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  “What do you want me to do?” I twist the lock of hair around my finger and give it a sharp tug. “I told you you’d have to beg me for it.”

  “I want you…inside me, sir.” She mutters the words as she flushes with humiliation, avoiding my eyes.

  “Is that the best you can do?” I drop my hand and start to walk away.

  She hurries after me and grabs my arm. “Please, sir, I really want it. Please. I’m begging you, sir!”

  Now that’s more like it. I spin her around and bend her over the desk again. My fingers slide between her legs, stroking her damp curls. “I like you like this. Never shave.”

  “Yes, sir.” Slowly, her tense muscles relax and she melts into the desk, lifting her little ass up in the air. I bend down and kiss the fiery lines. “You’re going to be a good girl from now on, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir,” she moans.

  “Stay there. Stay perfectly still.”

  She does as I tell her, her breathing shallow, the line of her spine tense with anticipation.

  I walk over to my briefcase, open it, and fetch a condom. I slide it onto my rock-hard cock. She’s bent over the desk, and I run my hand down her back, over the tight little globes of her ass and the backs of her upper thighs, allowing my fingers to flirt close to the slick flesh between her thighs but not…quite…touch. She wriggles, and her breath hitches.

  Do I hear a tiny whimper when my hands leave her flesh? My cock is rigid and throbbing with need, so eager it hurts, and I have to bring to bear all my self-discipline to keep myself from plunging into her wet heat. A good Dom has to be his own master above all else, and I’m a good Dom.

  I kneel down behind her, not touching at first, just taking in the sight of her glistening pussy, so sweet and tight, and inhaling the musky scent of her arousal. Her panties bind her legs together, and I fist them in one hand and yank them down further, encouraging her to kick them off one foot so I can push her legs wider, giving me access to her sweet little cunt.

  At the first touch of my tongue against her heated flesh, she gasps and jerks away, then as I persist, she moans and settles back over the desk, cocking her pert backside higher to give me better access to her slick folds. She’s so wet for me, and I lap ravenously at her core, strumming her clit with my tongue until she’s as tense as a bowstring and shuddering on the brink of orgasm.

  When I pull away and push myself to my feet, I’m sure I hear her stifle a sob of frustrated longing, and I smile to myself.

  I position the head of my cock at her entrance, groaning low in my throat at the quivering heat of her. She tries to push back against me, tries to impale herself on my length, impatient little brat that she is, and I grab her hips to hold her still. I tease her for a moment longer—tease myself, too, holding still and resisting the urge to fill her tight little body. Then as slowly as I can bear, in one smooth movement, I push inside her. Her pussy is as tight as a fist, and I as I draw away then fuck back into her, she whimpers and spasms around me, the first tremors of impending orgasm.

  I grab her hips, not caring that I’ll leave finger-shaped bruises, and I piston into her, setting a rough, rhythmic pace. Within moments she’s gasping and mewling, sweat-damp fingers scrabbling for purchase on the desktop as she comes hard around me, her inner muscles squeezing me.

  She’s gasping for breath now as the orgasm peaks and rolls over her in another shuddering wave, but I’m merciless. I drive into her again and again, pushing her higher and higher with every thrust of my cock, never allowing her to pause for breath.

  Her second orgasm is a thrilling, full-body shudder that has her pressing her mouth against her arm to muffle a strangled scream, and the fierce, greedy clenching of her body around my cock tips me over the edge.

  It washes over me in a wave of bliss and I lose myself inside her, yanking her up roughly against me so I can smother my hoarse shout of completion against the sweaty nape of her neck. I explode inside her, my cock pulsing and my legs shaking with the force of my orgasm. I’ve never come so hard.

  It’s a little while before I can compose myself enough to pull out of her wet pussy and clean myself up. I pull up her panties for her and smooth down her skirt.

  “When you come for your tutoring session Wednesday night, the building will be empty. And I’ll put on the white noise machine,” I promise her.

  She turns around. “You’re not going to spank me again, though, right?”

  I cup her chin in my hand and tilt her chin up. “Well, you just forgot to say sir, so that’s at least one smack on your delightful little ass.” She opens her mouth to argue, and I slide my finger in. “Don’t give me a reason to add more,” I warn, and she sucks in her breath and nods.

