SubscribeStar Story: The Tutor, Part 31

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Part 31

To say I was distracted the entire night would be a gross understatement.

The memories that had been replaying throughout the drive didn’t let up once I was back in the comfort of my own apartment. While I at least had a break from the real Annabelle, it’s not like I could escape the one dominating my mind. Her voice, her smirk; the way her hands felt. The time that I had wanted to myself wasn’t helping in the slightest. And the more I dealt with the recent memories, the more frustrated and confused I was.

For the life of me, I couldn’t find the line. Yes, locking me in a collar was not okay. But everything else she did? It’s not like it wasn’t without my consent. Even that first kiss she sprang on me led to me kissing her back. Not only had I agreed to a massage, but I had practically melted into it once she started. So where had things gone wrong? That was the problem. ALL of it was wrong and inappropriate to some degree, but also all of it was technically fine. The fact that we’re both girls was a huge part of it, since our gender tends to be a lot more comfortable with physical contact compared to guys. But still, taking off my bra for a girl I’m supposed to be tutoring? Telling her I wanted to kiss her? I certainly wasn’t innocent and blameless in those interactions.

“Ugh!” I groaned to myself. Fucking Annabelle.

Pausing the music on my phone, I put aside the dinner I had just made. It could simmer for a few minutes, and I honestly just needed to clear my head. Even the bedroom was too far away. I stormed over to the sofa and made short work of lying back and shoving my hand down my pants.

It hadn’t dawned on me until near the end of my cooking that I was subtly warm below the waist. I wasn’t even sure when it happened. Between the massage and the constant teasing as Annabelle baited out words and eventually a deep kiss from me, the rest of my body hadn’t received any kind of attention that would normally come with such intimacy. Or maybe it was just that I was playing all those moments on a loop since leaving her place, and I was so flustered and annoyed that I couldn’t sort things out that some of my emotions had been redirected into something else.

I didn’t care that Annabelle was a girl. I didn’t care that she was eighteen. While I was alone, and in the privacy of my own home, I needed that kind of release that wouldn’t be teased away by someone else. Even if she was the reason I was in such a state. Maybe my brain would work better afterwards.

There was no finesse to my touch, aside from the intimate knowledge of my own body and what I liked. I was already primed for this kind of pleasure, which was a rarity in itself. Normally I didn’t just dive right in. It must have been barely a minute before I got myself where I needed to go. Arching up into my own touch, my eyes remained closed as I took a shaky inhale.

I had just wanted to deal with the nagging pulse between my legs, and perhaps find some clarity in the process. Annabelle had definitely been a factor in why I was feeling the way I was feeling, but she wasn’t supposed to be part of my temporary personal solution. However, my mind was less my own at the moment. As I let out a breathy sigh, I suddenly found myself thinking of her.

Annabelle. Her fiery red hair, her piercing eyes, and her smug smile. Brave. Obedient. Pretty. Mere. For a moment, it was almost like her fingers were working me like this. Before I could stop myself, I let out a LOUD moan. Blushing both at how I had somehow brought Annabelle into this, as well as the fact that my apartment shared walls with other people, I bit my lip and quieted myself. Despite being mortified by both internal and external factors, I wasn’t nearly done, and I refused to ruin the pleasure I had just found. Keeping the rhythm with my fingers, I maintained the peak for a few more seconds. The subsequent moans were more quiet and subdued, between living with my parents in a quiet neighborhood and then living at an apartment with thin walls, I always held back my sounds. Except for that one I just made, while I had been too distracted to muffle myself like usual.

I brought myself all the way back down with my touch, letting out a long sigh as I rubbed myself one final time. Keeping my eyes closed and my hand where it was for a few long seconds, I delayed the inevitable for as long as I could. But there was dinner to eat, and homework to do, and so much to still figure out. Opening my eyes and removing my hand from its promiscuous location, I took a deep breath as I tried to come to terms with, well, everything. Because while I felt slightly more calm from the quickie I gave myself, I certainly wasn’t more level-headed.

