"I told you, Medha... I've always had a fixation on big balls." He growled while fisting his own cock with his hand.
To eighteen-year-old Medha, Professor Viraj was a nightmare in a tailored suit-cold, arrogant, and terrifyingly observant. She spent her life hiding her body under oversized coats, terrified of the attention her curves drew. She thought she was safe in his shadows.
She was wrong.
One "accident" with a glass of water changed everything. Now, the door is locked, and the rhythmic, violent slap of his palm against his own skin is the only sound in the office.
"You said you'd finish anything I told you to," he rasps, his hand a blur of motion behind the desk. "So stand there. Don't you dare run. Watch what you've done to me."
In the intersection of innocence and obsession, Medha is about to learn that some lessons aren't found in books-they're carved in the dark, and her Professor is a master of discipline.
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