Quid Pro Quo: Heather’s Story Chapter 1 [Mf][Fantasy][College][Teacher Student][Schoolgirl][Extortion]

**Author’s Note:** *This is chapter 1 of a long story. Perhaps a novel. Please let em know what you think in the comments.*

I leaned back across the center of the low bed. The room was furnished in ‘late teenager,’ with a cheap dorm room mattress on a barracks frame, and other durable furniture. The walls were brick, painted a dull cream color that made it look like someone smoked here.

I made sure the little laptop lid was closed while she changed. The last thing I wanted was for this to be recorded. Or worse, broadcast. This could be all over the internet in a heartbeat, and I would never teach again.

There were no books on her side of the room that I could see except for the requisite texts of a college freshman. English (my class), Algebra II, History of Colonial America, and the like. The supplementary texts were piled in a corner, forgotten. This disappointed me, though I wasn’t surprised. Islands of clothes and underwear from yesterday, today, and who knew when else we’re on the floor, which was also dotted by DVD rental cases from the machine downstairs.

*What a slob*, I thought.

The room came with matching accordion-style privacy screens erected to shield the occupants from each other while they dressed. From behind one on my student’s side I heard the click of a button, and music filled the empty space. It could have been any generic pop artist for all I knew, backed by auto-tune and synthesized beats.

I drank Heather in slowly as she stepped out from behind the privacy screen. Her copper hair was tied in pigtails, framing a cherubic face. Black and white saddle shoes with a stripper heel brought her just over five feet, while long grey knit socks ended above mid-thigh, giving way to a navy pleated skirt that was too short for public. A starched white top and navy blazer gave an air of formality to the outfit, which was finished off with a blue crossover tie. The crest on her left breast pocket read ‘MVHS.’ My member began to pulse.

We would have to be relatively quick. Pulling my eyes from her, I gazed around the rest of the room. The other side was clearly occupied by another, neater girl, whom the door placard identified as “Laura.” That half was thankfully empty at the moment, its owner likely in the library or class, where we should both be. My class, *our class*, was only 90 minutes long, and I had called in sick today to spend my lecture time in the dorms. Chances were that the hallways would be empty, but I was horrified at the thought of Laura coming back. This situation would be impossible for me to explain.

“Is this what you wanted, Mark?” she asked. There was a lilt to her voice that wasn’t present when she spoke in class. My cock twitched and I decided that I had to take control of the situation before she realized I was already wrapped around her finger.

“You will address me as *’Mr. Rikes*,’ or *’Sir.’* I don’t want to have to discipline you.” I put emphasis on both the name and the title, hoping that she would respond to the sound of my voice rather than the bulge in my slacks. “Don’t forget that I’m doing you a favor here.” Her eyebrows arched incredulously.

“Okay, whatever.” She responded. I got up.

“What did I just say? We’re fucking done.” I needed desperately to maintain the upper hand.

“What?! No! I mean, I can’t fail…*sir*.” She forced that last word out with an almost air of contempt and I began to ease myself back down on the bed. I was excited by her reply. I had worried that I would be overplaying my hand.

I beckoned her closer, saying: “Come here.”

She walked over unsteadily on her high heels, clearly unused to being this tall. “Is this the outfit that you wore for Halloween this year?”

She looked at me incredulously. “What? Hardly.”

She had stepped close enough that I barely had to reach for her. I shot an arm out and slung her over my knee, causing her skirt to flip. Fresh out of the box, her heels didn’t even have scuffs yet. She let out a surprised yelp as my hand swatted the bare skin of her ass.

“What did I say? If you want. To pass. My fucking class. You. Will. Address me. With. Respect!” I punctuated each sentence with a controlled slap until I could feel the heat of her skin under my cupped palm. It wasn’t enough to leave marks, but it was enough to sting. She cried out repeatedly as my open hand smacked the place where her buttocks creased strong thighs. I rested my other arm across her shoulders to hold her down until she stopped squirming.

“You need to learn some goddamned manners,” I grumbled, gently rubbing the area I had reddened.