Getting off to the thought of Annabelle? Even when she wasn’t with me, she was still present in such a personal moment. And no matter how hard I tried to justify things with the legal adult angle, as well as how maturely the girl carried herself, I still couldn’t shake the fact that she was in high school. Just like when I was in the car, I found myself faced with the same question–What was wrong with me?!

As I changed into fresh underwear and more comfortable clothes, I spent the whole time trying to reframe things. It’s not that I wanted Annabelle. Obviously. It was my fault for seeking release so soon after an afternoon with her where so much happened. If she was on my mind throughout the drive and the entire time I was cooking, of course she was going to be there for that. Any other day, any other time? I would have been thinking about, well, whatever I normally thought about.

Intrusive thoughts and vivid memories about Annabelle aside, I also had the collar to contend with. After dinner, I spent a good ten minutes in the bathroom seeing if I could remove it. While the lock looked super small and breakable, its size also made it difficult to examine or get a good grip on. Maybe it was possible to work through the leather with a good pair of scissors, but not when the collar was clasped so tightly around my neck. Like I had suspected in the car, the key was the only easy option. And that would not only require keeping the awkward accessory on for almost 24 hours, but also convincing Annabelle to give it back right away without falling victim to her usual games. And it had been made abundantly clear that I was not well equipped to handle the girl, considering how I had mentally and verbally prepared myself for today before allowing things to spiral so quickly out of control anyway. I couldn’t imagine tomorrow going much better, and yet I knew I had to go back. Not just because I was stuck in the collar, but because I told Annabelle that I would.

Being distracted during cooking was one thing, but I found that my schoolwork wasn’t much better. Normally I was more than capable of focusing for hours straight at my place, even after a long day. My study/homework rituals had gotten to the point where I had practically conditioned myself to be productive. Sometimes even looking at my desk sparked whatever mental formula I could procure from my most recent assignment, and sitting at the desk was even more effective in terms of flicking that switch from ‘relaxed’ to ‘top of her class student.’

Usually.

I could barely focus after dinner, even with the usual tea/music/desk combination. My mind kept drifting to Annabelle’s hands on my shoulders, her voice in my ear, her lips brushing against mine but never being quite close enough to be kissed. More than once, I had to fully snap myself out of it with a head shake and a frustrated exhale. Once, I got up and splashed my face with water in an attempt to reset myself, but that only brought on a round of blushing as I saw myself collared in the mirror.

It wasn’t that I had a crush on the girl, or that I wanted to do more of what we did. But at the same time, I wouldn’t be opposed if she made the same advances. I was so, SO confused. My logical, proper, mathematics brain knew full well that the thing to do was to storm over there tomorrow, demand the key, and never let Annabelle get within five feet of me ever again. Or, if I could stomach it, walk away entirely and let Bridget take the lucrative job despite how much I had done to prevent that from happening. But on the other side of things . . . I did want to keep Bridget from having a cushy job. And as much as Annabelle frustrated and intimidated me, she still had so many other effects on me as well. After all of her blatant manipulations, both socially and otherwise, I still felt the need to impress her. To be seen as pretty, and brave, and more. Even though she was the younger girl. Even though I was the tutor and she was the student.

And it was more than just the difference in social status, or even the fact I felt a bit self conscious when comparing myself to how drop dead gorgeous she was. The biggest part was honestly her confidence, and how she was the kind of girl who did whatever she wanted. Who took what she wanted. And, while she still had a few glaring teenage tendencies, I managed to fall under her spell again and again. I could have walked out of her suite a dozen times, and yet I stayed.

Sighing to myself, I began reorganizing my stack of work. My progress was atrocious, and it was getting to the point where I had to prioritize homework and group projects. Studying would have to wait, as that was the only thing without a deadline. Idly tugging at the collar, as if that would somehow loosen the slightly too tight leather, I got back to work.

There was only so much night left, as I wasn’t the type to stay up late. I still had to figure out if one of my scarves could successfully conceal my neck without looking too weird. That would probably end up being tomorrow morning’s problem.

Just when I was starting to finally find a rhythm after nearly an hour of not so great focus, my phone buzzed. At first, I thought it was one of my group members messaging me back. Apparently not.

It was a text from Annabelle.

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