💜 Mavis Dracula 💜 Hotel Transylvania💜 280+ Images in Download-Link
Added 2025-05-05 17:00:05 +0000 UTCThe door clicked shut behind him, locking us in.
I stood by the front row of desks, heart pounding in my throat, the air heavy with the scent of chalk, paper, and something darker — need. I was still wearing my pencil skirt and white blouse, my glasses slipping a little down my nose.
He leaned back against the door, arms crossed, watching me like he had all the time in the world. I shivered under his gaze.
"You really can't wait for after hours, can you?" he said, voice low, teasing.
I shook my head.
"No," I whispered. "I want it now."
He smiled — slow, wicked — and pulled the tie from around his neck.
My stomach twisted in the best way.
Because I knew what was coming.
Because I needed it.
He walked toward me slowly, letting the silky fabric slip through his fingers. I held out my wrists before he even asked, trembling, offering myself to him like a good girl.
He tied me fast — practiced — wrists bound tight but comfortable, the knot pressed against the delicate skin inside my wrists. My breath hitched when he tugged on it, testing it, owning it.
"You look perfect like this," he murmured, sliding a hand up my bound arms to my shoulder, then into my hair.
I was dizzy already.
He backed me up until I bumped against the edge of the teacher's desk. Then he pushed me down — not rough, but firm — until I was sitting with my legs dangling over the edge, wrists tied in my lap, heart hammering.
"Say it," he ordered softly.
"I love being tied up for you," I breathed.
He kissed me hard — messy and full of teeth — his hands sliding up my thighs, pushing my skirt higher. I moaned into his mouth, squirming, desperate, helpless, loving every second of it.
He tugged my blouse open, buttons popping, baring my skin to the cold classroom air.
Anyone could walk past. Anyone could hear.
And I didn’t care.
Because I was his.
Because I needed to be bound and claimed right here — between lessons, between lives, between the masks we wore for everyone else.
When he finally slid into me, it wasn’t slow.
It was urgent.
Raw.
Perfect.
I tilted my head back, gasping, wrists straining against the silk tie as he moved inside me — every thrust a punishment, a reward, a promise.
The desk creaked.
My moans filled the empty room.
The clock ticked loudly on the wall, counting down every second we stole.
When I came, I came hard — writhing against my bonds, crying out his name, my body giving up all control because he already owned it anyway.
After, he untied me with slow, careful fingers, kissing the red marks on my wrists with something almost tender.
We straightened our clothes in silence, fixing buttons, smoothing skirts, wiping smudged lipstick. When we were almost put back together, he leaned close and whispered in my ear:
"Same time tomorrow?"
I nodded. Smiling.
Already aching for it.
