Trigger warnings: Non-consent, blackmail, revenge porn, dubious consent, high school bullying, humiliation, degradation, and a forced D/s dynamic.

Note: This story, including all names and people, is entirely fictional and not based on any real life experiences or events.

If you like this story and want to read more, you can find a list of all my stories here!💜 You can also find a list of the parts of this story whenever they are published.🥰

Eight years ago

Cole, age 18

When I started my senior year, I thought sitting behind Poppy was the best thing to ever happen in my life. But it didn’t take me long to realise that it was actually a curse.

Her perfume keeps making its way to my nostrils, and I can’t keep my damn eyes off her. Her hair looks so soft, and I so badly want to know what it would feel like to thread my fingers through it.

I can barely pay attention to what Mrs. Williams is yapping about. All I can see, hear, or smell is the girl sitting just in front of me.

But eventually, Mrs. Williams’s voice makes its way to my ears. “You’ll be working in pairs.” I start to turn to my left, to where George is sitting, as we usually work together, but Mrs. Williams stops me. “Since you usually work with the ones sitting next to you, this time you’ll be working with the one sitting in front or behind you.”

My heart flutters, then stops. Because there are four rows of seats, and I sit at the very back, with Poppy in front. She has no choice but to turn around to face me, which she does, and I can tell she’s not at all happy with this development.

“Hey,” she mutters, barely even glancing my way. I can’t say I blame her. Having to work with the boy who can’t stop staring at her doesn’t sound fun.

But I’m not doing great either. Her face is gorgeous and seeing it up close is another experience entirely. “Hi,” I say, cringing a little at how nervous I sound.

She must notice, because her eyes soften a little. “This is awkward, isn’t it?” She laughs, a truly beautiful sound. “But you’re good with English, aren’t you?” I nod. “I am too. We’ll do fine, right?”

This is one of the things I like about her. Even though she doesn’t like me, she still makes an effort to make me feel better. And she still tries to make this easier for the both of us.

I nod, just as Mrs. Williams speaks up again. “I’ve written a few topics on the board for your presentation. One from each group will come up and pick a topic. Make sure you cross it out so no one picks the same.”

Poppy turns around to face me again. “Do you want to go, or shall I?”

“I can go,” I volunteer and stand. There are several topics on the board, all different 19^th-century American writers. I cross one out, then write Poppy’s name next to it, followed by mine. Our names look good together, I realise.

“Mark Twain, huh?” Poppy asks when I make my way back to my seat. She smiles. “I would’ve picked the same, honestly.”

“So we do have something in common,” I joke, and she smiles a little, which I count as a victory.

We work well together for the rest of the class, all our worries about Brendan or how different we are disappearing for the hour we work on our project.

It’s like we could be friends under different circumstances.

But as soon as we wrap up and head out, she goes back to pretending I don’t exist. She wraps an arm around Brendan, and when he catches me staring, he mutters something in Poppy’s ear.

She looks at me, then tells Brendan, barely audible, “No, he didn’t give me any trouble. We did pretty well on the project, actually.”

Brendan laughs, placing an arm around her shoulder and leading her away from me. “I bet he made you do most of the work, didn’t he?” he jokes, loud enough for me to hear as they exit the hallway.

I catch Poppy laughing, but it sounds hollow. Or maybe that’s just my imagination.

It’s not like it matters anyway. Our time together in class was a blip on the radar compared to the cold shoulder and cruel comments she gives me otherwise.

It doesn’t mean anything, I tell myself.

It doesn’t.

Now

Poppy

“Come oooon,” Brad whines, and I sigh, because what the hell does the kid want me to do?

“Brad,” I say, barely managing to keep my frustration out of my voice. “I told you already. I can’t accept late assignments.”

“Be a little fair, Ms. E. Cut me some slack, I had other shit to do.”

“Be a little fair by giving you more time, despite how all your other classmates turned in their assignments on time?” He nods, and I can barely keep from groaning. “Tough cookie, Brad. Look,” I take a breath, “you’re barely passing my class as it is.” He winces, but I keep going. “If you want to pass, then you need to finish all the remaining projects for the rest of the year on time. I’m not going to be able to give you more than that.”

He tilts his head like I’m a puzzle he has to figure out. “So…If I do all your assignments, I’ll pass?”

“If you put real effort in, yes. But if you miss even one, I’ll be forced to fail you, Brad. I’m sorry.”

“Got it.” He nods. “Thanks, Poppy. You’re the best.”

“Ms. Eaton,” I correct, pointing my pen at him.

