#lectureme

[kainablue-loves-art]

LECTURE ME

// main cast // 

Dᴀɴɪᴇʟʟᴇ Eᴠᴇ ˣ Fɪʟɪᴘᴀ Lᴜᴋɪɴ ˣ Aɴᴀsᴛᴀsɪᴀ Mᴏʏᴏ

Hɪʀᴏ Fᴜʀᴜᴋᴀᴡᴀ ˣ Oʟɪᴠᴇʀ Fᴏʏ ˣ Tᴏᴍᴀ Fᴜʀᴜᴋᴀᴡᴀ

[kainablue]

WIP Title Tag!

Hey, guess what, @ragethewriter! You tagged me for this on Feb, 13th and I’m doing it now 🤓 Thanks for the tag, yo! 

Rule: List your WIPs, and how you came up with their titles!

I have only two in English so here we go:

Howl of the Blood 

Sounds dark and ominous, right? It’s a semi-horror story with some heavy themes. The most disturbing ones are revolving around family and blood bonds. Also there might be some sacrifices included. Also there is a lot of wolves and they are very important 🐺

Lecture Me

It’s a professor-student smut. And there are some naughty things happening there. Pretty self explanatory if you ask me 😆

And I’m gonna tag @kittensartswriting @sweetcatminteareblog @catharticallysarcastic @lmorasey @gottaenjoythelittlethingzz and whoever wants to do this.

[kainablue]

Prime Lines Tag

Let’s try a new tag game, shall we?

I’ve seen quite a lot of those 7/7/7 tag games and, since I don’t actually have proper pages in my wips, I’ll make one to suit me everyone better.

Rules: Share your favourite piece of Dialogue, Description and Out of the Context Line that you’ve written lately. And of course, tag some peeps.

Dialogue (Lecture Me)

Filipa: Are you from Jamaica?

Anastasia: And are you from Russia?

Filipa: Do I smell weed in your breath?

Anastasia: Have you been drinking vodka this morning?

Filipa: Please, don’t throw a coconut at me.

Anastasia: Only if you promise not to use that Molotov cocktail in your bag.

Filipa: It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms.

Anastasia: Ditto, kiddo.

[tl;dr: Let’s throw stereotypes at each other and bond]

Description (Howl of the Blood)

I blush like a šiparica. Even though he can be an utmost goon, Elemir Yurosh is also a very dashing young man. There is something about his presence that makes you slightly... uncomfortable. And I don't mean that in a completely bad way.

When he visits Wolkobran, most of my maids, servant girls and damae completely lose their common sense. His golden hair, his smile, his confidence, his - build.

Some people call him Yarilo because of the way he looks. And because of the way women gape at him.

I call him ox.

[šiparica - gullible young girl]

[Yarilo - slavic deity representing spring, fertility and sexual power]

Out of the Context Line (Lecture Me)

If eyes could make a sound, hers would be hissing at me. 

And now I’ll tag a lot of you and maybe someone will like this game?

@dotr-rose-love // @cawolters // @theevolutionofledarose // @contes-de-rheio // @cirianne // @inkspilledqueen // @ardawyn // @madmoonink // @madsaialik // @pheita // @silver-wields-a-pen // @livvywrites // @dove-actually // @kittensartswriting // @sweetcatminteareblog // @lady-redshield-writes // @siarven // @nepeinthe // @sancta-silje // @paladin-andric //

[kainablue]

LECTURE ME - Don’t Ask (part 1)

[Chain Reaction]  [Distracted]  [A Quick Smoke]  [Into the Wild]  [Heavy Rain (part 1)]  [Heavy Rain (part 2)] [Moonstruck (part 1)] [Moonstruck (part 2)] [On the House]

-

Okay, wow, I have a small collection here! Yay! 

Here’s the next chapter (finally!) In case you’ve forgotten - this is a dirty little bundle of stories about a professor and his student (and some other peeps). You can read them in any order that you like (except for the ones with ‘part 1′ and ‘part 2′ on them - these chapters were too long and that’s why I separated them like this)

The first part is pretty safe. Only some profanities and a bit of thirst! Enjoy! 🍷

Don’t Ask (part 1)

Oliver

What a shitty day. And not just because of rain.