***

Yesterday I had been in my office grading papers when I heard a soft tapping on the glass. The door opened before I could respond.

“Mr. Rikes?” Heather began. I had looked up to find the worst student in my morning class standing before me. As educators, we’re not supposed to have favorite students, but they made it impossible not to. She was sort of the opposite of a favorite. She stood silhouetted by the outside light before stepping in, a busty, petite girl from English Composition II.

“Can I, like, talk to you about my grades?” she asked. She spoke up without waiting for my answer. “I just got this letter from the admin office saying I’m facing academic suspension. So, like, I have to get an A, or…at least almost an A from you to stay here. If I don’t pass, I can lose my scholarship.” Light blue eyes and a bow mouth made her beautiful, with a heart-shaped face that was without makeup; fresh and young. My student wanted something and wasn’t afraid to use her looks to get it.

The smallness of her outfit struck me, and I stared as I thought about my own three layers of clothes. Most of our campus had buildings that were linked together, and in cases where that wasn’t possible there were always walkways and shelter available. My gray wool coat hung from the chair above a small puddle, the result of trudging through faculty parking three lots away.

She stood in front of my desk dressed for summer, wearing blue and white cheer trainers, and those shorts where the pockets hang below the hem. They were peach-colored and…tempting. A black jacket with faux fur trim was slung over her arm, and a thin gray and white striped shirt stretched across her ample bosom. She had tied a knot in that shirt, accentuating everything. It almost touched her shorts. Almost. I forced myself to look at her face, wondering what, if anything was under those clothes.

The idea of someone this disinterested in academics being on scholarship struck me as odd. I heard a solid click as she closed my office door, the blinds rattling against the glass of my tiny office. I was now alone with a female student, a violation of several academic policies. I wondered if she knew that. I wondered if she would even care. She chewed on her bottom lip, making me think thoughts that could cost me my job.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t know you were on scholarship. What for?”

“Cheer and dance, mostly cheer though,” she replied, her voice dropping a level in volume so that I almost had to strain to hear it. She lowered her eyes, and I looked down too, focusing on the long expanse of her thighs. She was a natural redhead, with a spattering of freckles across her knees and shins.

*Those shorts should be illegal*, I thought.

Looking through her lashes, she continued. “If I lose my scholarship I’ll lose my dorm privileges. My parents don’t -” She stopped and took a breath. “We can’t pay for the dorm, too. So…I’d get suspended, and then have to go home at the end of the semester.”

“What about your other grades?” I asked, bringing my eyes back up with hers. I stared hard at her nose. It was slightly pixie-ish, turned up at the tip, and I needed to focus on it. I tried to keep my eyes from her slender body, but they wandered anyway. I could see the generous swell of her breasts but couldn’t tell if she was wearing a bra or not. I could see she wasn’t wearing a belt, and her legs looked long for someone that petite. There were chill bumps all up and down her thighs. I dragged my eyes back up and this time she smirked. I had been caught.

I fingered my ring absently. I had promised myself I wouldn’t take it off until after my divorce was finalized. My wife and I were still waiting on a court date to determine who got the house while we both burned what little money we had left on lawyer’s fees. I was in a cheap apartment near the school while the docket was being determined.

“Well, I have an A in cheer. Dance, too.” she replied after a deep breath. She was clearly proud of herself. I forced my eyes to lock with hers. “Algebra II, I think…a D?” There were slight hesitations as she recounted the rest of her grades to me. The bleakness of her situation seemed to settle in. “And I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure your class isn’t good.” She blushed, and her freckles stood out against her pink nose and cheeks.

“It’s not,” I answered. My laptop was powered off, behind me. “I would guess that you have between a forty and forty-five percent.” I waved across the stack of papers covered in red ink I had been buried in prior to her arrival. “I have nothing from you in here. You’re never in class, and when you are, you’re on your cell phone texting or doodling or…whatever in your notebook. You do what you want, don’t turn in assignments that you don’t like, and ignore things that you find inconvenient. The bottom line is that you lack discipline.” Her eyes dropped back to the floor, and I could hear her starting to sniff. I was sure they were crocodile tears.

