely not free of outside influences. He wandered in, making his way to the most familiar work area to him; the one that had been his as a student, and was now a spare one that he indulged in whenever he had real tests to run. An indulgence he was rarely able to partake in as the lab supervisor. Grant had promised to help her, and he wondered how exactly he would partake of the illusion of helping her when all he wanted to do was fuck her brains out. Which he'd prepared her for.

His cock was hard, his body tense and he hadn't even seen her yet. He could pretend he'd only been here a short while, that he was waiting for her, wanting Elizabeth to set up before they started. Yes, that would work. and it'd only have to work long enough for her cravings to kick in.

It was about that point that the lab door opened, and Grant turned towards it. "Elizabeth?" He asked hesitantly, not waiting to see the familiar shock of dark hair, her small figure, or the sight of his coat draped over her lithe, feminine body. The flash of her leg as she walked towards him, unsteadily and confident at the same time, if that were possible. She was a kid in the coat, but the way Elizabeth walked and carried herself was anything but immature.

It was the gait of a woman who knew what she wanted, even if she didn't know why, the sound of her footsteps drawing Grant's eyes to her.

His coat fit her exactly as he'd imagined. The tempting line of skin at the top, from her neck to the top of her breasts, the v shape of the coat leading to more tempting possibilities. Her legs almost completely uncovered by the bottom, her careful steps the only thing keeping her from flashing everyone as she walked. An unintentional favor from him, he realized, making her walk in her heels and take her time. Grant unconsciously licked his lips, quickly covering his gaffe with another statement, grateful for the desk hiding his cock tenting in his pants, possibly even poking out the top if he were not careful.

"How...." He squinted. No, not how. "...what are you feeling right now?" As if he couldn't tell, both from their earlier conversations and from the subtle cues in her body language now. Or from what little she was wearing, the click of the heels on the lab floor signalling her approach.

But Grant wanted to hear Elizabeth say it.
 
Elizabeth was focused on the click of her heels across the tiles, her slow, steady swaying progress, heel, toe, heel, toe. The heels were uncomfortable, undignified, un-Elizabeth, but Grant was right to ask her to wear them. It kept her mind occupied, kept her from drifting off into wild flights of fantasy. Just focus on the one small thing, walking properly in the heels, getting to the place she needed to be. Don't worry about the rest. She let the thoughts of men looking at her as she'd walked across the quad, wanting to fuck her, wanting to fuck them too, she just let it all drift right through her without worrying. Just heel-toe, heel-toe.

She was just reaching her station when she suddenly looked up, startled by Grant's voice, unseen around a nearby corner, her name. A question. Grant, asking what she was feeling right now.

It broke her concentration, her focus on the unfamiliar rhythm of walking on the high heels. Her right foot wobbled and she felt herself losing control. She slumped to the side, catching herself on her work bench before she slipped completely, her fingers feeling the metal top of the work surface but her palms on the wooden side panel only feeling it through the overlong sleeve of Grant's lab coat.

Her head snapped in the direction of his voice and then she saw him, not at his own station but in an out of the way corner, staring at her. Katherine reached for her high stool, needing to sit before her wobbly legs betrayed her completely. The screech of the chair across the tiles made her flinch slightly, but Grant didn't seem to notice. He just watched her as she awkwardly settled her bottom down on the edge of the stool, fighting a losing battle to keep the lower open half of the lab coat closed so her bare legs didn't show completely.

She finally met his gaze, trying so very hard to keep her hips still, thrusting her hands into his coat's deep pockets so she wouldn't be able to touch herself the way she ached to again, feeling a few cookie crumbs in the right pocket and resisting the urge to lick her fingers. She just looked at Grant, her face warming with the effort of holding his gaze. As she looked at his face, he looked almost as much a wreck as she felt, his eyes a little haunted, his cheeks drawn. Was it concern for her? Something else?

He wanted to know what she was feeling, and as her fingers balled up in the pockets, struggling not to tug the coat sideways a little and stroke herself through the pocket's inner lining, she didn't want to tell him, didn't want to admit it again. Why couldn't he just help her with the formula, help her fix the problem. But she was getting used to Grant being right, knowing what was best. Two days ago she never would have believed it, but she felt like she had to trust him, trust his judgement. What he asked, she couldn't help feeling she had to answer, even if she didn't want to.

But she wasn't ready to face it, not yet. She stared into the tired hollows of his eyes and tried to play for a little time. Maybe he would change his mind, or maybe her feelings would subside, so she could answer without embarrassing herself as much -- she doubted it though. Focus on Grant, on Grant. "Grant, I... I feel worried about you." It was true enough, not the whole truth, not yet, but it was enough for this moment. "You... you look weary. Are you, are you ok? Sick or something?"

She waited for a few seconds, giving him a chance to say something, anything to let her delay the admission she knew she was going to have to make. She briefly turned her gaze longingly to the equipment at her station, to the discarded vial where she'd mixed the first batch of her formula, hoping still he might help her make a better batch tonight, glancing for a moment at the parts of her big experiment, lying almost unused the last couple days as Elizabeth was all but useless in her condition.

How does she feel? What does she feel? The question echoed louder and louder in Grant's voice inside her head, telling her she hadn't answered him yet, not enough, not the real truth. "I feel..." She looked down, too embarrassed to face him but unable to stop the words any longer. "I feel an ache deep inside, and I'm wet all the time... you know... between my legs? Like one of those horny puppies that'll hump absolutely anything? I can barely control it. My... well, my nipples are rock hard, so swollen I'm afraid they'll burst, and it's all too much for me Grant, I c-c-can't stand it. I think... I think I'm... horny? I don't know how else to describe it." The words kept tumbling out of her as her cheeks grew hotter, but she had to tell Grant, the only one she could trust to help her. "I feel miserable and horny, aching and needy and frustrated all at the same time. I hate feeling like this. I'm not the weak one, Grant, you know that. I hate feeling vulnerable. It's awful. All I can think about is that I need... I need someone to... to... uh... well, fuck me... I know... it's horrible right? I'm a scientist... life of reason, accomplishment... but.. all I can think about is...."

Elizabeth looked up finally into his eyes and saw his gaze had moved lower. She looked down and realized she'd pulled her right hand out of the pocket, that her hips were moving on the chair, the coat pulled open down below, her hand between her legs, gently touching herself. She gasped in shock and pulled her hand away immediately but couldn't stop her hips from their steady rhythmic movements, just the grinding of her bottom against the edge of the stool enough to make her shudder. She shoved her hand back in her pocket and looked back at him, feeling like she was going to die inside. "I... I'm sorry, I don't know what... I can't help it... I'll try to control it Grant but it's... please, I don't know how to stop this, you've got to help me fix my formula to get this out of me or I'm afraid I'm gonna... please, just do something."

Her eyes finished the sentence her words couldn't. Do something. Anything. Just help her.
 
The moment dragged itself out, similarly to how their phone conversation had gone. The ones where Elizabeth had cum at his command. They were waiting for each other; him for her to react, her for him to say something, anything, tell her to do something. He'd asked her a question, and Grant could see the wheels turning in Elizabeth's head. Her internal struggles, and her external ones, her hands fidgeting in his coat's pockets. She didn't know what to do with herself, she was on edge. They both were.

But she had less ways to hide her tension. In more ways then one, Grant mused as he looked her over. Saw her looking at him, and then saying she was worried about him. Really? He had felt a bit winded, tired, unsure of himself back at the house, but now...she asked if he was sick, and he shook his head. "No. I'm not sick." He tried to smile, settled on half of one. "Just not used to the...late nights, you know." Bullshit. The tension of what they'd done, what they were about to do, was draining him. The waiting, the anxiousness, the not knowing what the hell he was doing with himself, or with her.

He didn't catch her looking at her station, focused as he was on answering her question. And then her trying to answer his. Her words, and then her hesitation as she faced the floor.

Right before Elizabeth told him everything. About her desire, her constant need. The ache for to cum, the feelings in her body. The descriptions of them given by her inciting need in his own as she talked about her nipples, about how she was wet. The blush on her face, the only thing Grant could give in response were calming words. "Keep talking, Elizabeth. You can trust me."

And she did keep talking, the blush growing on her face as she continued to confess her 'weakness' to him. That she didn't feel like a scientist when she wanted to....

She stopped, looking at him. It took Grant a moment to realize that even as he'd focused in on what she was saying, taking in every word and gesture, that his eyes had been drawn lower to her bare legs. To where her hand had been unconsciously stroking. He grinned a little in embarrassment, covered by her gasp as she pulled her hand away. Still, her hips seemed to rub against the stool, as if expressing what her body really wanted even as her mind tried to fight against it.

"I... I'm sorry, I don't know what... I can't help it... I'll try to control it Grant but it's... please, I don't know how to stop this, you've got to help me fix my formula to get this out of me or I'm afraid I'm gonna... please, just do something." She finished her statement, her eyes meeting his desperately, hands all but trembling in her pockets. Grant stood up squarely, looking at her. Gulping, just a little, taking a breath to try to gain confidence for what he was planning to do. Fix he formula? She couldn't honestly think that's why he brought her here.

And yet it was. He walked over to her slowly, the mask on his face dropping even as his tired, ragged eyes looked at her. Met hers, even as he looked at her body. The tiny body hidden by the oversized coat. Oversized on her. He grabbed her elbows, gripping the unseeded fabric as he pulled them to the side. Away from her center, away from where she wanted to touch herself.

Not because he wanted her to stop. "I can't help you with your formula, Elizabeth." It wasn't really a lie, he really couldn't help. He didn't know what she'd put in her formula, and even if he did, he had essentially created a drug with no cure for the addiction. It was uncharted waters. There was also the small issue of a lack of motivation. "Not tonight, anyways."

Another moment, Grant was close to her now, looming at his height even with her on the stool, close enough to see her breathing, their nervousness. "But how does one stop a raging river?" His hands went to the bottom of the coat she was wearing. His coat. Finding the bottom button, undoing it. Looking at her eyes.

"Not by trying to stop it." Another button. "But by redirecting it. Letting it go somewhere else." Two more, almost to the top even as he refused to look anywhere but her eyes. Savor the moment. "Where it could be useful." Almost there, his fingers trembling at the last one. "Where it's needed." He pinched the two sides of the fabric deliberately, hesitantly.

"Let it out, Elizabeth." he whispered hoarsely as he undid the last button on his lab coat and pushed it off of her shoulders. "Let your desire show itself...." Grant took her in now, wondering if she'd let the garment fall to the lab floor or not, leaving her naked, perched on the stool for his eyes to devour.
 
Elizabeth was almost hypnotized by Grant's slow steady approach, coming so close to her. Even in these high heels he was taller than her and for some reason that felt very significant to her, having to tilt her head to look up at him making her knees feel even weaker, as if it was only the stool against her gently undulating hips and bottom that kept her from sinking to the floor at his feet.

Somehow Grant's eyes seemed more intense, more mysterious, more commanding than she'd ever noticed before. Maybe it was that tired haunted look compared to the deer-in-the-headlights view she had always had of him until recently. But somehow, the way he looked at her as her fingers slowly inched their way back between her legs was irresistible. For some reason Elizabeth didn't push him away or chew him out, even as his gaze slowly trailed lewdly down her body like he had X-ray vision and was evaluating her naked body right through the material of his lab coat as if it wasn't even there.

