Teach Me

by Ashleigh Townshend

  “That’s what addicts say.”

  “Well, I’m not an addict. And besides, you don’t seem to mind when I can keep an erection all fucking night.”

  That hurts, but he’s right. I haven’t said a word, because it makes him fuck me better. I’m as bad as Tim Pollen.

  “You’ll figure it out,” I say weakly.

  “I hope so. But I have to leave soon. And I need something sweet to help me fight tonight. How about giving me some of that pussy?”

  We should have a conversation. We should talk. Instead, I strip and jump onto the kitchen counter, where Lucas comes over to me and enters me hard. He has to leave soon and this needs to be fast, but he satisfies me just fine even in the short period of time. When he leaves, though, I’m feeling really horny still. I have to grade some papers and I am thinking about Lucas’s cock when my phone buzzes. Remember I said I used to come all over your homework? It would turn me on to know you were grading while your pussy was wet. I left the strap on in your drawer. Take a picture? Fuck, he’s hot and he’s read my mind. I run upstairs to get the toy, get the straps in place, and put it on its highest setting. Then I settle down to read papers, sure to take a nice picture first for Lucas. His only response is Fuck. Tomorrow it’s mine.

  It’s really difficult to focus on grading while my pussy is being stimulated like this and all I can think about is Lucas stroking his cock while he did classwork I assigned. It’s incredibly sexy and I wonder how many times it happened. I am drenched and I squirt everywhere several times while I grade. My comments are probably incoherent, but my cunt feels damn good and the papers are far less awful to read. This is definitely the first time I have enjoyed grading so much. I come one more time and then put the papers away, before I let the vibrator be my primary focus for a while. I drift off after I lower the buzzing, and have pleasant dreams about Lucas and his cock. It’s nearly dawn when they are broken by one of Kade McNamara beating him to within an inch of his life – and when he gets home safely, I decide to call out of work, needing to hold him because it felt too real to lose him.

  Six

  “Lucas, I need you to hold me,” I tell him. “I had the worst dream about you and Kade McNamara.”

  “Fuck that guy,” he says.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Let me take a shower and then I am all yours, okay?”

  He goes to the shower and I realize I need to see him, to hold him. I can’t wait and I go in the bathroom, seeing his ass pressed against the shower doors. This is probably a bad idea, because getting in the shower with him is going to result in us both getting dirty, but I have to be close to him. I step out of my pajamas and slide the door open. Lucas turns to face me and his eyes are full of humor. However, it’s his body that stops me from reaching for his cock and having some fun. There are bruises everywhere. When we’ve fucked, it has been so rough and carnal that I didn’t even notice, and maybe these bruises are all new, but his body is half black and blue.

  “Oh, Lucas,” I say and touch one of the bruises near his stomach.

  “It’s fine. You know what I do,” he says. “This is the result. Some fights are tougher than others.”

  “Was this Kade?”

  He shakes his head. “I haven’t fought Kade, but he is getting my fight this weekend. Which means tonight I can go with you to work at least.”

  I smile. “You can pretend there is no one else there and I’m dancing just for you. And when we get home, I will.”

  “Miss Lawlor, you are wild and you make me feel like I have something to look forward to.”

  “Like this?” I reach for his cock and get him hard. His eyes are wicked and he reaches one arm under my ass and lifts me up, pushing me up against the shower wall. It takes him no time to get into position and enter me, but it’s actually not rough this morning. Something is wrong and I feel like I am watching the walls and the tough guy act shatter as his sad eyes meet mine.

  “I love you,” he whispers and it’s more shocking than anything he has said or done this far. I don’t know how to respond. Love? I don’t love Lucas. I love fucking Lucas. I love how wild he is and how good he makes me feel, but I don’t really know Lucas. I wonder if I would have even gotten myself into this situation if it were not for some of the illicitness of fucking my old student. I don’t want to say anything, so instead I dig my knuckles into his shoulder blade and kiss him hard, riding his cock until he begins to grow rough against his will. I finally get that fucking me is substitution for something, a sense of earning something he doesn’t feel he deserves, and it actually turns me on that it’s as fucked up and corrupt as it is. In the years I have been teaching, I have never fantasized about a student, nor have I had these kinds of thoughts, but with Lucas, I love the raw wrongness of it.