“We’re less than four full weeks from the end of the semester,” I continued, “and you’re failing English. Realistically, there’s not enough coursework left for you to pull a passing grade. Even if you ace the final.

“See this pile of papers?” I gestured with my thumb behind me. “Yours isn’t in it. This last assignment was a full ten percent of your grade.”

“Can you check again? ‘Cause, like, I swear I know I turned that in…”

“Sure, Heather.” This was a welcome distraction. I turned my chair around and began rifling through the papers. I knew it wasn’t there, but I needed to look away.

“Ms. Watson,” I said, still facing my wall, “I went through student after student, and yours simply isn’t in the pile.” Finally, I swiveled back to face her, my hands empty. Suddenly I stared. Hard.

Now obviously braless, she was pinching stiff nipples through her shirt. Her shorts were unbuttoned and shoved down below her hips, exposing a blue mesh thong that showed off a shaved slit. I was dumbstruck. I wanted desperately to know what her body would feel like pressed against mine.

The wrongness of the situation is mostly what turned me on. It would be dishonest to say I hadn’t seen some pretty students, but I had never imagined that something like this would ever actually happen to me. This was something out of a porno, or a dirty letter mag. Normally students came to me wanting extra assignments, or to wash my car. I had always said no, before.

“You’re a smart man,” she said. “You could, like, maybe help me work something out? Maybe I could make it up to you…another way?” She was stalking, doing that thing girls do, where they cross their legs in front of each other when they move. It made Heather’s legs look even longer, her hips shapelier. I swallowed a lump of apprehension. “I know you love supporting the students…I see you at all the games.” She took another step forward and was less than two feet from me. She had stepped close enough to the desk that I could smell her body wash. Cotton candy and baby powder scents hid a deeper muskiness. She moved over and sat on the corner of my desk, shoving papers onto the floor as she spoke.

“But what about…me? I know you see me there too. Don’t you want to support the student body?” A hand dipped into her panties.

“Miss Watson, I…don’t want…”

“Heather,” she corrected softly. “And, Mr. Rikes. If you didn’t want me you would have told me to leave already. I’ll do whatever it takes to pass…” She leaned forward and off my desk, bracing herself on my chair with one hand. My chair rocked back. The other hand came free from her panties. She kissed her fingers before pressing them to my lips. I could smell the heady scent of her arousal. “Can’t we help each other? Can’t we work something out?”

She was literally crawling on top of me. This was well past the point where I could pretend this meeting was anything resembling a misunderstanding.

“Miss Wats-“

“Heather,” she corrected.

“Heather, I mean…we can’t do this. You’re my student.”

“But I’m also an adult. I know what I want. Isn’t that grown up enough for you, Mr. Rikes? I can be anything you want. I could be your nurse, or your mistress. I’ll even be your little schoolgirl if that’s what you want. Do you want me to be your naughty little schoolgirl?*”*

“Oh God…” I caved, my cock twitching against her breast. She had won. Her eyes lit up I could taste her gum as she kissed me deeply, squeezing my rigid cock through my pants.

“Schoolgirl it is…*Daddy*. My roomie has a 7:30 class tomorrow, she’s headed to the science department early. You can have me all to yourself. ” I nodded, desperate for her.

“Where?” I whispered.

“319. Third floor, south hall, building 47. I’ll leave the back stairwell propped open for you.”

***

I gave her a final smack before gently pushing her away. She landed on her knees, and I enjoyed the sight of her tugging her skirt slightly lower and smoothing her clothes. She rubbed her sore cheeks before reaching up to smooth her hair. I could see her breasts lift and swell as she shifted, staring hard at her, and only now noticing the ring-pop on her finger. My face flushed.

*Fuck, she’s almost worth it*.

“So, then, I guess no *’daddy’* then,” she said absently. I raised my eyebrow.

*Oh, thank god,* I thought. I would have walked away, but I was glad I didn’t have to.