Even if he couldn't see her nakedness, the way she felt the coat against her own skin, so sensitive to its every little touch, she realized he must be able to see her every curve in the contours of the white fabric draped against her. And that thought was enough to bring her fingers all the way back, feeling how soft and wet she was, gently touching herself and sucking in a soft breath even with Grant standing right there in front of her. Surely he must realize where her fingers were, and yet she couldn't stop, didn't want to. Elizabeth had the feeling she would horribly regret it later but right at that moment with Grant so close all she could think of was what her body wanted, what she craved and needed.

Grant knew. She felt his fingers at her elbows, gentle but insistent just like his words, tugging her elbows back to her side, making her gasp as he pulled her fingers away from her soft folds. Her legs remained parted, hopeful, but his eyes and hands were clear: he wanted her arms at her sides. Why was this so hard for her? But slowly her arms settled against her hips, fingers clenching and unclenching, her finger tips moist against her palms. Her hands were almost swallowed up in the long sleeves but she had this feeling that Grant would still be able to see how damp her fingertips were if she opened her fists and he chose to look.

She was looking up at him and he shook his head, his voice speaking so smoothly and softly, telling her he couldn't help with her formula, not now. Elizabeth could tell from his tone she should be disappointed, but his voice made her feel so good, and he was touching her, his hands still on her elbows, his eyes staring right at her, so close to her she was sure she could feel the breath of his words on her lips.

He stepped just a little closer and his hands moved a little lower, to the bottom button of the lab coat. He started quoting some kind of romantic poem to her about stopping a raging river, and it just made her feel like a raging river inside, like her body was just warm moist need flowing toward him, unstoppable. She shook her head, she didn't know how to stop the river, didn't want to stop it.

He popped open another button and she felt the bottom of the coat slip open a bit at her hips. If he looked down, would he see her? See her complete nakedness under the coat and know what she'd done coming here? She knew the right thing was to slap his hand away, stop him from undoing that third button he was working on, but she couldn't. It was Grant's button after all, wasn't it, not hers? The coat did belong to him.

She held still, practically holding her breath as he popped open another button and she felt it open ever so slightly over her belly too. Grant's poem was saying the truth Elizabeth felt vibrating inside her, she couldn't even try to stop the river. It was too strong, it had to go some where. Grant seemed to know where and once again she found herself trusting him, the only one who cared enough to be here with her. She was in his hands, holding utterly still as he unbuttoned her except for a slight nervous shiver that was taking her over. Her lips felt attracted by the gravity of his face so close, staring down at her. The stool squeaked just a little as her feet pushed up on tip toes, unconsciously pushing herself a little higher, like her lips just needed to be closer to his for some reason, but the squeak of the stool brought her to her senses, realizing what she was doing, and she settled back as he reached for another button, her cheeks getting so hot as she watched his face.

Elizabeth ached to look down as he unbuttoned one of the last top buttons, to reassure herself that she wasn't openly naked, but Grant's eyes locked on hers were too powerful, too insistent and she couldn't look away even as the last button popped open. She felt the material shift against her nipples, spreading open all up and down her front but she still felt most of her breasts covered, the coat still on her shoulders.

Grant's voice was like a melody she couldn't get out of her head, telling her to let it out, to show her desire. She felt the heat rising and her hands yearned to touch herself again, even with his hands still on the coat, so close. Where was her dignity? Her reserve? What was happening to her? But she had to show her desire, couldn't hide it anymore, not here with Grant at least. With Grant it was safe. He was the one she could trust, the one trying to help her.

His hands gently brushed the coat back and it fell from her bare shoulders, bunching at her upper arms, and she couldn't even be sure now if her nipples were showing, what Grant would see if he looked. Her hips were moving, aching and eager as ever, as if she could just call him on her cell phone and ask him to let her cum again -- only her cell phone was back in her room, not here. And Grant himself was standing right there in front of her.

Show her desire. Maybe that was the answer. Grant may not know much about genetics and biology and chemistry, not like Elizabeth, but he seemed to understand her heart, better even than she did. She had to show her desire. Maybe that was the help she needed. Show it. Let it go. Don't cling to it and fight it and resist it.

She took a deep shuddering breath that caught in her throat as she looked at him. The Elizabeth unbunched her fingers, barely sticking out of the sleeves and moved them just enough to catch the lapels of the coat. How badly she ached to touch herself, to mount the stool like she'd mounted her kitchen table and do battle with the heat rising inside her, but instead she used those fingers to tug the lab coat open even more, shrugging her slender bare shoulders a bit until she felt the coat start to slip down her body. She moaned a little as she felt it slide to the floor, leaving her naked except for the awkward, uncomfortable heels that really didn't count. Naked and staring at Grant, her heart pounding.

it wasn't helping. Not yet. Standing naked in front of Grant just made her want it even more. Want him even more. It was Grant that she needed, she knew it now, felt it clearly in her body as her fingers stroked her thighs and stared up into his eyes, slowly rising on her tiptoes, actually aching to... kiss him. The stool squeaked again as her naked body stretched upward toward him, and she blinked again realizing what she was doing. Elizabeth stopped, stretched up, her face so close to his he must certainly feel her breath on his cheek. She was too embarrassed at what she had started to do to actually kiss him, but needed it too badly to settle back down naked on the seat, wobbling on her heels, almost on tip toes, halfway in between the too impossible options, waiting for Grant to show her how to redirect the river, too desperate now to bother worrying about her nakedness.
 
The coat seemed to linger there, hung over Elizabeth's body, over the precipice that he dared not push her over. Even as he had manipulated her to this point, used genetics to twist her body's urges to his whims, somehow Grant wanted her to make the decision. So that no matter what came of this evening, that she would remember who it was that had decided there would be no turning back. It hung on her arms, her torso revealed to him, even as he refused to look nowhere but at her eyes. Her beautiful, ravishing eyes that she hid too often behind glasses, a mask of hate, condescension, anything she could to keep people from looking into her. But here, regardless of her lack of clothing, she was showing herself.

Even if it was the self that Grant had made her in to. Her deep breath was matched by a short one of his own, her chest heaving as her small fingers moved to the lapels of the coat, pushing it the rest of the way down her slim figure. His cock stirred at the moan that left her as she freed herself from the encumbrance of clothing; save for the one last bastion of male indulgence; high heels on her feet.

But other then that, she was naked. Naked in the evening, in the lab, looking back up at Grant nervously while his eyes hungrily took in her body. Her fingers 'fidgeting' near her thighs, long legs perched on the stool. Her thin torso, small breasts with nipples pointing out, chest heaving. And then her face rising towards his, lips heaving and the stool squeaking as Elizabeth's lips moved upwards towards his lips. She stopped, and Grant blinked, not entirely sure of what he was seeing. An unexpected variable, her need finding and outlet in something almost romantic. Her breath on him made him quiver, reminding him of fantasies and thoughts long forgotten with the aftertaste of her supposed rejection.

But just as she was being made weak by his cookies and manipulation, so he was made weak by the opportunity in front of him. Elizabeth wobbled on the stool, laid out almost as far as she could go to try to reach him, but he could see her uncertainty, both in her purchase on the stool and in what she really wanted. And Grant fought the battle in his own mind, trying to remember why he was here, what he was going to do to her, make her do, make her become for him. But she was here, she was vulnerable, her need was driving her to a place of uncertainty, and it drove Grant as well. When would he ever get this chance again, Elizabeth was here, so desperate, so naked and helpless and-

Redirect the river.

His hands moved first; one to the back of her head, so that her lips met his in a punishing kiss, their teeth almost clattering with the force of their meeting. His other to her ass, to gather her up and lift her small body off of the stool. Grant was not strong, but he could hold her for a short while, long enough to kiss her, to tongue her, to take her mouth and lips in every way he could while he perched her on the lab desk nearby.

The feel of her naked body against his was incredibly enticing, her needy presence and movements erotic. But he was no superman, and he was no romantic.

With effort, he lifted her ass onto the desk, his lips only then disengaging from hers as Grant pulled back. His breathing (or their breathing) made the room seem hotter, but he wasn't about to stop his show. As much as Grant wanted to taste her again, he had asked her to show her need, her desire.

His hands found hers, placing them on her breast, her pussy, his own hands joining hers next to them. "Show me...." He said huskily. "...show me how you've been satisfying yourself, Elizabeth." He eagerly cupped a firm breast, his other tenderly teasing her pussy as well. "Show me your need and I can redirect it."

He wanted to turn Elizabeth into a creature of sexual need, of wanton, lustful indulgence in this lab. As soon as her hands worked with his, he leaned in to take her again with his mouth.
 
Elizabeth gasped when Grant gripped the back of her head, shocked at how forcefully his mouth met hers, as if satisfying a hunger at least as urgent as her own. There was a brief thought that maybe Grant needed her formula too, if she could fix it, but then no thought at all, just lips and tongue and the strange feeling of Grant... possessing her.

Something in the way his arms wrapped around her, his hand firmly against her bare bottom just lifting her lightly from the floor, holding her tight and moving her as he kissed her, just took her breath away in a way Elizabeth's deep analytic skills could never have understood. But her body understood immediately, her hips grinding slowly against him as he she actually opened her mouth to his kiss, letting his tongue into her mouth and even meeting him with her own tongue, a kiss she'd rarely shared with anyone. Her right arm went around his shoulders, her fingers gently at the base of his neck, lightly stroking his hair as she held on, her left arm trapped at her side under his lifting arm.

She felt his belt buckle against her soft spot as she pressed into him, making her moan into his kiss as if his mouth was her cellphone all over again, her wordless noises her plea. Her eyes were closed and she wasn't paying attention to anything but the feeling of being held so tight and secure in his arms, the scent of his stupid aftershave etching itself indelibly in her mind, that and their mingles breaths so warm between them, smelling like... cookies to her. She felt him hoist her up a little higher and then set her body down on the edge of a heavy wooden counter top, maybe even her own workstation, she hadn't opened her eyes to see, too lost in what it felt like to kiss a man with all her heart to care.

She felt the hand he'd used on her bottom to lift her now take her freed hand, the one not still clinging to his shoulders and stroking his hair and move it to her bare breast. She felt her swollen nipples, gasping at the touch, somehow more electric from the sense of Grant's hand controlling hers. He pulled back from the kiss, her own lips following his hungrily until she saw the light in his eyes and stayed still, her body quivering from feeling him pressed against her, his torso between her bare spread legs, his chest so close to her own, his hand sharing the touch of her nipples. His other hand reached back, prying her fingers from his hair and bringing her second hand back between them, pulling it down lower, making her blush as he watched her face and brought her second hand right between her legs.

"Show me...." He said huskily. "...show me how you've been satisfying yourself, Elizabeth. Show me your need and I can redirect it." Her ears were so attuned to his voice every word went straight into her head, deep into her brain. The thought of touching herself the way he'd told her left her cheeks on fire, utterly embarrassed, but also utterly unable to think of anything else once she'd heard the words. Her mind replayed how many times she'd touched herself, stroked herself, desperately seeking relief in the last couple days, often with Grant listening to the lewd sounds her fingers made against her soft wet folds. The memory of asking his permission so unthinkably for that final release, the way she'd cried out, certainly loud enough for him to hear, left her breathing a little quicker even now.

She looked down, still hot with embarrassment, but she couldn't stop herself. Her fingers remembered exactly what she craved and were all too happy to perform for him. Elizabeth began stroking her pussy, eyes closing so she wouldn't have to actually see his eyes, see him watch her while her fingers worked in slow urgent circles around her clit, making her breath come more ragged as the need flared inside her. Her other hand began squeezing and stroking her left nipple, her hand roughly mauling the small breast from time to time when the sensation was just too much.

