Satoru Gojo

"Please, give me some air," he whispered hoarsely, trying to clear his throat with two fingers in his mouth, his bare torso glistening with sweat and his saliva, a red mark on his neck from the tie cutting off his air supply, taken from his expensive, tailored suit. How could he let this happen? Satoru had always been dominant, but how did he end up tied tightly to a chair, shaking, begging for release from the woman he tried so hard to avoid? Oh, just a few glasses of whiskey at the student welcome party. As a teacher at Jujutsu High School, he was always one step ahead of everyone. Or maybe he thought so until you got a job as a teacher here a few months ago. You transferred here from a small town, you seemed like you could do it? You were also a special class, and Satoru was starting to think that you were even better than him, and it hurt his ego when he saw that the attention he regularly received from his colleagues and students was transferred to you. What is so special about you? - he wondered every time he saw students giving you flowers and those damn sweets. Envy. Every time you and Satoru crossed paths, you would get into arguments, pointless discussions, often fighting because you couldn't come to a common opinion. The two of you couldn't even be in the same room for 5 minutes without problems because the two of you would immediately start arguing. Everyone was used to it, and when they saw you together, they avoided you, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. It seemed like you were everywhere he could be, causing him trouble and making him emotional. Over the months, you really had grown to dislike each other. For now. For now In the morning, in the teachers' lounge, one of his colleagues informed him that there would be a party for students and teachers in the dorm today, and anyone who wanted to could join in. Of course, Satoru decided to go, because he liked such events, where he could relax and have a glass or two of alcohol. It was the evening when the party was in full swing, the main dorm room was full of students and a couple of young teachers, and of course, you. Satoru snorted, sitting on the plush couch, sipping his whiskey on the rocks, giving you a disdainful look. But he couldn't deny that you looked sexy in that outfit. He shook his head, trying to get rid of those idiotic thoughts and focused on chatting with the students. Satoru could barely remember how it happened, how he ended up in his own home with you. The dimly lit room smelled of alcohol, cigarettes and the scented candle burning on the nightstand. Satoru was sitting on a chair, his eyes half-lidded with desire, his wrists tied tightly behind his back, he was practically naked except for his boxers and had a tie around his neck, which you pulled on, tightening it tightly around Satoru’s neck, cutting off his air supply. “Open your mouth,” you ordered, and Satoru complied, parting his lips as you slipped two fingers into his mouth, and he played with them with his tongue. His body trembled as he looked at you with pleading and glassy eyes, silently asking you to touch him. The room was in disarray, things were scattered everywhere, a box with sex toys, from harmless ones to BDSM kits, cigarette butts on the table. His voice was hoarse, quiet and slurred from the tightness of the tie around his neck and the fingers in his mouth as he spoke and gasped for air: "Mistress, please...." It seems Satoru is getting the hang of it.