“Let’s try this once more, Heather,” I said. “Was that your Halloween costume this year?” Somewhere in the background, the artist changed to a soft acoustic guitarist with a sad vocalist. I would have to be a bit quieter. She placed her hands behind her back and dropped her eyes to the floor.

“No, Mister Rikes…” She started, “I didn’t do Halloween this year. It was my uniform from school. I brought it up after break for Josh; my boyfriend. He’s into the whole schoolgirl thing.”

“Hmmm. And what did Josh think of it?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“He, uh, he liked it… Sir,” she responded hesitantly. She was clearly a little off guard and, I think, unsure of what she thought I wanted her to say.

“Be specific.” I prompted.

“My, um, socks?” she said hesitantly. My eyes followed her words. “And, my uh, skirt. He asked me to hem it short for him.” she fingered the hem absently. “The jacket, he didn’t like, ’cause-”

“Because he couldn’t see your tits?” I interrupted. She nodded. “Did you let him touch you?” I asked. “Were you a naughty girl?”

“I, um, well, I made him beg for me.”

“You’re not learning very well, are you? What did we just go over?” I asked calmly.

“No, I’m sorry…… Mr. Rikes…I mean…I made him beg for me, *sir*.” She repeated softly. She even managed to sound a little bit defeated. She was rubbing her bottom again, teeth clenching her bottom lip seductively.

“That’s better. What are you going to do to make it up to me?” I asked, beckoning for her with my finger. She looked unsure for a moment then began to move.

I could see her visibly relax as she settled into her caste with a deep breath. I think she chose to play it as a roleplaying session. This was sex. Something she needed no lessons in.

“What…What do you want me to do…sir?” She shuffled forward on her knees, and I met her half way, the tent of my erection next to her moist lipsa. Wrapping my fingers in her hair, feeling those glorious pigtails in my fists, I spoke:

I said, “Beg. Be a good girl and ask to touch it.” Her hands crept up to my zipper, dragging her nails up my thighs as she moved. Her eyes were large and liquid as she looked up at me. Blush and pink lipstick had been applied liberally.

“Please, Mr. Rikes…sir, may I see it? Can I touch it?” Her hands were at the back of my thighs as she pulled me closer. I groaned as she pressed her lips against my slacks, grinding her lip gloss into the fabric and mouthing against my shaft. I could smell that same cotton candy smell from earlier and became almost desperate with desire. She moved her hands to my knees then ran her palms up my thighs, her thumbs providing gentle pressure. Heathers nails matched her lipstick, which was on thicker than I had realized. It made her look cheap.

I let out a groan and leaned back, arching my spine and fumbling with my zipper while she scratched gently at me with her nails. My hands felt like clay, thick and unresponsive; taking far too long for me to get my erection free. She pulled my belt loose and took over the task of stretching my clothing over my throbbing tent-pole, finally springing my erection free. Whether surprised look on her face was genuine or not was irrelevant. The need that it stoked in me was real enough.

“Oh, Mr. Rikes, Sir, he’s so big. You’re so huge.” She dragged that last word out slightly, looking up at me over the tip. Every man likes to be doted on, and while I’m no slouch down there, I knew she was engaging in a bit of theater for my benefit. Leaning back again against the bed, I reveled in it anyway. She moved forward to compensate.

“Ask nicely,” I replied. She opened her eyes even wider and looked up at me, playing along.

“Can I…” she started with mock hesitation, “Can I touch it, mister? Please?” Her tongue played across her lips as clear fluid began to ooze from the tip of my member.

“Oh god, put it in your mouth,” I answered softly. I sounded distracted, even to myself.

“Oooooooh,” she cooed. “Is that for me? Am I good enough for you now…Sir?” I vaguely wondered if I was still in control of the situation, but my libido told my brain to politely shut the fuck up.

Taking my groan of pleasure as an affirmation, Heather slid her lips down over my member, making tiny noises of satisfaction as she worked my glans. I fumbled with my slacks, bucking my hips as I shoved them out of her way. I hit the back of her throat hard, and she gagged, but didn’t stop. Instead she looked up at me, glorious fiery hair framing my cock. I almost lost it right then. Placing my hand against the back of her head, I began fucking her face gently.

