False Submission

The afternoon sun streamed through the sheer curtains of the dormitory windows, casting soft dappled light on the wooden floor. Fine dust motes floated in the air, swirling slowly in the beams of light, as if time itself had slowed down here. The teacher sat at his desk, his finger hovering over the tablet screen, the cursor blinking on the Momotalk chat interface.

Recipient: Kirito Nagisa.

The message contained only one line: "I've thought it through. I'm willing to join you."

His fingers lingered on the send button for a long time. Sunlight shone on the back of his hand, clearly showing the veins beneath the skin and the knuckles slightly white from the pressure. The Trinity campus outside the window was quiet, with the occasional distant chime of bells and the faint sounds of students talking. Everything seemed so normal, so peaceful.

But the teacher knew what undercurrents were lurking beneath this calm surface.

He recalled his meeting with Saintia in the library's special reading room yesterday. The small glass vial lay quietly in the inside pocket of his shirt, pressed against his chest, its cool surface still palpable. Saintia's words still echoed in his ears: "Find an opportunity for intimate contact...like during a kiss...and hold the vial in your mouth..."

The plan is simple. Pretend to submit, pretend to be willing to join the Black Organization, then find an opportunity to approach him and administer the **** through a kiss. Once the Black Organization loses consciousness and the human skin peels off, they can save Nagisa, save Mika, and end all of this.

But the teacher also knew that this plan was fraught with risk. The man in black was cunning and dangerous. Any slight anomaly could arouse his suspicion. And was the potion given by Saintia truly effective? Could that girl who could always see the future really be completely trusted?

These questions entwined his mind like vines, but he had ****. Time was running out. With each passing day, Nagisa and Mika faced greater danger. With each passing day, the Black Clothes might target more students.

He had to act.

My finger finally pressed the send button.

The notification sound of the message being sent successfully rang out clearly in the quiet room. The teacher put down his tablet, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. Sunlight shone on his face, bringing a warm touch, but his heart was ice-cold.

He was waiting.

Awaiting reply.

Waiting for the response from the man wearing the skin of a Naga.

Time ticked by. The sunlight outside the window moved slowly, changing the shape of the dappled light on the floor. In the distance, the sounds of students leaving get out of class echoed through the campus, their cheerful conversations and footsteps mingling, but all of this seemed distant and unreal, as if separated by a pane of glass.

Finally, the tablet vibrated.

The teacher opened her eyes and picked up her tablet. A new message appeared on the screen. The sender was Nagisa.

The message was short, containing only three words: "Come to the dorm."

There were no unnecessary words, no questions asked, no expressions of surprise. It was as if he had long anticipated this would happen.

The teacher stood up, straightened his shirt collar, and unconsciously touched the glass bottle in his inside pocket. The bottle was cold, but he could feel his palms sweating. He took a deep breath and then left the room.

The corridor was quiet, with only the echo of his own footsteps. The wooden steps creaked softly, each sound like a thud against his heart. He descended the stairs, crossed the dormitory lobby, and walked out the main door.

The afternoon sun was a bit too bright. The teacher squinted, adjusting her eyes to the light, and then headed towards the faculty dormitory. Trinity College's campus was beautiful; the ancient buildings gleamed softly in the sunlight, the roses in the gardens were in full bloom, and the air was filled with the fragrance of flowers and fresh grass. Several students sat chatting on the lawn, and politely nodded to the teacher when they saw her.

Everything looked so beautiful and peaceful.

But the teacher knew what kind of darkness was hidden beneath this beauty.

He quickened his pace, crossed the campus, and arrived at the teachers' dormitory building. It was a detached two-story building, its exterior walls covered with ivy, which shimmered with a deep green sheen in the afternoon sun. The building was quiet inside; most teachers were still teaching or working, with only a few windows open, their white curtains fluttering gently in the breeze.

The teacher walked up the stairs to the second floor and stopped in front of the door at the end.

This is his dormitory.

This is also the place where he came looking for him yesterday, dressed in black and wearing Nagisa's human skin.

The door was ajar, and warm light shone through the crack. The teacher could smell that familiar scent—the fragrance of roses, mixed with a faint aroma of tea, and a hint of… Nagisa's natural body fragrance.

He pushed open the door and went inside.

The room was arranged exactly as he had left it. The desk was tidy, the bed was made, and the chairs were pushed back into their original positions. But a subtle atmosphere hung in the air, an atmosphere of... anticipation.

Then, he saw her.

