I Woke Up Tied to the Classroom Chair, and Nothing Was Ever the Same

That February afternoon, the academy’s air conditioner had been broken for three days. I was twenty-three and had an entrance exam hanging over my head, so I went back to the classroom after the break even though my skin was burning and my head throbbed as if it were bottled up under pressure. I’d forgotten the only water bottle in the drawer of my desk, and I needed it more than I needed to breathe.

The building was silent. Everyone was still outside, in the courtyard, looking for shade. I crossed the hallway almost running, opened the classroom door, and went straight to my seat. The academy’s gray uniform, that white shirt they made all the adults in the intensive course wear, was soaked with sweat and stuck to my back.

I pulled out the bottle, opened it, and poured it over my face and chest without thinking. The lukewarm water ran down my neck and seeped under the fabric. It wasn’t enough. Dizzy, with the walls slowly spinning around me, I decided to sit for a moment on the nearest desk, just for a moment, until it passed.

***

At some point I lost consciousness, because when I opened my eyes again I was no longer on that desk. I was sitting in the teacher’s chair, facing the rows of empty desks, with my arms pulled behind me and tied to the backrest by firm ropes, a deep red that stood out against my skin. I tugged at them instinctively. They didn’t give even a millimeter.

I was completely naked except for the white uniform shirt, unbuttoned and thrown open. The fabric hung off my shoulders and left every line of my torso exposed, my nipples hardened by the cold water, the trail of hair running straight down to my sex. I didn’t understand anything. And yet I wasn’t afraid.

I was still dizzy, but it was a different kind of dizziness, like the first minute after waking from a long dream. I was aroused for no reason. The tension of the ropes holding me in that position sent little shocks through my arms and the back of my neck, and I could feel my cock giving small jolts, swelling on its own, without anyone touching me yet.

Then a sweet, thick scent flooded me, like hot caramel, and two hands came around me from behind. They were a woman’s hands, warm, kneading the skin of my chest as they passed. Her long red nails scratched my nipples and sent a shiver down to my groin. I felt the shape of her breasts pressing against my shoulders, soft and firm at the same time. She didn’t say anything. I couldn’t manage a word either. My cock was hard as a rock, the veins standing out, a shiny drop already showing at the tip.

—Stay still —she finally whispered, her mouth against my ear—. You’re not going anywhere.

The woman circled the chair unhurriedly. I heard the heel of her boots striking the floor, a dry sound that echoed through the empty classroom, until she was in front of me. She was brunette, with dark hair and eyes that glinted with something very like hunger. She wore a uniform like my classmates’, but on her the skirt was far too short and the shirt far too tight, especially over her chest. She seemed older than me, maybe eight or ten years older, a fully grown woman who knew exactly what she had in her hands.

She looked me up and down, savoring it, and smiled proudly at her own body when she noticed I couldn’t stop staring at hers. I was still dripping, helpless, tied to a chair in the middle of a classroom that minutes earlier had been full of people. She knelt between my spread legs. With her eyes fixed on my sensitive cock, she leaned in very slowly and licked just the tip, barely a brush of her tongue, like someone tasting something before deciding.

I let out a desperate moan when she pulled away. She smiled again, delighted to have me like this. She’s playing with me, I thought, and far from bothering me, the thought pushed me even further to the edge. My eyes were wet, not from fear, but from pure impatience for her to touch me again.

After a few seconds she gave in. She took the tip into her mouth and began to suck slowly, with a softness that made me tremble from how sensitive I was. When she let me go, my cock was shining with saliva and my own fluids. And then, without warning, she swallowed me whole in one motion. I felt her surround me with her throat, tight and hot. Wet, obscene sounds filled the classroom. She hummed with pleasure with every movement and I moaned uncontrollably, my hips tense, my thighs shaking.

It was the first time in my life anyone had ever done something like that to me. I had never felt anything like it, that mixture of shame, surrender, and pleasure that emptied my mind of any other thought.