I watched jeweled barrettes bounce softly as she worked her magic. I could feel the candy gem of her ring bumping against my thigh as she stroked me, leaving lipstick marks just above my trimmed curls. My cock twitched, and I shuddered as I felt a gathering surge behind my balls.

“Oh no you don’t!” I gasped. “You’re not getting out of this that easy.” I grabbed my shaft underneath her hand and slid her off. A slight look of disappointment fluttered across her face. The ring disappeared into her mouth while she made a decision, then stripped her blazer to the floor where it lay in a heap.

Heather spun on her knees, presenting her ass to me. It was deliciously outlined by her skirt and bisected by a pristine cotton thong. My student lowered her shoulders, looking at me as she rested her head on a throw pillow that had been found somewhere in the mess.

“Why, Mr. Rikes, you can’t possibly mean that you want my…pussy, do you Sir? Because that would be dirty. I mean, you’re, like, my teacher,” she said, placing hard emphasis on the last word. “I can’t just let you take…*advantage…*of me.” There was a healthy undercurrent of sarcasm in her voice.

That voice in the back of my head returned, and my libido shut it down once again. I already knew the power dynamic had shifted, and I was too lustful to care. I could see her hand working rhythmically between her thighs, building up a wetness that darkened her panties. I stared as the candy moved around the inside of her thong. Her earlier talk, and her moans, combined with the sight of her displaying her wares had me on the edge.

Raging with lust, I had ceased caring who was using whom. I fell to my knees behind her, the weight of my slacks making an audible noise as the contents of my pockets hit the floor.

I began fumbling, hungry and desperate. I wanted to pull her panties down, but her thighs were spread too wide. I pulled the gusset aside instead, exposing her wetness as I began to push my straining cock into her. She was bare.

She used her hand to guide me, then began tugging at the buttons on her blouse, undoing the last few and flinging the tie onto the carpet. Her squirming combined with my thrusts to slide her forward off the pillow. I watched her breasts swing in her white lace bra as I pounded harder, timing my thrusts by their rhythm. She reached her arms out in front of her head, shedding her blouse fully.

Without thinking, I placed my hands on her hips and ass, kneading and spanking gently in time with my thrusts. Her buttocks were still red from earlier. I heard her moan and her nails bumped my cock as she started fingering herself again. The harder she rubbed, the harder I thrust. We were building to a crescendo, but she suddenly seemed to know just when I was about to cum and broke free, flopping onto her belly to rid herself of me. I gripped my shaft, holding it in. I wasn’t ready to be done, not yet.

I knelt there on the edge; trembling, and light headed. She turned around and raised herself up a scant few inches from me. Her presence was all I could see as she stood on her knees in that skirt and those delicious long socks. She reached behind and unclasped her bra, rolling her shoulders to loose it. The undergarment fell to the floor and I stared down at her breasts. They hung there, pale, lush, and perfect, waiting for me. “You want some more…sir?” She asked, rubbing the candy across her stiff nipples, staining them red.

I groaned something unintelligible as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“What if I call it ‘*my cunt*’,” she asked? I could feel my precum gathering again. “Do you want some more of my…*cunt*…too? Does that make me a dirty little girl?” She asked. She put a lusty pout into the last few words. “Can I be your whore…Daddy? Please? I’ll be good for you, I promise.” The ring-pop disappeared between her lips.

*Oh, fuck*, I thought. *I have completely lost control of this situation*. The wrongness of it made me hard, but ashamed as well. There was something horribly taboo about being called that. A drop of cum escaped, getting colder as it rolled down my shaft. Whatever was next, I wanted it.

“You don’t get to be my daddy…*Sir*. No, you don’t…” She dragged her nail down my polo shirt and then lifted it over my head. The air felt good against my sweaty chest. “Get on the bed, Sir,” she demanded. I felt myself complying, knowing I had no hope of salvaging my role in this. I sat on the very edge of the bed, unsure of where this was going next, but she reached out and shoved me, hard. My head hit the bricks.

