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Amy was nervous. Even though it was a Saturday, today was the day her final term paper was finally being returned, and she was anxious about the score. She did miserable on the midterm, then she got COVID right when the term paper was due. Desperate, she used her sister's old term paper from years ago, made a few changes, and submitted the paper. She just needed a passing grade in this class.
History of Feminism. The class was a joke. She thought it would be an easy A to fulfill her general education requirements for her pre-med degree. Instead, it was taught by a male professor who managed to make the material so boring and oddly guilt-inducing. She hated it. But whatever. Just need a passing grade before moving on.
Professor Watkins left everyone's papers in a box for them to collect, since the last class was last week.
When Amy found her paper. Her stomach plummeted.
Instead of a grade, Watkins wrote an ominous "See me" on it.
Shit.
Amy was fucked.
If Watkins knew that she plagiarized the paper, and reported it, the consequence was expulsion. The university had a zero tolerance policy for plagiarism.
Watkins didn't have office hours anymore, since the term was over. Amy took out her phone and wrote a simple email to Watkins, "Hi, Professor Watkins, I received my final paper back and you said to see you?"
Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long before he replied. "Yes, please meet me at Office 5460 in Kirkwood Hall tomorrow at 2pm." Tomorrow was a Sunday, so at least he didn't make her wait until Monday to find out her future.
When Amy went to Watkin's office the next day, she took a breath. She thought she was prepared for all the possible arguments. Mentally crossing her fingers, she knocked on the door.
Watkins called, "Come in."
Amy opened the door and entered. "Close the door, would you? Gives us a bit of privacy."
Amy obediently closed the door.
She gingerly took the seat and faced Watkins.
He was fair looking, middle-aged, and was voted as the Best Professor several years in a row. Even so, Amy was nervous.
Watkins leaned forward in his chair. "Amy, tell me about your paper."
"I'm not sure what you mean." Amy started. She wasn't about to admit to copying her sister's old paper.
"You didn't write it." He stated, like it was already a known fact.
Fuck.
"I wrote large portions of it. Of course, there's some quotes. I thought the quotes were properly referenced?"
"Amy, I can tell you didn't write it. The style of writing is too different from your previous work. This is not just a matter of failing to give credit for a quote here and there. I know the paper was written by someone else. I can see you wrote the introduction, changed a couple of paragraphs in the middle, and updated the conclusion, but this paper is not your work. Black Oak University has a zero-tolerance policy for plagiarism."
"Please! Professor Watkins, give me another chance. I can't be expelled. I'm pre-med, this would ruin my life. Please, I'm begging you. Let me do some extra credit, redo the paper tonight. Anything, please. I got COVID and was so sick and couldn't think. I just need a C for this class. Please." Amy could feel herself on the edge of crying, just barely holding it together.
"Amy, I can't be seen as playing favorites."
"Please. Give me extra assignments. I'll do the work. I need this. I'm willing to do the work."
Watkins leaned back in his chair, considering his next words.
"Maybe..."
Amy held her breath.
"Maybe if you demonstrated that you understand how feminism is a failure."
Amy cocked her head.
"I'm not sure I understand."
"Women say they made great strides in progress and feminism helped them achieve equality. Explain to me why that is not true."
"Well, women still earn less than men. There's still discrimination."
Watkins shifted, sitting more upright with his knees spread out more. "Yes, yes. But what about a woman's place? Her inherent place in society? Women can't escape the fact they are the ones to bear children, that their first priority is to breed."
Amy disagreed, but didn't know how to argue against him. He knew more than her on this issue, right?
"Amy, let's do a quick demonstration. I think this exercise will show that you understand the course material, and can serve as a substitute for the term paper."
Anything. "Okay," Amy agreed.
Watkins gestured to the floor in front of him. "Kneel here."
Hesitant, Amy complied. She had to look up at him from her position on her knees.
"What do you see from that position?"