As if getting scolded by the department's secretary for losing the keys to my office - again! - wasn’t bad enough, a couple of students at my last lecture were particularly annoying. Two wiseasses trying to convince me that morality is completely unnecessary in modern times. I wanted to crack their shit-filled skulls with an iron bar. But I kept my cool, I did. Barely, though. And I wonder was it really worth it because now I have a fucking headache as if someone smacked me with an iron bar.

A familiar smell of petrol tickles my nose. My eyes dart to my dashboard - I’m almost out of juice. Fuck. I rub my throbbing forehead and wonder what the helI did I do for karma to punish me like this. 

Well - I can feel a smirk tugging my mouth - I haven’t been an innocent lamb jumping around the meadow, have I?

As I turn around the corner, two streets away from my home, a slight silhouette darkens my peripheral view. I would have missed Filipa if she wasn’t always on my mind. I do believe my brain is overstimulated and now I am hypersensitive to anything related to her.

I memorized the sound of her shoes walking over different types of floors. From the way utensils are positioned on a plate, I can recognize her leftovers in the dining hall. And I can sense her arousal by breathing in her sweat enriched with musk and floral perfume. Aaah, just the memory of that sex aroma, that perfect combination of refined and vulgar, is making me dizzy.

I pull over next to a willow tree bending over the gates like Juliet over her balcony. A shower started recently, a light drizzle, but strong enough to be annoying. Filipa is pacing, her head bowed down, carrying a box in her hands. Several rectangular stamps are one it. Oh, so she’s been to the post office. But why aren’t her packages delivered to the Academy's department office, like everyone else's?

I open the window. “Need a ride, pretty lady?”

Filipa lifts her head and stops, swaying a bit. There’s something odd. Was she— A tight knot of pain stabs me in the throat. Was she… crying? There are no telltale signs on her face, just… the feeling. Like when you see a famous actor on the street for the first time. They look the same but it’s not the character you know. Like another person. Like someone without a mask.

Filipa doesn’t avert her eyes (she’s never the first to buckle - never!) and approaches my car. A lovely, almost innocent smile curves her lips and the whole costume is back on - the mask, the robe, the hood – the girl I saw just a second ago has vanished.

She places one her elbow on the window edge and the other hand holding the mysterious box on the car roof, bending her back. There isn’t much happening at the front of her clothes: her flat chest covered by her school uniform with buttoned up shirt. But her skirt… I imagine it is now way up. As she lowers her upper body, adjusting herself to my height, the skirt is going up and up, slowly sliding above her knees and her thighs. Maybe even her ass. 

A passer-by checks her out from behind, looking under her skirt like a fucking pervert! 

That ass is mine! 

“We are going in opposite directions, professor.”

Her voice is creamy like always, with some light notes of mirth attached to the word professor. 

“How about a detour?” Really, why not? “Hop on. I have something to show you.”

Her eyebrow jumps in surprise and then joins the other one in vexation. A very different sounding words shoot me.  

“Seriously? Of all the cheesy lines you have, you are offering me 'I have something to show you' one? I know how your dick looks, Oliver.”

“But it’s a very fine dick, wouldn't you agree?”  The rolling of her eyes was expected but always entertaining. “No, something else, but not as big, I’m afraid. Come.”

“Where to?”

“My apartment.”

She tilts her head, amused. “Wouldn’t it be suspicious, professor: a young naive student and her mentor heading to his unholy den?”

“To earn her some extra credit.” 

I crack myself up sometimes. The absurdity of my statement even draws a low chuckle from Filipa.

“All right,” she sighs and pushes herself away from my car. I forgot about the box. Such a dull looking thing, wrapped in a brown paper, and yet she holds it like a treasure… The familiar static fills my brain clouding my every thought. Oliver, don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do —

“What’s in there?”

You. Fucking. Did. It.

If eyes could make a sound, hers would be hissing at me.

“I should head back, professor.” And with that statement, heavy as a concrete block, she proceeds to march towards the Academy.

I fucked up.

