Late Satisfaction - Teaser

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Claire
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Late Satisfaction - Teaser

Post by Claire »

This teaser contains the first 3 out of 11 parts for Late Satisfaction (only the first part for guests). The full story requires 100 Ravishment Coins (RC) to unlock.
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.

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Index:

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Title: Late Satisfaction
Author: @Claire
My stories: Claire's Cesspool of Sin
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This is a translation of my German story Späte Genugtuung. This was translated by myself and I took some creative liberties with the translation, more than you probably would translating someone else's work. Based on the translation I came up with, I had AI make suggestions for small changes, some of which I adopted but not all of them. But overall, this is not an AI translation but a translation created by me, the original author.

Late Satisfaction is a sister story to Record Chaser. It takes place at the same time in the same place and features some of the same characters, and references the same events every now and then. But both stories can be read in isolation and there is no suggested order for what you should read first. But you might enjoy the occasional reference or easter egg if you already read Record Chaser.

Technically, Venus' Touch is also part of the same universe. Let me know if you spot the connection. I'll rate your reply with 3 points if you get it right. :)
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Late Satisfaction

Chapter 1 - Part 1

He was furious with himself. From an outsider’s perspective it would have been difficult to understand what had him so upset. A student had sent him an email and he had answered her. With him being her professor, there was nothing extraordinary about that. Of course, the content of their correspondence could have made him lose his composure. But that wasn’t the reason either. She had asked him whether he would have time for a meeting over the course of the next few days. Apparently, she was struggling with her studies and wanted to ask him for advice. He in turn had been understanding and offered her to come by his office tomorrow. He was used to helping out freshmen who struggled with the difficulty of the introductory mathematics courses. He had gained a positive reputation with his students this way. What infuriated him was not this exchange of two completely innocent emails. It was the fact that this everyday interaction with her was enough to let his penis grow so hard as if neither he himself nor his wife had touched it in months.

The last two months had been hell for him. He had recently turned 47, was a professor of mathematics, happily married, and the new semester had just begun. He, Anthony Robertson, enjoyed his hard-earned reputation as a patient, understanding, and rhetorically gifted professor. His capability to convey complex mathematical concepts in an easy-to-understand way and his genuine interest in his students’ success had made him quite popular. He had life figured out. If somebody had asked him whether he was happy, his answer would have been a resounding yes. That is, until she stepped into his life.

She was Eleanor Price, a first-year mathematics student attending his Math 221: Introduction to Linear Algebra lecture. He didn’t know her, but she had immediately caught his eye. That wasn’t surprising in and of itself. Even in the current day, mathematics is a field dominated by men. Naturally, the minority of young women stood out visually in the predominantly male audience. When she came up to him after the first lecture to ask a follow-up question, he also noticed how tall she was. Around 5 feet 11 inches, he estimated - about his own height. That first interaction between them had been unremarkable. He had perceived her as polite, and eager to learn.

He had also noticed how he felt captivated by her from the moment he first laid eyes on her. Even her tiniest gestures aroused him to no end. The way she tucked her hair behind her ears. How she briefly grabbed her nose when she was unsure how to precisely phrase her question. How she used her pinky instead of her index finger to point toward a spot in her notes marked with a question mark. He had tried to dismiss all of it as irrelevant. His profession naturally involved dealing with younger women. And this particular one he found charming and attractive. There was nothing wrong with that. But when his pants became uncomfortably tight and he had to be vigilant so she wouldn't notice the growing bulge, it became undeniable that something was off.

Eleanor had occupied his mind ever since. At first, he had tried to deny it. Right before the next lecture, he had masturbated. He had become erect in her presence because he hadn’t come in a while. Sex with his wife had become a rare occurrence, a perfectly normal development after being a couple for 20 years. At least, that was his hypothesis. For the first 15 minutes of his lecture, he felt validated. She had listened to him intently, and despite her watching him the entire time, he had been able to conduct his lecture normally. But when the student to her right asked her a question and she put her finger on her lips while she contemplated her answer, he was done for. His still-exhausted penis jumped in his pants. Before anybody could notice, he had retreated behind the safety of the lectern to shield his crotch from the view of judgmental eyes.