  I ride him faster and he slips a hand behind my head to protect me as he rams me against the wall. The hot water spills over us and it’s slippery and awkward and tense, but it’s oh, so fucking good. I tighten and he slams me back, burying his head in my shoulder, and screams so loud I worry about bothering the neighbors. I clutch at his ass, his back, his head, my hands losing control as I come around him and he meets me in the orgasm. In this moment, if he asked, I would tell him that I love him, because he makes me feel like the world is ending – and I can’t wait for the apocalypse to come.

  We both slow as our orgasms fade and he lifts me off of him. He grabs the soap and rinses me off, being gentle and sweet, as his hand washes me between the legs. His eyes are so sad, and I want to play rough again. Anything to bring back the hard part of him, to avoid this vulnerable weakness that just makes me feel bad about what I am doing. In this moment, I remember he is barely an adult. What if I fuck him up even more than he is already fucked up.

  After we are washed and then dried, I lead him to the bed. “You’re tense,” I tell him.

  “I just want to be good enough. I was good enough until fucking Kade McNamara came along.”

  “You’re good enough,” I tell him.

  “Not for me. I need to beat him. I need to kick his ass.”

  “Well, you can practice.”

  “You don’t understand. Kade isn’t right in the head – and he has no fear. I still have fear. The only way to get rid of the fear is to get so high I don’t feel a fucking thing.”

  “It’s dangerous,” I whisper.

  “It is, but it’s the only way, baby.”

  I want to argue, to tell him he doesn’t need to fight, but something in his eyes says he needs this – that fighting is the only thing keeping him from hurting someone for real. I imagine him losing his parents, then his sister, and I see why, but I don’t know enough about it to get him to open up to me. And he wants me to make it okay by being the idea of myself that he crushed on for years. Getting serious is not in the cards right now, regardless of his immature professions of love. He loves the idea of fucking his teacher and he is transferring that to me as a person. Maybe someday, but now, I can only keep Lucas safe by giving him what he needs most. And that is wild and dirty sex.

  “I want you to be rough,” I tell him. “As rough as you can.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. I love when you are aggressive.”

  He growls and flips me over, pushing me down on the bed. “I can be rough. I can fuck you like the dirty slut you are.”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  He forces my legs apart as far as they will go and then he shoves his entire fist into my pussy. I didn’t think something like this was possible, but it goes in, and it feels fucking good when it does. I jerk my body under him, taking more of him in and I can’t believe how dirty he is.

  “You fucking slut,” he says.

  He bites my nipples hard as he fists me and I realize I called out of work for this. My professionalism is a joke, but Lucas is suddenly the focal point of my life. Or getting laid is. One or the other. I come around his fist and then he pulls it out, forcing me to lick my own juices off
of his hand. I am ready when he starts to fuck me, and I wrap my legs tight around him. He pushes me down harder onto the bed and then wraps his hands around my throat. I don’t think anything of it until he starts to choke me – and then I panic. I can’t remember the fucking safe word, but this is not okay. He grips tighter and I can’t catch my breath, and I flail under him, but he just thinks it’s sexy and chokes me harder, slamming my head back into the bed repeatedly. I gasp, trying to speak, but I can’t make a sound and then I’m scratching at his back, hitting him with my balled fists, trying to get him to understand, but he’s lost in the roughness of it. I look around the room in a panic and remember.

  “Lampshade,” I rasp.

  He doesn’t hear me and keeps pounding, so I try again. The room is spinning and I am growing dizzy.

  “Lampshade.”

  He looks down at me, curious. “What’s that, slut? Did you say something?” He leans in closer and I gasp into his ear. The response is instantaneous. He is out of me and off the bed, looking terrified.

  I try to catch my breath, hyperventilating, and bring my hands to my throat. I feel the bruising starting, and I realize he could have crushed my windpipe so easily. I wonder if Lucas even knows his own strength and I think perhaps it is not safe to keep up with the rough play. Not if it will get me injured – or even killed. He keeps staring, his eyes wide.

