No way. He's a slimeball.

You smile at him.

"I don't think so. This pussy has standards, I'm afraid I would not feel you at all."

You kiss your index, and press it on his nose. Classic bitch power move. He pivots to grab your arm, but you've already pirouetted, and his body blocks you from any observers that might come into the hall. Your other hand flashes and grab his crotch, not in a playful way, but with all the strength you can muster, nails first. His pupils dilate and he can't help but whimper in shock.

"Do not. Ever. Bother. Me. Again." You whisper.

You slightly let the pressure down... and you press even harder.

"Ever. If you do, believe me, my boyfriends will be the least of your problems."

You can feel his knees weakening with the pain he's enduring, yet his pride prevent him from collapsing just as much as the fear of increasing the ****. You get close to his neck and lick his skin.

"I adore the smell of fear in the evening. Now trot along and be a nice boy."

You let his junk go. He seems tetanized, his face the picture of shock. You smile demurely as you turn around and walk away waving.

"See you tomorrow, big boy."