I put my Ford in reverse and start to follow her.

“Fine. I’m sorry. Don’t tell me what’s in your damn box. Let’s go.”

She doesn’t stop. There is no other person who can blank you like Filipa can. I turn off the engine and take a deep breath. She won’t like this. Not at all.

I get out, leaving the car door open. In several big steps I catch up with her and immediately block her way. Because she was walking with her head down, probably protecting her eyes from the rain, Filipa headbutts my chest. I touch her upper arms but she springs backwards. She clenches her package and snarls like a monkey holding stolen goods. The ire in her eyes is so forceful I freeze. 

We stand like that for a few moments. Rain is dripping down my face and dampening my shirt. It's cold. I swallow a lump. Filipa is all wet and beyond pissed now. Why do I get horny when she looks like she wants to massacre me.

“Come on, doll. I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”

She hardly blinks. Rain is getting heavier by the minute and she… isn’t bothered even the slightest? Blinking is for the weak, and Filipa is everything but weak, I laugh inwardly.

A much lighter expression takes over Filipa’s features. Not necessarily a good thing. She shifts into a more relaxed pose. 

“Beg.”

Not what I expected. “Okay, please.”

“No. I mean… beg.”

Oh. 

Someone could fucking see us! I turn around: luckily, the street is empty, but that can change in a second. And far more importantly - my clothes! Crap! I stare down at her. I could literally scoop her up and carry her to my car, but… She wouldn’t just kill me then, though; she would literally crush me into a lump the size of a marshmallow and eat me.

The resting bitch face in front of me is unforgiving. I know she doesn’t care. She will just leave if I refuse. And… I don’t want that. Just like I wouldn't want any of my nails pulled out with rusty pincers. 

I take a deep breath in… and kneel. A humiliating wet cold enters my clothes and spreads over my knees and calves. Fuck! 

“Please.” I stare at Filipa’s ugly, dirty shoes, gritting my teeth. Someone will see us! And then I’m screwed! “Please, please, please.”

Filipa is silent. She is enjoying this so much, I just know it. Murky water around my knees is restless from the raindrops hitting it. But I can somehow make out two faces: one pathetic, with eyes wide open in apprehension; the other, upside-down – and victorious.

Her foot moves up, water dripping from the shoe sole. The dirty, worn-out tip has a shallow scratch - just above her big toe. 

"Kiss."

I swallow. I was expecting this.

Let's get this over with.

I close my eyes and press my lips on a dry patch, just above the scuff. The smell of mud and old leather tickles my nostrils.  

“Are you satisfied?” I croak. My head is flying from one side to the other, checking if someone’s approaching. This is so dumb and risky and… exciting. I suck on my lower lip. Fuck me and my sick, twisted brain! I want to bend even more, shove my elbows in this disgusting sewage water and lick her legs. I want her to place her hand in my hair and pull while —

A finger brushes along my jaw and lifts my head up. Filipa’s lips are curved into a poisonous smirk. Her smile is like a drug – a deadly line that boils my blood and ruins my life. And I need it all the time. 

All the fucking time.

“Very,” she whispers, a slight tremble in her voice. She really is. “Let’s go.”

***

Filipa

I expected Oliver’s room to be a bit more… chaotic. More bachelor like. More I’m-overwhelmingly-anxious-to-keep-my-job-but-also-uncontrollably-hedonistic-like. But it isn’t. 

His shoes are neatly aligned next to a hallway wall. The wooden floor is old but clean, not even a pebble stuck between the boards. No weird stains, no underwear on the kettle, no porn hastily hidden bellow a carpet. He has a separate bedroom, but I bet he even made the bed before leaving his apartment this morning. Smell of cigarettes is glued to every piece of furniture and I soon spot a full ashtray. But aside from that dirty metal container and a bunch of papers and books scattered all over the floor and any horizontal surface, this apartment is… quite neat.

“I don’t think you came here before?” Oliver moves the curtains and more grey light colours the room. 

“I haven’t.”

