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stringcheezeislife · 7 hours ago

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Beneath The Surface, Part 2

Rating: 18+, mature

Word count: 3.8k

Part 2.

(Also available in ao3)

Warnings: Power play, power imbalance, age gap, degradation, praise, coercion, public humiliation, sex toys, cunnulingus, fingering, no sex.

[I... have no words. On god, never expected this. Please enjoy. Also, very sorry.]

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Hand in hand, you step out of the office with shaky knees.

The hallway is dark and silent, except for the taps of your footsteps and his. Each step echoes, verberating in the dark corridor. With your heart pounding in your ears, blood pumping to your head– you wonder if you’ve gone crazy.

His firm warm grip tells you otherwise.

It's grounding you to reality, telling you that it really, truly happened. His touch, his lips– the look in his eyes. Your throat feels stuck, dry, and you struggle to swallow the lump in your throat as he leads the way, his grip in yours hot to the touch.

You recall what just happened. Truly, you’re a brash idiot. Coming up with a half-assed excuse , to meet him, an assignment? At this ungodly hour? Crazy. A stupid plan. Yet here you are, your palm in his, rough and warm. Walking towards uncertainty.

As you both walked– your legs struggling to catch up– he walked past the intersection toward the exit.

Mouth agape, you struggle to speak up, to mention that he’s going the wrong way, but his silent figure kept it shut. He pulls you closer, fingers curling tighter in yours, his walk clear and purposeful. Finally, you reach an unassuming door labeled ‘maintenance room’, its print faded to the point of almost unreadable.

It was conspicuous, and you can't believe you've never noticed the door before for however long you've been in the university.

He turns to look at you. A small smile tugged on his lips. The door swung open with a push, and you see cleaning items stacked neatly on high shelves, tightly packed. It was small, crowded.

You look at him quizzically, wondering why he brought you here before he pushes you in– your shoulders hitting the sharp corner of the metal shelves.

Closing the door behind him, his body pressed flush against yours, you suddenly gain awareness of the situation you’re in. His warm breath on your lips, the barely lit fluorescent light above illuminates his sharp features, looking down on you.

You open your mouth to speak, but a finger presses on your lips. “Now, now.” He hums, “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

Your clothes rustle against each other, the warmth beneath radiating, seeping into your skin. He had a leg between your thighs– pushing, grinding– contrasting the tender touches of his hands on your lips, thick fingers pushing your hair back.

He drinks you in, his eyes dark with lust. “Tell me something, little miss persistent.” His voice low, the one that demands an answer. “Do you trust me?”

Your breath catches. The weight of his gaze, his warm touches– it all coils around you, suffocating in the most intoxicating way.

“...Yes.”

His lips twitch. Not enough.

“Do you really?” His thumb brushes your bottom lips contemplatively.

You nod. But it still isn’t enough.

“Say it properly.”

“I trust you.” You murmur, barely more than a whisper.

His other hand reaches down, slithering to your neck, your throat– grazing the column of the soft flesh between, feeling the thrum of your pulse. He doesn’t squeeze. Well, not yet. His head tilts slightly, wisps of hair covering his forehead and you muster the will to not push it back, to touch it again; and his voice soft.

“How much?”

Your body is burning, every nerve on edge. “Completely.”

His thumb presses on your pulse, testing.

“Completely,” He echoes, rolling the word on his tongue, as if savouring it. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to me.”

His eyes gleam, something dark lurking beneath. His hand curls behind your neck– a cradle or collar, you’re not sure.

“I suppose that can’t be helped.” He mused, “You’re young. Naive. And very, very desperate.”

His lips ghost over the lines of your hair, his voice now soft. “If I told you to do something, you’d do it? No questions asked?”

“...Yes.”

A long silence stretches between you. His thumb rubs against your throat idly, and then–

“Kneel.”

It isn’t barked. It isn't demanded. It’s a whisper, an inevitability.

And you obey.

A chuckle bubbles up within his chest, low and dark. “Good girl.”

