Mr Blackwell:Teacher Student Romance

By: S K Quinn

‘I don’t remember promising anything.’

‘Just one little, tiny thing. Please. You won’t regret it.’

She disappears into the bedroom.

A few minutes later, she calls out, ‘Okay, it’s ready now.’

‘What’s ready?’

‘Come into the bedroom and see.’


‘Look, just come and see this. Okay?’

I take a large gulp of whisky and put the tumbler on a glass table.

Whatever she has to show me … it’s not a good idea.

I head to the front door, but as my hand reaches the handle I falter.

My head is telling me to run. Run away, Marc Blackwell. And then you’ll never find out. Never know just how dark you are inside.

I need to leave. I have to leave. I should walk away and not explore this. Keep it hidden. Locked away.

To my head, this makes perfect sense. But my body isn’t listening. There’s something dark and powerful inside that is desperate to get out. It can’t stay trapped any longer. It must swim up to the surface. It must breathe.


The word sense shivers through me.

My fingers slip from the door handle and I take a step back.

Then I turn and walk towards Cassandra’s bedroom.


The bedroom door is slightly open.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

I’m about to cross over. I know that. Cross over and release a dark part of myself. There will be no turning back.

If I was older … if I’d learned how to control my body better … if I had more sexual experience … maybe I’d be able to resist this. But right now, I can’t help myself.

My fingers graze the bedroom door, and it swings further open.

The first thing I see is a candle burning on a bedside table.

I don’t know why I notice that first. But I do.

Then my eyes turn to the bed.

Cassandra is lying fully dressed.

She’s not naked!

Relief floods my body. Maybe everything will be okay. Maybe she just wants to talk. Or persuade me to make love to her in a normal way.

But then I see the ropes. Binding her wrists to the bed frame.


I want to run. But my body pulses and tenses in the most unbelievable way – excitement pumps through me.

It’s just rope. That’s all. And yet the effect it’s having on me …

‘You want control,’ Cassandra breathes. ‘Right?’

‘Right.’ My voice is low.

‘So control me.’ She pulls at the ropes. ‘I’m vulnerable. Waiting for you. See?’

‘You’re sure about this?’

‘Very, very sure.’


I’m rock hard.

‘How can you … I mean, you’re tied up. How can you like that?’

‘I love it.’

‘You love being tied up?’

‘I’m not alone. Plenty of women like a man to take charge. Really take charge. It’s enjoyable. Pleasurable. How do I look to you?’

‘Good,’ I admit.

What the fuck is wrong with me? How can I like seeing a woman tied up like this?

Cassandra frowns. ‘You hate yourself right now. Don’t you?’


‘Let me guess. Violence in the family?’


‘You’d be surprised how often the two go together.’

‘That’s why I’m like this?’

‘You’re not like anything. You just have … a preference. So do I. You want to be in charge. It makes you feel comfortable. Safe.’

‘Do you do this a lot?’ I ask. ‘With men?’

‘As often as I can. Please don’t tell me you’re going to get jealous. You’re not going to ask me to be your girlfriend are you? This is just what it is. Sex. Okay?’

‘What do you want me to do?’

She squirms against the rope again. ‘I’m so helpless and vulnerable. I guess you could do whatever you wanted.’

‘No. Nothing you wouldn’t like.’

‘Well aren’t you the gentleman.’

I go to the bed and push up her dress.

‘You don’t have to be gentle,’ she tells me.

‘Yes I do.’

My hands find her thighs and pull her black panties down.

‘I want you to be forceful,’ she says. ‘Take charge. It’s what I like.’

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