You want to help the boy, but your motives aren't quite pure

It takes another day or so before you make up your mind, and decide to call James after all. You're very worried about him, and wondering why he can't seem to stop behaving in this self-destructive manner. It's always been an instinct of yours to be protective of boys, particularly the cute and troubled ones. And he's one of your students too. You know you're the only person who might be able to pry the truth out of James before he does something even stupider and ends up ruining his life, and if that means risking your professional reputation by playing along with his silly games, then so be it.

Or so you keep telling yourself. But that strange dream you had won't stop flickering through your mind at the most inappropriate of moments. Arrogant, snotty James kneeling broken and whimpering at your feet as your eager, willing sex-****, nipples and tongue pierced, cute butt tattooed with your name and his belly stuffed full of your cum. The fantasy never fails to give you an aching erection, and you've had to spend even more time than usual hiding in a locked staff bathroom emptying your throbbing balls instead of working on your important research. Of course you want to help James, but lurking in the back of your mind is the delicious prospect that your dream might just be more true to life than you ever imagined.

As unbelievable as it seems, what if the cute jock is really acting out in so many naughty ways only because he's looking for a strong, dominant woman like you to take him very firmly in hand and punish him as harshly as she wishes for his many misdemeanors? After long sessions spent stroking your cock to some rather **** bdsm porn on your laptop at home, you've often fantasized about taking a cute boy as your own well-disciplined sex-****, his only job to keep your aching balls empty. It's just a fantasy of course, but the prospect is so delicious you find yourself now making every excuse to meet with James just in case you might somehow be able to realize it. Self-deception and your simmering libido keeps you from realizing just how unethical this is. Whenever you start to wonder what the fuck you're doing, you tell yourself nothing's going to happen and you just want to help the boy. Soon you find yourself typing that number he gave you into your phone.

When he picks up and realizes who he's speaking to, the achingly smug self-satisfaction in his smooth voice almost makes you hang up there and then. You know exactly what he's thinking, that even the unattainable and intimidating Ms. Black has fallen for his charms and is about to end up just another notch on his bedpost. Maybe you'll prove him right, just in a way he'll never expect, and afterwards he won't be notching any more bedposts but yours after you chain him to it. As delicious as that prospect is becoming, you keep your voice calm and professional and arrange to meet that Friday evening at a bar on the other side of town. Better that no-one from the college sees you meeting with a student alone, just in case something happens.

Over the next few days, your other problems resolve themselves, like you're somehow subconsciously sweeping them aside for this new game you're playing with James. Poor, anxious Sam gets a nice little pep-talk as he stares blushing up at you while you're hiding your erection under your desk fantasizing about **** James **** with your cock. He leaves your office looking a little more confident, hopefully to make some new friends. With your meeting scheduled at the same time, you email Professor Merchant saying you're not attending the department drinks after all and when your brother calls you quickly realize he's not at all serious about any of his plans and firmly shut him down. Caroline's another story. If she's going to risk your friendship over these silly games, then you don't really think she's worth keeping in your life after all.

Soon enough, you're leaving your apartment on Friday and stepping into a cab that will take you to the bar. You're dressed quite sharply, in a smart black jacket and white collared shirt, with an added flourish of a pair of long black leather boots with small heels that add an inch or so to your already intimidating height. A professional professor looking out for her student, you tell yourself with a smile, but secretly you're hoping the authoritative look will make sure James sees you as someone to submit to and he'll kneel at your feet before the evening is through.