Blackmailed Across the Pond

**While this story is in the nonconsent/reluctance section if you're looking for a brutal, violent rape then look elsewhere. As for what the story has, I would never justify blackmail in real life, this is purely a fictional piece. I'm also really new to writing and this is honestly the first story I've ever wrote.**

Navid had no idea how he'd lost track of time so completely. He'd even set an alarm on his phone as a reminder that the library was closing down early today, but he'd still managed to get lost in his studies. Sequestered as he was in one of the soundproof study rooms, the librarians and janitor must not have noticed him when they did their respective final rounds.

And he, of course, had reflexively turned the alarm off, completely engrossed in readying himself for the coming exams.

Now he had to make his way back to his dorm without running into trouble. At least, that was his first concern, but he quickly realized that locked doors were going to be a much bigger problem. After trying three separate exits, he had to resort to creeping through the dim back corridors that connected the library to a block of faculty offices.

Muttering a wordless prayer to himself and hoping desperately that he wouldn't be caught, he slipped into a labyrinth of hallways with rich carpets and portraits of old, distinguished teachers staring daggers at him.

He still hadn't gotten used to just how posh everything was over here in England. It was so different from America, and as far as his progress adjusting was concerned, the most he could say was that he'd finally started using posh appropriately.

All the signage he saw directed the way to the various departments, but he wasn't looking for the Psychology wing. All he wanted was an exit, and yet he couldn't find a single hint.

After several more wrong turns, his luck got even worse because he didn't find the way out, but rather became slowly aware of a distant, disturbing noise. It was repeating in a rhythm, a peculiar wetness that instantly gave him goosebumps.

Without even realizing it, he'd taken his phone out.

"Not like I'm about to die and this will be the only evidence of what happened to me," he muttered to himself with a weak chuckle.

That would be ridiculous. But he still hit record and advanced a little deeper down the hallway, perversely fascinated by the sound that was drawing him onward.

He vaguely realized that he was passing by the offices that belonged to teachers from his department, but he wasn't looking at any of the nameplates. His attention was solely on the maddening sound as sweat beaded on his forehead.

It was slick and heavy, and from time to time, it was punctuated by what sounded like a terrible groan. He wasn't about to stumble onto a murder scene, was he?

In the back of his head, he understood though. On a primal level, he knew exactly what he was hearing, but it seemed so impossible that he couldn't even consider the possibility.

And then, as he rounded a corner, the sound grew much louder. There was a single window up ahead, allowing whoever was in the office to look out.

Of course, that also meant that it let anyone outside see in.

He crept closer, his phone out and recording. He didn't even breathe for fear that he would be discovered.

Seconds stretched until it felt like an eternity, and his lungs were nearly to the point of bursting. He was painfully aware of his own heartbeat, yet he couldn't stop.

But then he caught a glimpse through the corner of the window, and all other thoughts vanished. He could think of nothing but the taboo, intoxicating sight in front of him.

Professor Chapman, the young goddess that had every straight boy in her class wrapped around her finger, was perched on the edge of her desk, head thrown back as she took thrust after punishing thrust from a broad-shouldered student that Navid recognized from the soccer team.

Football team, he corrected himself in a daze.

He couldn't look away. He couldn't possibly do anything but stare and drink in a sight that had invaded more than one of his dreams. She was still wearing the same outfit that she'd had on during lecture today, the only difference was that her blouse was unbuttoned just enough to reveal a shocking glimpse into cleavage that she made no effort to hide. Her stunningly white legs were wrapped around her lover, her high heels still on, and her skirt was hiked up around her waist.

Nothing truly untoward was revealed, but it felt dirtier than if she had been completely naked.

Professor Chapman was getting fucked, and she was loving it. Navid had never seen a woman make a face like that before, not in real life. He thought it was just a performance that women did for porn, but this professor was in such exquisite pleasure that her face was completely wracked with ecstasy.

Only then did Navid remember the noise, and it took him an embarrassingly long moment to make the connection. The wet sounds of their coupling were practically echoing through the halls.

