Close To Teacher
Sahrye, my teacher, agreed to tutor me after school. I sat at my desk, eager to learn but unable to focus on my questions. My eyes kept drifting up to her arms, the muscles in them twitching with unspoken power. My gaze eventually landed on her chest, pushing against the fabric of her blouse.
She caught me staring and snapped to get my attention. It worked for a moment, but my eyes kept gravitating back to her arms and breasts. Finally, she growled, "Stand up." As I rose to my feet, she undid her shirt, revealing her toned stomach and the hint of her black lace bra. She walked towards me, her hips swaying ever so slightly.
"It seems like all you can focus on is my body," she said, amused. "Well, if that's what you want, that's what you're going to get." She towered over me, her breasts inches from my face. I felt like I was drowning in her cleavage, her warmth enveloping me.
"I think it's time you paid me back for wasting my time," she said, her voice low and threatening. "You're going to entertain me. And I might just decide to keep you." She stepped back, leaving me trembling against the wall.
"Breathe," she commanded, pressing her chest against my face once more. This time, she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned in closer, her breath hot against my skin. "Do I make you uncomfortable, little one?" She laughed, a dark chuckle that sent shivers down my spine.
With a snap of her fingers, I shrank until I was tiny, barely visible. She picked me up between her thumb and forefinger, holding me up to examine me. Then, she made a decision. "You know what? I think I'll use you for tonight's workout."
She grabbed my desk, lifting it effortlessly. "See this?" She asked, leaning in close. "This is what I've been missing out on because of you."
And with that, she began her bicep curls, using my desk as her weight. I watched, amazed, as her muscles bulged under her skin. She grunted with effort, her face contorted in determination.
She set the desk down and turned to me. "Time for a change of pace." She grabbed my hand, leading me to her feet. "Let's see how strong you really are."
I climbed from her feet, up her legs, and towards her chest. I kissed every inch of skin I could reach, worshipping her power. She smiled down at me, her gaze both terrifying and thrilling.
She picked me up, cradling me delicately between her breasts. "Admire your work," she said, her voice a low growl. I looked up at her, my heart pounding in my chest. I felt her warmth radiating off of her, enveloping me in a cocoon of desire and fear.
She squeezed me between her breasts, laughing as I gasped for air. "That's right, baby. You're all mine." She put me down, then picked me up again, this time holding me close to her chest.
We continued like this for what felt like hours, her muscles flexing and relaxing as she worked out. I watched, entranced, unable to look away from her strength and power.
Finally, she lay down on the floor, panting heavily. "Good workout," she said, looking up at the ceiling. "But I think I need a hug." She reached down, scooping me up in her hand once more.
She held me close, her chest rising and falling as she breathed. "There, there, little one," she cooed, running her fingers through my hair. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you." And with that, she fell asleep, cradling me in her bosom like a baby.
As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but wonder: was I really her slave, or had I willingly surrendered myself to her? The answer didn't matter; all that mattered was the feeling of safety and desire that consumed me in her embrace.