Amy hesitated, taking too long to reply. Watkins continued, "You're looking up, yes?" Amy nodded. "You're looking up at me, right? I'm in a dominant position here. What does this tell you about a women's place?"
What? Amy couldn't believe what he just heard. "Um, nothing. This doesn't mean anything."
Watkins reached down and grabbed her hair. "This is nothing? You're on your knees before a dominant man. Surely this means something."
"Stop, you're hurting me." Amy tried to disengage his hands.
"Amy, a women's place is always under a man."
Watkins' other hand rubbed against his cock. Amy couldn't help but notice the bulge there.
"Amy, look at me." Watkins commanded. With her heart beating faster and too afraid to hope, Amy looked up.
"This is a demonstration, remember? For your grades." Watkins then pulled out his cock from his pants.
His cock was already erect, hard and bouncing upwards.
"Suck it."
"No. I'll report you."
Watkins laughed. "Go ahead. No one will believe you. I will just tell them that you are trying to discredit me because I told you I discovered the plagiarism. That you would do anything to avoid getting expelled. That's correct, right? You'll do anything to avoid getting expelled? Amy, here's your options. You can do what you're told, complete this demonstration. And earn a passing grade in the course. Or, you can leave and report this. They'll do an inquiry, which will fail. Who do you think they'll believe? A tenured professor who's consistently voted Best Professor by the students for several years in a row. Or the disgraced student who plagiarized her paper and should be expelled. You tell me."
Amy shook her head. No, this couldn't be happening. There must be another option.
"I'm going to fuck you, either way. So your real choice is this: Are you going to cooperate, maybe enjoy it a little? Or get expelled. Which is it?"
After a long moment, almost too long, Amy resigned herself. Becoming a doctor was everything to her. She wanted to cure cancer. Even if she came forward and reported this, she'll forever be know as the student that was raped. She seen how others were slut-shamed and treated like a criminal after a rape. She didn't want this to be public. And that's assuming they believe her and don't kick her out for plagiarism. Watkins was right. The real choice was whether she could trust that he'll give her a passing grade after this, so she could forget this and move on to becoming a doctor.
There was no question. No choice.
Instead of answering verbally, Amy leaned forward and reached for his cock. "No, no. Hands behind your back."
Amy put her hands behind, and suddenly, she found it very hard to see. She had started crying.
"Open your mouth, Amy." His hand in her hair became gentle and he guided her head forward.
Amy felt his cock touch her lips. She never got this close before. It was smooth, a bit moist, and her lips fit perfectly around the head. Like her mouth was designed to be the perfect size for a cock to fit inside. His cock continued to press forward, past her teeth and on top of her tongue. He tasted a bit salty. At least she think it was him, and not her tears that she was tasting. She could smell his musk, which was an appealing but also repulsive. She didn't understand. His musk didn't smell good, but she found herself wanting more.
"That's it." Watkins moaned. "Take it all in."
Amy didn't know how she could. His cock already filled her mouth. She sucked lightly, unsure what to do. He started thrusting. Gently at first. But his cock keep bumping the back of her throat. Watkins began to fuck her mouth more roughly. Amy gagged and tried to avoid vomiting. Watkins kept thrusting through it. His hand remained on her head, firm against allowing her from moving back too far. She had no choice but to swallow around his cock.
"This is a women's place, Amy. See how you were made for this? I know this is your first time, but you take cock so well? Deep throating on your first time." Watkins hand brushed her cheek. "Look up."
With blurry eyes and a mouth full of cock, Amy looked up at Watkins. "Feminism is a failure. You're proof of that." He thrusted some more. "God, you're so good at this already."
Watkins then pulled out of her mouth. Before Amy could feel relief at the ordeal being over, he said, "Bend over the desk."
"No! I sucked your cock. That's enough."
"Amy, I'm fucking you either way. Bend over the desk and I'll use a condom. Otherwise, I'll fuck you without. Good luck starting medical school pregnant."
And Amy never regretting living in Texas more. She never paid much attention to politics and never thought abortion was something she would ever want. But now, facing an inevitable rape, she knew she didn't want a child never mind his child. She couldn't risk a pregnancy.