He looked away, suddenly certain that he shouldn't be seeing this. But even though his eyes were turned away, he was still holding his phone up, recording not just the audio, but the video as well.

He didn't know what he was going to do with the recording later. He certainly wasn't going to need it to remember what had happened here. Nothing was going to dislodge these sights and sounds from his memory.

Why didn't she have curtains? Why didn't she care about being caught? Why was she fucking students?

Navid had heard the rumors about her, of course. Everyone had, but he hadn't thought they were true. And if the whispered stories about her sleeping with athletic students were true, then maybe the other, more sordid tales about her having sugar daddies were also true.

In spite of himself, Navid felt a painful tightness in his pants. Looking away didn't mean much when her moans and whimpers of feminine delight were the most arousing part by far. The pair of them weren't putting on a show, so there wasn't all that much to see, but the look on her face was more than enough for Navid.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Professor Chapman suddenly looked right over the shoulder of her lover and locked eyes with Navid.

For a long, painful moment, nothing at all happened. She was still being fucked, and Navid was still recording.

But then she looked around in a panic, obviously realizing just how dire her situation was. Navid hadn't read up on regulations at the university regarding teacher-student fraternization, but he knew that this had to be heavily frowned upon.

"Stop." Professor Chapman patted her lover on the shoulder. "Stop!"

"Come on, I'm almost there," he groaned back, completely lost in his own world. "Just a little more."

"No, we have to stop," she pressed. "What if someone finds us? What if... what if..."

Navid had never seen a girl orgasm, not in person. Even so, he still knew that was exactly what he was looking at. In spite of herself and her panic, Professor Chapman's eyes were rolling back and her fingers were digging into the bare, toned flesh of her student.

"I'll get fired," she moaned. "And you'll get expelled."

"Come on, just a little--"

"No," she snapped, her voice suddenly clear. Either the orgasm had passed or she had ruthlessly suppressed her own pleasure out of professional terror.

If her words didn't get through to him, then the violent jerk of her hips certainly did. The thrusting stopped, the wet slapping ceased, and their moaning groans gave way to ragged breathing.

"Fine." He freed himself and ran a hand through his hair, beyond frustrated. "Fine."

Navid had been interrupted while jerking off before, and that was bad enough, but he couldn't imagine how much worse it would feel if you were deep inside a woman like Professor Chapman and forced to stop.

The whole situation felt surreal, but Navid's common sense did eventually get through to him.

He needed to get out of here, now, and at the moment, the only person who had seen him was completely distracted by a horny college student that didn't want things to end quite so soon.

Navid stuffed his phone in his pocket and retraced his steps, hurrying as fast as he could without breaking into a run. He kept looking over his shoulder to make sure that he wasn't being followed, but all he heard were the increasingly resigned complaints of Professor Chapman's stud.

However, if Navid thought that his luck was finally turning around, then he was dead wrong. The layout of the offices was just as labyrinthine as it had been ten minutes ago, and he hit just as many dead ends this time around.

Panic rose when he hit his third locked door. Through the window, he could see the stairs leading down, but the handle wouldn't budge.

Behind him, Navid heard the sound of footsteps quickly approaching. Instinctively, he knew that it was Professor Chapman and not her student.

As he turned around, he was struck speechless by what he saw. If asked after the fact, then he wouldn't have even been able to answer whether his jaw had hung open.

Professor Chapman through the window and across the room was one thing. From his hidden vantage point, it had been mostly stolen glimpses and his mind filling in the details, maybe making her seem even more beautiful than she really was.

Reality often disappoints, but not today. The woman standing before him, with her hair elegantly mussed and cheeks pink with exertion, was far more beautiful than anyone that Navid had ever seen before. He'd thought that Professor Chapman was stunning in class, but seeing her just after she finished having sex was on an entirely different level.

But she hadn't finished, had she? She'd been interrupted in the middle, and a part of him couldn't help but wonder if she was feeling frustrated and unfulfilled. Maybe she would even coyly ask him to take responsibility for his intrusion and finish her off.

And then she smiled at him, and Navid felt his heart lurch.