But even with her eyes closed, she could feel his body reacting, pressed against her. She could feel his hands against her own lewdly active fingers, urging her on, so close to actually touching her she couldn't stand it. And even with her eyes closed she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he was watching her shameful display the whole time, urging on her self-humiliation, and there wasn't a chance in the world she could stop.
 
Even in the intimacy of this room, the heat of the room, Grant could feel Elizabeth's breath increasing at his words. He looked down with her, trying to offer her no leisure as her hands wantonly started to work on herself. The things he'd only heard until now, had to imagine for his depraved mind to masturbate and get hard over, sounds and words and stilted images his only release until now, watching the prim and proper science student play with herself for him, to get fucked, unnecessarily preparing herself only because Grant was getting so hard, so off on her humiliation and debasement. He could watch it all night, her fingers and hands rubbing her body raw, her voice gone, her moans only little peeps and her body's stilted movements mere quivers.

She seemed to like it rough, or maybe that was a side effect of the drugs he'd put into her as her hand rudely squeezed her nipple. He tried to match the gesture on her other breast, but his hand was too big, his fingers too thick to get the precise sensation. Still, he compensated by rolling, twisting, and pulling at her hard nipple; it felt like a diamond between his fingers, and he treated it as such, revelling in the abuse of her body.

He idly strummed her clit, wishing he had all night even as he knew he didn't. Her eyes were a problem, one easily dealt with as Grant, never ceasing in his mauling of her body while she masturbated herself, spoke softly yet directly. "Elizabeth." A beat while he let her moans and squeals fill his senses. "Open your eyes, Elizabeth. Open them and look at me." A quick, brutal squeeze of her breast. "I didn't say stop. Keep touching yourself and look at me."

This was the person that he couldn't be all of the time, only flashes of him appearing on the phone, in his office, in his lab with her because he didn't have this. He didn't have Elizabeth naked, squirming, begging, pleading all of the time, and couldn't, because Grant knew in his heart of hearts this person could not come out all of the time. Even as he reveled in the power it gave him, it scared him, too. An intoxicating mixture of adrenaline and intoxication as he continued to work on humiliating Elizabeth.

Words were his weapon of choie most of the time.

"You didn't come here to touch yourself, but you're doing it anyways." At his command, and she wouldn't stop until he told him. "You came here to get fucked." He pulled her nipple out, squeezing her clit as he spoke harshly, breathily. "Say it, Elizabeth. Say it to me now."

A moment to let her respond, and then another moment for him to pile more onto the naked, thin student masturbating on the lab table.

"You know nobody else can help you, Elizabeth." His hand yanked hers out of her, a single male finger replacing hers as he started to tease inside of her, cruelly mauling her breast as he did. "Nobody else will come here, see you naked, and fuck you like you need over this lab table." Reminding her of where they were, what they were about to do, and Grant's words poured out, one fingers becoming two as he furiously pistoned them into Elizabeth's pussy, the squelching sounds of his fingers inside of her mixing with her moans and his slight grunts with the effort he was putting in.

"So beg, Elizabeth. Beg me to fuck you." Another beat. "With my cock."

Even in this debased moment, Grant would have admitted that was actually just a precautionary statement, as he wasn't sure that finger fucking her would have counted. But if it drove Elizabeth even more crazily with lust and desire, all the better, as he awaited her final, cruel, humiliating answer.
 
Elizabeth shouldn't have been surprised, but somehow the touch of Grant's big hand on her other breast sent a jolt of electricity through her. Was he really doing anything so different to her nipple than the rough pulls and plucks of her own fingers on the other? But her body stiffened, her gasp so loud she embarrassed herself to hear it. Yes, her body said, what his fingers were doing felt totally different. Her fingers rolled and squeezed and tugged with a perfect rhythm, matching exactly the need that pulsed upward from between her legs, a gentle punctuation mark to the pleasure rolling through her.

Grant's fingers though were bigger, stronger, and touched her on his own rhythm, a difference at once so subtle and yet so powerful it practically hit her on the head with a crowbar. It was exquisite, the feeling of her breast in rough hands not her own, yielding to Grant's rhythm rather than seeking her own. Elizabeth arched, gasping again as he roughly twisted her nipple, so very hard in his fingers, pressing her chest forward for his contact. His fingers had entirely the wrong pace, squeezing too hard, like he had no idea how to touch her properly, and yet her body craved more even though it was actually a little painful, the gyrations of her hips grinding wetly against her other hand slowly changing to match his pace, or own fingers plucking at the other nipple a little harder, a little rougher, as if he were teaching her she'd been doing it wrong all along and that had been her problem.

It was his touch between her legs though that gave voice to her breath, causing her to moan rather than gasp, making the most shameful noises, sounding almost like those stupid pornos she sometimes heard filtering down the hallway from the laptops of the guys on the second floor landing. Her wet fingers felt his own touching her hand, yet stroking her with his own intentions, his own pace, and Elizabeth quickly surrendered to his touch rather than her own, her body vibrating like a perfectly plucked violin string at the sensation of being in another's hand. Her mind briefly connected it to the difference between trying to tickle yourself and having someone else do it to you. Having Grant touch her, a man's fingers explore and caress the parts of her body she'd always kept almost sacred as her own -- but for occasional clumsy lapses that had inevitably shown her how useless boys were -- it was so different and so perfect she found her legs spreading even wider, as if her body were inviting him, begging him for more. Elizabeth felt her face burning bright red, but she felt like she was beyond shame, so broken and confused none of that mattered, her body so lost in sensation and need she couldn't stop no matter how embarrassing it was to behave this way in front of him, probably on top of her own workbench. Her fingers had stopped, letting him take over, surrendering the victory to him as her body declared his touch the winner in every way. Grant made her feel so incredibly warm and wet inside she couldn't stand it, her eyes closed even tighter as she struggled with rising sensation that felt like it was too much too bear.

Her name. His voice.

She moaned in response as his voice vibrated in her head and down her spine to her nipples and points below. Grant demanded she open her eyes and look at him, and then his hand encompassed her breast, exchanging the incredibly stroking and teasing and twisting of her nipple for one crushing squeeze of her whole breast.

Elizabeth's eyelids fluttered wide in shock as her chest reacted, her body arching protectively from the pain, her hands flying upward wetly toward his wrist. Her eyes sought his. She could feel the sense of betrayal he must see in her eyes, that he had stopped the wonderful things he was doing to her nipple to hurt her like that, but as her fingers reached his strong forearm he had already released his painful grip. Elizabeth sighed slowly, relaxed ever so slightly, but her eyes remained locked on his, apprehensive, her body and mind intensely aware how unpredictable his touch was compared to her own, how she had no control over it whatsoever, and yet that thought somehow made her even wetter against his fingers still working her over down below, her hips taking it as some rude encouragement to dance even harder against his touch.

His words continued, almost a growl, as if he was disappointed with her, reminding her he hadn't said stop. Elizabeth blinked, feeling her heart sink in her chest as he explained to keep touching herself but to look at him at the same time. To hear him say it was incredibly embarrassing. It left her mind nowhere to hide from the raw fact of what he wanted from her, what she'd been doing. Touch herself, and look at him. Face him, and what she was doing. Accept it, and accept him. Let him see everything, her body and her soul.

Elizabeth felt the war going on between her nearly dormant mind and all the senses of her body, embarrassment burning clear and bright across her whole skin she was sure. She briefly shook her head, as if she could deny him, but she knew even while her head was still moving she couldn't anymore. It was like that mysterious inevitable moment she remembered all too well from easier evenings with her fingers lost in self-distraction, when what started out as idle exploration and amusement easily shunted aside for study of a brisk walk, passed a point of no return, suddenly becoming undeniable, inevitable, irresistible, demanding and essential, that point where fingers couldn't stop anymore and it wasn't just amusement but need, body trumping mind. She couldn't explain it, not at all, but she felt like somewhere along the line she'd reached that point with Grant, that point where she simply couldn't stop herself, where she needed it too much to say no to him. She couldn't even say where that point was, not sure if it might not even have been long before he actually touched her or even saw her naked. It didn't matter.

The shake of her head slowly morphed into a reluctant but compliant nod, her eyes on his the whole time as she lowered one hand back between her legs to join his in stroking her clit just so, following his rhythm rather than her own. Her other hand went back to pinching her other nipple, mauling it harder now, just like Grant was doing so perfectly. Elizabeth was ashamed, but the shame just made everything feel so much more delicious, so intense she couldn't stand it.

Grant's voice continue in her ear, softly, but somehow filling her head with his presence, until he was all she could hear, all she could see, all she could feel. His words were insidious, stroking at something wet and needy in her mind every bit as rudely as his fingers between her legs, making her blink and moan and arch even harder against his physical touch. He was openly talking about how she was touching herself, reminding her it wasn't why she came and yet she was doing it just because he told her to. It made her so aware of how much she wanted from him, how badly she needed more she could tell her body was ready to do anything he wanted to satisfy that primal need, to let her feel normal and ok again.

She gasped in pain and surprise, jerking slightly on the table against his touch as his fingers turned rougher, harshly squeezing and pulling on her softest parts like he wanted to take them for himself and own them. His grip hurt, demanding her attention, and his words turned breathy in her ear, commanding suddenly rather than explaining or teasing or enticing. She bit her lip as his pulling, squeezing touch hurt, leaving her mind completely open to what he wanted, ready to do whatever he demanded, shame of it be damned.

Elizabeth trembled, her hands not stopped their own stroking even as his demanding painful grip on her nipple and clit didn't stop either. She wanted to look away so badly, facing his eyes while she thought of saying it out loud somehow feeling like such an important barrier to cross. Her voice was a moan, nothing at all like the voice she ever spoke with normally. Her words came haltingly, but they came, proving Grant right. "I... ohh.... I uh... came here..." Elizabeth shivered and groaned as she tried to get the words out, the stroking and painful pinching not making it any easier. "came here to... to get fucked, that's... that's what I need, Grant." Saying his name was like magic and she groaned, her eyelids fluttering briefly.

Suddenly his hand seized her wrist between her legs, so strong, taking control of her and pulling her away from the touch she could no longer live without, leaving her hips bucking and grinding at nothing as her fingers continued the wet stroking motions without actually touching anything, pulled away and lost in his grip. Only Grant could help her, no one else. She almost sobbed she needed it so much. "If only you can... help me... then why did you pull me... away? Like that?" Elizabeth couldn't take it anymore, it was all too much, days of needing more than she could stand, aching for things she couldn't reach or control, and now to want him so badly, so openly her face burned with shame and yet to have him pull her fingers away rather than help, she felt close to tears, close to melting into a puddle at his feet and disappearing.

His answer was one thick finger, touching her, teasing, leaving her own hand with nothing to do but hover nearby, shiny wet fingers tense, wrist bent, trapped in surrender to his touch. His finger found an even softer spot, parting her soft lips, stroking her, and pressing as if he knew exactly where to touch. She felt him push between her lips, opening her ever so slightly, pressing into her. Grant's finger was inside of her, actually inside her. Elizabeth groaned, and his rough grip on her breast brought her back to focus on him, her eyelids fluttering open again to return her gaze to his eyes as he stroked inside her while hurting her breast. How could he give her this much pleasure, with one hand even while hurting her with the other? The two sensations worked against each other like stone and flint, sending sparks through her body, ready to ignite her completely.

