Go in.

Dr Pestova is leaning all the way back in her big leather office chair, a look of amusement on her face as you enter. The walls are peppered with distinguished awards, posters displaying feminist creeds and-- shockingly-- half a dozen young ladies from your class. They stand at attention in two columns-- one to each sidewall-- like a military ceremony, with Dr Pestova as commander-in-chief. Though they rest their arms at their sides and have no obvious weapons at their disposal, silently they menace you with cold stares and dipped eyebrows.

The good doctor sits up straight in her chair, and gestures you to come forward. If the commander-in-chief sent you a letter with a cordial apology, and is now waving you in past her "guards" and apparently smiling, then it must be alright, right? Then why does this whole thing feel like a trap?

You don't get a chance to think much more about it as a heavy hand nudges you through the door. You turn and see Albert, the other "only guy" in the professor's class. He looks down on you with an angry frown, apparently annoyed at your hesitation. "Dr Pestova asked you to come in," he growls. And so you step into the spacious office, Albert, the muscle-bound minion blocking your only route of escape. The door closes, and the good doctor Pestova speaks her satisfaction clearly and simply: "Good."

As she steps out from behind the desk you can see Dr Pestova's attire: one halter top cut just an inch below her breasts, a tight miniskirt, and full-length high-heeled boots-- all black, and leather. Seen in this light, the woman looks much more diabolical than simply amused. Your mouth opens just a little-- not to speak, really, but Pestova shushes you regardless.

"You are confused, of course," she begins, checking out your build from head to toe, and licking her lips since she apparently likes what she sees, "but I can assure you that everything is exactly as it should be, and that everything is -exactly- as it seems....-young man.-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" you ask. Suddenly Albert's huge hand reaches around for your throat, **** off anything else you might have to say.

"You will address the Professor with the appropriate respect, MALE." Despite your best efforts, you can do nothing to pry the behemoth's fingers from your neck. Luckily, the good doctor Pestova waves her hand quickly, and the dogmatic cohort lets you go. You stumble for a moment as your heels reacquaint themselves with the floor. There's an urge to scream and shout at these people-- to tell them how insane they must be-- but it's probably best to stay quiet. Besides, you're too busy hacking and coughing anyway.

Dr Pestova chuckles at your discomfort, now pacing slowly around your bent form. "He's a real piece of work, isn't he?" she asks of her servant, Albert. She places a hand on him and feels the contours of his toned chest and abdominals. "Tall, handsome, strong... and dumb as a post." The guy doesn't even flinch at the insult. Only when his mistress takes his buttocks and his crotch in hand does he seem to quiver. "He was easy," she says, "so easy.

"But you are something else, my young gentleman. You are a smart one... and a cute one at that." With those words she moves her hand from Albert's package to yours, holding you from behind and pressing her big breasts into your suddenly sensitive back.

"Girls are easy, too," she explains. "Half the work is already done for me, you see." The voluptuous woman goes into further details, but you can already feel the blood moving from cranium to cock, and staying focused is suddenly very difficult indeed.

A zipping sound puts you on a momentary alert. The doctor slips her presumptive hand through your fly and probes for your sheltered penis. It doesn't take her long to have the full-grown rod out and about and slathering pre-crum onto her smooth palms.

"You will be my favorite ****," she whispers in your ear.