The last time he had masturbated this much, he must have been 15 or 16, of that he was sure. But it didn’t matter. No matter how often he came, whether with the help of his wife or on his own, Eleanor’s allure gave him no rest. For the first time in 15 years, he held his lecture mostly from behind the lectern, unable to command the atmosphere in the lecture hall with his usual presence. Whenever he took the elevator to his office on the 13th floor, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to push Eleanor against the wall, shove her panties aside, and plunge his hard cock into her. He wouldn’t need the entire ride to fill her with his sperm. Later, Eleanor would attend his lecture, and he’d notice the exact moment his semen would drip out of her by the blush on her face. The thought of his cum gluing her wet panties to her labia was intoxicating. When the elevator arrived on the 13th floor, he shook his head realizing how cheesy this fantasy was. He made a mental note to never write erotica.

The worst part was how utterly helpless he felt. He didn’t have the faintest idea why this particular girl seemed to have such a hold on his soul. Of course, there were young women he found attractive. But he couldn’t say that he had started to fetishize them as he increased in age, as other men did during a mid-life crisis. Nor had he ever had a particular preference for tall women. Sometimes, Eleanor felt weirdly familiar to him. But for the life of him, he couldn’t remember ever meeting her before.

He had opened his pants and was stroking his dick. He needed the brief relief of climax to be able to focus on the promise he made to his wife - continue watching Better Call Saul. Fortunately, she had welcomed his increased libido. But he knew that it was only a matter of time until she grew suspicious of his out-of-control sexual desire. In his mind, he was back in the lecture hall. Three hundred students were hanging on his every word about vector spaces while Eleanor was blowing him, hidden beneath the lectern. He was long since past the point where he pretended to think of anyone but Eleanor while he jerked himself off. He moaned as he neared his climax. He was already past the point of no return when he heard his wife call for him from the living room.

“Anthony, are you coming soon? Dinner is getting cold!”

His eyes flew open, and he let go of his penis immediately. He wanted to reply, but it was impossible for him to speak in his usual voice. Hot sperm burst from his cock and splashed with high pressure against the tabletop of his desk from below. The violent twitching of his cock was slowly fading as his wife’s steps drew closer. His empty penis was still trembling in the aftermath of his orgasm. He hastily tucked it back into his pants.

“Anthony? Did you hear me?”

His wife stood in the doorway. He had moved suspiciously close to the desk and was begging her in his thoughts not to come any closer.

“Yes… I mean, no. I meant to reply to one more email from a student, but I guess I dozed off for a moment instead. Today was exhausting, with the midterms being so close.”

Marla cast him a loving gaze.

“You know, it won’t kill your students if for once they have to wait a day for a reply from you.”

He smiled back at her.

“Two more minutes, then I’ll join you.”

She nodded and went back downstairs. He didn’t need two minutes to send his reply, he had done that already. He needed the time to clean up the semen dripping from the desk. He was almost done when another reply from Eleanor came in. She was grateful for his help, and agreed to the appointment he had offered her. Tomorrow, he’d be alone with her in his office.

With an exhausted sigh, he got out of his chair and headed to the living room where his wife was waiting for him. He already knew that they’d have sex later tonight. And he was ashamed that he wouldn’t think of her for even a second while they did it. Tomorrow at noon, he’d meet with Eleanor. He hadn’t replied to her email the entire afternoon, desperate to find a reason to deny her request to meet with him. He wasn’t a man of faith. But just in case he was wrong and there was some higher power out there after all, he hoped it looked down on him favorably.
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My stories: Claire's Cesspool of Sin. I'm always happy to receive a comment on my stories, even more so on an older one!

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Claire
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Re: Late Satisfaction - Teaser

Post by Claire »

Chapter 1 - Part 2


Eleanor stood in front of the mirror in her room. She had just replied to Professor Robertson that she’d take him up on his offer to talk to her tomorrow in his office. She was so happy that he was willing to listen to her. His quick reply had surprised her. She liked him, and he really seemed to care as much about his students as she was told during student orientation. Now she was considering what to wear tomorrow. She had stripped down to her underwear and had the first outfit she wanted to try on hand when her own reflection distracted her.

She wasn’t enthralled by her own beauty. She had simply noticed a sizeable bruise forming on her right upper arm. Whereas other people sometimes wondered where smaller bruises on their bodies came from, Eleanor rarely had to think long about the origin of hers. She had an unusual hobby for a math student: kickboxing. Her sparring partner must have hit her harder during training today than she had realized in the heat of the moment. She was endowed with all the natural gifts one could ask for in her sport. She was tall and blessed with long arms and legs that increased the reach of her strikes beyond what most of her competitors were capable of.