He was telling her exactly what he was going to do to her, things only he could do, crude things, things he would do to her right here on this table, where her work was supposed to happen, where she couldn't seem to work anymore, not without him. She nodded, sucking in breath at each truth, like it took an effort for her mind to yield to each thing he said, each little surrender to the inevitable opening her a little more to him, making her that much wetter around his teasing finger inside. She wanted him to stop the painful treatment of her breast, to focus on the pleasure, but she couldn't say anything, and started to wonder if maybe she didn't want him to stop, as if all of his touch was heat regardless of how or where and she just craved more.

She felt his hand shift and groaned at the sensation of being stretched a little, making her clit vibrate a little more with each stroke inside her. It was more than one finger now, she was sure, and his stroking grew stronger, more insistent. Elizabeth's free hand, the one wet with her own moisture, the one not tugging at her own nipple in weak imitation of Grant's painful twisting grip, that free hand rose to Grant's shoulder and held on to him, like she needed him so she wouldn't drift away, to hold onto him like he was her rock. Her body rose, the tension unbearable inside her, the feeling of his fingers slamming in between her widespread legs, stroking her as her hips bucked back for more, too much to bear.

She could hear his own noises, the grunts, deeper and more guttural than her own moans and cries, sounding so male to her own female noises. It should have shamed her, but it just stoked her fires, to hear their sounds together. She wanted more, needed more, and Grant knew it. Demanded she say it.

Elizabeth moaned and shuddered, feeling her body on fire inside around his fingers, ashamed of how much more she needed. She needed everything from him. His fingers weren't enough. But to say it? To beg?

"How can i... please Grant don't... ohhhh, oh God..." He didn't say a word, arguing with his fingers, showing her how wrong she was to resist, how futile it was. She burned bright with need and shame, sensations and emotions all mixed together, confusing her until everything just felt like need. "I can't... Grant, you know what I want, please..." Her teeth chattered and she felt her grip tighten on his shoulder, as if she ached to just pull him in, as if she had any control over Grant whatsoever.

She couldn't beg him to do that. How would she ever look him in the eye again? How could she work with him? Under him, she thought, and then shuddered uncontrollably. This was Grant, who she knew was supposed to be beneath her contempt. And she was supposed to beg him. For his cock. How had she fallen so low, ready to betray everything that was important to her, to give everything to him, knowing he couldn't possibly be worthy of her, and yet unable to stop herself?

And she couldn't. She could feel it, so inevitable, the words already on her lips as she gritted her teeth in a desperate but futile attempt to cling to her pride, to any shred of dignity she had left. His finger stroked her, stroked her, stroked her, and her mind thought of his cock, thought of it inside her. Nothing in her life could ever be more perfect, Grant's cock inside her body, thrusting away. A thought flashed through her, the image so raw. "You... you don't have a cond..." His fingers were too much for her to finish the sentence, but she pressed her head against his shoulder as the struggle with her own needs was too much to bear alone. "Please don't make me... make me preg... Oh God ohhh...." It was too much, like his fingers knew just how to silence every word that wasn't what he demanded, working her over until there was nothing left in her head but need for him and obedience.

Finally, her voice was a soft whisper of need against his shoulder, her lips feeling his strength against her as she spoke, feeling like some sort of comfort even as it was exactly what was driving her over the cliff so frighteningly and dangerously. "Grant... please... you know I want... oh... oh.... please... yes, ok? Yes, please, please I beg you... fuck me... need more, fingers.... cock... your cock... fuck me Grant, beg you." Not even sentences, just the words, begging like a lewd little four year old rather than a fully verbal adult, raw need, only Grant able to satisfy her. She clung to him, groaning and grinding, begging him over and over as her mind adjusted and accepted it was the right thing to do, the shame an illusion. "Fuck me... Grant... please... your cock, oh fuck... fuck me..."
 
If Grant could have bottled up the emotions, the intensity, the raw lust and sex permeating the air in this room, he would have. And it would've taken a lot of money to get it out of him, more then he realized. There were so many things that made this debased atmosphere so enticing; the fact it as in this room of research, scholastic pursuits, in an area that was supposed to be safe, clean, sterile, but was now filled with a woman shamelessly pleasuring herself, totally naked, and letting a man help her with it. Having come here only in a lab coat and heels, the coat now discarded, the heels hanging off of her feet.

It was who as well, young Elizabeth, the daughter of the school's most famous biological researcher. Young upstart Elizabeth, who hadn't seen him worthy of her time, scholastic or otherwise. Who'd turned him down for dates, for research projects, accepted being under his tuleage only reluctantly, listened only when necessary, accepted any of his teaching and assignments only in the very smallest degree. She would have had no idea then that she would be literally under his thumb, begging, moaning, writhing at his touch, party to his whims and beholden to whatever he saw fit.

Every noise; her body rubbing against the desk, small gasps that escaped her lips, grunts that escaped his. The squishing noises of their fingers meeting inside of her, hinting at the pleasure to come, giving only teasing tastes of what was awaiting the young student if she gave herself to Grant's twisted will. And still, a testament to her internal fortitude, she resisted. "How can i... please Grant don't... ohhhh, oh God..." Her blush made her look hotter, sexier, wilder, her hair all a jumb, her body heaving as her voice struggled to find purchase. "I can't... Grant, you know what I want, please..." He felt her hand tighten on his shoulder, her body trying to fight what he was doing to her, what his cookies and his wanton desires were doing to her.

He saw Elizabeth shudder; her nude body shivering as if caught in the cold. It was a thought that did it, he could tell, her mind trying to work things out. Grant kept on fingering her, his other hand slowing down as he tensed, awaiting her answer. Eventually, her voice found the air, found his ear. "You... you don't have a cond..."

She stopped, pressing her head against his shoulder as his deep, dark voice found its own audio. "So?" Had he been thinking clearly, rationally, he would've given this potential consequence more thought, but he was far too gone even at the mere thought of taking her. Anywhere, anytime, he would've said yes, but doing it here, where she was supposed to be superior. On her workbench, with her naked and begging and heaving at his every word, every touch, there was no force in the universe that could've caused Grant to say no.

Except cookies of his own devising, perhaps.

"Please don't make me... make me preg... Oh God ohhh...." Grant pushed into her harder, trying to silence her with pleasure as Elizabeth's face pressed into his shoulder, murmuring as his other hand came free of her, gentle strokes into her as his other hand started to free himself. "Grant... please... you know I want... oh... oh.... please... yes, ok? Yes, please, please I beg you... fuck me... need more, fingers.... cock... your cock... fuck me Grant, beg you."

His belt was undone, his boxers and shorts lowered only as much as they had to be to free his manhood as Elizabeth groaned, pleaded, writhed against him, both of their movements urgent and desperate; her words, his mind, both of their bodies. "Fuck me... Grant... please... your cock, oh fuck... fuck me..."

It took a bit of adjustment for him to position himself over her, but Grant wasn't about to wait any longer. Revealed only as much as necessary as he splayed Elizabeth over the desk, one hand glistening with her juices as he spread her for him. That same hand went to her mouth, letting her taste her arousal, adding even more depravity to this surreal scene. Elizabeth was on display on her workbench, torso and hair tossed flat, her legs spread around him as he positioned himself carefully to take her.

She was ready, oh so ready. Grant wasn't sure he'd ever seen a woman as wet as Elizabeth. He let it hang there, let her eyes drift on his manhood for a second before he thrust it into her. Taking her in the lab, on her workbench, the lab instructor starting to fuck his student.

It went in, but not deep enough. His hands went to her hips, sliding her closer before he pushed into her again, feeling and hearing the 'thwack' as their bodies met again. "Ugh..." He grunted, feeling her walls around him, her body under him and encircling him. He could get off this way, so easily, if he wanted to, but as he saw her there, and as he started to find his rhythm inside of her, a more dangerous thought entered his mind.

Behind. Take her from behind.
 
As the embarrassing words tumbled out of her Elizabeth could here Grant's belt buckle clanking a little and felt the fabric of his pants slipping downward as her left leg pressed against his leg. He was going to, he was going to do it, fuck her. He hadn't just made her beg to make some theoretical point. She got it, loud and clear, but it was more than that, she knew it now.

But even as she felt his pants slip down just a bit, a downward glance of her eyes catching a quick, embarrassed glimpse of the thick slab that sprang free between her legs, Elizabeth couldn't stop her hips from pressing and rotating, grinding against his fingers as if she couldn't live without them even though they made a part of her just want to crawl into a little whole and die of shame.

Elizabeth's eyes were drawn right back to Grant's as a subtle shift of his weight drew her attention. She felt him reposition himself almost right up against her, so much closer she thought a spark might bridge the gap between the head of his cock and the wetness between her legs. Grant kept that one hand moving against her, fingers probing and stroking, not letting her relax for a moment, a constant charge of pleasure trickling along her spine. But at the same time his other hand touched Elizabeth's shoulder, and then pushed back gently but insistently, laying her back on the workspace's wooden surface

His hand stayed on her shoulder until he had her just the way he wanted, her arms at her side, eyes on him. She could see his cock, thick and hard and threatening as it pointed right between her legs, bouncing up and down slowly with each breath he took. then she looked back to his eyes, not wanting to look at the thing she was growing more and more certain by the second he was really going to fuck her with. He wasn't wearing a condom, had ignored her half-hearted pleas, she could see that clearly, and yet something was stuck or broken inside her and she just couldn't bring herself to tell him to stop, to slap him away, to get off this table and bolt naked from the lab. Lying under him, she felt like Grant's experiment, to do with and toy with as he pleased until he learned what he wanted, but that didn't feel nearly as wrong as she knew it was supposed to.

His hand left her shoulder, trailing down her bare chest, while at the same time he pulled his fingers from inside of her, making her gasp and writhe a little at the feeling of his wet fingers sliding out, stroking against her clit as he went out of his way to make sure she felt him. His wet fingers left a shiny little trail up her naked torso as they danced and explored across her body, and she just lay still but for her heaving chest. Her arms stayed at her side too, not protesting, not hiding herself, like that instinct in her brain that was supposed to tell them to defend her was just switched off somehow. Finally he touched her chin, and then stroked her lips and then dipped his fingers into her mouth, so very much like he'd pressed them in between her legs, and Elizabeth's face flared red as she tasted herself for the first time.

Her hips kept moving, as if they somehow expected his fingers to return to stroking and probing her. Or they wanted something else. She could feel his cock, not physically, but in her mind, exquisitely aware of that thick head she'd seen, knowing how close it must be to actually touching her, an actual naked cock right here in the lab, Grant's cock. Elizabeth shivered as he pulled his fingers from her lips, her lips rising up a bit, spread around his torso, and she felt his naked hips against the inside of her thighs as her legs sought contact with his body, feeling him between her legs.

But he just stood there. Elizabeth felt her heart pounding as she looked up at Grant, knowing in the depths of her soul he was about to fuck her, but her body pulsing with the need to know when, how hard, how deep. Her mind flashed ever so briefly with unsatisfying memories, thoughts of moments that seemed utterly useless and silly compared to how she felt here, naked in the lab, waiting under Grant for his cock to take her.

Then he moved, the head of his cock pressing at her folds, slipping easily between them and nestling right at her opening, She could tell from the sensation of the contact with him she was wet, as wet as in her frustrated attempts at masturbation over the last two days, embarrassingly dripping for him, and there wasn't a thing she could do to hide it from him.

Grant thrust forward a little harder, spreading her opening. She felt herself spread around his shaft, swallowing up his head into her warm, slippery embrace. Her neck went taut and her head turned, fingernails clawing at the wood as he drove into her, pushing and making her gasp at the realization that Grant was inside her body, fucking her, just as she'd begged him to.

