Trapped With My Teacher

by Penny Wylder

  Now here we are. Everything is different between us, a whole world away from our old lives, unable to return, and yet… In danger if we don’t.

  I didn’t really get worried until last night. Not until we listened to the radio and I realized I didn’t hear any announcements about us. Nothing about a professor missing from the local university, nothing about a student gone AWOL during her ski trip into the mountains. Surely Daddy has called it in by now. Surely he knows I never made it to the lodge. Doesn’t he?

  Still no reception on our phones. And we’re down to the last couple days’ worth of food, by my reckoning. It’s time to start tightening our belts. Cut rations down to half portions to make it last longer.

  Time to start facing the possibility that we might be stuck here too long. Longer than we ever dreamt. Longer than we’re prepared for.

  As much as I’m not looking forward to returning to school, to sitting in Tony’s classroom every day and pretending I don’t know what it feels like to have him fuck me from behind, his thick cock filling me up as he drives into my tight pussy, growling my name when he loses control and comes inside me… Much as I’ll hate that, I don’t want to die here either.

  Tony reassures me. Tells me it’s going to be fine. We have plenty of water, after all, since I showed him how to melt snow. He grins at that like it’s a funny joke. I smile too, going along with it. But I know him well enough by now, after these few days, to see the fear he’s trying to hide from me.

  Neither of us is sure what happens next…

  9

  Daddy's Girl

  Dinner is unseasoned fish, the last of the real supplies. After tonight, we’ll be on a strictly grains and pickled food diet. Neither of us is particularly looking forward to that.

  We sit on the couch, huddled for warmth, keeping the fire low to preserve more wood. We have the blanket over our knees, and our plates balanced on top. Neither of us is eating very fast, either. We pick through our bites, one at a time, alternating between gazing into the glowing embers and forcing another mouthful of dry fish into our mouths.

  I finish first. Tony takes one look at my plate, then cuts his remaining fish in half and slides the portion onto my plate.

  “What about you?” I protest.

  “Just eat,” he says by way of an answer. “You need the calories.”

  I narrow my eyes. “So do you.”

  “It’s not a question,” he replies. He finishes his last bite, then pushes upright, steps into the kitchen to drop off his plate. I scowl after him for a moment, then sigh and finish eating the fish. Not much else I can do.

  When he returns to take my plate in for me, I catch his wrist instead. “Why are you so nice to me now,” I ask, “when you were so mean in class?”

  He stares at me for a moment. He takes the plate and sets it on the little side table, then sinks back into the seat next to me. I keep my hand around his wrist the whole time. “I told you, Corina. I was just trying to push you to excel.”

  I shake my head. I’m tired of that answer. Tired of his half-explanation. Of him dancing around the point. “It was more than that,” I say. “I’ve had professors who were hard on me before. I’ve been given unfair grades before. This wasn’t that. You singled me out, you gave me more shit than anyone else in that classroom. Why? Was it because you were attracted to me?” I catch his eye. Hold it. I’m getting a real answer this time.

  He holds my gaze. Tightens his jaw. “It’s not because of that, Corina.”

  “Then why?” I demand. “Why did you hate me?”

  “I didn’t hate you—”

  “Why did you treat me differently than any of your other students, if not because you wanted to fuck me?”

  “It has nothing to do with my attraction to you. I don’t let that cloud my judgment.”

  “Bullshit.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Is that really what you think of me?”

  “I think the only answers you’ve given me so far are bullshit, yes. And from where I’m sitting, that’s the only reason I can think of for you to have spent this whole semester treating me like garbage. So, yeah, Tony, I guess it is what I think of you.”

  Something seems to snap in his eyes. He tugs his wrist away, breaks my grip. “Then why even bother asking? You clearly already know everything.” He surges to his feet.

  I follow. “Because surely after all of this, I deserve a real answer, Tony. Not some bullshit platitudes.”