"Hi there. You're Navid, right? One of my students?" she asked, ever so slightly out of breath. The way her chest rose and fell with each heavy breath was impossible to miss, and it took Navid superhuman effort to maintain eye contact. It would be so easy to look down, especially since he was quite a few inches taller than her at six feet, but he managed to resist. Barely.

"Y-yes, that's right." He swallowed. "Mondays and Wednesdays at noon."

Five five? Five four? Guessing at her height was the only thing he could think of to distract himself.

"Right, of course," she said. "You know, it's kind of cold out here. Won't you come to my office to talk?"

Navid knew that his eyes were widening to the point of comedy, but he couldn't help it. All he could do was desperately hope that she didn't look down and see the tent he was pitching in his pants.

But she did see. She glanced down, bit her lip coyly, and then looked up at him through her eyelashes.

"S-sure," Navid finally managed weakly. "Lead the way."

It was a testament to just how lost he'd been in his flight that it only took about thirty seconds and a single turn to reach the window that he'd just been peeping into.

Professor Chapman gave him a knowing, sultry look as she held the door open for him, then followed her student in.

"Please, take a seat." She gestured to the chair in front of her desk, but she didn't follow suit and take the large, comfortable office chair on the other side. Instead, she perched herself upon the edge of the desk once more, almost exactly like she'd been sitting with her legs wrapped around a jock just a few minutes ago.

Her face was glistening with sweat, and it was clear that she'd hastily readjusted her clothes as she chased after Navid. From this close, he had no choice but to drink in the sight and smell of her.

"Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" she asked in the sweetest tone that he'd ever heard.

Navid shook his head, which earned a sly look from under her eyelashes.

"If you say so. Now you wouldn't want to do anything to hurt your teacher, right?"

Through the fog of arousal, it took Navid a moment to put together exactly what she meant.

"You recorded what you saw, right?" she asked, tilting her head to the sight. It was clear that she'd practiced the move hundreds of times before. It was also clear that it was very effective. Navid nodded.

"Then I think it might be a good idea for you to delete that footage. Nothing good can come of it. You're not supposed to be here after hours, right? I don't want my precious students to get into any trouble because of me."

"Professor Chapman--"

"Please call me Ava," she interrupted gently. So gently that her words felt like an intimate caress.

"O-okay, Ava."

She smiled, satisfaction dripping from her every little gesture. She was so sure that she had him wrapped around her finger.

"Surely there must be something you want," she mused, using her finger to draw small circles on her thigh. A thigh that was sinfully exposed, demanding his attention. "How does getting full marks in my class sound? You won't have to attend any more lectures, you won't even have to study for the exam. You'll have to take it, of course, but I'll give you full credit. Does that sound good to you?"

"No," Navid blurted out. "I want what he had."

For a moment, the two just stared at each other, neither really knowing what he'd meant. He'd blurted out his true feelings without much thought, and though a large part of him was embarrassed beyond belief, a larger, much more animalistic side of him didn't want to budge an inch.

"What he had?" Professor Chapman repeated. "You mean... you want to..."

Navid nodded emphatically. "Yes. What you and him were doing. I want that. If you want me to delete the video on my phone, then I want you to sleep with me."

"Sleep with you," she repeated faintly, still struggling to process exactly what he was saying. "I'm not sure that's possible. You're not exactly the sort of man that I usually sleep with. You're a student, for one."

"So was he," Navid pointed out.

"Yes, but he's a soccer player," Professor Chapman said instantly, as if that explained everything. "Athletes play by different rules. Doesn't full marks sound nice?"

"I'm already at the top of the class. There's only one thing I want from you."

Professor Chapman blinked, looking completely taken aback, or at least as disoriented as a woman of her class and elegance could look. She opened her mouth once more, clearly ready to appeal to him one last time, but then she saw the resolve in his gaze.

"I... I see," she said instead, frowning a little. It was unfair that a woman could look so sophisticated and erotic regardless of whether she was playfully teasing or deep in thought. "Actually, are you sure that you recorded anything?"