He places a hand on his heart, like he’s offended. “I thought we were on a first name basis. Damn.”

“You thought wrong.” I go to grab the stack of assignments from my class. “Have a nice afternoon.”

I frown when he doesn’t leave, then look up at him. “So, Ms. Eaton…” he starts, and I instantly know where this is going. “You know, my 18^th birthday is in a couple weeks. So, after graduation, maybe you and I could–“

“Not happening.” I point at the door with my pen. I’ve had enough of high schoolers today. “See you tomorrow, Brad.”

He chuckles, but I don’t look at him as he leaves. I’m already behind on grading and having a student complaining about my very lenient deadlines is not something I’m interested in indulging. It’s the end of the day, and I’m fucking desperate to get home.

And grading is one of my few distractions from what happened last week.

I’m still not over it, and I don’t think I will be for a while. How Cole lied to me so he could fuck my mouth and humiliate me. I’ve thought about what happened a lot (no, not to masturbate to, even if it was tempting), and the only conclusion I can come to was that it was some twisted revenge thing. That he got off on humiliating the girl who used to tease him back in high school.

It seems ridiculous to me. I mean, sure, I did some messed up things. Things I regret, that I should probably apologise for. But Brendan did most of it, anyway. And I still don’t think I deserve that kind of humiliation for something I did as a kid.

I mean, he made me call him Master for fuck sake.

Ava has been asking me about what happened that night, but I’ve been evasive. I don’t want to lay the blame on Cole and risk him telling Jay and Ava about school and cause a split between the group. Not that I’m in the group, but I just don’t want either of them to have to pick between us.

I mean…Not that Jay would pick anyone but Cole. And I think Ava would take my side, right?

Or maybe I just don’t want her or Jay to know all the things I did in school.

I shake my head, trying to clear my head. But just as I bring my pen to the test on my desk, I hear a voice in the doorway.

“It’s ironic, isn’t it?” a deep, masculine voice says. I glance up, seeing the owner of said voice entering my classroom without knocking. He closes the door behind him, and my heart stops when I see that it’s Cole. “The high school bully turned high school teacher.” He comes up to my desk, bracing his hands on each corner of it, then gives me a glare. “Do you treat these students the same way you did me? Do you strut about in your slutty outfits? Do you get off on knowing they jerk off to thoughts of what your pussy must feel like? Taste like?”

I reel back in disgust and offense. “What the fuck, Beckett?”

“Ah,” he says. “So you figured it out.”

“Yes, I figured it out. Now get the fuck out of my classroom.”

He doesn’t get out of my classroom. Instead, he keeps talking. “It’s kind of funny, isn’t it?” He smiles, but nothing about this is funny. “That our best friends happened to meet each other. And only a month after I moved to Seattle?” He whistles, eyes wide. “Seems almost like we were destined for each other, huh?”

“Again, please get out of my classroom. I don’t want to hear it.”

He slams a hand on my desk, and I flinch. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do, Poppy. You don’t get to escape me now.”

My heart is pounding as I push out, disbelief coating every word, “I don’t get to escape you?” I take a breath. “Look, I realise what happened last week was probably some fucked up revenge thing for you, but I’m not interested in whatever it is you have to say.” I pick my pen up again, pointedly ignoring him as I go back to grading. “Now for the third and last time: leave, or I’ll call security.”

“Fine,” he mutters, but he doesn’t leave. No, he pulls out some earbuds and sits on one of the desks, then starts watching something on his phone. Whatever it is, it’s bringing a smile to his face, and I can’t stand it.

“What are you doing, Cole? I told you to get out.”

“What am I doing?” he parrots. “Oh, I’m just watching this amazing video. You should hear it.” He yanks the jack out of his phone, and I stop breathing when I hear what he was watching.

“I’m a good little whore.”

Moans and groans follow, and I recognise the voice as my voice. “What the fuck?” I demand, standing. I walk up to him, but he holds his phone away from me. “Cole, what the hell is this?”

“Oh, this?” He points to his phone, currently pouring out my moans. “It’s this awesome video I got. Here, this is my favourite part.” He brings his finger to the screen, probably to skip ahead, because I instantly recognise what I said.

“Please make me come, Master!”

He pauses the video, then looks at me and nods, as though he’s confirming what I’m fearing in my head. “You didn’t…” I breathe. “No. You wouldn’t.”

“Eight years can do a lot to a man, Poppy. Yes I fucking would. Here, you want a look?”

He fiddles with the screen, then turns it to me, showing me a surprisingly clear recording of me on my knees, mouth full of his cock. He skips ahead to when he had his face between my legs, and he pauses the video when my face is on screen, just as my orgasm crashes into me.

