â Q U I N N â
There is no halfway or lackadaisical away to fight lust. If you're not fighting your sin, you're befriending it. Lust is a pleasure bought with pain, a thrill hatched with unease, a satisfaction tinged with fear, a sin that always ends in sorrow.
The anxiety and sleeplessness are driving me mad, and I know only one way to get rid of it. As I walk down this hallway, the silence feels heavy, my footsteps echoing as I close in on my destination. I need to rid my mind of what's been clawing at it latelyâthe angst of seeing Glenda again, the urge to hear those words I've longed for, and, unexpectedly, Chloe. She's been on my mind lately, in a way that I can't quite put my finger on. She intrigues me, and I don't know why. I feel like I'm on the brink of exploding if I don't find a way to free myself from this tangled mess in my head.
The building is eerily quiet; it's past class hours now, around 8:00 PM. Unlike other departments, this place is completely deserted. Not a single soul in sight, just dark corridors and the hollow stillness that would make most people uneasy. But I keep moving forward, steps steady, driven by an almost desperate need to reach my destination and finally release the tension that's been consuming me.
I'm nearly at the end of the hallway now, my hands itching with anticipation, aching to seize that one thing I crave most. It's like an addiction, a dark obsession I fight to keep under control. But it's not alcohol or drugs; it's something deeper, something darker. As I reach the door at the end of the hall, I notice the dim light seeping through the cracks, signaling someone is still inside. Someone waiting for me, feeling that same itchâsomeone eager to be fucked tonight.
I slid open the door, and there she is, just as I expected. She's perched on the edge of the desk, legs crossed, arms braced behind her as she leans back, looking like she's been waiting for me all night. "You're late again," she says in a low, sultry tone. "I almost thought you'd changed your mind." Her lips curl into a smirk, and she bites her lower lip, her eyes locked on me, almost daring me to take her right there, to lose control right here and now.
I smirk back, raising an eyebrow as I take in her posture. "You know the rules," I say, my voice low and steady. She raises a finger, beckoning me closer with a sly grin, licking her lips as she watches me with that unmistakable hungerânever breaking eye contact. I close the door behind me, stepping forward, each movement deliberate, as I make my way toward her, knowing exactly where this is headed.
As I close the distance between us, she grabs my shirt, pulling my face close to hers until we're mere inches apart. Her breath is warm, her eyes flickering between my eyes and my lips. "Then what are you waiting for?" she whispers, her voice thick with anticipation.
I take her hand off my shirt, reaching into my back pocket to retrieve a small, metal case that looks like a matchbox. Flipping it open, I pull out a thin sheet of paper and meet her gaze, my hand gripping her chin, tilting it to expose the side of her neck.
"Now I'm ready," I murmur, my voice low, dripping with lust as I press the paper to her skin, sliding it down slowly. The thin edge cuts into her delicate flesh, leaving a faint red line that begins to seep. I watch, fascinated, as a trail of blood follows the path, her neck now marked by my touch. A grin spreads across my face, and I let out a soft chuckle as I watch the crimson beads emerge. The sight, the actâit all fuels a satisfaction I can barely contain.
â C H L O E â
Lust is frailâa fleeting, whispering impulse that pales in comparison to the richness of true desire that emerges when lust fades away. It's rooted not in strength, but in weakness. Lust is what drives you to act when you don't truly want to be with someone; love on the other hand, is what makes you crave their presence even when intimacy isn't on your mind.
I'm still not sure if, that last time with Quinn in the coffee shop bathroom, my reaction was driven by fear or pure lust. All I know is I was left frozen. Her mere presence has this strange effect on me, a feeling I can't quite explain. It's as if she drains my strength, leaving me motionless, almost as if surrendering to her gaze, her voice, her touch. And that lingering hold she has on meâit's starting to unsettle me in ways I can't ignore.
I was on my way to the Arts Building to pick up the syllabus I requested from Professor Brown. I like to keep things organized in all my courses; I can't stand last-minute submissions, the panic of approaching deadlines, or being caught off guard by the next topics. Luckily, she had agreed to give me a copy.
As I got closer to the staff room, I noticed some muffled voices. I kept walking, but as I approached the door, the voices grew louder and began to sound unsettling. I paused in front of the door, which wasn't completely closedâthere was a small gap that allowed the sounds to escape. That's when I heard it again.