Given the nature of her sport, she often walked around with visible bruises and other small injuries on display. The worried gazes of well-meaning strangers when she simply went about her everyday life with yet another black eye bothered her sometimes. This unwarranted worry reached the height of absurdity when, back in high school, a teacher blatantly asked her after class whether her father or boyfriend at the time was hitting her. She stared at him in stunned silence for a moment, then burst into laughter. The mere idea that her father might hit her was inconceivable to her and almost funny in a way. He loved her far too much for that to ever happen. Any domestic violence in her family would stem from Eleanor breaking her mother’s nose with a well-aimed kick to her face.

Ultimately, the bruise on her arm didn’t worry her, but she made a mental note to be more careful in her upcoming training sessions. She had a fight in about two and a half weeks, and she didn't want to risk a serious injury before then. Disregarding the bruises, she liked what she saw in the mirror. When she was at the beach back in summer, a boy had hit on her. He had compared her to an ancient Greek statue - the platonic ideal of the athlete embodied in human form. She chuckled at the comparison but couldn’t completely deny it. A body covered in well-defined muscles and with a low body fat percentage, yet not devoid of feminine grace. Nobody would call her delicate or fragile. Beautiful and elegant - those on the other hand were words she had heard others use to describe her in the past.

She put on a knee-length black pencil skirt and a white blouse. She wondered for a moment if the blouse was slightly see-through in brighter light, but that issue could be fixed with a matching white bra. She chose a black blazer and two silver ear studs to complete her outfit. She was looking good, but a second opinion couldn’t hurt.

“Eugene! You got a sec?”

She was calling for her roommate. They had gotten close during their senior year of high school and then decided to move in together when it turned out they would attend the same university.

“What’s up?”

Eugene stood in the doorway. He wore comfortable black knee-length pants and a black Babymetal band shirt. Lounging on the couch in the living room had disheveled his short blond curls. He was still munching on a slice of pizza as he leaned casually against the door frame. He wasn’t the type of person that came to mind when you were looking for fashion advice, but Eleanor appreciated his honesty.

“Can I wear this?”

She turned to him. He quickly scanned her outfit.

“Looks good to me. What’s the occasion? You got a job interview you haven’t told me about yet?”

“Hmm, something like that. Professor Robertson just replied to my mail. He asked me to come by his office tomorrow.”

Eugene’s face showed a skeptical expression as he took another bite out of his pizza.

“I don’t know. You’re pulling off the businesswoman look, but isn’t this just a consultation? You look a little overdressed to me, more than just a little to be honest.”

She took a look at herself. He was probably right. Had she listened to her mother’s voice again? She hated how she lived rent-free in her head.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Have you been to the math department on the 13th floor before? The students working there, the grad students, even the professors, they’re all super casual. Compared to you, I’d fit right in there with my band shirt.”

She sighed. He was right. She was dealing with mathematicians, not with business administration or finance people. It was a stereotype for sure, but it usually wasn’t difficult to tell these crowds apart based on their attire.

“You’re right, thanks. Anything new with you?”

Without hesitation, she dressed down to her underwear again and chose a different outfit.

“Emily invited me to hang out with her and a few other freshmen and seniors at the Infinite Pint on Saturday.”

She showed him another skirt, he just nodded, and she put it on.

“And you agreed to that? Usually, you wouldn’t go to something like that in a million years!”

She slipped into another top.

“Claire will be there.”

His voice was suddenly very soft, barely audible. He was cute when he was flustered like that.

“Wow, I thought this was just an innocent crush when you told me that you think she’s cute. But it’s serious, isn’t it? I met her at the gym a few times. Ask her about her workout. A delicate-looking girl like her never gets asked about that.”

Slightly amused, he shook his head.

“You do realize that I want to ask her out on a date and not if she wants to arm-wrestle me, right?”

She gave him a dead-serious stare.

“What’s the difference?”

