Kinky Bdsm anal fuck with my teacher

The fluorescent hum of the college hallway always felt like a dull throb in my skull, a stark contrast to the thrumming in my chest whenever Shubh Sir’s name echoed. Professor Shubh. Just the sound, a deep resonance that seemed to vibrate through the very air, made my skin prickle. He was… everything. A sculpted jawline, eyes that held a universe of unspoken thoughts, and a presence that commanded attention without ever demanding it. I, Jasus, a mere 21-year-old, felt like a shadow in his light, a twig next to an ancient oak. My body, slim, almost delicate, a “twinkish” frame, as some would call it, with a bubble butt I secretly preened over, felt entirely too insignificant. But my crush, *mera junoon*, for him burned like a wildfire.
One late afternoon, the campus was emptying, students scurrying like ants after a rain. I lingered, a moth drawn to a flame, near his office. The door was ajar, a sliver of warm, golden light spilling into the cool corridor. My *dil* hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat. I saw him, head bent over papers, the lamplight catching the silver threads in his dark hair, making them gleam like starlight.
“Sir?” My voice came out as a pathetic squeak, a betrayal of the hurricane raging inside me.
He looked up, his eyes, dark and intelligent, met mine. A slow smile, a curve of his lips that could melt glaciers, spread across his face. “Jasus. What are you still doing here, *beta*? Classes are over.” His voice, a rich baritone, sent a shiver down my spine.
“Uhm… I… I had a question, Sir.” My *dimaag* scrambled, inventing a plausible lie. “About… about the upcoming project. The Renaissance art history one.”
He gestured to the chair opposite his desk. “Come in. Don’t stand there in the cold.”
He leaned back, his gaze unwavering. “Comparative analysis, hmm? It’s simple, Jasus. You pick two artists, two pieces, and you dissect them. Their influences, their techniques, their impact. Not just what you see, but what you *feel*.” His eyes held mine, a silent challenge, a knowing depth that made me feel utterly transparent.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “What I… *feel*?”
“Exactly. Art isn’t just about brushstrokes, Jasus. It’s about the soul. The raw, unfiltered emotion. You seem like a boy who understands emotion.” A faint smirk played on his lips. “*Galat hoon kya main*?”
My cheeks flushed *laal* crimson. He saw me. He *really* saw me. “No, Sir. You’re… not wrong.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his gaze intense. “Jasus, I’ve noticed you. You have a certain… intensity. A certain way you look at things. At people.” His voice dropped, a low murmur that sent a jolt through my entire body. “At me.”
My breath hitched. My carefully constructed facade crumbled. “Sir, I… I don’t know what you mean.” The lie felt thin, transparent.
“*Nahi kya*?” He pushed his chair back, stood, and walked around the desk, stopping right beside me. His proximity was a physical force, a heat radiating from him. My eyes, wide and panicked, traced the strong line of his thigh under his trousers, the broad expanse of his chest beneath his shirt. “Your *aankhein*, Jasus. They speak volumes. They scream a secret.” He lowered his voice further, a whisper that brushed my ear, sending goosebumps marching down my arms. “*Tum gay ho, Jasus, hai na?*”
The words, spoken so softly, yet with such certainty, felt like a punch to the gut and a liberation all at once. My entire body tensed, then sagged. I couldn’t deny it. Not to him. Not now. “*Haan*, Sir.” My voice was barely a whisper. “I am.”
He let out a low, satisfied hum. “I knew it.” He moved, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder, a gentle weight that felt electric. His fingers, long and strong, kneaded slightly. “And you have a crush on me, don’t you?”
My head snapped up. His eyes, dark pools of desire, mirrored my own. “How… *kaise pata chala aapko*?”
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, a sound that vibrated through my very bones. “*Beta*, it’s written all over you. The way you linger, the way your eyes follow me, the way you blush when I speak to you.” His thumb stroked the sensitive skin of my neck, sending shivers trailing down my spine. “And I must admit, Jasus… the feeling is rather mutual.”
My jaw dropped. My heart hammered, a wild bird trapped in my chest. “Mutual?”
He leaned closer, his scent, that intoxicating mix of spice and him, filling my senses. “Yes, mutual. I find you… captivating. Your innocence, your intensity. And that cute little bubble butt of yours, *yaar*.” His eyes dropped, a slow, deliberate sweep over my body, making my cheeks burn hotter. “It’s been quite a distraction, actually.”
My breath hitched. He knew. He saw. He *wanted*. “Sir… *arre*…”
“Shubh,” he corrected, his voice a low growl. “*Shubh bulao mujhe*.” His other hand came up, cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing over my trembling lower lip. “And Jasus, I have a feeling we’re about to discover a whole new kind of ‘comparative analysis’ tonight.”
He leaned in, his lips, soft and warm, brushing against mine. It was a tentative touch, a promise. Then, his mouth claimed mine, a slow, deep kiss that tasted of desire and something primal. His tongue, a velvet probe, slipped between my lips, tasting, exploring. I responded instinctively, my own tongue meeting his, dancing in a sensual tango. His hands moved from my face, one sliding down my back, pressing me closer, the other tangling in my hair, tilting my head for better access. The kiss deepened, becoming urgent, hungry. I moaned into his mouth, a soft, strangled sound of pure yearning.