A finger caresses your face, tracing your lips, your cheeks, and tucks a stray hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “You listen so well.” He hums contentedly, almost affectionate.

“Now, let’s see.” He muses, pulling your chin upwards. “If I told you to stay like this until I said otherwise, would you?”

You nod again, but his grip on your chin tightens. Holding you still.

“Words.”

“Yes.”

His smile stretches, pleased. And when he crouches, his palm resting against your cheek, thumb stroking your skin with something eerily close to affection, his next words come as soft as a prayer. “Then let’s begin."

He motions his fingers, flicking it upwards. “Stand up.”

You rise on shaky legs, hands gripping the shelf around for stability. He remains crouched, head resting on his palms as he looks up at you, a mischievous look on his face.

“Good girl.” He says, voice calm and steady. “Now,”

He flicks a finger downwards, a playful smile still on his lips. “Off, please.”

Your heart beats faster. His gaze stays fixed on you, unwavering. The overhead light casts sharp shadows on his face as he stays crouched before you. Although beneath you, the weight of his gaze was enough of a reminder of his control over you. Your fingers hesitate on the waistband, but his chuckles make your stomach twist in knots.

“What’s wrong?” He muses, eyes raking over you lazily. “It’s too late to be embarrassed.”

He held a hand out, caressing a finger down your leg, trailing it down, causing goosebumps to rise along the way. “Don’t tell me you want to back away now?”

Taking a deep shaky breath, you steady your resolve; hastily gripping the waistband of your pants, pulling it down. Your chest feels heavy, every gasp you breathe in feels like breathing in thick fog as the legs of your pants reach your ankles, leaving you feeling naked; your top and panties the only protection against the growing shame in your chest. You feel his gaze raking over you, heat crawling wherever it lands.

He hums appreciatively, a hand latched on your ankles, fingers circling it in slow, languid motions. “Good,” His touch trails higher. “Clever girls know how to take orders.”

He caresses your skin, worshipping your thighs; large hands gripping it firmly yet soft, and each time his finger clenches, you could feel something warm pool in the pits of your stomach, churning. He's facing you, kneeling now, holding onto you, feeling every inch of your skin. Rubbing. Caressing. Digging in. Warm breaths ghost over the lines of your panties, and he looks up at you almost adorably; big blue eyes catching yours through thin eyelashes.

“Would you like a reward?” Your heart drums inside your chest. You nod, frantically needing more of his touch. Anything.

He tutted, wagging a finger in mock disappointment, a sly smirk on his lips. “I’ll give it to you, but you'll have to earn it, little miss.”

A soft whimper escapes your lips.

“Oh, I know dear but trust me.” He cooes, his thumb circling your inner thighs almost comfortingly. “It'll be worth it.”

He snuggles his nose in the crook of your thighs, peppering small light kisses, making your knees weak.

You want to reach out, to grab him by the hair and lead him to where you wanted his lips to be, but you refrain. With great difficulty. His teeth digging into your neck still in the back of your mind. Instead, you latch on the corner of the metal shelves for dear life, the sharp edges digging into your palms, etching deep red lines into your skin.

His eyes caught yours again, and your breath hitches.

“Show me that you'll be a good girl, yeah?” He kisses your inner thighs, keeping eye contact as he does. “Prove to me just how much you need this.”

You nod again, heart racing in anticipation. A sharp smack on your thighs almost blinded you as your nerves frazzled.

“Words, dear.”

“I will!” You gasp out. “I'll be a good girl. Anything. Just please…”

“Please… what?”

“Touch me. Mr. Reed, please.”

His eyes flutter close for a moment, as if he's savouring words he'd been wanting to hear. After a while, you saw his baby blue irises again, this time with a wild glint flashing through. “Take it off.”

You obey immediately, slipping it down to your ankles along with your pants and he immediately runs a finger through, touching your wet, sopping cunt. You gasp, gripping the metal shelves tighter as he rubs a thumb over your clit, moving it slowly, rough yet excruciatingly slow. His warm breath ghosts over your crotch, your senses heightened as he nudges his nose over it, teasing you.