No. Please, no.

Chuckling, he tucks the phone into his pocket. “I’ll even send it to you if you’d like. I have plenty of copies.” He smirks. “Maybe I should send it to Brad. I’m sure he’d love to see what a kinky little whore Ms. Eaton is, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” I mutter, because I can barely speak with the noise in my head. He recorded what we did. He brought me to that room, all so he could record the way he defiled me.

I think I stop breathing, because now it all makes sense. Why he dragged me to that room, why he had me be so loud for him. He wanted my humiliation caught on camera, loud and clear for whoever he shows this to.

His answering smile is pure evil. “I would dare, Poppy. But I know you don’t want that, right?”

I shake my head. “What do you want? Money?”

He laughs, like he expected that answer. “I want you, Poppy.”

“Me?”

“You.” He stands up, tucking his phone in his pocket. “For all of senior year, you made my life hell, Poppy. You and Brendan treated me like a fucking parasite, and for what? Because you, Poppy Eaton, were and will always be a cruel, sadistic little bitch.” I reel back at the insult. He comes closer to me, and I back away, all the way until my ass hits my desk. He crowds my space, his hands bracing on either side of me, caging me in. “I wanted to make you mine all year, but you would barely even fucking look at me unless you were forced to. You strutted about in your tiny little skirts, tossing your hair over your shoulder, all to tease any boy that walked past, but most of all me. You got off on the way you tormented me. And you have the audacity to say you had a hard time in school? Do you know how fucking terrible high school was for me? All the shit I had to go through? And you wanted to become a teacher, all to protect kids from people like yourself.”

He brings his hand to tuck my hair behind my ear, just like he did at the party, but this time, his touch makes me shiver in disgust.

“And then, at the end of our last year, we–“

“I know what we did,” I interrupt, because I really don’t want a replay of that day.

He smirks. “I’m glad you haven’t forgotten.” A pause. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Poppy. From this day on, I own you. You’re not my girlfriend. You’re not my friend with benefits. You’re my fucking property.” I pale, but my brow furrows in confusion at what he’s implying. “What I did to you last week was just a taste. I’m going to fucking ruin you, and you’re going to be a good little girl and let me.”

“No. Absolutely not. Take your stupid threats and get the fuck out of my classroom.”

“Fine by me. I’ll send the video to Brad, and every other boy in your class. Maybe your principal too, maybe every fucking faculty member here, even the janitor. And then I’ll send it to every administrator in the school district.” I shake my head, and he brings his mouth down to my ear. “I’ll make sure you can never work as a fucking teacher again. If you try to run like you did after high school, I’ll follow you and spread the video to any administrator, student, parent, teacher, and principal you come into contact with.” He pulls away, no longer smiling. “I will ruin your life, just as you ruined mine.”

“Your face is in the video too, Cole,” I try, voice trembling.

“It sure is, but I’m not ashamed. Besides, no one gives a shit if a financial adviser fucked a girl at a party. But parents and administrators would lose their shit if their kids had a video of their teacher sucking her Master’s cock and begging to come on his face.” His lips quirk up in a condescending smile. “You know you can’t win this, Poppy. But,” he pulls away, planting his ass on a chair, “it’s up to you. I’m happy either way.”

“Why are you doing this?” I ask with a trembling voice, tears rolling down my cheeks. “What happened in school…it…I’m sorry. For what it’s worth. But Cole, we were just kids. I was a dumb blonde who didn’t know to act or behave. I had a shitty boyfriend and even shittier friends, what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a worse apology in my entire life,” he snarls, and I close my eyes in resignation.

“I’ll go to the police,” I threaten, but it sounds hollow.

He laughs. “Sure, go ahead. I’m sure they will be very helpful. Even if they are, do you think I give a fuck?” I shrink a little further at his harsh tone. “No, I’ll still spread the video around. And you’ll still lose your career. Your life will still be hell, and even if I spend the rest of my life in jail, which I won’t, I’ll still die a happy man, knowing that I ruined your life.”

“I’ll tell them that wasn’t consensual. You can’t prove that it was.”

“Other than how you were begging to come? Calling yourself a little whore? Right. I’d like to see how that argument holds up in court.” The corners of his lips turn up in a smirk, just as he shakes his head. “You can’t win this, Poppy.”

“Please.” I give in to begging him. “Don’t share it with anyone. What do you want me to do?”

“There we go,” he drawls. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He sounds way too fucking pleased with himself. He goes to stand again, but he stays a few feet away from me. “Let me explain this simply. From this point on, you’re my god damn sex slave.”