  “Of course you’ve decided what you deserve. Spoiled girls like you always deserve whatever they want, whenever they want it, don’t they?”

  My jaw drops.

  He seems just as shocked by that statement as I am, at least. He grimaces, shuts his eyes. “Corina, I’m sorry—”

  “No.” I grab my coat from where I’ve left it beside the front door, from when we went out to listen to the radio last night.

  “Listen to me—”

  “Why, so you can insult me some more?” I throw on my coat. Stuff my arms into it, then zip it up. “So you can act like you know me just because we spent the last week holed up fucking in this cabin? You don’t know shit about me, Professor. That much is clear. Spoiled?” I whip around and grab the doorknob.

  “Where are you going? Corina, you can’t go out there.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” I yank the door open. A gust of freezing wind hits me full in the face. It makes me shiver, double over, clutch my jacket tighter. But it also hardens my resolve. I’m over this. Over this cabin, over playing house, over sleeping next to a man who’s made my life a living hell for the last three months and who clearly isn’t sorry about any of it. Who believes he’s just giving me what I deserve for being a spoiled brat.

  I pull up my hood and step outside.

  “Corina, please come back and talk to me about this.”

  “Talk to yourself. I’m done listening to you dance around the truth.” I slam the door behind me and storm out into the night. I know which way the road is. If nobody’s driving up here on their own, I’m going to them. I don’t care if I have to walk all the way down this mountain. I’m getting the hell out of here.

  10

  Dangerous

  A half an hour or maybe longer—it’s hard to tell time out here—I’m regretting this decision.

  Just like the weatherman said, tonight—the last night of this week of storms—is getting bad again. Fat flakes descend around me, sticking to my hair, my face, melting on my jacket. And I can’t even find the road, let alone follow it. I walked past my car, straight ahead toward the path I drove down to get to this cabin the day I got stranded. But there’s nothing along this road except for snow, snow, and more snow.

  Assuming I’m even still on the road. I can’t tell. Not with the snow several feet deep for miles around.

  I turn around, defeated, realizing I need to head back. However pissed I am at Tony, it’s not worth dying of exposure out here in a failed attempt to find rescue.

  But then I freeze, startled. Because I’d forgotten about the fat flakes sticking in my hair. Or rather, they’re coming down a lot heavier and faster than I expected. Heavy enough and fast enough to start to bury the footprints I’ve left in the snow so far.

  I speed up, jogging back along my tracks as far as I can follow. But after a certain point, the tracks disappear, and despite squinting through the dark night, I can’t make out the glow of our cabin windows anymore, or see the wood smoke anywhere. My chest tightens. Panic starts to set in.

  What have I done? I won’t last long out here. Not without shelter. Not without some indication or way to find home again.

  Then I hear it.

  Faint, to my left, but getting louder when I hold my breath and strain my ears.

  “Corina!”

  Tony. Shouting. Knowing I’ll need it—some sound, some direction to follow home.

  I start to jog toward the sound. A few moments later, I crest over a hill of snow and catch a glimpse of the cabin, its co
zy yellow lighting more inviting and appealing than ever.

  “Tony!” I call back.

  “Corina, come back,” he shouts.

  I’m running now, as fast as my quickly numbing limbs will allow me to move. I didn’t realize how stiff they’d gotten or how deep the cold had settled into my bones until I tried to move. I reach the cabin door, panting, shivering, and nearly collapse when I stumble up to the threshold.

  Tony is standing just outside, in full snow gear. He holds a rolled-up magazine to his mouth to amplify his voice. The moment he sees me, he drops it and rushes to grab me. “Thank fuck,” he gasps, scooping me up into his arms before I can protest.

  I can’t protest, actually, I realize. I’m shaking too hard. And my throat feels dry from panting, running in the freezing cold air. I open my mouth, but the only sound that comes out is the chatter of my teeth.

  So. Cold.

  “Corina, I’ve been calling for you for an hour,” he pants as he carries me into the house.