“Can I touch you?” You struggle to whimper out, fingers itching to lace on his thick grey hair, deliciously tempting from your view.

“Hmm… no.” He hums, continuing his onslaught of feathery touches and teasing lips. “No touching unless I say so, understood?” His other hand lingers on your thighs, not waiting for a response. He held it in his grip, lifting it up to rest on his shoulders.

“Come here.”

Resting one of your legs up on his shoulder, spread wide, he finally stops his teasing. Keeping his gaze locked on yours, a finger slips inside.

You inhale sharply. It only took one finger for you to fall apart, sanity crumbling, greedily needing more from your college professor. It burrows deep inside you, digging in and searching, but also gentle, giving you a moment to take in the sudden intrusion.

Your chest tightens as you struggle to gasp in air as his fingers fucks you faster. Your insides tighten and twitch, your sopping wet cunt squelching with each thrust as the only thing you could hear is the race of your own heart beating in your ears and your own moans of pleasure.

The metal shelf behind you squeaks and shudder along with your own twitches of pleasure, as you desperately try to rein in your own lust.

‘More,’ The thought rang out. ‘I need more.’

But you can’t, and you know it. His orders are absolute. You’re a good girl, aren’t you? Mr Reed’s fucking your cunt, surely, that would be enough?

But your clit throbs, aching to be touched. He’s so close. His mouth just a few inches away, his soft pink lips, his hot warm breath caressing your skin, and you remember the way his teeth and tongue biting into you, suckling your neck.

And before you knew it, your hand releases the sharp metal shelf, the lines it created stinging red and pulsing, and lands on the back of his head. Your fingers clench, grabbing a fistful of his soft grey locks and you pushed him forward, forcing his lips onto your begging cunt.

And for a moment you were lost in ecstacy.

His protests were muffled, with you pressing him closer, and your thighs squeezing tighter around his shoulders. Your hips grind and buckle, riding his lips and sharp nose, smothering any groans that escape his lips.

Riding the high, you stopped to notice the absence of his fingers inside you. With both your hands laced inside the thick curls of his hair, you fail to recognize the tension growing thick. You were too deep in, too mindless, to feel his nails digging in the flesh of your thighs, clawing deep marks inside your skin.

A sharp pierce of teeth startles you out of your euphoria, and you finally realize the aftermath of what you’d done.

Mr Reed sat there, unnervingly silent, glaring deep into your soul with swollen lips and crooked glasses.

“...Mind letting me go?”

You scramble to stand upright, releasing him from your cage of limbs. He stood, adjusting his glasses straight whilst you spew out apologies, trying to catch his eyes which he refuses to give.

You stood there, feeling vulnerable and naked, waiting for Mr. Reed to say something, anything, instead of this suffocating silence.

Mr. Reed’s voice felt deafening after a solemn silence filled the musty room.

“You.” He hissed, pushing away a strand from his otherwise neat hair. “Did I not say you were not allowed to touch me?”

“I’m sorry! I just– I was too lost in pleasure that I–”

“Enough.” He cuts you off. “No excuses, missy. You can’t even follow simple instructions.” His blue disappointed eyes pierces into you, hurting deeper than you'd thought.

He takes a step forward, pressing a hand onto your chest, pushing you onto the creaky metal shelf, hitting your head on a box. It squeaks and moans as he pushes harder, his large hands engulfing your chest. The edges of the metal shelf digs sharply into your back, rougher than you expected. It chokes you, making it harder to breathe as his anger rolls out in waves, suffocating.

It wasn’t sexual, his touch doesn’t feel as sensual as it was before.

This, it was pure malice. If he wanted to, he could just strangle you dead.

Goosebumps rise at the thought of Mr. Reed leaving your dead lifeless body in this dark, musty room for the janitor to find in the morning.

You jerked, feeling his hand move up to your neck. His thumb presses hard against your trachea, squeezing the air out and your pulse spikes, panic rising.

No, it can’t be true. You try to reason with yourself. You’re over-reacting.

You try to calm yourself down, and when your gazes lock, his dark unreadable eyes catching yours, you try to keep it steady, not letting your panic show.