A moment of silence, then they both laughed. Eleanor was happy to have Eugene in her life, especially now that her relationship with her mother had completely fallen apart. The thought that she might have to quit college and move out of their shared apartment scared her to death. But with Eugene by her side and Professor Robertson’s potential support on the horizon, she dared to look with hope toward the future for the first time in weeks.
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And with that we finished chapter 1. Chapter 2 is not as short as these two character introduction beats, so it will likely take me a little longer to translate them.
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My stories: Claire's Cesspool of Sin. I'm always happy to receive a comment on my stories, even more so on an older one!
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Claire
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Re: Late Satisfaction - Teaser

Post by Claire »

Chapter 2 - Part 1

Eleanor was perfectly on time for her meeting with Professor Robertson. The hallway was lined with offices for professors, Ph.D. students, and student assistants. She scanned each office she went by for the nameplate: Prof. Anthony Robertson, Ph.D. Her heart was racing. She was excited, just like before one of her fights. But she wasn’t frightened at all. If anything, she enjoyed the adrenaline rush. She got excited only when there was something at stake. And that meant she was in conrol of the outcome, at least to a degree. What more could she ask for?

She came across a familiar face while looking for the professor’s office. Claire, the teaching assistant Eugene had a crush on, walked toward her accompanied by a male colleague. Claire didn’t say anything but she smiled at Eleanor and mouthed “Good luck!” as they passed by each other. Eleanor smiled back.

After observing how Claire, the women in the department office, and most of the Ph.D. students dressed, Eleanor was glad she had followed Eugene’s advice. She had finally chosen to wear a knee-length pink tulle skirt, comfortable ballet flats, and a simple black long-sleeved top. The outfit was too girly for her taste. But as a tall woman, she had learned how to adjust her appearance if she wanted to avoid men getting intimidated by her physical presence.

It didn’t take her long to find Professor Robertson’s office. She took a deep breath, then she knocked on the door. She had expected an immediate response, but all she got was silence. She was about to knock again when Professor Robertson answered her after all.

“Come in.”

She opened the door and stepped into the room. He sat at a cluttered desk. Papers from various journals, books, and a pile of ungraded seminar papers were scattered around the two monitors, the keyboard, and the mouse. The photo of a woman, presumably his wife, seemed to be the only thing with a designated place on his desk. Two large windows offered a clear view of the campus below. The walls were lined with shelves full of books. She welcomed the chaos. Robertson was the antithesis of her mother’s belief that discipline and order were the only path to success.

For a moment, she didn’t know what to do next. Robertson looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. Irritated? Unsure? Nervous? She couldn’t put her finger on it. During orientation, upper-year students had told her a lot about him, mostly praise. And after attending his lecture for a while, she could confirm most of it. But there was one thing she couldn’t agree with: He didn’t seem like the confident man she had been told about. On the contrary, he often looked shy and nervous to her. Like he was struggling with imposter syndrome, unable to hide the unease of a man who wasn’t convinced he deserved the elevated position he held.

But her unease lasted only a moment. He stood up from behind his desk, took a few brisk steps toward her, and gestured toward a chair with a warm, welcoming smile.

“Ms. Price, please, take a seat.”

Eleanor put her jacket and purse over the back of the chair and sat down.

“Thank you.”

She placed her trembling hands in her lap and lowered her gaze. Then he began to speak.

“Um, I have to admit, your email caught me by surprise. Given your questions during and after the lectures, I had the impression you were doing quite well. I’ve looked over your weekly assignments, and those were well above average too.”

Her email didn’t say why she wanted to talk with him. Apparently, students usually came to him because they struggled with the material and now he seemed to assume she was here for the same reason.

“Yeah, no... that’s not the reason why I wanted to talk to you. I… uhh…”

What was so difficult about saying that her mother had cut her off and that she was no longer able to finance her studies on her own?

“Take your time. We’re not in a hurry.”

She lifted her head and looked at him, grateful for his patience. He was twirling a pen between the fingers of his right hand. It soothed her, somehow, to realize she wasn’t the only one who was nervous - though she had no idea why he was so jittery.

“So, it’s like this. I’ve run into some unexpected financial trouble and if I don’t find a solution soon, then… I don’t really know how I’m going to pay for my apartment or school anymore.”

His face was hard to read. He seemed to contemplate something before he spoke.

“I understand… May I ask how you were paying for tuition, rent, and living expenses until now? As far as I know, you have no scholarship. And even if a student somehow lost theirs, I would normally be aware of that.”

Unable to hold his gaze any longer, she took a deep breath.