This time, it was unmistakable: moans, groans, and heavy breathing coming from inside the room. A wave of unease washed over me, and I felt a panic rising in my chest. I wasn't sure what to do. Should I knock? Should I just leave? The thought of intruding on whatever was happening inside made my heart race.
I slowly took a step back and turned around, but that's when I heard Professor Brown's voice cut through the air. "Oh fuck! Quinn!" My jaw dropped at her words. Was she with Quinn, or was she just fantasizing about her? I felt frozen in place, unable to move as the realization sank in. I had suspected that Professor Brown was flirting with Quinn during our class, but this was something entirely differentâand truly disturbing.
Deciding it was best not to pry into whatever fantasy she had about Quinn, I took a step away from the door. But just then, another voice rang out, making my heart race. "Shut the fuck up, bitch!" It was Quinn's voice, unmistakable and laced with a familiar tone. "Shit!" I screamed in my mind, shock coursing through me. Were they actually doing what I thought they were? I was so stunned that I couldn't move from where I stood, grappling with the chaos unfolding just inches away from me.
Curiosity got the better of me as I heard her voice on the other side of the door. Despite my hesitation, I felt compelled to look through the small opening. My eyes widened in shock at the scene before me. Professor Brown was sitting on top of the desk, her button-up shirt open to reveal her red laced brassiere, legs spread open, her head tilted back in pleasure. One arm leaned back on the table for support, while the other gripped Quinn's shoulder tightly, pulling her closer.
Quinn stood in front of the professor, her presence dominating the moment. One hand was wrapped firmly around Professor Brown's neck, tilting it to the side, while the other hand moved rhythmically between the professor's widely spread legs. The sight was more than I could process, leaving me stunned and rooted in place, unable to tear my gaze away from the unexpected scene unfolding right before my eyes.
What made it even more disturbing was when my eyes shifted to the professor. Blood dripped from her neck, yet she seemed completely unbothered by it. Her eyes were closed, and her moans grew louder, filling the room with a heavy tension. "Damn it! You're so good!" she gasped, her words mixing with her labored breathing.
Quinn, on the other hand, was fixated on the professor's neck, watching the blood ooze from the small cut on her delicate skin. Her eyes were filled with an intense lust, locked onto the crimson droplets like they were the most alluring thing in the world. The desire radiating from her was palpable, a primal hunger that seemed to consume her entirely as she leaned closer, completely captivated by the sight of the blood on the professor's neck. Her hand moved faster between Professor Brown's thighs, a frantic rhythm that contrasted sharply with the horror of the scene. "This is so fucked up!" my mind screamed as I struggled to process the chaos unfolding before me.
Suddenly, Professor Brown leaned in, pulling Quinn closer until their lips crashed together. The kiss was fierce and harsh, a wild clash of hunger as their tongues intertwined and battled for dominance. Professor Brown's soft groans escaped into Quinn's mouth, adding an intoxicating rhythm to their heated exchange. I was left breathless as I watched this unexpected scene unfold before my eyes.
"Oh, yes, Quinn! Fuck me harder!" Professor Brown's voice echoed through the room, a blend of moans and desperate pleas as their lips finally parted. Her eyes, filled with raw lust, locked intensely onto Quinn. In response, Quinn's grip on her neck tightened, rough and unyielding, while her other hand moved with even more force between the professor's thighs. Professor Brown's head fell back, her mouth hanging open as her eyes rolled back, fully consumed by the intense pleasure washing over her, each movement drawing out more of the desire that had overtaken her.
But just then, my phone beeped with a new message, startling me to my core. I quickly averted my gaze from the small gap in the door and ducked behind it, desperate to remain unseen. The scene before me felt profoundly disturbing, and I struggled to process what I had just witnessed. Once I regained my composure, I tiptoed away from the teacher's room, my heart pounding. I couldn't bear to see or hear any more of their twisted encounter. As I exited the Arts Building, I finally allowed myself to breathe properly; I had been holding my breath the entire time, my mind reeling from the shocking sight.
"That was so messed up," I whispered, my heart still pounding. I hurried to my car and drove away from the building, my hands shaking on the steering wheel. I could hardly believe what I'd just witnessed. But there was no denying it nowâthat really was Quinn, doing exactly what the rumors had said. Torturing women in exchange for sex? I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Her twisted pleasure, that strange satisfaction she gets from something so dark, was deeply unsettling.