When I felt everything tightening inside me and knew I was about to explode, she pulled back with a sharp sound, a pop that rang in the silence, and stood up. A wet stain darkened the center of her skirt. She lifted the fabric: she wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and she caressed herself there with two fingers, slowly, looking me in the eyes. Then she unbuttoned her shirt and her breasts came free all at once as the pressure vanished.

I didn’t have time to look at her properly. Hungry, she straddled me and took my cock in one sudden plunge, all the way to the hilt. I saw stars. Her insides gripped me with a force I hadn’t expected, wet and burning. She started moving with a constant slap of flesh on flesh, riding me like her life depended on it, openly moaning as she wrapped her arms around my head and her breasts bounced against my face.

My cheeks were damp, my whole body vibrating, the tip of my cock pounding against her depths again and again. And just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, she stopped. With a long moan she stood up and left me exposed, pink and throbbing, a breath away from bursting. She winked at me, calmly fixed her shirt with cruel composure, and walked out of the classroom without looking back.

I was beside myself. Desperate, aching, with the ropes marking my arms and a need surging through my whole body. Come back, I wanted to shout, but no sound came out.

***

I don’t know how much time passed. The next thing I heard was the back door of the classroom opening again. A blond guy, about my age, came in wearing the same uniform I had on before I woke up tied to the chair. White shirt, gray trousers, that loose tie nobody ever knew how to knot properly. He walked toward me very slowly, never taking his eyes off mine for a second.

As he walked, he unbuckled his belt. The buckle hit the floor when he let his trousers drop, and that metallic sound forced me to hold back a gasp. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath either. He left his shirt on, stroked himself a couple of times, slowly, and kept looking at me with an expression of pure desire, as if I were the only thing that mattered in that building.

I must have been a pathetic sight: my face wet, my muscles tense from the pleasure I couldn’t release, my cock swollen to the point of pain. On him, though, hunger shone on his face. When he was close enough for the tip of his cock to be level with my mouth, he turned around and leaned forward.

He presented me with the image of his entrance, taut and ready, and of firm, pure muscle cheeks with a perfect shape. My hands itched to grab him. My cock throbbed as if desperate to sink into that narrow hollow that seemed to be crying out to be filled.

Looking at me over his shoulder, the guy grabbed my shaft and guided it toward himself. He was much tighter than she had been; it took several seconds to get all of me in. The tightness squeezed me from every side, almost unbearable. And when he started moving his hips I couldn’t help thrusting mine up, burying myself in him with a rough groan. His low gasps mixed with mine in the deserted classroom.

In the last thrusts everything became unbearably intense. I could feel every part of my body at once: my broken breathing hunting for air, sweat running down my neck and torso, the ropes biting into my arms, the brush of my back against the padded chair back, my bare feet planted firmly on the floor. His body gave me room to go in and in, over and over, while I screamed with my mouth open, my eyes wet, out of my mind.

I exploded inside him with a force that shook me to my core. Everything I had been holding in for weeks discharged at once, filling him, spilling out. The guy didn’t stop: he kept moving slowly, stretching my orgasm until my body ran out of strength, wracked by spasms I couldn’t control, my mind floating in a white cloud. Sated. Complete. Empty in the best possible sense.

***

I opened my eyes with a start. I was lying on the desk at the back of the classroom, fully dressed, my shirt soaked with sweat and the empty water bottle rolling across the floor. The murmur of my classmates was coming back from the courtyard. There were no ropes, no brunette woman, no blond guy. Just the hot air and my heart beating like a drum.

I sat up slowly, my legs trembling, and checked that I was still hard as a rock beneath my gray trousers. It took me a long while to calm down, pretending to look for something in my backpack while the others took their seats.

Since that day I haven’t been able to walk into that classroom without my body betraying me. I sit at my desk, look at the teacher’s chair, and I’m tied to it again, waiting for approaching heels and leaning footsteps. I’ll never know whether it was the heat, the exhaustion, or something my mind had been silencing for too long. I only know that every night I close my eyes and wish I could fall asleep right there again.