Her long, grey-gold hair shimmered softly in the afternoon sunlight, a floral embellishment swaying gently beside her left ear. Her cream-colored tea dress appeared a warm, off-white in the light, and her legs, encased in dark grey pantyhose, were crossed as she sat on the edge of the bed, the tips of her white high heels lightly touching the ground. The angel wings on her back were slightly folded, and a red halo floated above her head, radiating a soft red glow.

Nagisa Kirifuji.

Or rather, wearing black clothes made of Zhuren skin.

He sat there on the edge of the bed, elegant and composed, as if this place had always been his. His fingers gently traced the texture of the sheets, his movements slow and rhythmic. Hearing the door open, he looked up, his blue eyes gleaming with an enigmatic light in the sunlight.

“The teacher has arrived,” he said, his voice gentle and elegant, but with a hint of undisguised pride hidden within. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The teacher closed the door and locked it from the back. The sound of the latch engaging the keyhole was exceptionally clear in the quiet room.

"You received my message," the teacher said, her voice calm, but with a suppressed emotion.

“Received.” Nagisa—in black—smiled slightly, stood up, and walked step by step toward the teacher. Her high heels clicked crisply on the floor, each step carrying a sense of pressure. “The teacher said…she’s willing to join us. Is that true?”

He stopped in front of the teacher, so close they could feel each other's breath. The teacher could smell his fragrance—roses, tea, and that familiar scent that belonged to Nagisa. Everything felt so real, so…heartbreaking.

“It’s true,” the teacher said, looking him straight in the eye. “I’ve thought it through. Instead of fighting, we should join. You’re right, we can work together… to rebuild Kiwatos.”

The man in black laughed, a beautiful yet twisted smile. He reached out and gently stroked the teacher's cheek; his fingers felt soft and warm, but the teacher could sense the icy coldness hidden within.

“The teacher has finally come to his senses,” he said softly, his voice laced with seduction. “I’m so happy. Really, so happy.”

His fingers slid from his cheek to his chin, then gently lifted the teacher's face, bringing their eyes closer together.

“But the teacher must prove it,” he said, his voice still gentle but carrying an undeniable command, “prov that you genuinely want to join. Prove that you… belong entirely to me.”

The teacher's hands clenched slightly at his sides, but his expression remained calm: "How do you prove it?"

The man in black smiled even more broadly. He took a step back and began to slowly undress.

First, there were the white high heels. He bent down, hooked his fingers around the heel, and gently slipped them off, revealing his feet encased in dark gray pantyhose. The pantyhose were thin, clearly showing the shape of his toes and the fine veins on the instep. He neatly placed the high heels beside the bed, then straightened up.

Next, he pulled on the shoulder strap of his tea party dress. With a gentle tug, the strap slipped down, revealing his fair shoulders and the side of his bra. Then he pulled on the other shoulder strap. Next, he unzipped the back of his dress, his movements slow and elegant, as if he were performing a striptease.

The cream-colored skirt spread out like flower petals, slipped to the ground, and piled up at her feet.

Now, he was only wearing a white bra, dark gray pantyhose, and white underwear.

The afternoon sun shone on him, outlining his graceful silhouette. Nagisa's body was slender, yet beautifully curved; her breasts, encased in a bra, formed an alluring arc; her waist was so thin it could be encircled by a single hand; her hips were round and pert. Dark gray pantyhose stretched from her waist to her ankles, clinging to her skin and outlining the smooth curves of her legs. Lace trim at the top of the stockings created an enticing dividing line where they met her thighs.

The man in black reached behind her and unhooked the bra.

His bra slipped down, exposing his full breasts to the air. His areolas were a pale pink, and his nipples stood slightly erect, gleaming subtly in the sunlight. His fingers caressed his breasts, not kneading, but gently stroking, as if displaying a precious work of art.

“The teacher’s first proof,” he said, his voice seductive, “is… to enjoy me. To enjoy this body as you please… in any way you desire.”

He took a step forward, then another, until he stood before the teacher. The two were very close, close enough for the teacher to clearly see every detail of his chest, to see the nipples slightly erect with excitement, and to see the fine downy hairs on his skin gleaming golden in the sunlight.

“Come, teacher,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her neck and pressing his body against hers. “Let me feel… your surrender. Tell me with your body that you truly belong to me.”

His lips pressed against the teacher's neck, not as a kiss, but as a gentle lick. His tongue glided across the skin, bringing a warm, moist sensation. At the same time, his hands began to unbutton the teacher's shirt, one button at a time, the movements practiced and natural.

The teacher didn't move, letting him do as he pleased. The shirt buttons were undone one by one, revealing his chest. The man in black drew circles on his pectoral muscles with his fingers, then moved downwards, gliding over his abdominal muscles, finally reaching his waistband.

