A community college Dean. (Hardcore Oral)

Things were not going well for Reddale Community College. The last competent teacher just left the Dean's office after demanding he double her salary by the end of next week or she walks. The rest of the faculty could be evenly divided into negligently lazy and basically insane. The first group's results dropped year by year. The second group's classes were harder and harder to squeeze into state and federal guidelines. As it turns out you can't count a "history of ice cream" course as a history credit...

So that's why the Dean was basically trying to wish his problem away while staring at the ceiling. And he was THE DEAN. There was no one who would call him by his name anymore. Just "mr Dean", "Son", "Dean", "Sir", "Deany my man!", or "the weirdo in the Dean's office".

Still, the magic faeries of the 9th circle of hell didn't seem inclined to solve everything for him, while the building's ceiling still refused to fall on him. Which was good, because the Dean doubted it would do much. He saw what it was made of. A good dean in this situation would've come up with a daring plan to stall for time with the good teacher, galvanize the rest of the faculty to be better, wow the investors, all while inspiring the students to become better!

Sadly the Dean wasn't payed nearly enough to be "good", so he applied himself to his favorite pass time: procrastination! There were many other small things Dean could be doing, like opening the never-ending flood of mail, reading and rejecting the angry demands of students and teachers alike, or going though the lost and found one more time.

Let's see here... Hat, pen, hat, pen, pen, hat, a single glove, hat, mysterious ornate chest that no one claimed for the whole month, pen, pen, pen... Yeah, this is incredibly good haul. Students usually don't claim their lost pens, so it was a great way to supplement the anemic stationery budget. Most of those pens would definitely be running low, but they would buy enough time for students to loose more.

The hats were also somewhat of a hobby of Dean's. There was higher probability that someone would come to claim them, but the ones that stayed the week got an honorary spot in his hat closet. By now he had hundreds, most of different make, and he enjoyed putting them on while making the rounds around campus.

...He probably should deal with the mysterious ornate chest now. It's been in the pile for far longer than was necessary, but Dean just couldn't believe one could lose such an intricate woodwork and not come back for it. Dean was the one to find it himself, just seating on the cafeteria table long after midnight, while the custodian staff ignored it. When pressed about it, they all gave the same "didn't seem important" line.

Well! Enough was enough! If they'd want it back, they'd already take it. As per regulations the chest and it's contents now belonged to the Reddale! Dean put the chest on the table and looked it over one more time. The wooden carvings on it's black surface evoked something primal in him that he couldn't put his finger on. A warning? A promise? How would you even carve something so abstract?

It didn't matter. The chest was not locked. Dean just had to lift the lid and look inside. For some reason he was sure this would fix all his problems. A treasure like no other. He slowly put his fingers in the 'correct' places, like he was preforming some kind of ritual. Following this inexplicable urge, he pulled the lid slightly to himself, before raising his hands, flipping the wood to reveal...

A dildo.

It was a well made dildo. Dark crimson material that was somewhere between the softness of silicon and the sturdiness of rubber, with designs similar to the carvings on the chest. It's base was made in a form of a pair of plump red stained lips biting down seductively on a metal ring quarter of a way inside the artificial mouth. The weirdest part was the length. No matter how hard he stared he couldn't tell how long it was. What a weird trick of light...

"Mr Dean!" The voice of his secretary broke him out of the reverent stupor. The woman in question was 27 years old, 7 years younger than the Dean himself, was wearing a sharp if somewhat loose business suit with a long black skirt, white blouse, and a black blazer hiding her unimpressive B-cup breasts, and was standing in the door to his office with a packet of papers. "The quotes you asked for this morning. Also Mr Alberto wanted you to call when you are able." She eyed the opened chest, it's contents still hidden from her by the lid, but she was one of the most curious about it's contents for weeks.

"Thank you Sara." Dean sighed. The dildo was not the miracle tool he hoped to find. It would probably fetch some money in the pawn shop, but nowhere near the tens of thousands of dollars he had to find by the end of the next week and for the rest of the year. He started to leaf though the documents he was handed, even as he turned the chest to face the secretary. "As you can see it was just some dumb toy. Would you mind disposing of it while I deal with the money men?"

Sara blushed, but didn't avert her eyes from the crimson member. Dean was half way to dialing Mr Alberto when he had to prompt her again.

She nodded, with the face of absolute determination.

She reached her hands for the chest as the phone began connecting.

And as a cheerful "Deany, my man!" erupted from the speaker, she took the dildo.

And trusted in into her mouth.