There are no pictures on the walls. I think they used to be white,long time ago when this house was built; but they are more creamy brown now. Years of tobacco using tenants did that, I guess. Except for one spot where colour is still unsoiled and almost completely clean. In the perfect center, opposite from the windows, there used to be a cross. Not a large one, nor particularly prominent judging by the shape. But it bothered Oliver enough to remove it.

“Have a seat,” he points to an armchair in childish excitement, “and get ready to be amazed.”

I humor him and take a seat. Right in front of me, taking up quite a large portion of the living room, is a… table? A desk? Huge tablecloth covering it falls down some unexpected curves. Not to mention the tabletop is set too low for any standard chair. And yet it’s also too high for a coffee table.

Oliver removes piles of books that were covering the top and, with a wiggle of his eyebrows, he asks: “Are you ready?”

This can only be something incredibly stupid when he’s so excited. I brace myself expecting to see a rocking horse or an overly complicated sex toy. I nod.

He takes the tabletop and lifts the whole thing in one swift move. Table cloth flies with it and for a moment Oliver resembles a magician uncovering a rabbit underneath a mystery box.

But there is no rabbit. Only a - bathtub.

Although,  I have to admit, a beautiful one. It is wooden and shaped as those old baths that you can see in period dramas. But this one is brand new and shining like a freshly licked candy. I stand up to get a closer look. It really is gorgeous. 

“You made it?”

“Yup.” This big man’s ego just got a bit bigger. “Touch it.”

I glide tips of my fingers along the rim. It’s like ice.

"I used seven layers of finish so it could be as smooth as glass," he trails off and zones out. For a few seconds I was almost able to observe his tiny thought monkey with cymbals taking a break from wanking himself and actually using his brain for a change. And then he spoke in enlightenment: "...for your lovely, precious, little ass."

I don't know what I expected.

"Lord Byron, step aside, you've been outshined."

Oliver chuckles. “I would be honored if your ass would be the first one to sit in it.”

I look at the bathtub again. Is there a trick? Will something happen? I hardly believe Oliver would do something to openly anger me, but to simply push my buttons for shits and giggles – yes. And I’m not in the mood for it.

“Come on, sweetie. You know you want to soak that wet and cold flesh of yours in a hot bath.” He shifts behind me, a towering presence of muscles and heat. Oliver kisses the top of my head. “I will wash you, my mistress.”

A purr escapes my lips in response to this deep, rich and velvety voice whispering in my hair. It would be quite nice to replace the moldy odor of this sad room to a floral scent of soap. Bliss overcomes me as I imagine warm water clinging to my body and the brisk air biting my flesh when I expose myself. Oliver moves closer to me. A slow shiver shoots up along the back of my thighs, where his legs are touching mine. And, of course, the idea of his hands gliding up and down my skin, feeling me, caressing me, teasing me in all the right ways - does sound divine.

“Fine, my beast. You can have your wish.”

~~~

[to be continued…]

[kainablue]

I saw u have much time in your hands and that you're coming for people who are active less than once a week. Time to get your hands a bit full then. 1) WHERE IS THAT LECTURE ME NEW CHAPT-haha I am kidding. xD *ahem* Lecture me is a very in the moment kind of wip that u recently said u chose to add new features to, but I was wondering if the characters have backstories. For some reason I am wondering why Filipa is attracted to men like Oliver, hence my question. *puts glasses on, takes out notes*

Thank you for this not intimidating ask… *shifty eyes* Yup. Not. At. All… *wipes sweat off*

Characters will have backstories eventually. And not a pretty ones. They are still work in progress, though. Slightly sexual talk ahead, so I’ll put this under the read more.

I do believe Filipa enjoys breaking people. She likes challenges. When she meets a woman or a man that is overconfident or cocky, she likes to confront them and subdue them. It might be because she comes from a poor family and she often witnessed her father being used by his co-workers and ‘friends’. Filipa realized his mistakes and was angry because her father didn’t show more of a backbone. Also, her older sister had a long-term relationship with an abusive boyfriend. Once again, even much more younger than her, Filipa realized her sister’s weakness and decided to act the opposite way: never to let others to step on her like her family allowed. Her determination probably evolved into sexual preferences, as well.

[kainablue]

I tried using the plot generator because Lecture Me doesn’t have any kind of story whatsoever (also for shits and giggles) and I mean

The title is breathtaking. Also auto praise

“About as mysterious as finding a poo in a public toilet.”

ouch

[kainablue]

Hiya! *hugs* So!! I was reading over that lovely short story you wrote for me again and I just came to pondering. And maybe this question is a bit odd but I love to know what other people's characters think of mine! So, I'm curious. If he was asked his true feelings toward Zazu or Silviano, what would Oliver say?

Hi! *hugs back* So sorry that I didn’t answer your lovely ask sooner! And it’s not odd at all! I love how it got me thinking about Oliver and his personality. So… Let’s ask the professor himself.