The belt was unbuckled, the zipper pulled down. The pants slid to the floor, revealing a semi-erect penis inside.

The man in black laughed, a satisfied and smug laugh. He knelt down, his knees, clad in dark gray pantyhose, scraping softly against the wooden floor. He looked up at the teacher, his blue eyes filled with lust.

Then, he lowered his head, opened his mouth, and took the teacher's penis into his mouth.

The warm, moist mouth completely enveloped the shaft. The tongue moved nimbly, licking upwards from the base, over every inch of skin, finally settling on the glans. The tip of the tongue circled the urethral opening, collecting the seeping prostatic fluid, and then—deep throat.

The entire penis was swallowed deep into his throat. The man in black moved his head back and forth, each deep throat bringing the glans almost to the very back of his throat. Saliva mixed with pre-ejaculate, making a lewd, wet sound. His hands were not idle either; one hand kneaded his own breasts, while the other reached between his legs, stroking the wet area through his underwear and pantyhose.

The teacher looked down at him, at the man dressed in the skin of a Zhuren, kneeling on the floor, performing oral sex on him while masturbating. The sense of blasphemy, the sense of guilt, mixed with the pleasure emanating from his body, created a suffocating experience.

But the teacher did not forget the plan.

His hand stealthily slipped into the inside pocket of his shirt and touched the small glass bottle. The bottle was cool, but the teacher could feel the warmth in his palm. He gently unscrewed the cap with his fingers, very quietly and carefully, making sure not to make a sound.

Then, he brought the bottle opening to his lips and poured the liquid inside into his mouth.

The liquid was cool, with a faint sweetness and a hint of indescribable herbal aroma. The teacher held the liquid under her tongue, without swallowing, simply letting it remain in her mouth.

Now, all we need to do is wait for the opportunity.

Waiting for the chance to kiss.

The man in black moved his head faster and faster, his deep throat becoming increasingly frequent. His throat muscles contracted rhythmically, tightly gripping his penis. At the same time, his masturbation became more and more intense, his fingers rubbing rapidly through the fabric, drawing out more and more fluid that soaked his underwear and pantyhose.

"Mmm...mmm..." he groaned, but his voice was muffled because of the penis in his mouth.

Finally, the teacher felt he was about to reach his limit. He pressed down on the man in black's head, signaling him to stop.

The man in black slowly raised his head, his penis sliding out of his mouth and bringing with it a mixture of saliva and pre-ejaculate, forming silvery threads that clung to the corners of his lips. He smiled, a smile both beautiful and lewd.

"Is the teacher about to cum?" he asked breathlessly, his voice hoarse from the deep throat. "Where do you want to cum? In my mouth? Or... on my face?"

The teacher didn't answer. Instead, she bent down, grabbed his arm, and pulled him up. Then, she pushed him to the edge of the bed, making him face away from her with his hands on the edge of the bed.

Her buttocks, encased in dark gray pantyhose, were high and rounded, gleaming alluringly in the afternoon sun. The gap between her legs was fully exposed, now slightly parted, and the crotch of her panties and pantyhose was already soaked, the dark water stains standing out starkly against the dark gray fabric.

Without any foreplay, the teacher grabbed the edge of his underwear and pulled it down forcefully. The underwear was pulled up to his thighs, then to his knees, and finally completely pulled off, tossed onto the ground. The crotch of his pantyhose was also torn open, revealing a pink slit inside, which was now slightly open, oozing a clear liquid.

Then, the teacher aimed his penis at the wet entrance and slowly pushed it in.

"Ah..." the man in black let out a satisfied sigh, "It's in... the teacher's... everything..."

This time, entry was exceptionally smooth. Because of the previous oral sex and masturbation, the inside was already sufficiently lubricated. The penis slid in slowly until it was fully inside. The teacher could feel the tight embrace, could feel every fold of the inner walls.

Then, he started to move.

At first, the thrusting was slow, each entry and exit accompanied by a clear, wet sound. Then, the speed gradually increased, and the **** intensified. The sounds of flesh colliding echoed in the room, mingling with the increasingly loud moans from the man in black.

"Ah... Teacher... so deep... it's hitting the spot... ah..." he groaned intermittently, his body swaying back and forth with each thrust. "Harder... like this... treat me... like a toy... fuck me harder..."

The teacher didn't answer, but his movements became even more violent. His hands gripped the black-clad man's buttocks tightly, leaving red finger marks on his fair skin. Each thrust nearly pushed the black-clad man forward, but he braced himself against the edge of the bed.

The thrusting became faster and faster. The penis moved in and out of the wet passage, bringing out more and more fluid. That fluid flowed down the black-clad woman's thighs, soaking her dark gray pantyhose, and dripped onto the floor, forming a small puddle.