Navid pulled out his phone and navigated to the proof, then tore his gaze away long enough to show her his voyeuristic perspective of what had happened.

She reached for his phone, but when she tried to tug it from his grip with more force than it looked, she was surprised to find that the phone didn't budge an inch. Navid had a tight grip on it. Had she thought that he was skinny and completely lacking muscles beneath his loose shirt? Had she thought that she could just take his phone and delete the evidence?

Irritation flashed across her face, which was far preferable to the anger that Navid had expected. He could live with fucking an annoyed Ava Chapman. In fact, it might even inspire a new fetish in him.

With a couple taps of her fingers, she opened his contact list and put in her information.

"My address is there too. Show up at six, and don't be late."

"I won't," Navid said fervently, unable to believe his luck.

Professor Chapman stared at him, her expression unreadable. He hadn't the faintest clue what she was thinking. All he knew was that his wildest dreams were about to come true.

***

Navid ran through his mental checklist for what felt like the dozenth time. He'd rushed to the cafeteria, worried that he wouldn't get another chance to eat and get his energy up. The last thing he wanted was to push his luck with Professor Chapman by asking if she wanted to grab a bite together.

After eating at the cafeteria, he'd gone back to his dorm and showered more thoroughly than he'd ever showered before. Not only had he brushed his teeth twice, but he'd also popped in a few breath mints and broke out the bottle of cologne that he'd been given as a gift upon moving to England.

He hadn't found a need for it yet, and he'd been too horrified at the price to use it on anything less than the most special of occasions, but this had to qualify. If an evening with Professor Chapman wasn't special, then nothing was.

His cock was achingly hard every step of the way, and he'd barely managed to get on his polo and khakis before hopping in his car and driving over to her place.

It was only a single minute before six when he parked, and he halfway considered sitting in his car until he could arrive exactly on time.

Navid quickly discarded the idea when he realized that would mean he would have to wait to see Professor Chapman again. Ava Chapman.

He murmured his name to himself as he got out of his car and hurried up to her front door. It was a nice, quiet, and clearly expensive residential area, one more reminder of just how rich everyone at university was. Everyone but him.

One knock on the door later, it swung open to reveal the briefest glimpse of Professor Chapman's face, followed promptly by a look of mild distaste.

"Oh, it's you."

Navid swallowed. The sight of him wasn't that disappointing, was it? But he had been raised to have manners, so he didn't say what was really on his mind.

"How has your evening been?" he asked instead. "Pleasant, I hope."

She blinked once more. He was starting to very much enjoy the sight of her slightly off balance, almost as much as she enjoyed the sight of her in casual evening wear. She was effortlessly seductive, every curve accentuated by the silk nightgown she draped across herself and tied loosely at the waist. It stopped just above the knee, and to make matters even worse for Navid, she was barefoot.

"It's been good," she said cautiously. "I had dinner, then enjoyed a bubble bath."

She let her words hang in the air, almost as if they were a challenge. Was he supposed to say something about that? Suggest that they might take a bath together?

"That sounds pleasant."

"Yes, it was," she said testily. "In fact, I was rather hoping that you were going to change your mind and not show up at all. I was looking forward to a quiet evening alone, but since you're here already, don't just stand around outside. Come in."

Navid hurried to obey and was immediately floored by just how much class and wealth oozed from the interior of her home. Rich artwork adorned the walls, and he was certain they were originals, not reproductions. There were busts and sculptures, along with a rack of handbags from Louis Vuitton, Balenciaga, and Saint Laurent.

He couldn't help but notice there were a number of different sets of keys hanging on hooks. Just from the logos, he could identify Mercedes, Lamborghini, and BMW. He would've killed for any one of them, but she had at least half a dozen more than he couldn't recognize.

He was way, way out of his league.

"Don't worry, you'll be able to run off as soon as I give you what you want," Professor Chapman muttered behind him, clearly misreading his reaction.

"Why would I want to leave?" Navid asked, genuinely confused. "It must be lovely to live in a place like this. It fits you very well."

She looked around, incredulity as plain as the nose on her face. "This fits me? I don't believe anyone has ever said that before."