Twisted Ivy

Chapter 8: LUCIEN CIRCLE

I knew I shouldn’t be walking toward that corridor. I knew the air was too quiet, the shadows too still, and the voices i just heard still burned behind my eyes like something half-forgotten but fully dangerous. But my feet didn’t listen. My body was still aching, sore in the softest places. My thighs stuck when I walked, not from sweat… from memory. From Jasper. From what he didn’t do and still managed to do anyway.

The west wing wasn’t technically off-limits. But no one went there after dusk. Not unless they belonged. Not unless they had reason. I had neither.

The door to the old lecture hall was cracked open. Just enough. Just enough to whisper that someone had forgotten to latch it. Or maybe… someone hadn’t.

I should’ve turned around. I should’ve walked the other way. But I didn’t.

The crack was wide enough to see a sliver of candlelight. And I was already ruined, so what was one more sin? I leaned in. Just a little. Just to see. Just to confirm that I was imagining it all and that there weren’t actually secret meetings, or masked boys, or shadows wearing power like perfume.

But I wasn’t imagining it.

They were there. All of them. Silent. Some were putting their hands in their pants. Dozens. Sitting in high-backed chairs like a medieval courtroom. Every single one masked. Except her.

The girl in the middle of the room wasn’t masked. She wasn’t clothed either. Her p***y was thick, swollen and wet. Her wrists were bound in red rope that gleamed under the soft flicker of wax-dripped candles. She was bent over a table. Naked. Exposed. Waiting. And behind her...no, towering over her...was a man I recognized too late.

A professor.

Not one I’d had. But I’d seen him before in the courtyard. Always with a clipboard. Always quiet. Never looked twice at anyone. Until now.

Now he wasn’t looking. He was doing.

He moved like he’d done it before. Like he’d trained for this moment. Each motion was calculated. Practiced. He circled her once. Twice. Then reached for something I couldn’t see. She whimpered. Just once. Like she knew what was coming.

His hand came down hard.

I flinched. Not because of the sound. But because her breath caught like she loved it. Like she’d waited for that sting. And then he grabbed her hair, twisted it around his hand like a leash, and pulled. She moaned again, louder.

No one in the audience moved. They just watched. Some with hands clasped. Some with fists tight. But all of them silent.

I pressed closer to the door. Didn’t care if it creaked. Didn’t care if it gave me away. My heart was in my throat. My knees weak. My thighs clenched again like I hadn’t already been wrecked once tonight.

The professor didn’t stop. He gripped her hips and pushed his huge c**k inside her. Rough. Brutal. And she cried out like she was begging for more. Her mouth fell open. Her toes curled. He f****d her like he was punishing her for something no one else could see.

And still… no one stood up, some girls were fingering themselves while they watch and the some of the guys were having their c***s sucked deeperately by other girls as they watch.

From the edge of the circle, another boy stepped forward. Slowly. Confident. I couldn’t see his face. Only his back. But I’d know that posture anywhere.

Jasper.

His head tilted just slightly, watching the girl scream through gritted teeth as the professor pounded into her, sweat slick on both their bodies. Jasper didn’t speak. Didn’t interrupt. Just watched. And something in me snapped.

I bit down on my own fist to keep from making a sound. My other hand fisted the edge of my skirt like it might tear. My p***y was soaked again, ruined again, just from watching.

Just from seeing what Jasper called “control.”

Another man stepped forward. The professor didn’t stop. They switched. No words. No break. Like this was a rite, not s*x. Like this was a sermon, and she was the altar. The second man was younger. Rougher. He grabbed her hips like handles. Drove his longer c**k into her like he needed to prove something.

And the masked audience watched. I couldn’t tell who was breathing harder...the girl being f****d, or me. Then I heard it.

A footstep behind me.Slow. Precise.

Right by the door.

I froze.

Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.

Another footstep.

Then a voice.

Low.

Male.

So close it grazed the back of my neck.

“You weren’t invited.”

I turned, heartbeat crashing, mouth open… and saw nothing but the flash of a mask.

He grabbed my arm.

Pulled.

I screamed...but not out loud. Just inside.

The door behind me clicked shut.

And everything went dark.