~~~

“Oh, I adore Silviano! He’s a sweetheart! What I love the most about him is his sunny disposition! He just… feeds me with huge amount of positive energy, you know? I really enjoy hanging around him. He’s a true friend, even though I tend to mooch quite a lot. Silvi is always there for me. He’s tolerant, cheerful and fun. If I was gay, I would marry him on the spot. Zazu is so lucky.”

“Speaking of which… Zazu. You asked me for my true feelings, so don’t get me wrong, I love that guy, but… there is some kind of rivalry between us. Tension. When we discuss things, when we joke around, I have to be careful. He’s kinda sensitive and I am a loudmouth so… With Silvi I’m completely chill, I can talk about anything. I respect Zazu immensely, but I can’t relax 100% when I’m around him. But Zazu is also a great friend, really reliable and dedicated. I love him for that.”

[kainablue]

LECTURE ME - Moonstruck (part 1)

[Chain Reaction]  [Distracted]  [A Quick Smoke]  [Into the Wild]  [Heavy Rain (part 1)]  [Heavy Rain (part 2)]

-

Here is the first part of a wlw lemon story with our two thirsty students Filipa and Danielle. Proceed with caution - very slippery 😉 Enjoy 🍷

Filipa

My room is at the end of a long hallway. There are only two small, round windows and four lights illuminating six bedroom doors. One window is installed at the top of the stairs. Even when you climb all the way up, you still have to lift your chin high towards the ceiling to see through it. That submissive action reminds me of church and how pious people (or tourists) stare at stained glass behind an altar. Aside from overseeing your ascension (physical, not spiritual), this round window reveals you the sky. That is, it would, if it hadn't been filthy from years of neglect and bird excrement.

As I pass next to five doors, my every step tortures the old floorboards and they squeal under my heel. The previous tenants of Saint Hildegard’s wing found a pathway of newer wooden slats that are strong enough to withstand the rule-breaking  students sneaking around. There is even a secret map drawn under every sink in all six bathrooms.

Magnolia is the name of the first room, the delicate name carved in a wooden plaque, barely visible. Celandine is the name of the second one. The third wooden plaque is gone, replaced with a metal one - Marigold is the name engraved so we call the three girls living there the Golden Maris. Fourth door’s name is Begonia, the fifth Hyacinth and the sixth door leading to my room is Iris.

I look through the second round window at the end of the hall. A crack splits its lower half, slicing the campus like an earthquake rupture. This high up I can see beyond the campus grounds and observe the woods and mountains surrounding the Academy. Not at this time of the night, though. The world I’m seeing right now is black and white horror scenery below abysmal sky powdered with stars.

As long as I attend the Academy, I’ll live in this attic intended for the poorest female students whose parents couldn’t afford to book a room in a newer wing. But I love it. I love this smell of dust, wood and feathered mattresses. I love the ethereal touch of dead Studentinnen still sentimentally roaming this hallway. Their hands and cheeks are always dirtied with ink.

Even the locks are old and paired with heavy skeleton keys with drafty keyholes. I’ve spent a significant amount of time peeking inside other rooms feeling a lot like Alice catching a glimpse of Wonderland. Let’s just say that Golden Maris aren’t so golden after the sun sets.

I unlock the door and enter. It is fairly dark, which is not unusual, but never this much. There are only three candles lit around Dani’s bed and my roommate is sitting surrounded by her tarot cards. I do not share her interest, but I respect it.

“Sorry for interrupting. Should I come back later?”