  An hour? Was it really that long?

  He tugs the door shut behind us and carries me straight to the couch, where he piles both blankets onto me as he turns to stoke the fire.

  “B-but—” I manage to stammer. “We… have to… save…”

  Tony has a mind of his own now, though. He throws every last piece of wood we have into the fireplace, until the flames are roaring, and still I’m shivering. “I tried walking as far as the rope I found in the shed would let me, in every direction. I used that to keep finding my way back to the cabin—I couldn’t find your tracks anymore, though, after about half an hour…”

  I wince. “S-s-s-so… rry…”

  “Don’t.” He closes the fireplace and spins to face me, his expression serious. “I’m just glad you’re safe now.” He steps over to the couch and rubs my arms. “We need to warm you up.”

  Now I need to speak up. “T-tony. C-c-can’t. Need to… s-save wood.”

  “No. We need to save you.” He sizes me up, my chattering teeth and the shivers I can’t stop. My fingertips and my toes still feel numb, but worse than that, my whole body just feels… cold. Tony can clearly see that, too. After a moment’s consideration, he strips off his shirt.

  “Wh-what… about… you,” I manage.

  “I’m plenty hot enough for both of us,” he replies, and tries for a little grin. It fails because underneath I can see how worried he is, how his eyes track my every shiver. He pushes down his jeans, then crawls under the blankets with me. I gasp at the touch of his skin, so warm against my freezing body.

  He starts to strip off my clothes. I’m shaking too hard to protest anymore, or do anything really but stare at the fireplace across the room. At the last of our wood going up in flames.

  What are we going to do tomorrow?

  Tony won’t let me worry about it now, clearly. He pulls off my shirt, my jeans, strips me down to my underwear, and then wraps his body around mine, curved around me on the couch. I grab his hand, but he takes both of my hands—which must be freezing, to judge by how white-hot his skin feels on mine—and puts them under his arms, clenching tight to pin them in one of the warmest spots on his body.

  If it makes him too cold, he doesn’t let it show. He just keeps those steady green eyes on my face, watching me, gauging my reaction. I sink into him and let the shivering slowly pass. Eventually, my teeth stop their chatter, and I thaw enough to be able to feel the heat from the flames, the warmth of his skin.

  I gasp in a mix of pain and relief. Pain because my fingers and toes and the tip of my nose have all begun to burn with the pain of returning blood flow. Relief because now, finally, my bones are beginning to feel something like warmth again.

  Tony, for his part, hasn’t let go of me yet. He weaves his fingers through mine and he’s rubbing the back of my hand, my arm, my fingertips. He folds me into his arms, pulling my body against his warm one, and I almost start to drift off there, eyelids fluttering half-closed as I listen to his heartbeat, feel my body tingling and aching as it begins to recover from my flight. Between that and the cheery crackle of the wood in the fireplace, the weight of the heavy blankets over us, I’m warm enough that I could sleep now, safely.

  Safe. That’s how I feel in his arms. Safe and protected… I’m almost asleep when his voice stirs me again.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

  I blink back awake. “No, Tony, I’m sorry.” I tighten my grip on his hands.

  “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I should have been honest with you. I should trust you by now. I know that. I just… It’s hard to talk about because…” He pauses. Swallows so loud I can hear it.

  I lean back against him. “It’s okay, Tony. If you don’t want to tell me…”

  “I do, though.” He sucks in a deep breath. “Corina, I don’t think you’re spoiled. Not now that I know you. I had it all wrong, because… I knew your father.”

  Whatever I expected, it wasn’t that. I spin around to stare at him.

  He spreads his hands, an apologetic, regretful look on his face. “You know he’s an alum. He’s been involved in the school since long before you started attending—he’s one of our main contributors. He donates more than most of the other alumni combined, and so did your grandfather before him. Your father, though, he takes advantage of that position. Sets all kinds of rules about who can use the money and where and when and for what. He tried to get me fired on more than one occasion simply because he didn’t approve of the direction we were taking this department.”