The groans from the man in black grew louder and more out of control. His body swayed violently with each impact, his chest arcing alluringly through the air, his nipples hardening with excitement, glistening slightly in the sunlight. His long, grey-gold hair lay scattered on the sheets, a few strands clinging to his sweaty cheeks.

“Teacher…I’m…I’m going to…ah…” he screamed, his body tensing and his back arching, “With the teacher…ah…”

At that moment, the teacher also felt he was about to reach his limit. But he did not ejaculate; instead, he forcibly held back and pulled his penis out.

He lay slumped on the bed, panting heavily, his body still trembling slightly. He turned his head to look at his teacher, his eyes filled with confusion.

"Teacher...why don't you ejaculate..." he gasped, his voice filled with the restlessness of unfulfilled lust.

The teacher didn't answer. Instead, she climbed onto the bed, turned him over, and laid him flat on his back. Then, she leaned over and pressed herself against him.

Their faces were so close they could feel each other's breath. The teacher could clearly see every detail on the man in black's face—the lust flickering in his blue eyes, the saliva on his slightly parted lips, his flushed cheeks, and his sweaty forehead.

Right now.

The teacher lowered her head and kissed her.

The moment their lips touched, the man in black trembled slightly, but quickly returned the kiss. His lips were soft and warm, carrying the taste of saliva and a faint sweetness. His tongue ventured out, prying open the teacher's teeth and invading his mouth.

The teacher did not resist, allowing his tongue to invade. At the same time, he slowly transferred the liquid he had been holding under his tongue to the student.

The liquid was cool, with a faint sweetness and herbal aroma. The man in black seemed to sense something; his body stiffened slightly, but he quickly relaxed and swallowed the liquid.

The kiss lasted a long time. Their tongues intertwined, their saliva exchanged, making soft, watery sounds. The teacher could feel the man in black breathing, feel his body temperature, and feel the rise and fall of his chest.

Finally, the teacher ended the kiss, looked up, and stared at the man in black.

The man in black also looked at him, his blue eyes flashing with a complex light. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but ultimately he didn't.

A few seconds passed.

Ten seconds passed.

Thirty seconds passed.

The man in black was still looking at him, his eyes still open, still breathing.

Nothing happened.

There was no loss of consciousness, no skin detachment, and no change whatsoever.

The teacher's heart was ice-cold.

The potion given by Saintia... was useless.

Or rather, it wasn't a **** that caused the skin to peel off at all.

The man in black laughed; the laugh was both beautiful and terrifying.

“Teacher,” he said softly, his voice full of sarcasm, “do you think…I don’t know?”

He raised his hand and gently stroked the teacher's cheek, his movements as tender as if he were handling a precious treasure.

"Do you really think... Saintia will help you?" he continued, his voice smug. "That young lady who can always see the future already... belongs to me."

The teacher's body tensed instantly. He tried to break free and back away, but the hand in black gripped his arm tightly with astonishing strength.

“Just yesterday,” the man in black said softly, a dangerous glint in his blue eyes, “in the library’s special reading room, Saintia… also became one of my collectibles. And now, I am the one wearing her skin.”

With his other hand, he pulled a small glass bottle from under the pillow, exactly the same as the one in the teacher's pocket.

“This,” he said, holding the bottle up to the teacher’s eyes, “is the real potion. However, it’s not a potion that makes the skin peel off, but rather… a sleeping potion that will put the teacher into a very, very deep sleep.”

He unscrewed the bottle cap, poured the liquid into his mouth, and then kissed his teacher's lips again.

This time, the teacher tried to struggle, but the man in black was too strong. His hand pressed firmly against the back of the teacher's head, making it impossible to break free from the kiss. Liquid was transferred, carrying a faint sweetness and herbal scent, flowing directly into the teacher's throat.

The teacher wanted to spit it out, but the black-clad man's tongue blocked his mouth, forcing him to swallow.

The liquid was cool and slid down my esophagus, bringing a strange numbness.

A few seconds later, the teacher felt his consciousness begin to fade. His vision blurred, his hearing dulled, and his strength rapidly drained away. He wanted to speak, but his lips wouldn't obey him. He wanted to move, but his limbs felt heavy.

He finished the kiss, looked up at the teacher, and smiled smugly.

"Sleep well, teacher," he whispered, his voice growing fainter in the teacher's ears. "Sleep well. When you wake up... everything will be different."

The teacher's vision went completely dark.

Consciousness sank into the abyss.

In his final moments, what he saw was the beautiful yet twisted smile on the black-clad face that belonged to Nagisa.

Then, I knew nothing more.