“What?” I blurt.

“You heard me right. You’re my sex slave. You’re my property. I can do whatever the fuck I want to you. I will fuck you whenever and wherever I like, in all your holes. Whether that be in your apartment or at your dad’s funeral, I don’t give a shit. If I want to fuck you, I will. And the second you refuse, the second you even fucking think about trying to get out of this, to escape me, I’ll post the video.” He walks up to me, then leans down so his face is just inches from mine. “You. Are. Mine.”

I take a shaky breath, then rub my eyes. I already know I’m crying, but now I’m sobbing into my hands at the realisation of how fucked I am.

“Don’t cry,” he coos, like he feels fucking bad for me. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it sometimes, considering how wet you were for me just last week.” I look at him through my blurry eyes. “Now turn around and bend that pretty ass over your desk.”

“What?” I look up at him with wide eyes. “No…” God, not here. Anywhere but here. “This is my classroom, Cole. Anyone could walk in.”

“It’s the end of the day,” he refutes. “No one’s going to walk in. You’re fine.”

I take a shaky breath, my fists clenching at my sides. “I can’t, Cole. Not here.”

“Okay,” he says. “That’s fine.” I don’t fool myself into thinking he’s actually being kind. “I’m not forcing you to do anything, Poppy. I’ll go and post the video if you don’t want to listen to me.” He starts walking away, then throws over his shoulder, “It’s your choice.”

“Wait,” I blurt, hating myself the second I say it. “I’ll…I’ll do it.” He turns, an impish smile on his face that makes bile rise in my throat. Slowly, I turn around and clear my desk of clutter, then brace my hands on my desk.

Cole comes up behind me, and I feel his already hard arousal pressing up against my lower back. “That’s a good little sex slave,” he coos into my ear, and I hate how the humiliation heats both my cheeks and the area between my legs.

He grabs the back of my neck with one large hand, then slowly, torturously slowly, pushes me down until my chest is flush with the desk. Next, I feel him reaching up between my legs, unbuttoning my jeans and slowly pulling my zipper down.

He's taking his time, and I can’t tell if he’s doing it to enjoy himself or if he wants to torture me by drawing this out. It’s probably both.

Once he’s unzipped my jeans, he hooks his fingers into my beltloops and slowly pulls them down. They bunch around my knees, leaving me in just my red, lacey thong.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You go to school wearing this little thing?” He hooks a thumb into the waistband, then releases it, causing it to slap my skin. I gasp, and he gives my ass a little slap. “Dirty whore.”

He slowly peels my panties off me, and I thin my lips when I feel how wet I am. I didn’t realise before now, before the open air was hitting my core, how wet I’ve become. I don’t understand why either. I’m fucking terrified of what Cole will do if I deny him, as well as what he will do if I comply. I’m not turned on by his shit. It’s just my body reacting, I know that.

Neither of us move or say anything for a while. We’re both breathing heavily, and I can only imagine why that’s the case for him, but for me, I’m resigned to my fate. I just want him to get this over with,

But he’s still taking his time. He leans over me, pressing his erection against my ass as his mouth comes down to my ear. “Fuck, Poppy,” he groans. “I don’t think you know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Nine years, I guess, ever since we met at the start of our senior year. Nine years to want to fuck someone sounds like torture, so in a fucked-up way, I guess I understand why he seems so lost in lust.

And I hate myself for liking the effect I have on him. I shouldn’t, even if it’s a sadistic pleasure of mine.

A tear rolls down my cheek when I hear his zipper, followed by the rustling of his jeans falling to his ankles. A second later, he enters me.

He doesn’t go slowly. He pushes all the way in in one swift motion, pushing my hips into the desk so hard that it scrapes across the floor. I gasp at the size of him. I knew he was big from how much my jaw ached around his length but feeling him inside me at this angle is a whole different thing.

He moans, so loudly that I’m scared someone will hear us. No, not us. He’s the one doing this to me, I’m not fucking responsible for the noises he makes, even though I hear him groan when I clench around him.

“So fucking tight, just like I knew you would be,” he groans against my ear before he nips it between his teeth. He’s not careful, so a shriek pours out of my throat when pain shoots down my entire body.

He stays like that, just letting me adjust to the feel of him. I can feel every inch of him. He’s twitching inside me, like he’s holding himself back, and I can’t stop myself from clenching around him too, sending pleasure through my lower half.

I hate this. I fucking hate this, and when he starts moving so, so slowly, each thrust pushes another tear out of my eyes. “God…” I whimper, but it’s not from pleasure.

