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I'm almost to my class when another female voice stops me in my tracks. This one I recognize from hours of lectures last semester.

Professor Jane is standing in the doorway to her classroom as I turn to look at her. She's dressed pretty modestly for her, wearing a suit jacket and a skirt that actually goes all the way down to her ankles.

"I need to have a talk with you, Mr. Smith," she tells me, opening the door wider to let me through. As I enter her classroom, wondering why she's being so formal, I see that it's empty and guess she doesn't have a class this hour. My first thought is that she's after another tryst, but I really don't feel up to it this morning, especially after last night.

The professor steps back and leads me toward her office. I try to come up with a way to gently turn her down without talking too much, knowing that my voice still has an effect on her.

I still haven't come up with a plan when she sits behind her desk and looks me squarely in the eyes. Her brown orbs bore into me, and I realize she probably hasn't brought me in here for sex after all.

"First of all, Mr. Smith, I want to thank you for being discreet about what happened between us before winter break," she says, her voice stiff and formal.

I give her a quick nod, still wary of speaking.

"Please understand that what I did was wrong," she continues. "In my years of teaching, I have never crossed that line with a student. I still don't fully understand why I did so with you. I hope you don't harbor any ill will toward me for what I did, or for me saying that it can't happen again."

To say I'm disappointed is an understatement. I truly enjoyed my encounter with the sexy professor, and even with the guilt of knowing I manipulated her into it, I looked forward to further escapades. I see she's looking at me, waiting for an answer. I still don't want to speak and influence her unduly. When I give her another nod, she grimaces but continues.

"I've put in my resignation, and I have already been accepted at another college across the state." Her tone is sad now, and I feel sorry for her.

"No," I say before I can think better of it. I see her shudder slightly at the sound of my voice, but I go on. "You don't have to do that. I promise not to tell anyone, and we don't have to… you know…" For some reason, I have a hard time saying "sex" in front of this professional woman, despite what we've done. I figure it has something to do with the formal persona she's portraying, and I don't want to be the first one to say it.

"But I do, Mr. Smith," she insists. "Even as you speak, I feel myself being drawn to you. I can't risk losing my career over the desires of my body." Her face grows stern, and she looks at me harder. "Make no mistake; I'm not saying that I'm in love with you, only that I can separate lust from love."

Only then do I realize she blames herself for what we've done. It's not her fault, and I feel bad for my part in it, but I can see she's determined to go regardless of what I say. If I were willing to use my switches on her, I know I could change her mind, but I'm still not willing to cross that line again.

However, I don't have to use my switches. I remember how she behaved when I dominated her before winter break.

"I understand," I tell her. "You'll be missed." Despite my earlier reservations, I want to show her just what she'll be missing. I quickly sense for Stephanie's switch and note she is only one building away. She had basically freed me from the requirement of being faithful when it comes to other women, a freedom I'm going to exercise now.

"I have already ensured that you will pass my class this semester. I have no doubt you would have done so on your own. Professor Hallowburton will be taking over Math Club practices from now on. I'll be here until the end of the term, but I ask that you don't say anything until after I'm gone." She sounds depressed.

Professor Hallowburton is an alright guy, but he is no Janet. She will be sorely missed in Math Club.

"I won't tell anyone," I tell her again, mentally adding other than Stephanie, though I feel sure Stephanie won't say anything. "But I don't want you to go, either." My voice is soft but firm. She looks up at me, wondering. "You can't go, Janet. I won't let you leave."

I'm not sure whether her shudder is from the sound of my voice or the authority I'm pouring into my tone.

"Wh—what do you mean?" her voice tremors. I can feel myself getting hard already. "You can't—"

"You're mine, Janet," I cut her off, leaving no doubt about my intentions. "I'm not willing to free my slave." There is an almost pleading look in her eyes, and for a moment, I think about backing off. Then I look closer, sensing her switches. Her nipples are rock hard, and her crotch is soaked. She isn't pleading for me to stop; she's pleading for me to continue.

I take a step toward this mentor, this woman who has been the subject of countless wet dreams, and I know she is putty in my hands. She sits frozen as I lift my hand to the side of her breast.

"No," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "We can't." Her heart isn't in the protest.

"Take off your shirt," I order. I enjoy the shudder that spreads through her body, knowing she's getting turned on more by the second.

She shakes her head, mumbling something about it being wrong.

"I said: Take. Off. Your. Shirt. Slave." I pause between each word to emphasize the command while simultaneously rubbing her stiff nipple through the layers of her clothing…

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