Amy voluntarily bent over the desk.
She prayed that it wouldn't be painful, that she would survive this ordeal.
Amy heard a drawer open to her left. Then hands on her hips, pulling down her yoga pants. A bare hand caressed her bare hip.
"Spread your legs." Amy shifted, found that she had to step out the pants pooling at her feet in order to widen her stance.
Watkins' hands drifted from her hips to her ass, sliding over her bare skin. Amy shivered at the intimate contact. She always thought her first time would be romantic, with someone she loved. That she would be in a bed and worshipped. She never imagined this scenario. Losing her virginity to her college professor blackmailing her into compliance.
Watkins' finger brushed against her labia. He traced her out labia like he was studying them. "You're wet for this."
Amy flushed. She didn't feel aroused, but she couldn't deny the heat or the fact that his fingers were gliding up and down. His fingers dipped forward and rub at her clitoris. Amy couldn't stop the involuntary shiver at being stimulated.
"You're going to look so beautiful on my cock. You were made for this. See how aroused you are, how you're soaking for me?"
Amy had never even touched herself down there. It was horrifying that her first orgasm would be at the hands of her professor, bent over a table.
That last thought of shame tipped her over and Amy felt her labia flutter around his fingers as she orgasmed for the first time.
"Good girl."
Amy heard a wrapper opening.
Then something hard nudging at her vagina. Something bigger than fingers.
"Women were made to be fucked."
He thrusted inside her, and Amy bit her lip to stifle her shout. Her vagina wasn't ready, and she swore she could feel herself tearing down there. It hurt, no doubt, it hurt.
Amy felt floaty. Like she was a disembodied ghost removed from her body.
She could feel everything. How his cock thrusted inside completely only to pull out until just the head was inside, then thrusted again. She recognized that it hurt less when her feet were wider apart, and she could feel her opening up for him. She learned that clenching to try to keep his cock out only made him groan in pleasure and hurt her more. Her body body hurt, more than just the cock penetrating her. Her low back, her hips, and even her arms from bracing herself against the desk. Amy's body learned to open for Watkins' cock. It hurt less. More achy, like a muscle that's never been used before was stretched for the first time.
Slap. Slap. Slap. Their bodies colliding at each thrust.
Amy could see the window. It was a sunny day in June. Like a normal day.
Amy felt all these things, made all these observations, like she was an outsider to the experience. Like she was studying someone else's body getting raped.
"Amy, tell me. How is feminism helping you right now?"
Amy struggled to return to her body to answer.
"Amy, if you want me to give you an A, you need to answer."
Amy heard her voice say, "Feminism got me here. Earning a grade even though I cheated. You wouldn't give a male student the same opportunity to not get kicked out. In the end, I win. I will graduate. I will be a doctor. Feminism means I win."
Watkins continued fucking her. "God, I wished I was recording this. This is perfect."
His hands reached around to rub at her clit again. "Come for me. I want to feel you come against my cock."
With that, the thought of coming for her rapist, Amy was no longer so detached. Everything so very real. "No, please. Just finish." Let this be over.
His fingers timed perfectly with his thrusts. "Amy, come for me right now and I'll give you an A."
And the thought - not of getting an A, but the shame of earning an A by orgasming for her rapist professor - was enough to make her come.
Now Amy learned that shame was a trigger for her to orgasm. That realization made the orgasm sweeter, like her body was saying "Yes, c'mon, abuse me more. I like it."
Watkins pulled out, removed the condom and came on her back. He then rubbed his come in messy circles. He whispered, "You're right. It's your fault that I had to fuck you. You manipulated me into allowing you to cheat. That's ok. Fucking you was worth it."
Amy waited till Watkins stepped away before standing up. She quickly pulled her pants on and ran out of the room.
Later that night, while staring at the wall, her phone had a new notification.
Amy earned an A in her History of Feminism class.
Bitter victory.