Fortune Favors the Bold

You make a decision and restore time to its proper flow. Glynda didn't notice a thing.

"If it was **** then why didn't you stop us Professor Goodwitch?" you ask as you shift to go on the attack.

"Excuse me?" she says, taken slightly aback by your thinly veiled insinuation.

"I'm just wondering why you didn't act sooner," you continue, subtly pushing those indecent thoughts you found to the front of her mind. "You're certainly more than capable of splitting Yang and I apart at the time and you said it yourself you had clear reason to believe it wasn't consensual when you heard her protests, but as I recall that was in the middle of the session. Not long afterwards, she became completely consensual once more and yet you still didn't confront me until after the deed was done. Why is that?"

She hardened her gaze upon you, but her emerald eyes showed the barest hint of uncertainty, her mind clearly unable to rationalize your knowledge of those forbidden thoughts.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she denies. "And I'm the one asking the questions, not you."

"Oh but I think you do," you continue, striking now that the iron was hot. "You certainly could burn me for this and the evidence would support your claims, but the question of inaction will inevitably come up and before you know it, your position as Deputy Headmistress of Beacon will be put into jeopardy. How many parents do you think will allow their children to be trained and taught by a professor who knowingly allowed **** to happen right in front of her eyes?"

"That's enough out of you, Mr. Hazelton," Glynda snapped as she smacked her riding crop on her desk, her control slipping out of her fingers and into yours.

This didn't deter you in the slightest, the seed of that forbidden fruit already blooming in her subconscious. Emboldened by your advantage, you stand from your seat and begin pacing. She makes no move to stop you.

"When was the last time you experienced the touch of a man, Professor?" you ask suddenly.

"Excuse me?" she answered with shock. "How dare you ask me a question like that!"

"I apologize, woman then," you say to placate her. "I'm no one to judge, but the question remains valid and everyone feels the allure of sexual release at some point. When was the last time your itch was scratched?"

You slowly circle around the desk as you ask your questions, prying the faintest of blushes out of the stone cold professor and forcing her to avert her eyes. Guilty as charged.

"I'm under no obligation to answer any of your questions," she answers as she turns her back to you, her supple rear firmly planted in her seat.

"Of course not. It would be presumptuous of me to expect you to answer willingly," you agree as you come up behind her.

You can feel her unease rolling off of her in waves, the normally confident and assured Huntress caught in an unnatural moment of vulnerability. Shifting gears, you decide to let the magic flow through your fingers rather than your tongue, and you place your hands on her shoulders. She flinches at your touch, and a tiny wish of submission stops her from slapping you right away. Your hands then begin kneading the abnormally tense muscles beneath her blouse, your work squeezing out an involuntary moan from her throat. You then realize that the key to bending Glynda Goodwitch was to remind her of her needs, then spoil her with those needs.

"So tense," you comment as you focus your attentions on those little lumps of stress curled in her muscles. "You really should let your hair down more often, Professor."

"It's the middle of the semester, I can't... ah... I can't just..." she tries to reason, and failing under your massage.

"Of course you can. You can relax right now. It's the weekend and no one is here besides us. No one but us would know," you suggest. "Because you know what I think?"

"Wh-what...?" she asks, her voice betraying her mind.

You smirk from behind her. Hook, line, and sinker.

"I think you enjoyed being a bit of a voyeur. I think you wanted your position and Yang's to be switched. I think the one you wanted me to be driving into ecstasy... was you."

"You lie..." comes her breathless answer.

"Do I? Do I really?" you challenge flirtatiously as you take your caresses a step further.

You slip your hands beneath her arms and circle them around to cup her breasts. If she was trying to hold her voice in before, she utterly failed now as an aroused moan came from within her throat. One of her hands lifted to halfheartedly stop yours while the other blindly felt around her desk for her forgotten riding crop. Remembering that the instrument doubled as her hunting weapon and medium for her Semblance, a little push of your own will nudges her beloved tool just out of reach of her fingers. At the same time, you lean down and suckle on the erogenous zones in the crook of her neck. She shudders beneath your touch, her earlier defiance all but squeezed out of her.

"Mr. Hazelton..." she sighs with conflicted excitement. "We... we can't do this... it isn't... proper. I'm your teacher!"

"Why not?" you ask as you shift your lips to her ear, your tongue gently rolling around her emerald stone earring. "We're just a man and woman enjoying each other's company. And maybe I like the thought of my teacher taking care of my education in all aspects? Have you not fantasized about a scenario just like this one?"

She whimpers under your suggestions. She was all yours now.

"Mr. Hazelton please..." she begged, the last hints of her resistance leaving her body with those words.

"Call me Michael," you command as you tilt her head towards yours and seal your lips to hers with a passionate kiss.