  “Miss Lawlor, I am so sorry,” he says and collapses against the wall. He brings his knees up to his chin and he’s shaking.

  I catch my breath and sit up. “Lucas, it’s okay. You didn’t know.”

  “What if I hadn’t heard you? I could have killed you. I am such a fucking freak,” he cries.

  I get off the bed and kneel between his legs, cupping his face. “Baby, look at me. I asked you to be rough. You didn’t know. Now, we know that’s a no-go, but we can still play dirty. I love when you’re dirty with me.”

  He shakes his head and there are ghosts in his eyes that I don’t recognize. I can’t make this better, so I just get up and leave him to relax. I make coffee and sit in the living room, running my fingertips along my collarbone. I don’t play these games, and maybe there’s a reason why I don’t. For a moment, I really thought Lucas wanted me dead. I know it’s stupid, but he has such a fine threshold of control that it’s dangerous to play with fire like this.

  I check my work email, where there’s a memo from the principal about Kade. Looks like the drugs he was on were verified. Meth, steroids, and cocaine? It seems like that would kill a person. I wonder if that’s the kind of shit Lucas has been messing around with, which worries me. And if Kade is on steroids, doesn’t that disqualify him from fighting? Or am I assuming that underground fight clubs have rules and ethics? Of course they don’t. Otherwise, Kade and Lucas and the rest of them would go do it right. Where they would make less money and not need the drugs that I can almost bet that Tim provides.

  By the time Lucas comes out of the bedroom, I’m reeling. “We need to talk,” I tell him. “What drugs have you been messing with?”

  He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Look, they just suspended Kade for drugs. They found meth, cocaine, and steroids in his system. None of which I should be telling you, because it’s a breach of confidence, but that scares the shit out of me, Lucas.”

  “I don’t take steroids. I fight clean. I’ve never done coke. But I do use meth. Most days. It helps me maintain my stamina, stay awake all night and be raging for fights, and it stops me from feeling anything while I take a beating. But it doesn’t make me a better fighter. That’s all me.”

  “I don’t think I can keep doing this, if you’re messing around with that shit, Lucas.”

  “What if I cut back only to fight nights?”

  “What if you just stop?”

  “Miss Lawlor, you don’t understand. I was at the top. Kade is beating me, because he is a dirty fighter and a fucking cheat. It’s my only chance to use a little pick me up. I need to beat him to stay in.”

  “And what if you’re out? So what? You need to get a real job?” I snap.

  “It’s not that easy. You don’t get out. You lose. And you lose a lot. And if you lose that much in Tim’s groups, well, you don’t have to worry about losing anymore.”

  “Are you seeing your life is in danger?”

  “I’m saying I need to beat Kade McNamara. And I need a boost to do it.”

  “I don’t know, Lucas. I don’t think I can continue then,” I tell him.

  He looks at me, his mouth hanging open, and then he turns around, punching a giant hole right through my living room wall. Saying nothing, he gets his keys and disappears. I don’t know when or if he’ll be back, but I’m as pissed as I am worried now.

  Seven

  Lucas never comes back and I head to the club, irritated and worried and a little disappointed. For someone who “loves” me, he ran out pretty fucking fast just because I don’t want him to die. I’m not in the mood to dance, but I promised Leo not to fuck him over, so I am dressed and ready when he comes to get me. I didn’t give my notice yet. I figure I will tell him at the end of the weekend, since I only have one shift during the week. I don’t want to tell him tonight and have it be uncomfortable for days. Also, and I doubt Leo would do this, plenty of clubs have been known to give the dancers who are abandoning them their most difficult clients – and I am not in the mood to be groped by a bachelor party.

  I do my number and my heart’s not in it, but not one guy watching notices. As always, they cheer loudly when I flash them my pussy at the end, and I walk out with a huge collection of cash. The weekends are always good for this.

  Leo comes to get me about twenty minutes later. No private room bookings yet, but I do have a lap dance request. I get back into my schoolgirl get up and go to my client. He’s sitting in the back, toward one of the bars, and he leans back in the chair when he sees me approach.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he says. “Bring that sweet thing over here and come to Papa.”