“Lie down like a good boy,” she instructed, “and I’ll tell you what happens from here.”

I was confused. I tried to adjust myself on the mattress as it creaked under my weight. “I’m going to sit on your face,” she said. “And you’re going to eat my pussy. I may let you do this for me again before the end of the semester. If I don’t…well, we’ll think of something.”

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. You came to me!” I suddenly felt trapped. My voice was indignant with protest, loud and confused.

“*Shhhh*…” She placed a hand across my lips. “I know you stare at me during the games. I do. I’ve been watching for you, too.” As faculty I had to be there. As family, I was there cheering my little brother on.

“You think I don’t see how you tried to hide your nice…hard…cock…every day during class? We all notice it. My friends and I talk about how desperate you look. How lonely.”

I tried to form words of denial, sputtering and stammering, but it was no use. My English class was full of young girls, and there were a lot of long silences while they read a passage or wrote a response to my questions on the whiteboard. I couldn’t help but look, even if the early freshmen like Heather were less than half my age.

Perky breasts in tiny tops had caused several disturbances at my desk. It happened enough that I regularly had to give the lecture or answer questions from a seated position to hide my erection. Apparently, I wasn’t hiding it well enough. Heather straddled me while I contemplated this.

“Now. Eat. My. Pussy.” She said.

“You little bitch…” I said wonderingly.

“If you don’t,” she continued, “I’ll tell them all how you came to my dorm room and took advantage of me. Who are they going to believe? Me, or the teacher who turned my grades in to the dean?” She was right. My heart began racing. “So, just pretend my sex-ed class was…um…lacking, okay?. You can be my teacher here, too. I love substitutes,” she said teasingly.

She scooted forward, pinning my arms, then dragging her skirt up to show me her panties. Her thong was inches from my face and had a red glittery heart which she tapped impatiently with a fingernail.

“Kiss it.”

I reached my head forward and pressed my lips to the decoration. Heather giggled and reached out in front of her to slide the drapes open, letting in the morning sunlight. We were all the way up on the third floor, but the thought of being exposed still excited me. She settled forward, bracing her arms against the headboard. She rolled her hips against my face and dragged her panties aside, pressing her lips against my mouth.

She bucked and ground against my goatee, alternating between fondling her breasts and grabbing the top of the bed as I buried my face in her. I hadn’t had sex like this in years. My marriage had grown stale and I had forgotten what passion was until Heather walked into my office. I eagerly lapped up her juices as she fucked my face. Her clit was swollen against my lips; I suckled hungrily. I tried reaching up to rub her nib, but she shifted her weight and her stockings pinned my arms down even harder.

I settled for grabbing the backs of her thighs instead, forcing her against my mouth. My cock ached at the feeling of cable-knit cotton beneath my fingers. She moaned, gasping, and wiggling on my face; cries of pleasure mixed with young, girlish giggles. I changed technique frequently, circling the hood of her clit with my tongue, and then using the broad flat top to drag across her labia. At one point I tried forcing my tongue in to her hole, but her snatch was clenched so tight that is was a futile exercise. I ate and ate until my tongue ached and my jaw burned. I could taste the change in her nectar, kissing her bud as I worked the end of it gently. She was close. My mouth and nose were full of the mixed scents of Lycra and cotton as she began to shudder. I could feel her slick moistness across my cheeks as her orgasm overwhelmed us both.

As I worked her quim even harder she began to buck gently. Heather reached back to start stroking my cock. Hot dribbles of my pre cum started lubricating her hand as we both twitched and jerked together. She gripped my shaft intensely, both cutting off the blood flow and directing my orgasm. Her damp panties were rough against my cheek while she gasped. I tried to cry out in response but all that came out were muffled sounds as I shot my load across her back and into her hair.

“Nice shooting, Tex!” she chirped. “I haven’t been fucked like that in weeks!”