He seemed to study you, searching for a sliver of fear in your eyes with his head tipped slightly. Finally, after what felt like forever, a small smile ghosts his lips.

“I’ll give you a chance.” His grip over your neck loosened, giving you a chance to take deep, ragged breaths of sweet, sweet air. Flickering his eyes over you, he rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t be dramatic.” He turned away, muttering flippantly.

Rustling inside the pockets of his bag, he pulled out a tear drop-shaped toy. If it weren’t obvious enough what it was, the bright pink colour certainly helped. He dangled it in front of your face, a devious smirk painting his lips.

“I assume you know what this is?” He mused, “A dirty girl like you, of course you would.”

You were too stunned to answer. Where did he even pull that out from..?

“Right. See, you’ve been a really, really bad girl.” He tutted, “And bad girls need to be punished, don’t you think?”

“So, let’s play a game.” His smile stretches ominously. “See what I have here?” He shakes the toy in hand. “This pretty thing is a sex toy that’ll help you feel good. Much better than any man can give you. Usually, it’s rarely used but it’ll suit our current circumstances just fine.”

“If you win, I’ll forgive all your… past transgressions.” His voice was dark, but his smile remains ever-present. “And if you lose, you’ll be punished. And trust me, you won’t like it.” He says, his voice threatening.

What other choice do you have? Trapped between a creaky shelf and a man with your panties between your ankles; you reluctantly agree. Half-scared of what he’d do, yet also the other half aroused, anticipating how this would go. This scary and psychopathic side of him made you surprisingly horny, scaring yourself a little.

Getting your approval, he nods. “Come here.”

Putting his hand between your legs, he positioned the toy on the entrance of your still sopping wet cunt. You gasp as it penetrates, the thin end of the toy reaching deep inside, reaching your g-spot. The other end of the toy rests on your clit, and you wonder how it’d feel turned on.

Adjusting the toy until satisfied, he reaches down to pull your panties up, placing it snug on your hips. He pats your cunt, sending jolts of pleasure through you as he smiles, satisfied.

“Good. The rule is simple. Orgasm,” A pause. “and you lose. Understand?”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Very good.” He coos, satisfied. “Now, come along!” He gestures, turning his heels to head out, bag in hand, leaving you in the room alone, trembling, stuffed and a hot, sweaty mess.

Hurriedly pulling your pants back up, you scramble to keep yourself presentable before chasing after Mr. Reed, not wanting him to leave you behind.

Stepping out of the room, you find him leaning against the wall beside the door, waiting. He flashes a smile, enamouring you, before turning his heels forward, leading the way towards the exit.

You follow wordlessly, struggling to match his pace, taking small yet hurried steps behind him with clenched thighs. You both walk in silence as your mind races, still throbbing with the memory of his touch and toy inside of you. It was a struggle, but soon enough you got used to it being inside.

It didn’t take long for you to reach the exit, and soon enough, the wide glass paned doors came into view; giving a view of the near empty parking lot, with orange street lights illuminating the melting snow outside.

He pauses for a bit, contemplating, before turning to you. “It’s going to be quite cold today. Do you have anything to wear?’

You nod, taking out a jacket out of the backpack you picked up from where you left it before.

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold now, do we?”

Pushing the door open, the gentle almost-spring breeze slips through, softly caressing your warm cheeks and pushing your hair back. He doesn’t bother looking back at you, instead walking straight down the steps toward the parking lot.

It doesn’t surprise you to see his confident stride, plowing through the pathway without any hesitation as if he knew just where to go. It was a normal occurrence to see Mr. Reed walking in-campus, his usual messenger bag in tow, and large strides as he often walks to-and-fro home.

You follow behind him, carefully stepping on the pavewalk to avoid slipping from melted snow. With his back obscuring your view, he chatters, making small talk; asking about your classes. How is it? Not too packed, surely? Some small jokes. You wonder if he really truly cared.