He pulled out again, making a groaning noise of his own to fill the little space between her own soft moans. She felt his hands grip her hips, like he wanted to control her, pulling her closer to the table's edge, closer to him, and her eyes flew back to his just in time to let him see how wide her eyes went, the surprise on her face at the feeling of his next thrust driving all the way into her, until his body slapped against the flesh of her spread inner thighs and her bottom. Her knees were open and wide, lifting and moving in the direction of her chest, seeking an angle of penetration her body instinctively needed. Grant pulled back, making her feel the full wet length of slippery friction and then slammed back into her.

Elizabeth grunted like an animal as the thrust deep into her belly force so much of her to make way for him, to accept him, even the air in her lungs rushing out so there would be enough room inside her for Grant to fill her as deeply as he pleased. Her eyes were drawn to his, fascinated by the way he looked at her, the way his eyes gazed along her torso, like every inch of her body was some miracle to be studied, like she was under his microscope, a butterfly being pinned to his board.

Her grunts turned to moans as Grant started a rhythm, pumping in and out of her, rocking Elizabeth back and forth on the work surface, her head bumping into empty beakers and flasks and knocking a few over, but she ignored them. All that mattered was Grant, the feel of him inside her, the sensation of his thrusts, fucking her. She was being fucked. It had to be wrong for a man in Grant's position to fuck a student, one who worked for him, one who worked in the very lab he was screwing her in, but she didn't care. Slowly her hands rose from her sides, not to push him away, but to touch his arm and marvel at the way his muscles worked, another arm reaching down to let her fingers touch his hips, to feel the way they worked to drive his cock into her over and over.

Grant had always been the annoyance she had to put up with to achieve her own greatness, clearly a lesser light in her own personal universe, and yet as he fucked her, Elizabeth's entire world seemed to be narrowing to a the size of Grant's cock and his gaze, all that mattered to her. Thoughts of how unworthy he was made her face burn hot, but not enough to stop him, and it almost made her feel even more turned on, somehow knowing this was the man who deserved to fuck her, the man who belonged inside her. What was this new part of her mind that looked up at him, touching his strong bicep, wishing for him to kiss her while he fucked her, almost like this was some beautiful romance rather than a lurid coupling between teacher and student. Maybe it was that part of her that wanted to pretend at least she was engaged in something decent, something good, able to look up at him and play with the idea that he might actually care for her to fuck her so nicely like this.
 
Grant saw the beakers and flasks get knocked over - well, heard them, more accurately, and he glimpsed only briefly to see what he'd hit - but was too lost in the unrestrained adrenaline of what he was doing to his student. He felt her arm grasping his, and he tensed a little, feeling her fingers on his flesh, her nails hinting at digging in. He knew well enough what people were capable of when they were lost in physical sensations and emotions; a prime example of it was happening in this very lab. He'd all but summoned Elizabeth here to get fucked, and it was happening. The sounds of her sopping sex taking him were filling the lab, a slick, squishy noise with each push inside of his student.

Her hand was on his hips, and he leaned ever so slightly into her touch. For as vulnerable as Elizabeth was, literally beholden and bending to his every whim, every physical urge he felt, she had a hold on him, too. Her body might have been bending to his, her mind a slave to him, but she was still a woman, still incredibly enticing and alluring without any help. The feminine charm, one easy to keep without being naked, without being fucked. And Grant was still a very lonely man, even their illicit rendezvous tonight would not sate that.

Even if he was harder then he'd ever been in his life, his manhood iron inside of her, pounding her walls, at her boundaries.

Grant wanted more from her. No, he NEEDED more, his mind putting it together even as their lurid coupling continued. He saw her face, the blush burning on it, feeling her grip his bicep just a little. Grant didn't feel that strong, but hearing Elizabeth moan with each of his thrusts, her hand tightening on his arm as he took her, made him feel incredibly powerful. It was as much of a drug as the sex was, feeling like a real man, not like the weak scientist he was often referred to as. Often thought of as, both by his students as himself. But right now, with his young female student splayed under him, rocking against him, at his mercy, he felt something he'd never felt before.

Control. A few more hard grunts, more moans and gasps from his naked student, and he was ready. How long had it been? Seconds, hours? Probably several minutes. He wasn't sure. But Grant could smell the odors dominating the room, no longer the chemicals he'd worked with, or the smells of sterilization and cleaning fluids. No, right now the dank, uncirculated air smelt like sex, sweat, arousal. Desire. Hers and his, even if the unfamiliar pungency meant it was Elizabeth's that was dominant, and not his.

Which suited him just fine. He couldn't believe how wet she was, and even now, how easily his cock was slipping in and out of her. It drove him further, made Grant push into her harder, wanting to punish her even now. An unwavering madness, a mixture of anger, lust, frustration, and desire driving him as he fucked her, as he took her.

But it had to end eventually. And he knew he would soon, and so he had to bring this charade - this wonderful, exquisite charade that he was hoping to repeat every night, every day, every hour - as he paused between thrusts. "Elizabeth." Two more thrusts, the sound of her moaning, gasping, bending at his fucking irresistible, wishing he had a tape of this, just the audio, to remember Elizabeth's voice like this; the needy, wanton whore she'd become under his thumb.

"You're being fucked. But it's not enough, is it." It was, of course, but telling her that, searing it in her mind was just too delicious, too tempting. Had his formula worked literally, she probably would've cum already. But Grant couldn't wait; he'd heard two of her orgasms so far, literally felt them, tasted them over the phone, but now he was here, and not only would he be able to watch her do it, but he would be able to feel her around him as she did. He couldn't wait.

"You want to find your release. To cum." His words were ended with four more thrusts into the student's body, glistening with sweat, cum, and who knows what else over her work station. "But you can't." Another brutal pounding. "Because it's not fair for you to cum until the man taking you does." His words were simple and incredibly filthy at the same time, as if talking to a four year old about mud and dirt. "Because he's doing you a favor, so you should let him go first. Let him gift you with his seed, and then you may earn your reward."

His hands grabbed her thighs, pulling her further off the desk, feeling her slide with him as he again thrusted harder into her, the 'thwack' of their bodies meeting sounding through the lab, his motions getting more stilted, shorter before he pulled back, as he felt his own wave of pleasure coming and wanting to hold it, but unable to as it had been too long. He hadn't imagined it would be like this, that she would take him so easily, and she was pushed back further onto the desk, his cocky fully embedded in her, and he wanted to watch her, but briefly saw stars as he tensed up, writhing as he finally met his own climax inside of her.

"Oh, Elizabeth-" he shouted.
 
Elizabeth felt Grant all the way inside of her, like he'd hit her full depth and just pushed even deeper, stretching her insides in some pleasurably uncomfortable way they were never meant for, like only he could do that. Her hand still rested on his arm and his hips, feeling his power thrusting into her and shocked at how her mind craved this new sensation, this new place in life, lying naked and face up on her desk staring up into his eyes and moaning for more. Her lips ached to be kissed, to feel wanted completely. The force of his cock inside her spoke volumes to some part of her that understood what it said about his desire for her body, and if he would just kiss her, just hold her, she was sure she would just die of pleasure, like there was an orgasm building inside her stronger than all her previous embarrassments with him put together, one she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to stop once he set it in motion.

Her hips met him, full thrust, as if she couldn't have Grant deep enough inside of her, aching for more of this man who only days ago she would have thrown under a bus if he had the nerve to take a test tube she needed. She still might treat him that way tomorrow, she didn't know. That was the future and right now the future meant absolutely nothing to her. There was just this moment, this hard desk under her naked bottom and back. There was just her naked body and this man's hard cock inside her and his body looming over her, and his lips so close she could taste them, if he would just let her.

Grant paused, holding his cock nestled thickly right between the soft folds of her entrance, promising without delivering and leaving her trembling as she blinked up at him. He said her name and the beauty of that connection, Grant actually thinking of her, saying her name, while he fucked her, made her moan and spasm inside, like she would cum instantly if he just said it again against her lips.

He thrust into her twice, driving her moans higher, and then paused again. Not her name this time, but his voice having a similar effect, like she wasn't so much listening to his words as having them pumped intravenously straight into her blood, making her burn bright inside for him. He told her she was being fucked, a simple truth she was so aware of it hurt, but to hear him say it made her insides flutter around his cock buried deep and still inside her.

He suggested it wasn't enough, and the thought bounced around in her skull. It wasn't, was it? He was fucking her, but it wasn't enough. Elizabeth felt the vast ocean of need inside her, Grant fucking her feeling so perfect, but she needed even more. She shook her head lightly on the table top, blinking as she looked up into his hungry eyes. It wasn't enough. He was always so right.

He drew his cock slowly out, to tease wetly at her opening, and then slide slowly back home, making her feel every thick inch of it sliding slowly into her wetness, making her groan and arch and cling to him with her hands, wanting to pull him down fully on top of her, to give her more, to show her what she needed.

He spoke of release as he held himself deep inside her again, where she felt like he belonged now. Of her need to cum. It was so much like on the phone with him she started to shake a little as the memories flooded briefly through her again, reminding her body of what she craved, of how perfect it felt to have his permission. Her lips were parted, wanting to beg him for permission again, or just to have him kiss her to an orgasm. His kiss would be permission wouldn't it? A validation of her needs, a validation of her?

But he didn't give her room even to beg, silencing her with four quick brutal thrusts that had her open lips moaning rather than begging, speech beyond her as his cock pounded her into some primal place in her head that predated words.

Grant held himself inside her and now she was panting as she looked up at him, aching so badly inside for him, to cum, but before she could rediscover her ability to beg for it, he simply announced she couldn't. Elizabeth moaned at his words, even before he pounded her into the table again and again, fucking her with abandon until she was groaning and gasping with a pleasure that seemed just as trapped and frustrating as her time in the bathroom stall. But he was right. She was trying so hard to cum, pressing her hips against his brutal thrusts, arching and spreading herself and doing everything she could to find the perfect angle for his cock inside her, some magic secret that would be enough. But she couldn't, that's what he said and once again, to Elizabeth's moaning, sweating frustration, Grant was right.

He was lying still over her again, and she was lying, looking up at him glassy eyed with unfulfilled need. Not fair for her to cum. The thought echoed in her head. Not fair for her to cum until her man came. It was the only thought her head had room for now, as her skull felt filled with a gauzy feeling of aching need that had replaced her brain. She nodded up at him, accepting Grant's words. He was always right, somehow he always knew. It wasn't fair for her to cum, not until he did. It was such a favor he was doing her, to fuck her like this, she owed him his pleasure, her own only secondary to his.

He spoke of the gift of his seed, and her reward, and she moaned even though he didn't stroke inside her, only his words fucking her at that moment. Her mind thought of his seed inside her, a gift that could change her life if she weren't careful, but she couldn't be careful. All that mattered was giving Grant pleasure, so he would cum, so then she would be allowed to...

"Ohhhhhh" She moaned and cried out as he gripped her tight, taking control of her body and her legs, pulling her back like he was positioning her to give him what he wanted, and it felt like she was a firecracker and he'd lit her fuse. He slammed himself inside her and Elizabeth's arms went around his neck and held on tight, her face in a grimace of discomfort mixed with the possibility of ecstasy, if he would just cum inside her, if he would just give her that gift. It wasn't about pregnancy, fear of it or anything, it was just about having Grant explode with pleasure inside her, that was the only thing that mattered anymore.