He pulled back, just barely, his forehead resting against mine, his breath hot against my face. “*Mera Jasus…*” His voice was husky, raw with desire. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
“Me too, Shubh,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Oh, God, me too.”
He gazed into my eyes, a predatory glint in his own. “Good. Because I have a feeling you’re going to be very good for me. And I, for you.” He straightened, his hand still gripping my hair, pulling me gently to my feet. “This office has a lock, you know. And soundproof walls. And it’s late. No one will disturb us.”
My heart pounded with a mix of fear and exhilarating anticipation. “What… *kya karne wale hain hum*?”
A slow, dark smile spread across his face, a look that promised both pleasure and pain. “We’re going to explore, Jasus. We’re going to delve into those feelings we talked about. The raw, unfiltered ones.” He led me, his grip firm, around the desk. His eyes scanned the room, then landed on a sturdy, leather-bound chair. “First, a little ‘restraint’ might be in order, don’t you think?”
My eyes widened. BDSM. My fantasy, whispered only in the darkest corners of my mind, was about to become reality. “Restraint?”
“Yes, *jaan*. To heighten the senses. To focus the mind. To make you truly *feel*.” He reached into a drawer, pulling out a coil of soft, dark rope. My breath hitched. This was really happening. He turned, the rope dangling from his fingers, a silent invitation. “Are you ready to surrender, Jasus?”
My body thrummed, a kaleidoscope of nerves and desire. “Yes, Shubh. I’m ready.”
He led me to the chair, his movements deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. “*Achha ladka*.” He gently pushed me down, my bubble butt settling onto the cool leather. Then, with an expert touch, he began to bind my wrists, knotting the rope around them and securing them to the chair arms. The rope felt surprisingly soft, yet undeniably firm. Each loop tightened, a delicious constriction that sent shivers through me. My hands were held fast, unable to move.
“Is this okay, Jasus?” His voice was a low rumble, his fingers brushing against my skin as he worked. “Tell me if anything is too much.”
“It’s… it’s perfect,” I breathed, my eyes locked on his. A thrill, dark and potent, surged through me. My legs were next, tied securely to the chair legs, splaying them slightly. I was utterly helpless, completely at his mercy. A blush crept up my neck, a mixture of shame and exquisite pleasure.
He stepped back, admiring his work, a satisfied gleam in his dark eyes. “Beautiful. Now you truly are mine.” He knelt before me, his gaze lingering on my crotch, a noticeable bulge straining against my jeans. “See? Even your little friend is excited.” He reached out, his fingers tracing the outline of my erection through the denim. The sensation was exquisite, a jolt of pleasure that made me arch into his touch.
“Shubh…” I moaned, my voice thick with desire.
He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound. “Patience, *mera bachcha*. We have all night.” He unbuckled his belt, the soft *thwack* of leather on leather echoing in the quiet office. My eyes, wide with anticipation, watched as he unzipped his trousers, revealing a thick, dark column that sprang free, pulsating with life. It was magnificent. Even bigger than I’d imagined, a dark, veined beast that seemed to fill the air with its raw power.
“Oh… my… God,” I gasped, my mouth agape.
He smirked, his eyes gleaming. “Like what you see, Jasus?” He stroked his cock, his fingers gliding along its length, making it twitch and swell even further. “This is all for you.” He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. “And you’re going to take every inch of it.”
He stood, pulling his trousers down, then his boxers, revealing his powerful thighs, his muscular calves. He was all man, a god of carnal desire. He then moved to my jeans, his strong fingers fumbling with the button, then the zipper. The cool air hit my skin as he peeled them down, along with my boxers, revealing my straining cock, already slick with pre-cum, and my round, exposed bubble butt. A wave of vulnerability, mixed with intense arousal, washed over me.
“Such a pretty ass,” he murmured, his hands cupping my cheeks, squeezing gently. My entire body tensed, a delicious ache blooming in my core. He leaned down, his hot breath ghosting over my asshole. “And so inviting.”
He licked a finger, then slowly, deliberately, ran it over my puckered asshole. A gasp tore from my throat. The wet, warm sensation, the bold invasion, sent a shockwave of pleasure through me. “Shubh… *kuch karo*… please…”
“Please what, Jasus?” he purred, his voice a dark caress. He licked another finger, then inserted it, slowly, into my ass. I cried out, a mix of *dard* and pleasure. My body bucked against the ropes, but I was held fast. “Relax, *jaan*. Let me prepare you.” He worked his finger inside me, stretching, teasing, making slow, deliberate circles. Then a second finger joined the first, pushing deeper, stretching me wider. My asshole clenched around his fingers, a desperate need building within me.
“Ah… Shubh… it hurts… but it feels so good…” I whimpered, my head lolling back against the chair.
He pulled his fingers out with a soft *schlick*, leaving me aching and open. He grabbed a small bottle of lubricant from his desk, squirting a generous amount onto his massive cock, then onto my eager hole. The cool, slick gel felt heavenly.
“Ready, Jasus?” he asked, his voice low and intense. He positioned himself between my splayed legs, his cock, slick and hard, hovering at my entrance. I could feel its heat, its pulsing readiness.

Story continues in part 2