Her head snaps up. “No, no. It’s not important.”

Her long wavy hair is pulled into a ponytail. I’m amazed how lovely she looks in a plain short sleeve t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. She looks good in anything, really. Even though our stuffy attic room is warm, her shins are covered with pink leg warmers. Dani does that purely for the aesthetics. She stretches her back, lifting her arms high up, and revealing her soft tummy like a cute kitty cat.

“You are late again,” she says, “It’s almost midnight.”

I let my heavy bag fall to the floor with a low thump. My shoulder is killing me. “You know I have to.”

“I know,” she sighs. Dani stands up and gets close to me. “Would you like a shower?"

"Oh? I smell that bad?"

"No," she giggles. She places herself behind me and hugs me tightly around my chest, placing a kiss on my cheek. "I meant to say: would you like a shower with me?"

She doesn't wait for an answer; her hands are already unbuttoning my blouse. As soon as there is an opening, her fingers slide underneath my clothes, aiming straight for my breast. My skin is getting warmer as her lips press moist marks onto it. The gentle touch of her hand is making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, sending a delightful chill down my spine.

Dani’s fingertips find my nipple and they brush against it, as if playing harp strings made of nerves. An electric jolt passes from my nipple to my pussy. I have to press her hand against my chest and stop her movements, because that kind of fondle is too much to bear at this point. With her other hand, she moves my hair away so that she could bite my neck with more ease. She’s not really gentle - her love will leave marks - but I allow her to savor my skin.

“Filipa,” she whispers, “Let’s take a shower together.”

“Did Aoife move already?”

“Yes. We are alone.” She steps in front of me and removes my blouse completely. She bites her rosy lower lip. “Let me undress you.”

I am tired but… how could I refuse? How could I say no to those hungry eyes, to that sweet face, to that warm, soft body? How could I say no to fucking her until she screams my name and melts into a shivering, mindless doll? Just imagining Dani exhausted and spent makes me overwhelmingly horny.

I nod and a grin, charming and ominous at the same time, lights her face. She gets to her knees and takes off my skirt and socks first, planting pecks of adoration along my thighs and shins. She helps me take off my camisole top and, finally, careful as if she’s performing surgery, removes my panties. Dani crawls closer to me, places her hands on my hips and kisses the center of my lust.

My temperature soars as the pleasure spreads throughout my entire body, pulse by pulse. Every time her lips touch my tissue, I open up more and more, and soon my arousal juices are dripping down my thighs. Dani sticks her tongue out and glides it along my slit - very slowly. Tip of Dani’s tongue touches my clit and she takes it into her mouth. She purrs. Red flashes before my eyes.

“Ah!” It feels so good! I grab her hair and press her firmly against my heat. Dani happily hums as she laps every drop she finds.

“So thirsty,” I coo as I stroke her hair. “We both are.” If possible, I prefer to finish last. And I always like to spice things up.

“Come here,” I say as I take her hand and pull her to her feet.

She looks at me, her eyes lit from excitement, a wide grin splitting her face.

I take her to the bed that used to belong to our third roommate. And to all those third roommates that used to live here before running away.

“Here?” Dani seems surprised. “Why here?”

“Why not? Look at the moon. We will see each other in pure natural light.”

The bed is located next to a wall opposite from a roof window. Anyone who ever slept there, hated it. “It is uncomfortable and I can’t fall asleep for a very long time,” was the most common complaint. During the day, the sun rays never even brush the mattress. But for some reason the full moon illuminates the entire bed all night long. After just one night, every girl would demand a transfer to another room. Yesterday was the first day of full moon, and Aoife already moved out.

“They say it’s cursed”, Dani doesn’t sound worried. In fact, she seems even more aroused. My darling roomie likes to play with the occult and doesn’t falter when presented with a challenge.

She sits on the cursed bed, eyeing my naked figure eagerly.

I lean toward her and whisper: “If we commit sin on a cursed bed, during a full moon, exactly at midnight, just imagine how impressed the Devil will be when we finally meet him.”

Do you enjoy my content? Then help me fuel my creativity with a cup of delicious coffee! ☕