He was fucking her so hard, it hurt, but hurt so perfectly she clung to him and begged for more. She could hear the sound of his body slapping at her wide spread thighs again and again, the rhythm in perfect time with the ache she felt inside at the full depth of his every thrust. He fucked her hard enough to rock her body back on the desk each time he thrust all the way up into her, until her head was knocking glassware with each stroke, adding a musical note to her cries and his growing growl.

Elizabeth felt him drive deep into her, his face screwed up so tight in an expression that she'd never seen before, something absolute and unbelievable and perfect to see it on his face and she clung to him, aching to share that with him.

He shouted her name! He exploded in her, his seed jetting deep inside her, seeking her soul, and in that moment he'd thought of her! Elizabeth, that's what he'd called out. She realized she'd done this to him, given him pleasure, made Grant explode inside her. His gift. His reward. She'd earned it. Better than any award in school, any star on her report card, better than any research prize. Grant was coming inside her, filling her with the gift of his seed. Elizabeth's arms went tight around him, one hand sliding to his back and her head tipped back, her eyes shut tight with the most perfect feeling ever in the world washing through her with Grant's sperm.

Then she clamped down on his cock, like her whole body was a single, spasming, sexual muscle whose only purpose was to cling to him and keep him deep inside her and milk him for every last precious drop of his gift. Elizabeth cried out with joy, her cries rising in the empty lab along with Grant's guttural grunts as he spasmed inside her. Her mind was empty of everything but pleasure, the unending pleasure of Grant's seed pumping into her, clinging to him and shuddering and never wanting it to end.
 
Grant wasn't sure what was filling the lab. It could have been the thick air, pumped full by their arousal, punctuated by Elizabeth's needy moans and mews, or Grant's emphatic grunts and noises that were barely recognizable from the man of science. It could have been the sounds of sex, the thwacking of their bodies, the slick sound of his cock entering and leaving her, his hands grabbing and slapping her, or their heavy breathing. The beakers still being knocked over, some of them likely having crashed on the floor, if not shattered entirely. It could have been the smells of it; the cleaning fluids of the lab being overwhelmed by the smell of their bodies, the sweat, their fluids mixing together. The heat of them; Grant sweating beneath his clothes, Elizabeth seeming to glisten even though she wore nothing but her heels, the shoes dangling off of her feet as they rocked together in their joint quest for release.

He saw her face scrunching, tensing up as he emptied himself inside of her. It might have only been a short while since his last release, but it had been a hugely long time since he had done this with a woman. And never had he ever thought in anything other then his dreams that it would be with Elizabeth; certainly not with her under his thumb, completely naked and having worn nothing but his lab coat, coming here just to be taken by him, to be used by him. And right now as he spurted within Elizabeth's willing body, Grant felt euphoric, not missing her hands sliding around him, her eyes closed in her own bliss. Because he was climaxing, she was experiencing a high she'd never known.

The way she felt around him. Her body clamping around his manhood, desperate to keep it, as if it could get more if she squeezed harder. It was a feeling he wished he could bottle up and break out when needed. In case of emergency, break glass. Elizabeth's total and unwavering devotion and need for him, in this moment, something he couldn't just create. It was a product of his drugs, and his methods. Grant had played a part, not just his cookies. It was the way everything had played out to now, and would continue to play out.

And she hadn't cum yet. Still, she seemed to shudder and writhe with him, her cries almost louder then his somehow, her higher, more squealing tone seeming to cut through the lab more then his own hiss and howl. "Ahhhh...." He finally ended, feeling his manhood start to wilt inside of her. Time would be short, and even as the moment ended, Grant didn't want it to. This act hadn't reached its crescendo yet, and as he looked at Elizabeth's nude, tired, yet not quite spent body, he knew he wanted to destroy any boundaries she had left.

She hadn't cum yet.

Grant leaned into her, over her, staying inside of her even as he continued to shrink. He moved quickly, yet deliberately, his hand brushing the table beside her, his shirt rubbing into her skin. He was clothed, she was naked. He loved having this control, rubbing her nose in it, using every little opportunity to remind her of it. He was the man. He was in charge.

Slowly, he leaned into her ear, his lips brushing the side of her forehead as he did. Two words. Two little words.

"Cum, Elizabeth."

And then he kissed her lips. Hard. As she reacted to his two little words.
 
Grant's pleasure was almost too much for Elizabeth to bear, the joy in her heart flooding her brain as he grunted and shoved into her, pumping his pleasure into her. Her toes curled up, knocking one dangling heel to the floor, the other just hanging from her foot as her legs, still wrapped around his hips and waist, swayed and rocked as he continued thrusting on top of her.

She was so close, and all she could think about was the sensation of Grant's shaft spreading her open, so slick and deep and perfect inside her. That, and his words, still ringing in her ears and ping ponging about in her skull around all the flashes of pleasure and jolts of need ripping through her, his s statement that her pleasure came second to his. Elizabeth searched his face for every sign of satisfaction, feeling and knowing with utter certainty in every fiber of her being that if she could just give him enough pleasure, she would be able to cum too, to join Grant on that high mountain peak. But for the moment, she still wondered in the little crevices of her mind whether she might possibly be able to squeeze him a little more firmly, hold him a little deeper inside her, stroke him with her hands until he shuddered with joy beyond words, That tiny bit of doubt was enough to leave her stranded, shaking and moaning and staring up at him from down in her valley of need, aching for the gift he could give her, for Grant to lift her up next to him.

Elizabeth arched her back and pressed her hips, still trying to pleasure him with every ounce of her strength, her eyes desperate on his for any sign that he was satisfied, that she had treated the gift of his seed properly. Her body fluttered tight and slick around his shaft still buried inside her, aching for release and certain if she could just pull him in a little deeper with her legs it might be enough.

Grant looked down at her, right into her eyes now as his breathing slowed. Elizabeth got the feeling he was starting to relax, that maybe he had already finished, and still she hadn't cum. Her heart hurt at the thought this meant she must not have given him enough pleasure, otherwise why was she still shaking and shuddering under him, making desperate, needy little animal sounds as he held onto his biceps and stared into his deep, deep eyes.

Grant's hand brushed the table so close to her Elizabeth shook as if he'd actually touched her skin, needing his touch so desperately she was sure she'd felt it. He was still dressed, and even though she wanted nothing more than to feel his naked body against hers, thinking perhaps that might be enough of a trigger to set her off, still, the touch of his stylish shirt against her own nakedness made her skin tingle. Grant was dressed and she was naked. How had this happened to her? And why had it taken so long? Nothing in the world felt more right to her than to have Grant over her, even though that little part of her was still present but very quiet, telling her he wasn't worthy of being on top of her, that he belonged on her payroll, not on her body.

But any negative thoughts of Grant, the Grant she'd known and looked down on for so long just didn't stick in her head anymore, not with his cock still inside her, plugging her opening so his seed remained deep in her, seeking her fertile core. The thought made her squirm, and Grant just leaned in closer as she moved. His lips brushed her forehead, like the most gentle lover's kiss, making her moan. But his lips didn't kiss.

Elizabeth reacted before she even realized the exact meaning of what he said. "Cum Elizabeth!" Her body heard him well before her mind understood, but it didn't matter. "Cum Elizabeth!" His voice, the two magic words, penetrated every bit as deep into her as his cock, the memory of hearing the words in the stall, on her phone, and imagining them over and over so many times she knew them like her own name. The memory rose faster than she could think, sent her soaring, and as she opened her mouth to scream her joy at Grant's permission to cum, the sign she must have pleased him sufficiently, his lips covered her mouth with the kiss she'd dreamed of, the kiss that made life perfect as her insides contracted around him. Elizabeth moaned and writhed beneath him, cumming openly under Grant's eyes, her own eyes shut tight, seeing fireworks at how wonderful it was to have Grant inside her, letting her cum, filling the lab with her cries and their shared joy.

He was kissing her but for the longest time all she could do was gasp and moan back into his kisses, completely out of control as the orgasm wracked her. Finally, her fists unclenched as the waves of pleasure slowed without stopping, and her arms went tight around Grant's neck, holding onto him as she felt the hard desk below him and his hard body over her. She kissed him back, moaning with each breath, "Oh... thank you Grant, thank you... thank you Grant." She couldn't stop, the pleasure too much for her, she couldn't possibly thank him enough for what he'd done.
 
She was moaning into him. Moaning, gasping, mewing, howling in pleasure at the orgasm brought up by their fucking, by the cookies he'd tricked her into eating, into getting addicted to. But that didn't control the sight of her orgasming, her body writhing under his, pulsing against his body, against the desk as his lips battled hers into submission, his teeth grinding slightly at the vibrations of her moaning right into him. Elizabeth's cries of pleasure were intoxicating, somehow thicker in person, and Grant noted in his head to never let her do it over the phone again. She'd always be with him, and he'd always get to watch.

And probably always naked, with no way to cover herself from his gaze. Grant enjoyed all of her, with the way her chest moved, her small breasts bounced, and her legs spasmed out of control around him. He leant in as she pulled him close to her, and all she could do now is moan and kiss, trying to give back to him what he'd bestowed upon her. Thanking him for the thing he'd taken away. Her ability to cum at her own hand; he controlled it now, and she was thanking him for it.

Grant's lips and body involuntarily responded to Elizabeth's intrusions, and her lips pressing against his as his hands explored and traveled up and down her body, taking as much of her thanks as she would give. There was no telling when this would end, or if it would, when the young student under him would turn back into the domineering genius whiz kid, the one destined to take on her Daddy's legacy at the school, pushing him back under her boot as the undeserving instructor. When this fairly tail end, and the naked woman under him would turn into a pumpkin. It seemed like forever, but eventually her writhing seemed to slow, the cum no longer being pumped from her body.

So he softened up his touches, his eyes looking into hers as if seeing them for the first time. "Elizabeth..." He said hesitantly, searching her eyes, still greedily running his gaze over her body. Grant didn't know what to say.

Whether he should say anything.
 
Elizabeth was still shaking, her body trembling from an orgasm more powerful than anything he'd given her over the phone. Her eyes had a faraway look as she stared up at him, her hands trailing over his arms as he stroked her body, making her writhe a little under him with teasing little touches that made her skin feel so warm.

She was out of breath, her soft babbling gratitude trailing off into a weary moan and then slightly embarrassed silence.

Then his touch softened and his eyes were on hers. She couldn't meet his gaze, too lost in the memory of so much pleasure still ripplling inside her, still feeling his cock inside her wet embrace, his cum deep in her. He said her name, and all of her thoughts and ruminations about how amazing he'd made her feel went poof. Her eyes focused on his and she felt her ears perk up. She had just been starting to wonder how this had happened, how a girl like her was naked on her back under a guy like this, with his cum possilby even impregnating her. But none of that mattered anymore when he said her name. She just wanted to hear what he'd say.

Elizabeth watched his eyes roam lower on her body, across her breasts. She was so aware of her swollen nipples, how they still tingled from the way he'd been pressed against her, from the sensation of being exposed to Grant. Lower, his gaze traveled across her flat belly as it heaved breathlessly along with her chest. He even twisted a little so he could openly gawk at her legs sperad around his torso, allowing him to remain buried between her legs.

She blinked, waiting for him to say something, needing to hear it. She hoped maybe he would tell her how to fix her formula, so she could feel this clearheaded and perfect all the time without needing Grant's orgasms. But that thought also scared her, the thought of not having the orgasms hard to consider as her body still bubbled with the pleasure he'd given her.

"Grant, what?" She whispered up to him, drawing his gaze back from her legs to her eyes and making her shudder and arch with a little pleasure at how he responded to her, just as she responded to him. Was it possible they were really perfect for each other, even though she'd thought he was such an unworthy intellectual inferior for so long? It didn't seem possible.