  My brow furrows. I knew my father was involved in old university stuff—alumni events, fundraisers. I didn’t think he was that serious about it though. Not serious enough to try to fire someone over anything.

  Tony shakes his head. “Anyway, I knew you got into the school because of him. I’m sure you had good grades too, but you’d have gotten in no matter what. And your teachers, they’ll all have given you great grades no matter what kind of work you did because your father was behind the scenes threatening them at every wrong turn.”

  I flinch. I didn’t know about that either. Daddy and I are going to have to have a talk about this, if he’d really done that… “So you took it out on me,” I say softly.

  “I’m sorry. I just, I knew everything he’d done, and I assumed you were in on it, that you’d asked him to do it.”

  “Of course not. I would never.” I clench my fists, my brow contracting. “I can’t believe my father would do that behind my back.”

  “Well, now I know that about you, of course. But before, I… I’m sorry, Corina. I judged you. I took my anger at your father out on you. I made you a target. And I don’t know how to apologize enough.” He gazes into my eyes, his own so full of heartache that I can’t help it. I reach up and cup his cheek. Draw him closer until our lips are inches apart.

  “I understand,” I murmur. “This semester sucked, and I was pissed at you for treating me like that, and today I got even more angry that you wouldn’t explain why you did… But I get it. Really. And I forgive you.”

  He closes his eyes. “I’d understand if you didn’t.”

  “I do, Tony. But…”

  “What is it?” he asks softly, when I don’t elaborate.

  I bite my lip, unable to meet his gaze now. “You were right, the other day,” I murmur. “When you called this dangerous. We can’t do this anymore.”

  He freezes. I look up to find him frowning, eyes intense. “What are you saying?”

  “Tony, I’ve loved this time together. It’s been…” I shake my head. “Against all odds, being trapped in this cabin has been incredible—because of you. Because you’ve been here with me, to talk to, to help me through it. But once we leave…” I bite my lip on a bitter, dark laugh. “I mean, assuming we even get out of this alive, of course. Once we leave, if we ever do… Everything goes back to normal.”

  “Why does that have to be?” He asks it slowly, brows knit, as though this is a real question.

  I b
link in confusion. “I… I’m your student, and you have your job to do, and this was just a dalliance, just some fun—”

  “Corina.” His eyes bore into mine. Pin me in place. “What I feel for you… This is more than fun. I care about you, I want to be with you.” He grips my hands tighter, pulls me back in close to him. I can feel every inch of his body against mine, including the slight swell in his boxers, the only thin scrap of fabric that separates us. His muscles tense against me as he holds me tight. “I know we’d have to be careful for the next few months, until you graduate, until you’re free. But I don’t care, I’ll wait. Corina, I didn’t know I could feel like this for anyone. The way I feel about you…”

  “I thought you’d want me to end it,” I whisper.

  “I want you.” His lips crash into mine, and I sink into him. Let him cup my cheek and pull me in close. I’m suddenly aware of our bodies pressed together, bare skin against bare skin. Even more so when he drops one hand under the covers and slides it along the flat plane of my stomach to my hip, my thigh, clenching my leg, lifting it up and over his waist.

  I arc my hips to angle them forward, until my clit presses against the hard bud of his cock, still constrained in his boxers.

  He reaches down and, in one swift motion, tugs my underwear off.

  I reach down too, feel for the hem of his boxers, and push them down. His cock springs free, the velvet smoothness of it hotter than ever when it digs into my stomach, freed from its constraints. I tug until he kicks off his boxers, and then I let my hand drift back up to explore his cock. Slowly trace his length.

  He drops one finger to slide it back and forth along my slit. I’m already wet with desire, getting wetter every second as he strokes me.

  “Corina,” he whispers into my mouth. “I want you, every way I can have you. I’ve always wanted you, always will…”