The walk was pleasant enough, with the exception of the vibrator inside your cunt– which, for the most part, hasn't been turned on yet– thank god. The night was chilly, with buds of wild flowers littering the sidewalk; illuminated by a warm orange glow from the streetlights.

Walking past the staff building, through the near empty faculties, and past through the main university gates, the silent night was filled with his soft, chittering voice.

He had a hand gripping the strap of his messenger, pressing it close to him, and the other holding a smartphone.

You almost had your guard down, thinking he’d forgiven you, and that you are, indeed, still a good girl. Slowly yet surely, you grow more comfortable being with Mr Reed.

For the most part of the walk, it was quiet, just the two of you through the path home from uni, not a surprise since it was quite late at night. Barely any other passerbys passing through, only some security guards cruising around, whom Mr Reed mostly ignored if they’d hadn’t greeted him first.

Mr Reed still kept up the small talk, even as you’ve both reached downtown, the late-night crowd and bright lights could be seen from afar. The noise stretches, growing louder as you get closer, with Mr Reed leading you forwards, right into the crowd.

Drunkards, late-night shoppers, rowdy teens– you can’t believe there’s still this many people at this time of night, especially in this small town– and you swam through the crowd, barely keeping sight of Mr Reed’s grey locks as he marches on forward, barely giving you a glance.

Then, you feel a tingle on your nethers.

God, fuck.

It was slow, but noticeable. You push through it, trying to keep up with Mr Reed, until it dialed up to eleven, sending shocking waves of pleasure through you– that you almost fell over if it weren’t for a stranger bumping into you, eyeing you with concern.

Wide-eyed and shocked, you look over to him, hoping for an explanation; and he smiles– that devious and sly smile– and you knew. He had planned this from the start.

Weak-kneed and shaking, you pushed through. Looking away from the crowd, you feel shame growing tighter inside your chest. You can feel yourself trembling as he sets the setting higher. Pulling your jacket closer, you try to keep your composure– hoping that the strangers passing by wouldn’t notice the flush of your cheeks, nor the cold sweat and soft moans escaping your lips each time the vibrations spikes, hitting your g-spot in just the sweetest way.

It cycles and ranges from soft, weak vibrations�� especially when there wasn’t much people around; giving you enough time to compose yourself– to fast pulses and intense vibrations– scrambling your brain enough that you can’t even keep a coherent thought.

As the setting turns higher and higher, pulsating in rhythms back-to-back without stopping, you know you just had to stop. The pleasure was too much to bear, and as you squeeze your thighs together, the toy presses tighter against your cunt– making your brain short-circuit.

The shrill of screams and voices overstimulates your senses, and it feels like you’re barely over the edge. The feeling of your cunt being fucked, the blood rushing in your ears– you can’t feel your legs; like you’re floating– you’re barely holding up, swaying as shame and pleasure intertwines– on the edge of cumming your brains out when a shrill whistle catches your ears.

You look up to see Mr. Reed standing there, a statue in the midst of the flooding crowd, his grey locks the first thing you caught eyes on, and he whistles again, a finger up– beckoning you to come.

And you do, like a pet dog running towards its owner.

An invisible leash pulls you forward. It’s humiliating, having invisible eyes on you, with the uncertainty of whether they know you’re getting fucked by the man right in front of them.

Sometimes, he’d stop the toy, just to keep you from crashing out– cumming your brains out in public– which is a relief. Sometimes though, he’d crank it up on purpose whenever someone was passing by– making you gasp with your eyes rolled back, earning the stares of their inscrutable eyes.

He’d strip you down from your dignity, layer by layer as you push through– a twisted pleasure starting to form with each humiliating act. He’d pull your leash, and you’d like it.

You beg him, barely a whisper on how much further it’ll be.

He’d just hum, “Soon.”

Finally after what felt like an eternity of edging and torture, you arrived.

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[Worked on this for months and almost never gonna publish but thought better this than never. Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to continue I love you all <3]

@fhdjdhdkdjdn @klovercrown @tripledotsrandomfandoms

#fanfic #heretic fanfic #mr reed #mr reed x reader #mr reed x femreader #heretic 2024 #hugh grant

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