"What... what can I do Grant? What do you want?" He'd said her name, said it like there was something more, something she couldn't bear not hearing. She felt her grip on him inside tighten a little as her body responded to wanting from him. "Please, tell me Grant."
 
The moment lingered, their bodies still twitching and pressed against each other, his cock still pulsing even as it softened, Elizabeth's splayed body still recovering from the pounding it had taken. Hell, he was still recovering, and while he was no spring chicken - being in the lab didn't lend itself well for physical fitness - he knew it was more then just the exertion that had taxed him. It was the total mental and physical exhaustion that overtaken him now, mind and body unable to respond, if not unwilling as he looked her over again. Grant could probably do that for the rest of the night, even after the class came in. He wanted to sear the image in his mind, burn it there, keep it to break it out when he was alone, when he could indulge in his wildest, darkest fantasies about her.

But why couldn't he now?

She was still here. Still naked. And she hadn't run screaming out of the room. Even after he'd said her name. Was it...could it possibly be..

"Grant, what?" A dreamy whisper. Did she think she was dreaming? Back to her eyes, reluctantly, as she seemed to be searching for something from him. Something that he couldn't give. Maybe not. it depended on what it was she was looking for. But how could Grant find that out?

"What... what can I do Grant? What do you want?"

Two questions with very different answers. She could do anything. Get out, stay, fuck him again. Grant didn't care that he wasn't hard probably couldn't get it up. He wouldn't mind finding out how long this young, tempting, vivacious academic woman could go until she was completely worn out. Until he was completely worn out. Until they had to leave the lab for fear of getting discovered and

-what time was it again?

He felt her pull on him a little. "Please, tell me Grant."

Tell her what? The cascade of thoughts running through his head? What the hell was he supposed to say? Grant was still stupefied, a scientist and a lecturer with nothing to talk about. He had no plan for this, no sets of actions he had mapped out. Just get her here, naked, and fuck. Something else was supposed to happen? Just wake up, back in his house, as if-

The lab. They were in the lab.

His eyes got the fire back in them as he met hers again. "Elizabeth." He loved her shudders as he said her name, the little fires of pleasure. "Get off the lab table, Elizabeth." A moment to let her, as he pulled her off, his cock out of her now, but still exposed, open, feeling the air of the lab on it.

He stood over her, even in her heels that were somehow still on her feet. There was a lot of glass to clean up, he noticed, seeing some broken beakers. How would he explain that?

Grant wasn't thinking about beakers as his hands went to Elizabeth's shoulders, pushing downwards. "Kneel, Elizabeth. Get on your knees in front of me." They were close to the table, so he saw a bit of that, but even the tiny thoughto of having her go down, lower herself in front of him, nude, uncovered, quivering with desire-

-oh, oh no. holy crap, ohgodohgodohgod-
 
Elizabeth stared up at him, her name in his voice still tossing kindling on the fire only slowly burning out inside her. He shuddering orgasm was only rippling now around Grant still thrust wet inside her. She could feel him slowly starting to pull out, the feel of him slipping out of her, pressing against her tender spots on the way out just as on the way in. She blinked up at him, her hands still lightly on him, feeling the need even as her sense of the world slowly started to return, just as after the earlier orgasms he'd given her, like waking from the most wonderful dream in the world -- awake but so very warm.

But Grant didn't just wouldn't let Elizabeth's slowly dawning sense of wakefulness take full root in her mind. Each time she started to feel a bit of herself returning, her mind spinning up to useful speeds she could actually think at, he gave her a look, or the slightest mention of her name, sending her back into the warm distracting haze.

"Elizabeth." She heard it again, her name. It made her tremble, her insides gripping at the last slippery inches of him coated with sperm and her own wetness still inside her. She forgot what she was thinking, something about the jars she'd knocked over and the detector lying fallen against her shoulder but suddenly it meant nothing to her compared to Grant's face hovering over her, invoking her name like some magical incantation she couldn't resist. She had always found his voice annoying, carping at her to keep her timesheets up to date and properly check out her glassware and such pedestrian whinings that only held her back from true accomplishment. She'd never noticed the subtle harmonics, the depth of his tone, or the way he simply pronounced her name. Elizabeth. Just thinking it, remembering that other word in front of it Grant repeatedly used to send her into paroxysms of pleasure so easily, had her staring up at him eagerly, waiting to hear what he wanted. As her lost thoughts only too slowly struggled to find their way back to her, for another long few seconds only Grant filled her mind.

She heard his voice, enough to hold her thoughts at bay just a little longer. His voice was clear, imperative. He wanted her to get off the table, the lab table. Elizabeth blinked, looking down at all the glassware, some of her own notes half crumpled where he'd rocked her body back and forth on top of them. How had she ended up here, she wondered? And what was that feeling? She gasped as Grant straightened up over her, feeling the head of his cock finally pull all the way out of her. She'd never felt emptier, with only his sperm now to console her, no thoughts or worries of pregnancy yet returning to distract her.

The weight of his body, still mostly dressed, pulled up off of her, and she struggled to sit up on the edge of the table, her legs still lewdly spread with his torso up close between them. The heels just felt so purely decorative dangling from her feet, like they had nothing to do with standing or protecting her feet, just making her look good for Grant. She slipped naked from the edge of the table, one hand on the edge of it, the other on his shoulder to keep her wobbly legs and unsteady balance on the heels from sending her to the floor. He was still so close to her she could feel her swollen nipples lightly graze the fabric of his shirt, but she didn't mind. It felt good to have Grant touch her still, even as her mind tried to remember a thought she'd been having about detectors, a way to use two detector strips to triangulate a source of something, whatever that meant.

Grant's voice again, her name, sending thoughts of beakers and detectors to the back of her mind for another few precious seconds, his desires pushing their way to the front. Kneel. There was enough of her mind still active now to feel the strangeness of that request. Well, demand, order, whatever it was when Grant told her what to do. Kneel? Here in the lab? Naked on her knees on the hard floor, right in front of Grant? Something wasn't right, and yet to hear the word in Grant's voice somehow still made it seem so very right, right enough to get her slowly sinking to her knees at least, looking up at him with a troubled, questioning look as she went down, as if she needed him to explain to her what she was doing, what this all meant.

She felt the lab's late night air on her bare skin, the slickness between her legs, warm and dripping as she moved. The floor was hard, and she grimaced as her right knee settled first on a test tube's rubber stopper, but she shifted her weight, looking up to him the whole time. Finally, her knees apart enough on clear patches of hard tile, her heels digging into her bottom behind her, she knelt, looking up to Grant, intensely aware and vaguely uncomfortable at the sight of his exposed cock, so thick and wet and shiny. Why was it so wet and shiny? It looked as slick and slippery as she felt between her legs. Elizabeth looked in his eyes, realization dawning. He looked down at her and she half expected to hear her name again, even wanted it, craved it in some of the softer, warmer recesses of her body. But he looked almost as lost as she was.

"Grant? What... what's going on... why am I...?" She blinked and swallowed hard, feeling the pieces slowly clicking in place, unable to truly reach any place of outrage about it, but a feeling of emptiness and loss for the dream she couldn't touch any more, and simple, overwhelming confusion over how she could have done this. "Am I... am I drunk? Did we...." She couldn't even finish the statement as she started to realize what the feeling was between her legs, remembering all the stupid, pedantic birds and bees lectures back in high school warning the girls about what boys would do to them -- it hadn't applied to her, right? But now she squirmed a little on her knees, one hand on his thigh and the other on her own naked thigh, feeling how wet and slippery she was, how she ached between her legs, realizing why.
 
The war was back again, between his overwhelming arousal and lust at seeing Elizabeth submit to him in this sublimely erotic way, and between his common sense that was trying to tell him that something was up. He saw her look up at him; the only thing showing back in his eyes being cold steel, menace. Or at least the closest thing to menace he could manage, being an academic. It was only the illusion of power that was sustaining him now, the memory of Elizabeth submitting to him such a short time ago. Coming here, and then coming here, being under him, naked and writhing an desperate and pleading, embedding inside of him to the degree that he was expecting it now.

Which was a problem, when he saw the hesitation in her eyes. Grant didn't want to see it, willed it out of his sight as he chose to take her in, heaving and exposed, before him. Seeing Elizabeth like this, obedient, submissive, his, on her knees before him was enticing and erotic enough to outdo his better judgment. The part of him that said the glass slipper was about to fall, the carriage about to turn into a pumpkin, that the clock was about to strike midnight. The part of him that wasn't looking down on her, seeing that she was open to him, and willing to do whatever he wanted her to.

And then she spoke again.

"Grant? What... what's going on... why am I...?" A few blinks, and Grant saw she looked like she was waking up. "Am I... am I drunk? Did we...."

-oh, oh no. holy crap, ohgodohgodohgod-

His thoughts were going in a different way this time. The hand that was curled around her head - about to force her mouth on his cock, to suck him, naked and on her knees - lessened its grip. What they had just done was consensual, at least as far as any court of law would allow it, but to make her suck him now, while she was coming to his senses, would probably not be quite as defensible. Another night, maybe, the rational part of his mind said.

"Yes, Elizabeth. I fucked you." The grin on his face was one of triumpth, the satisfied look of a man who'd gotten the woman he wanted. "You came here and begged for it." He cocked his head. "Don't you remember?"

The air felt a little biting on his cock, the only part of him exposed, still a short distance away from Elizabeth's lips. Her pouty, wet lips, having been tasted by his own just a short while ago.

"You're not drunk. You came here of your own free will." She probably remembered that he'd 'asked' her to, but no need to mention that just yet. "You wanted help with something...and I gave it to you."

His hand gripped her head again. "Now, it's time for you to return the favor, don't you think?" And Grant pulled her face towards his member, expecting her to open up and service him like she had with the rest of her body.
 
More of the picture started to fill in, as if she'd spent the last hour, maybe even days, living with only the broadest strokes while most of her canvas had been a blur. But somehow the pleasure still warm in her head and between her legs was letting her fog life a little. Elizabeth was on her knees. All she could see in front of her was a... a naked man, his bare thighs over half dropped trousers and a cock that was hard and wet and shiny pointing right at her. Only out of the corner of her eyes could she see more but it was enough to understand she was in the lab. She'd had some kind of dream about the lab, she felt it, remembered it like deja vu, as if she'd been here recently, some nightmare of giving herself to Grant.

Grant!

She felt a grip in her hair, not hurting her but holding her head still right there with her lips and nose close enough to the cock she could smell it. There was a scent of herself, the scent she recognized from the times she'd spent trying so desperately to stroke herself into completion, to give herself peace. It was the scent of desire. But there was more, a tangy bleachy sent almost sweet in her nose, reminding her briefly of the smell of fresh-baked cookies except that wasn't it at all.

But worst of all, it was Grant. She recognized his slacks, and then his voice too. It was Grant. What had she done? Had she really let him do those things to her, the nightmare real? Grant of all people? Was she insane? She'd heard the girls talk about being crazy in love, what it could do to you, but she'd always known the power of her mind was stronger than any simple hormonal imbalance like love. But was this what they talked about? Giving yourself to someone you think you hate, your life feeling like a dream out of your control, doing things you know are vile and wrong but just can't stop yourself? Was she in love with Grant? Was this awful feeling what love felt like?

