Jan. Week 3: Monday--Mr. Howard urges Leah along (Tenure: +10, Suspicion: +5)

Leah simply rolled her eyes.

“Is this about school relating things? I do have papers to grade.” Leah said crossing her arms.

“Well, yes actually.” Mr. Howard said flatly.

“Oh.” Leah’s eyebrows shot to the roof with her amazement. “Okay—what exactly then?”

“Attaining tenure.” he chuckled as he saw Leah’s face grimace incredulously. He began to undo his belt. “Please make sure the door is locked. Ah thank you. Unfortunately I won’t be able to enjoy our meeting the entirety of your planning period. I have meetings to get to. So we will have to make this quick.”

There was something perversely mechanical about the way Leah acquiesced, letting her body slip into autopilot as she attempted to quarantine her mind from everything happening in this claustrophobic, wood-paneled den of humiliation. Mr. Howard gave her a practiced, predatory smile, and for the briefest second she considered running. The desire flared and died like a match dropped in a rainstorm. “Let’s not waste any time, Leah,” he said, voice syrupy and low. “You’re a busy woman.”

She was on her knees, but her mind was far, far away—chopping vegetables in her kitchen at home, maybe, or talking with Jonathan about which Netflix show to binge next. Anything to pretend Mr. Howard’s cock wasn’t in her mouth. She closed her eyes, focusing on Jonathan’s face in her mind, but it wouldn’t hold; the principal’s hands, heavy and insistent, threaded through her hair, guiding her head with a rhythm that was as clinical and businesslike as the man himself. He smelled like expensive cologne, Red Bull, and the faintest trace of printer toner.

“That’s it,” he grunted, the velvet of his voice now rough, “God, you really are an overachiever, aren’t you?” Leah barely registered the words; she was thinking about how she should really send her fiancé a sweet text, something to make up for how distant she’d been lately.

Mr. Howard made zero effort to conceal his delight at Leah’s expense.

“Goddamn, Leah,” he said, voice dropping into something greasy and lecherous, “I was thinking about this all weekend.”

She sucked him with a practiced diligence, letting her jaw go slack and her breath become shallow, eyes pointedly unfocused. She tried to isolate the sensation of his cock in her mouth from the rest of her consciousness, stowing it away like an unpleasant dental procedure. Mr. Howard groaned and pushed her head down farther, craning his neck slightly to better admire the bobbing of her head.

“You’re so fucking good at this,” he said. “You could teach a class on it—hell, maybe you already do. You’re the star of the faculty, Leah. That’s what I keep telling the board.” There was a dark, unspoken implication in the way he said it: the board, the job, her future—everything was held together by the taut string of his approval, and if that string snapped, she’d tumble into the void.

She squeezed her eyes shut, almost able to convince herself she was somewhere else. Maybe in the library, grading quizzes, or maybe in her car, singing along to the radio on the drive home. But no mental trick could completely drown out the noises: the wet, obscene slurping; his heavy, approving breaths; the soft, teasing thump of his wedding ring against her temple every time he guided her head with his hand.

“You know,” he continued, “I’ve had a lot of teachers in my office, but none like you. Most just want to bitch about class sizes or ask for a raise. You? You’re always willing to go the extra mile. That’s why you’re going to go so far. And of course...there is that video...”

Leah let out a tiny, involuntary whimper, as if her body needed to signal her brain that, yes, this was still real, however much she tried to disassociate. She felt her mascara smudge as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes; the salt of it mixed with the taste of his pre-cum, creating a flavor she could only describe as pure humiliation. But she kept going, knowing that any hesitation would only prolong the ordeal. Her throat ached, her jaw tensed, and somewhere in her mind she started composing a grocery list, **** for an anchor to normalcy.

“I hope you’re ready for a busy semester, Leah,” he said, utterly unprofessional. “If you play your cards right, you could be here for the rest of your career. I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.” He groaned louder. Leah sped up. She just wanted this to end.

“Shittttt Ughghgh…Hmmmmm yessss…damn if you get tenure Leah…we can do this for years to come…Mhmmmmm.” He was at the edge, and the thought of having Leah as his personal fuck toy sent him over the edge. “Ah fuck I am gonna cum! AGhGH!”

Leah felt the the sudden burst of hot, viscous cum filled her mouth and overflowed onto her tongue. Leah **** herself to swallow, if only to avoid the indignity of it dribbling down her chin.

Mr. Howard zipped up his pants after she pulled away.

“See, now that’s tenured behavior,” he said, beaming at her with the smugness of a man who just secured a tax break. “I’m so glad you’re intent on getting tenure, Leah. You just need to keep it—well, ‘him’—up.” He snickered at his own joke, waved a dismissive hand, and immediately began tapping away at his computer, as though she were nothing more than a momentary distraction in his busy day.

Leah straightened her skirt, and left his office without a word.