“I never applied for any scholarships. My mother… she was the one supporting me until recently. But she… we had a fight and… yeah…”

“And what about your father, if I may ask? Is he able to help at all?”

She sighed.

“I was raised by my father after my parents divorced. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me, but he simply doesn’t have the money. I haven’t even told him about the fight with my mother. If he knew about that… he’d probably sell everything he owns just to help me… Please, he... I can’t…”

She had said more than she intended. Once she started talking, the words just spilled out of her.

“I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to touch a sore spot. Here.”

He offered her a tissue. She hadn’t even noticed she had started crying.

“Thanks.”

She accepted the tissue and looked at his kind face. He was no longer playing with the pen, and for the first time he looked like the confident professor she’d been told about.

“Alright, I’m sure we can find a student assistant position for you here in the department. Admittedly, that’s a tad unusual for a first-year student without any completed coursework yet. But I promise you, we’ll make it work.”

She had just finished wiping her tears when she felt like crying new ones already. His words were the first piece of good news for her in weeks.

“Getting a scholarship mid-semester - that’s more difficult. I can’t offer you any guarantees, but if your high school record is strong, I will gladly support your application. Also, I realize you might not like bringing this up. But you will improve your chances for a scholarship if you include in your application that you were raised by a single father in a low-income household.”

She could barely contain her excitement.

“Thank you, thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me!”

She didn’t know where the sudden shift in his demeanor came from. The encouraging look in his eyes, the confidence in his voice, the promising future he painted for her - all of it felt like a version of him she hadn’t seen before. She wanted to give him a hug for returning a hope to her she had lost. She had resigned herself to taking some low-paying job completely unrelated to her studies, hoping she could somehow earn enough without her grades collapsing under the extra workload.

“I don’t want to pry too much into your situation with your mother, but you could also talk to the Dean of Students office. They have staff trained to help students navigate complicated family or financial problems. And if you want them to, they can even reach out and help mediate with your mother.”

She was so grateful for his help that she actually considered the idea for a moment, even though she knew better. She shook her head as she rejected the idea. Someone else talking to her mother on her behalf? This would only make things worse. For her mother, that would be a clear sign of weakness, and nothing else.

“That’s a very kind offer. But you don’t know my mother, at least not personally. Maybe you’ve heard of her before? She’s Victoria Gardner, owner and CEO of the women’s fashion label White Mare. Your wife might be more familiar with that. Compared to my father, she’s just rolling in money. I grew up always knowing that she’d pay for my education. But we got into a fight because she thinks math is only for nerds living in an ivory tower. She wanted me to study business or law instead. Anyway, she’d never…”

He kept listening to her, but her words had shaken him to his core. He had only just found his composure, and then she hit him with this. This was their first long and private conversation. He had been incredibly nervous when she knocked on his door. He couldn’t help but imagine the horror of what would happen if he got up to greet her and got hard. The story wrote itself: a young female student looking for help enters the office of an old white man in a position of power, and he’s waiting for her with a hard-on. He could picture it clearly: the headlines in the media, how he’d be fired on the spot, Marla filing for divorce. But despite this crippling fear, he had somehow managed to hold a normal conversation with her… until she mentioned her father.

He hadn’t expected that the simple, predictable question of whether her father would be able to support her instead of her mother would cause her such distress. Over the last two months, he had tried to avoid her. He had imagined having sex with her basically everywhere: in his office, the elevator, the lecture hall. He hadn’t seen a person in her. In his fantasies she was a sex toy, and in reality nothing but a threat. But the more he listened to her, the more the person in front of him took shape. She had cried at the thought of her loving father ruining himself financially to support her. She had enough to deal with. She didn’t need a pathetic middle-aged man with an out-of-control libido complicating her life even further. She had transformed for him, from a piece of meat with a hole he wanted to fill to a human being. He had never felt more ashamed.

At that moment he had been sure that he’d manage to stay in control. She hadn’t suddenly become unattractive. He still felt the pull of her inexplicable allure, but he had also developed a genuine concern for her well-being. He was optimistic until… until she spoke that name: Victoria Gardner. Suddenly it all made sense to him. The ruthless gravity of her attraction, why she felt so familiar. Eleanor was wrong. He did know her mother. Victoria had been the girl who had consumed his every thought in his youth. He felt himself growing hard.

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My stories: Claire's Cesspool of Sin. I'm always happy to receive a comment on my stories, even more so on an older one!