She glanced up as he spoke, wishing she could invent a time machine and go back in time to before this happened to her, before she... she apparently... fell in love with... him, so she could kill herself and prevent it from ever happening. Grant, on the other hand, seemed perfectly happy, grinning down at her and confirming her worst fears. He had fucked her. She felt his seed between her legs, knew with a sickening certainty that was what the damp trickle she felt leaking out of her was. His seed, trying like every sperm for the last who-knew-how-many billion years to try to impregnate something -- to impregnate her! No, no no no no, this couldn't be, this wasn't love, not with Grant. She could never be in love with him, she could never accept this from him, it couldn't be.

And yet here she was, naked and kneeling at his feet, her mouth next to his cock. She was actually wearing the heels, the ones she swore she'd never wear, keeping them only because she felt too guilty to throw them out. It was the kind of thing she always heard the stupid girls blabbering about, how much they loved their caveman boyfriends they'd wear this or that for them. If she was wearing the heels, so uncomfortable on her feet, there had to be an explanation, and it seemed to be standing right in front of her, gloating that she had actually begged for it.

Elizabeth shut her eyes tight, trying to hide from the memory of begging exactly like he said. How could she have done something like that. She nodded that she remembered, feeling his grip in her hair as she moved her head, sick inside at the admission.

Grant confirmed she wasn't drunk, taking away just about her last hope, leaving her no possibility but having come of her own free will, apparently in love with him? She needed help and she'd turned to him to... to have sex with her? Here in the lab? It wasn't rational. She was a creature of reason and this made no sense to her, leaving her blinking and confused and unsure of herself, her hand still on his leg, maintaining an unsteady truce between them with her lips still scant inches from his waiting cock.

He gripped her tighter on her head and told her it was time to return the favor, and his words coursed through her like a drug. Love. She hated love, but she couldn't resist it. She hated Grant but she couldn't resist him either. She glanced up at his face, his words echoing in her ears, his grip making it clear what he wanted, and her mouth opened even as her eyes shut with horror.

Why wasn't she up and screaming for help, crying out she'd been raped? Why was she kneeling and giving in so easily when she could verbally slap this mental lightweight aside without breaking a sweat? He was nothing, zero, an insect compared to her. And yet she couldn't keep her mouth shut now that she knew what he wanted. Her heart ached with the horror of it, she must be in love with Grant, and she didn't know how to stop herself. Hadn't he already exploded inside her? What more did he want from her? Did love demand she let him treat her like a rag for wiping his cum slick cock off on too? Her moist eyes peering up at him and brimming with self-loathing said no, but her open mouth said a silent, compliant yes. Apparently it did, as she willingly leaned closer, the scent of their bodies mixed together on his cock overwhelming and still she opened her mouth, tasting him already before she even touched him as if she'd been hungry for him all her life.
 
In contrast to how fast time had seemed to past fucking his obedient student on the lab table with no regard for her wants, her body, or for the various instruments that had been stretched about on the surface, seeing her look up at him with a mixture of reluctance, fear, and desire in her eyes took forever. The moment stretched, lingered, hung in the air for Grant as Elizabeth internally debated her options. Why she hadn't managed to get up, get out, yell at him, hit him, do anything she could to escape this evening that she couldn't have possibly been wanting in any way, shape or form. Sure, he'd drugged her, fooled her body and mind into thinking she 'needed' him, needed release, and that he was the only outlet for it.

Looking down on her, it seemed like she wanted to cry. Grant hoped she wouldn't, as it would ruin the moment, ruin this thing they had, this thing he'd created for them. For him, really, and she was only needed to play her role. This was Grant's depraved, overwhelming fantasy and Elizabeth only needed to be the obedient, subservient slave. All she had to do was lean forward, open her mouth, and take him in. Could it really be so hard? Grant's hand started to tense, to force her to bend to his will, but then she seemed to lean forward, mouth open, to do it herself.

It was actually happening. Grant could scarcely believe it, and he was the one behind it all, the puppeteer with the strings, the one behind the controls of this great performance for one. For two, really. This was for him, but this was also to show Elizabeth what she was capable of under someone else's control.

Or more specifically, under his.

If they could only see him now! The many guys at the university who had secretly lusted after Elizabeth. Her being a scientist, dressing so bookish and conservative all of the time, keeping her distance from most thing resembling social contact only made her more desirable in the eyes of men. The forbidden fruit was more tempting for many, and was probably why the few men who did pursue her tried to so fervently, so doggedly. If they could get her, they could get anyone.

The boys in the stairwell, who'd gawked at her. Her many classmates who secretly lusted for her day after day. The many (or few?) boyfriends she'd taken in and rejected as unacceptable, not significant enough, not worthy of her continued time and effort. None of them had this. None of them had ever gotten her like this.

None of them had fucked her in the science lab. None of them had her naked but for her heels, on her knees, about to suck their cocks in an act of total submission. And Grant, so lost in the haze of adrenaline, sexual frustration, and lust, could do nothing but stare down at her, at her feminine form, as he saw her leaning in to suck him, deciding it not enough for his whims.

And so he forced her to take him in quicker, his hand pushing her face onto his cock, wet with both of their juices. The thought of her bobbing her head up and down on him was incredibly erotic, incredibly enticing, and as he felt her take him in he finally said something.

"Yes, Elizabeth...take it all, you dirty slut, like you've always wanted to...."
 
As his hand forced her head closer, Elizabeth moaned slightly, as if trapped in momentary indecision, as if she was going to pull away. But the scent of theirwas overpowering. She couldn't help flashing back to the base pleasures of their crude coupling right on her lab bench, remembering what it had felt like to have him on top of her, pumping away inside her. Disgust cried indignantly in a small cage in her heart, unheard and ignored. All she felt as the scent brought her back to that moment was the desire, the validation of the parts of her she kept tightly wrapped away where no one could reach, so no one could touch her or hurt her, so she'd never end up like her mom. The memory felt good, dangerous but exciting.

Elizabeth blinked and then it was too late for any more thought, too late to pull away. She felt his thick flesh at her mouth, his probing thickness parting her lips, moistening them with the slickness that seemed to coat him and giving the tip of her tongue a taste of herself and his potent seed.

She closed her eyes with shame as he pushed into mouth, fully aware what was happening to her, even wanting it, but also fully aware of how she was supposed to react, like she was trapped between two worlds that were drifting further and further from each other, their grip on opposite parts of herself about to rip her in two. Elizabeth smelled him as she drew in a sharp breath, tasted him more and more on her tongue as she knelt and accepted each additional inch of cock he shoved into her mouth. She couln't decide if the taste was disgusting, or if there was a hint of cookie-sweetness to it.

It wasn't exactly like she was listening to him as he spoke to her in a rough sort of way, given the way he had all of her other senses so wrapped up in the experience of him: the sight of his pelvis thrusting at her face, the feel of his thickness sliding between her lips while her hands grasped at his legs, the feel of the hard floor under her knees, and the scent, the taste, filling her world. She was supposed to listen to him too? As smart as her brain was, it seemed too much to process, like he was going to burn her mind out.

And yet, Elizabeth heard him quite clearly anyway, as if it was impossible for her to ignore his voice. His words "dirty slut," "dirty slut," echoed over and over in her ears with each bob of her head slurping more of the lewd mess from his cock, filling her mouth with him. "Dirty slut." It couldn't be her. That was the other girls. But her tongue started to lick, as instinctively as a newborn baby not knowing anything but how to suck. "Dirty slut." She was the one naked, down on her knees at Grant's feet. Grant's feet! Maybe that was confusing him, making him *think* she was a slut, just because... just because she *seemed* to be acting like one. "Dirty slut." She slurped and sucked, his hand driving her head forward until his cock filled her mouth again, her fingers gripping his thighs. "Dirty slut." On her knees, sucking Grant's cock. "Dirty slut," echoed again and again, and she knew it was her, couldn't shake the feeling as she sucked and sucked him more eagerly with each forceful thrust, groaning and gasping desperately only as she struggled with the fear his big thick cock would stop her from breathing if he went any farther or deeper. And the fear of the heat she felt rising in her again, blazing between her legs, a desire for the cock he was forcing between her lips, as if once he'd shoved into her on that lab table, she'd never be able to get it out completely, like she needed it to be a part of her.

She opened her eyes to peer up at his eyes, to read his expression, to try to understand what it was about him that was making her give in to this insanity. Was he right? A dirty slut, who always wanted to? She moaned a little around his cock between her lips at the thought of it. She never wanted to! Not until... recently. Her mind went fuzzy as she tried to think how long it was she'd been struggling with this growing, appalling attraction to him. It felt like... forever. As if she'd always wanted him, even though she knew she hadn't. Maybe it was just the illusion of his body filling her whole field of view, of him filling her mouth so their was barely room for her own tongue, of him being all she could taste and smell, as if he was everything to her, filling her universe. But she had always wanted her. That's what it felt like. She moaned again, moaning with resignation to wanting him more with each powerful thrust between her lips, sucking and licking and cleaning the mess of their sex from his cock and swallowing it to make it part of her. Acting just like a dirty slut.
 
He hadn't expected this. Calling her names was an instinctual reaction, the rise of pleasure and lust within him finding release in two simple words to label Elizabeth as. Label his student as, the one on her knees who'd taken his cock in his mouth. But the label seemed to give her new focus, and an indrawn breath came from him as she seemed to take him eagerly, her mouth finding him passionately as he had no words for the pleasure she was now giving him. His words were breaths, gasps, small moans he tried and failed to bite back as his uptight, arrogant student was now naked, on her knees, here in the lab giving him a blowjob like he'd never had before. His hand moved to her head, pulling her into him even more, his cock pushing further into her mouth as his eyes rolled up into his head in pleasure.

Who know that such an arrogant, abrasive, aggressive mouth could be used for something like this? That would let itself be used like this as her small hands latched onto his thighs for leverage and for balance. Now he felt her own moans and noises vibrate onto him, his body tensing in pleasure as Elizabeth showed her own debasement at the thought of being the 'dirty slut' that Grant so desperately craved. What he'd fantasized about her being in his darkest, most private moments of anger and frustration at his talented, prized student, the one who'd probably done more for the lab then he had. Both her name and her talent had led to that, but now she was nothing but a woman at his knees, subservient and bent to his will.

"Oh yes...you dirty slut...you dirty, cocksucking slut..."

Even though Elizabeth was the one on her knees, Grant was the vulnerable one, controlled only by her mouth on his member as she eagerly slurped and worked at his member even as he slowly thrusted in and out of her face. Both his hand pulling her in and his gyrating hips bobbing his length in and out of her contributed to the wanton noises that seemed to be reverberating throughout the lab as he gently face fucked her. It was less then he wanted, but as much as he could do, so new to the sensations of Elizabeth's mouth on his member. He wasn't angry, either, only lost in lust and sensation and not wanting this evening to end, not wanting this encounter to end, wanting to extend it and use Elizabeth as he so wanted to use her. As she deserved to be used.

"....you're such a great cocksucker, Elizabeth...."

The compliment left him freely as he felt his length hardening again. Had it been seconds? Minutes? Moments? Hours, even? He didn't know. The darkness in the lab gave no clue, none of the clocks were visible. He hadn't brought his phone, and she...well, she'd brought his lab coat. His cock twitched as he thought of keeping it, making her go home naked across the campus, his cum on her face...

Well, one out of two, maybe? She could probably feel his cock firming in her mouth, the hardness almost poking into her throat, but Grant wasn't about to let her having anything. He might not get this chance again, and the tensing let him know that it would be coming soon, another release to gift upon Elizabeth's willing, subservient body.

Maybe she'd like something else to wear. He thought with a smirk. When the time came, he'd pull out and bless her face with his seed.
 
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