Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
For the last five years I’ve held the chair of Korean History (Early Modern) at my university, which I consider the crowning achievement of my life. I’m the first woman to occupy this particular chair, in a field normally dominated by old men, and at the age of 35, I’m definitely not stopping here. The prospect of what I could accomplish in the future thrills me even more than the achievement itself.In case it wasn’t obvious, I love my job. I love engrossing my students – Westerners, like me – with the grand narrative of the fall of Goryeo and the rise of the Joseon dynasty to power. I love seeing my name, Isabelle Ranier, paired with the word “professor”. I love that I’m a bit of a misfit: some of my male colleagues are courteous, but you can spot the discomfort and creepy perving of the others from a mile away. I’m young enough to look more like a student than a peer to them, or perhaps one of the secretaries they no doubt coerced into inappropriate sexual relations during their long careers. Let’s not pretend that isn’t a thing, please. But I take it all in good stride: if my presence alone is enough to ruffle some feathers, that means I’m doing a good job.There’s another perk to my job: for the first time in my life, I get to be the boss in a professional context. Of course I still report to the Dean, but fundamentally, when in class, my word is law, and that’s not just true of my students, but of my teaching assistants as well. On some level, I realise I’m replicating the same tough mentoring I received from older professors when I was a TA myself, and I’m not sure how proud I am of that – but damn it, it’s my turn. I ride my TAs hard, but fairly, and I do have an interest in nurturing their future academic careers.My brightest TA is undoubtedly Jacqueline. This is her second year working alongside me as part of her PhD. Her research into Lee Song Gye’s military campaigns is quite original, and as a TA she does her job punctually and professionally, assisting with exams, proofreading dissertations, writing the syllabus, consulting with students, etc. As our second year together is now underway, I’ve made it a habit of bringing her with me to every lecture, and leaving the other TAs to carry out more menial tasks. I see this as me taking Jacqueline under my wing, but I suppose it also does mean she has more work on her plate. I also take the smallest pinch of perverse satisfaction in having her walk behind me into class, huffing and puffing as she carries a heavy pile of books. Her seat is a simple chair next to my heavy desk. I make her scurry around the classroom while I toy with my good-luck pen, sit back and revel in my authority: writing on the blackboard, Rus Escort İzmir handing out documents to students by hand, doing proctoring rounds during examinations. Still, I’m no sadist – I know her larger workload risks cutting into her research, and I make it a point to be of greater assistance to her own research in the remainder of our work hours. All in all, I thought that was more than adequate payback for her efforts.As later events would reveal, she didn’t exactly see it that way…One late afternoon, I walked back to my office carrying a stack of papers. The building was quiet and near-deserted, and I enjoyed the silence and the feeling of having the place nearly to myself. I fumbled a little with the door to my office and walked in – it was deserted too, save for Jacqueline herself. All the other TAs had gone home already, but she’d stayed behind to help me with grading essays, alternating between that and working on her research no doubt. As I walked in, I was reminded of another mild positive of having Jacqueline around: she was very pretty, taller than me, with curly brown hair that fell past her shoulders and a build toned by daily physical training. That day she was in a black jacket and flowing skirt, with black stockings and flats – which she’d taken off under the desk, rubbing her left foot with her hands in mild annoyance. The stockings accentuated her toned legs in a way that was very pleasing to the eye. I realise that wasn’t an entirely appropriate thought, but I had focused on my career to such an extent that my romantic life had suffered. I still felt like I had too much to do to commit to a relationship with a person of any gender, but having a pretty girl by my side for most of the workday was definitely better than nothing. It also reminded me I needed to hit the gym and get into better shape myself, but well, another thought for when my workload would let up. If it ever did.My wool-gathering distracted me, and I stumbled, sending my papers flying across the room, and my good luck pen rolling under Jacqueline’s desk – close to where I’d hit the ground, actually. On pure instinct, I went for the pen first, which brought me effectively under Jacqueline’s desk. All of this had happened in a blink of an eye and she hadn’t had time to react – in fact, she’d been rolling her chair further into the desk just while I stumbled towards her. Through cosmic bad luck, her shoeless, stockinged right foot had landed straight on my face as I reached for the pen – not hard enough to hurt, mind.”Are you okay? Do you need help?” Jacqueline shouted from above, then bent down to look under the desk, and noticed izmir otele gelen escort her foot was in my face. Thing is, I hadn’t made any effort to move away. All of a sudden my loins were on