I’m being used, that’s all this is. He’s made me his slave to be fucked whenever he wants, and all he wants me to do is to take it.

He picks up the pace, causing my desk to scrape across the floor. The noise of the metal rubbing against the floor, the way his hips slam into my ass, and both our groans combine to make a truly depraved sound.

Another thrust causes my mouth to open, and a moan escapes my lips against my will. Cole laughs and gives my ass a slap. Still thrusting, he mocks, “You fucking like this, don’t you?”

“No,” I force out between gritted teeth. “Fuck you.”

He pushes all the way into me with a hard thrust, pushing a gasp from my throat, then he leans down to my ear. “You haven’t changed one bit, have you? You just can’t keep that pretty mouth of yours shut.”

He stands, and I go to reply, but he places his palm over the lower half of my face. I immediately grab at his hand, but he easily grabs my wrists with his other hand and pins them behind my back. No longer bracing himself, the desk pushes forward, all the way until it bumps into the wall next to the whiteboard.

He moans, his thrusts quickening. “Fuck me, Poppy. You’ve gotta stop clenching like that or I might come too soon.”

My eyes widen, and I desperately try to fight him. I try to speak, but my request becomes muffled into his palm.

“What’s that?” he asks, but he doesn’t move his hand, so my whimpered words stay muffled. “Condom?” he asks, and I rapidly nod. I should’ve asked earlier, I should’ve fucking demanded it earlier, but I was panicked and stupid. Now it’s too late, but I’ll be damned if he finishes inside me. “Relax,” he laughs. “I had a vasectomy years ago.”

“Huh?” I mumble into his palm, because why the hell would he do that?  

“Just be quiet.” I whimper, and he pushes two fingers into my mouth just as his thrusts slow a little.

His fingers hook into my cheek, and drool quickly pools onto my desk. “Please,” I mumble around his digits.

“You wanna come?” he mocks, and I shake my head, despite how much I’m buzzing where we’re joined. He chuckles. “That’s too bad. I was feeling kind, but if you don’t want to…”

After another minute of this, his thrusts quicken, and he finishes deep inside me with a groan. I whimper when I feel his release pouring into me. I can’t believe I let him do this. He blackmailed me, all but forced me to let him fuck me, and I barely even put up a fight.

Not like I had much of a choice, regardless. But it still makes me hate myself how easily I gave in, especially when I feel Cole’s come dripping down my legs when he pulls out.

He releases me and gives me another slap to my ass. “I always knew you were a kinky bitch, even before you told me, but I didn’t think you’d love being used like that as much as you did.” He laughs. “You’re fucking drenched down here,” he mocks, cupping me. I writhe a little from the contact, but I still stay laying flat on the desk.

“One more thing,” he starts, and I look over my shoulder at him. “You’re not allowed to fuck anyone but me from now on.” He just smiles when I sputter, then turns to leave. “I think you better get back to grading those assignments now, Ms. Eaton.”

I don’t look at him as he leaves, closing the door softly behind him. I stay there for a while, feeling so ashamed and so fucking turned on.

I need to figure out a way out of this. I know he said he’d send the video if I try to escape him, but what else am I supposed to do? If he’s serious about fucking me over, then I’m pretty sure he’ll just post the video once he grows bored of me anyway, just to fuck me over as much as he can.

That’s all this is for him. Revenge. And I’m not safe. It’s not safe to continue this, I know that. But how the fuck do I get out of this?

After a while, I finally stand, cringing a little at the moisture sticking to my inner thighs. I wobble over to the sink in the corner and grab some paper towels, running them under some hot water before cleaning myself off.

After that, I pull my underwear and jeans back on and sit back down at my desk. I pick up my pen again, but it’s impossible to focus on grading.

I think if there’s a way out of this, it has to be by deleting all his copies of the video. He had one on his phone, and I imagine he has more on his computer at home. He mentioned he lives in the city, so I just need to get there, somehow.

The only way I see that happening is if I go along with this for a while longer until I can convince him to let me into his apartment. If I can do that, I can see if I can find the video on his phone and his computer, and I’m free.

“Okay,” I say out loud. “That’s the plan, then.” Cole might be in control for now, but I’ll fight tooth and nail to get free of him.

Sighing, I’m yet again interrupted when I try to go back to grading. My phone rings, and when I pick up the phone, I see a number I don’t recognise. I choose to ignore it so I don’t have to spend more time in here than I have to.

It’s probably just an angry parent, anyway. I have bigger problems to deal with now.

Thank you so much for reading!💜💜💜