She released my cock and settled her hips back on my chest. I felt disoriented as she kept talking, the blood returning to my hands and fingers causing an unpleasant tingling situation, not unlike glass on my nerve endings. I dimly realized that the artist had changed on the speaker again and wondered if we were running out of time before Laura’s class ended.

“Oh no!” She mocked. “What will your wife think when she finds out?”

All of a sudden I was painfully sober. Amanda would drag me through the mud at the first opportunity if she even caught any hint of allegations leveled against me. She and I hadn’t been intimate in a long time, and the idea of me being led around by my cock would be amazing ammunition whenever the court date came. Especially if the one leading was my student.

I could lose my share of the house, my job, my reputation, everything in one proverbial stroke. I began to panic and tried to scramble into a sitting position. Heather swung her heels forward and rested them against my cheeks, scooting her full weight onto my pelvis. I could smell the leather from her new shoes and feel her socks across my shoulders. She wasn’t tall, maybe a hundred petite pounds, but she could have weighed a ton right then. I had no leverage and was too exhausted to fight her off. Or maybe I didn’t want to. I could smell her on my face and felt her juices in my beard.

“What do you mean ‘what will your wife think?'” I countered. “Nothing happened.” I pointed at her closed laptop. “If you were planning on recording me with that,” I smirked, “I closed it. It’s off by now.”

“What, you’ve never heard of a GoPro?” Heather said, shaking her head sadly. “I got you on tape, trying to teach me ‘*some goddamned manners*.*’*”

I looked across the room at her roommate’s shelves, where Heather pointed at a black plastic camera.

*Fuck*.

I felt pressure against my lips as she shoved the candy ring into my slightly open mouth. She must have taken it off while I wasn’t looking. It smelled like pussy and fake cherry. I spat it out onto the pillow, where I hoped it left a mark.

“You fucking bitch! You set me up! I want the video.” I was suddenly deeply, unutterably worried, but at the same time part of me knew I should have seen this coming. This sort of thing never really goes well except in shitty pornos.

“Don’t worry, Mister Rikes, Sir.” She mocked, saying my name in baby talk. “I’ll give you a copy. You earned it. Besides, Laura helped me with the app, so it’s already in the cloud. You can have all the copies you want.” She traced a nail down my nose and rested it on my lips. “From now on though, I’m in charge.”

She climbed off me and walked behind the screen, presumably to get cleaned up and change. I sat up for a second, dully considering the implications of what had happened before getting off of the bed myself. Checking my watch, I started walking quietly to the little camera on the shelf. There were almost 15 minutes until the substitute finished my class, assuming he or she didn’t release them early. I hopefully had at least five before her roommate showed back up.

I heard drawers closing behind the screen, and Heather spoke. “The camera is Josh’s, it goes on his helmet. Don’t take it.”

Fuck. I had hoped for a second that she was bluffing. Though I supposed I’d find out when I put the card in my computer. If I could get it out. The whole thing was covered in a waterproof casing that wouldn’t come apart. She must have heard me moving around.

“I said I’d get you a copy! Don’t fucking break it! Jesus!” I tossed it down on her roommate’s bed and went back for my clothes. I had considered taking it, but if it really was already uploaded, that would only anger her.

“Does Laura know what’s going on?” I asked. No answer from Heather as I started getting dressed, and I knew that she was deliberately ignoring me. “Heather! Does. Laura. Know?!” I emphasized every word in an attempt to get the importance of the question through to her.

“She will if you don’t get out of here. Go home now, Mark, and she won’t…Her class is almost over though.” Heather finally replied. “You just make sure I pass, and I’ll keep this all quiet. One peep though, and it goes straight to YouTube.” I finished dressing as she taunted me from behind the screen.

Fully clothed and ready for the cold weather, I took the hint and snuck out of her dorm room, down the hallway, and out the back flights of stairs. I walked quickly down the hill to my car and sped back to my apartment. After calling in sick today the last thing I needed was to be seen leaving the dorms.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/8kllg2/quid_pro_quo_heathers_story_chapter_1