fire, a tingle trickling down my spine as the room seemed suddenly way hotter than a moment before. I couldn’t move away. I didn’t want to move away. Her foot was soft, her stockings silky, and the warmth against my face was so pleasant – even the barely noticeable tang of sweat smelled almost charming to my nostrils. I didn’t know what madness was possessing me, but I did nothing to inch away from her. In fact, I breathed in and smiled to myself. A part of me was overjoyed, the other horrified – and both were powerless.”Professor?” I heard her call out to me, but I might as well have been paralysed – I literally could not muster the willpower to slide away from her foot. Only my right eye remained partially uncovered, and through it I saw Jacqueline’s face go from shocked, to perplexed, to curious, and then narrow into a smirk I wasn’t entirely comfortable with. I suddenly remembered this was my TA, what the hell was I thinking? Still unable to find the strength to pull away, I settled for the next best thing, my hand darting to the pen on the floor. She was faster. Her left foot landed on the pen, the heel pressing above it while the ball of the foot pinned my hand to the floor.”Is this what you were looking for?” She said, rolling the pen away from me and towards her side of the desk. I said nothing, but shot a pleading look at her with my one open eye. I found myself reeling at the shocking speed of my downfall, but more humiliatingly, Jacqueline wasn’t reeling at all. She had a coolness and a presence of mind I totally lacked, and observed the new situation with the keen perception of a predator, while I gaped and fumbled with her foot plastered all over my face. I felt so very stupid at that moment, and for the first time in my life, truly vulnerable.She thoughtfully started running her foot across my face, slowly and delicately at first, then a bit more firmly. I didn’t realise it right away, but Jacqueline was a genius, and already testing how far she could push me before I reacted, slowly and methodically. Eventually her foot descended enough to leave both my eyes free. Only her toes remained in contact with my face – they were resting over my nose. I couldn’t look away from her. Her face was neutral again, like she was in contemplation. I meekly waited for her to say something, and that again to me felt like an implicit admission that something between us had changed forever, a mutual understanding that she’d insinuated Buca escort bayan herself inside a vulnerability I didn’t even know existed. I didn’t know how far she intended to take things, but I held little confidence in my ability to stop her. I was afraid that she would well and truly master me. Most fundamentally, I was afraid that I – her direct boss, an older woman with academic status and an already established career – had no say in what our respective stations would be.When Jacqueline spoke, it was like a knife cutting through the air, even though her question was innocent enough. My heart fluttered. I felt like a supplicant, receiving words from a higher being – mere minutes at her feet and this young girl was already instilling such an inferiority complex in me that my own mind would soon become my ironclad trap.”Is this a fetish of yours or something?”For the first time, I found the energy to speak. “Jacqueline, I -“Her foot shot forward, the ball now pressing tightly against my lips. “Quiet,” she said. “I was thinking aloud, you don’t actually need to answer.”The humiliation of my own subordinate making me shut up by pressing her foot to my lips coarsed through my body, like a wave of electricity. Humiliation is only a word to most people, but in that moment I experienced it like a physical sensation, a ripple of defeat that started at my lips and ended in my arousal, the feeling of being utterly conquered by another human being who will now proceed to have their way with you. So when my conqueror told me to shut up, I complied. Unbelievable, I know, but I complied, and the thought of disobedience never even crossed my mind. It was scary, how quickly the situation had spiralled out of my control and into hers. I’d never been really into feet before, was I really that desperate for some affection? I couldn’t stand to match her gaze anymore and looked downward, which won an approving chuckle from her as she swung her left foot to join the other on my face. She positioned them against my cheek and then pushed, slowly accompanying me downward until the back of my head hit the floor. Then, her feet landed flat on my face, squashing against my eyes, nose, and lips.”Stay there.” She said, settling more comfortably into her chair. “I need to think about what this means, and do some more work on my dissertation in the meantime. Don’t move.”I laid there, breathing slowly, letting it all sink in – how thoroughly I had debased myself before her. This wasn’t even play, she wasn’t actively running her feet across my face or watching my reactions: she’d literally just planted them on my face like I was part of the floor, and kept them there while she worked. Somehow this was even more humiliating than actively being made into a foot bitch. What kind of self-respecting person becomes a footrest for their subordinate on command? Apparently I had to seriously reconsider where I fit in the social hierarchy, if cowing me into subservience was that easy.I lost track of time.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Bir yanıt bırakın