Jan. Week 4: Tuesday planning period- Leah tells Mr. Bill to cum on her face... (Suspicion: +15, Silence: +25%)

She almost said “neither” but she’d read the man in front of her better than that—he wanted a show. He wanted spectacle, not intimacy. That’s what the whole blackmail thing was about. So Leah pulled off his cock with a loud, slippery pop, stroked him with both hands, and looked him dead in the eye.

“On my face,” she said flatly. “Is that what you want? You want to see it? Here’s your chance. Put it right here.”

His eyes went wild. He hadn’t really anticipated that answer but was remarkably glad at how fucking filthy Leah was acting. He cooed his approval as he stood up and started stroking his cock near her face.

“Damn, girl…I knews you was a dirty one.” he said, the words made more obscene by the way he puckered his lips and hunched his shoulders forward, as if he had to shield the act from the gods themselves. He planted one foot on either side of her knees—blocking her escape—while he worked his length in tight, fast strokes, the head glistening and angry-looking.

“Gon’ cum on you like them white gals do in the pornos.” he said stroking himself, his cock’s head brushing against Leah’s face only sent more sensations through him. He began to cum in short dribbles, his first spurt landing on her nose and upper lip, he kept stroking and Leah was glad it wasn’t a ton. Then a single spurt shot out and overshot her face and landing in her hair, he kept painting her as best as he could, moving his cock back and forth across her face.

“Aahhhhhhh fuckkkkkkks yessssss thats it….fuck take that fuckin’ cum.” he gloated with pleasure and a twisted sense of victory.

“Stick yo tounge out.” he said. Leah complied and stuck her tongue out. He stroked his cock on her tongue “Yessss get it all out…”

Leah closed her mouth around his cock and sucked on his cock’s head even though he was well past spent. He groaned in pleasure.

“Damn that’s it Miss Leah…Damn…that’s good…” his eyes nearly went into the back of his head as she sucked him. When he became too sensitive, he pushed her head back off his cock.

She glared up at him, hoping the filth on her face might mask the even filthier hatred in her eyes. Bill just grinned, a predator’s satisfaction in every wrinkle of his face.

He tucked his cock back into the waistband of his boxer briefs, not bothering to wipe it off, and let his gaze roam over her, head to toe.

“That’s good, Miss Leah. That’s real good.” He exhaled a long, pleased sigh, then reached behind himself and snagged a roll of cheap brown paper towels from the shelf above the mop sink. He lobbed it at her feet, like tossing a chew toy to a dog. “Clean yourself up before you go. Can’t have the kids thinkin’ you a pornstar or nothin’.”

Leah snatched it up with trembling hands, aware that every second in here risked someone stumbling upon the scene. Her tongue felt swollen, foreign. She mopped up the mess on her face first, then scrubbed at her neck and collarbone, though the stains on her blouse were a lost cause.

“You done?” she spat, voice hoarse and sharp.

He laughed—a rich, rolling cackle that echoed in the cinderblock echo chamber of the janitor’s closet.

“Ain’t never done with you, Miss Williams, but yeah, you can go.” He gestured at the door with a lazy flick of his wrist. “Just remember what happens if you get any funny ideas about tellin’ somebody.” He tapped his phone, winking. “Ain’t nothin’ easier than sendin’ a little email attachment these days.”

She bit down on a reply, knowing he wanted her to beg. Instead, she finished cleaning up, crumpling the wadded towels into a ball and throwing them into the waste can with more force than necessary.

She didn’t give Bill the satisfaction of a parting glance. She yanked open the door, heart pounding in her ears, and stepped out into the corridor. The cool, institutional air hit her like a slap. She paused, hyperventilating quietly behind the door, and checked the hallway—empty.

On her way back to her classroom, Leah tried to focus on the rhythm of her shoes on the polished floor, on the muffled sound of students laughing somewhere down the hallway. She told herself, Just make it to the door. Just teach the lesson. Just survive until the day is over. Her feet moved on their own, her mind floating half a foot above her head.

Finally, she reached the precarious safety of her classroom, she looked at the clock—her planning was about to end. Had to just endure the rest of the day.