  Ew, I think, although he is old enough to actually be my papa. I lean down and give him a great look down my shirt at my tits, and then I straddle him and start rubbing myself against his crotch. His bulge grows immediately, but it’s disappointing after days with Lucas. Besides, this guy is not getting anything else from me, but still, it’s more fun when they’re packing. I grind on him, but then he does the forbidden and squeezes my tits. I step back, off of his lap, and he whines, “Oh, come on. Just let me play with them.”

  “You don’t get to touch,” I remind him. “The only way you get to touch is if you pony up a hell of a lot more cash – and we can take this somewhere private.” I hate even making the offer, but he honestly doesn’t look like he could afford a private room anyway.

  “Bitch. You shake your tits at guys and think you can stop us.” He gets up and grabs me, wrapping one arm around my waist tightly, and shoves his face into my chest. I’m about to call for Leo when suddenly a fist comes from my right, makes contact with Papa’s face, and he soars across the floor. I look down at him, now several feet away and on the floor, and blood is pouring from his nose. It definitely looks broken.

  “You fucking asshole,” Papa yells and stands up, going for the fist, which I know realize is connected to Lucas’s body. He can’t do shit against Lucas, but Lucas is wild. He pounds on the guy, even when Papa collapses to the floor and begs him to stop. The punches continue to fly, and I think Lucas might just kill him. Leo comes running, but no one can intervene. Papa is on the floor, broken and bloody, and Lucas will not stop.

  “Stop,” I beg. “You’re going to kill him!”

  “Good. He fucking deserves it for touching you.”

  I reach out to grab Lucas’s arm, but he shoves me back and keeps hitting Papa. “Lucas!” I scream. “Lucas! Please stop!”

  Everyone in the club has stopped to watch the scene. Even the music is on pause and I’m worried someone will call the cops. I can almost bet that Lucas is
high and he will be arrested for drugs and assault if I don’t get him out of here.

  “Please, Lucas,” I beg and finally, he slows. He looks down at Papa, who may actually be dead, and stops punching. Rising, he grabs me and turns to Leo.

  “If you can’t keep these scumbags from touching her, then she fucking quits.”

  Leo doesn’t protest, just walks away, and I follow Lucas out of the club. I left some things in my dressing room, but I really don’t want to be here if the cops arrive. Given the state of Papa’s body, they will almost definitely be called. I just hope the guy is alive.

  Out in the parking lot, Lucas is a mess, and he punches the hood of his car over and over until his knuckles are bloody.

  “Look at me,” I demand.

  He does and his eyes are blazing. He’s not only high; he’s out of his fucking mind.

  “I hope that fucker is dead,” he growls.

  “No. No, you do not, because you’ll fucking go to jail if he’s dead.”

  “Why’d you walk out on me, baby?”

  “You walked out on me,” I remind him.

  “Because you were giving me all kinds of rules. I can’t follow rules. I need to fight and I need to win and I need any resource I can use.”

  “Lucas, you are fucking out of control right now, because you probably went and used that resource this afternoon. Even though you don’t even have a fight this weekend.”

  He punches the car again. “Did you really think it was cool to fucking remind me? Are you trying to make it worse?”

  “No, but you have a problem and I need you to fix it.”

  “I don’t have a problem, baby, except I need you,” he says and then he grabs me, pushing me down onto the hood of the car. His hands go everywhere, but I fight my way out from under him.

  “Lucas, you are acting no different than that asshole in there and the cops could be here any minute. I’m leaving.”

  I walk away and go to my car, wondering if he’ll follow. He shouldn’t be on the road like this, and the sudden realization makes me roll down my window. He’s still standing at his care, looking like walking aggression. “Get in,” I yell. He does and I bring his dumb ass home with me, thinking we can talk, but the second we’re in my apartment, he grabs me, force me face down onto the couch, and pulls my pants down. He spits on his hand and runs his wet fingers over my asshole. Then he lines himself up and digs his way deep into my ass. He grabs two fistfuls of my hair and screams horrible names at me as he fucks my ass. It hurts, but what hurts more is how oblivious he is to me right now. I go from caring for him to hating him in a matter of seconds, and by the time he comes in my asshole, I don’t even want to look at him. I sit up and spit at him.