  Chapter Five

  Josie

  It’s past midnight, and I’m lying awake in my bedroom, sprawled on the silken sheets of my king-sized bed. My furniture has always been too big for me. That’s the Caldwell way – everything’s oversized. Why do we need a 7500-square-foot Mansionzilla when there’s just the three of us and they’re hardly ever home? What teenage girl needs a king-size bed? Did my parents think I was going to have orgies in here, or what?

  Normally I’m used to being alone in this cold, echoey house, but tonight the bed feels much too big. I wish Carter—Professor Lowe—were here too. Then the bed would be the perfect size. Or at least I wouldn’t notice because we’d be busy doing other things.

  My mind drifts back to earlier in the day. The way I felt when my teacher spanked my bare ass with a ruler…then knelt behind me and did things to me with his tongue that had me cross-eyed and seeing stars. His tongue should be regulated by the FDA as addictive. I’m already going through withdrawal.

  Oh my God. Oh my God. That was the most amazing sex ever. I have been thoroughly schooled by Professor Lowe, and I want more, more, more.

  My hand moves between my legs and I stroke myself.

  I know I’m just a temporary amusement for Professor Lowe, just a toy to play with and then discard. But being with him felt incredible.

  I play back the scene in his office like a dirty movie. That spanking really hurt, but I had earned every smack—and I’m incredibly proud of how well I handled it. I didn’t scream out loud. I accepted that I’d screwed up and my teacher was punishing me for it. There was something empowering about making it through such a harsh punishment without a single shriek. I felt like a warrior who’d triumphed in battle.

  And when he was finished spanking me, my thighs were quivering and I could feel the moisture oozing between my lips.

  I’d never come for anyone else before.

  I close my eyes and think about what he did to me, and I stroke myself until that warm feeling burns through me, but this is a much quieter orgasm, nothing like the explosions that rocketed through me when Professor Lowe’s cock slammed into me.

  Then I roll over and hug my pillow. I wish that I could fall asleep in my professor’s strong, muscular arms, but that will never happen. He doesn’t like me that way. I made moon-eyes at him all through fall semester, and he never so much as cracked a smile. He didn’t bother with me until I was in his class, and it’s pretty obvious that’s just because I’m convenient—for now.

  I’m sure I’m just one in a long line of girls he’s messed around with, and he’ll toss me aside when the semester is over, and it’s fine. Well, it’s not fine, but I can live with it. I’ll have to, won’t I? I can’t make a man care about me. Not a man like him, handsome, powerful, self-confident and experienced. He could have any girl he wants.

  I finally drift off to sleep. I wake up at five a.m. as usual, make myself coffee, and head to Louise’s house.

  I use my key to let myself in to her little yellow ranch house.

  The trick to getting Louise to let me help her is to get everything done before she wakes up.

  She’s recovering from the cancer that took both her breasts. I’m terrified of losing her, and I know that her immune system is still weak
from the chemo, so I come here almost every morning and wash everything down until it squeaks. I scrub the living hell out of everything. The floors, the counters, the doorknobs. That’s why I’m late to Professor Lowe’s class.

  She’s tired these days, so she sleeps in much later than she used to. If she were awake, she would never let me clean for her.

  Her caretaker isn’t here today. There’s no more money for the caretaker this month, so it falls on me. That’s fine; I don’t mind at all. It’s the least I can do for the woman who never forgot a birthday, who did my homework with me and made me feel like a superstar with every A that I got.

  After I finish cleaning, I take out the trash. Tuesday is trash day. Next, I cook her breakfast. Only then do I wake her up and insist that she eats. She’s way too skinny.

  She comes out of her room a few minutes later, wearing a pink house dress and a matching pink kerchief over the fuzz of her newly regrown hair. She smiles at me as she sits at her little round Formica table and eats a big spoonful of oatmeal while I watch.

  “You’re such a good girl.” Then she frowns and sets her spoon down. “Promise me you’re not missing class right now.”

  “I’m not,” I say. I glance at the sunflower wall clock. “I can stay a little longer.”

  “Only if you eat. You’re losing weight, I can tell. I need you to stop worrying about me, dear.”

  “Make me.” I stick my tongue out at her, but I shove a piece of buttered toast in my mouth.

  “My, my.” She takes another bite of oatmeal, shaking her head in mock reproach. “I did a terrible job raising you, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you did. Utter failure. I mean, look how I turned out, I’m a nightmare. Also, you’re talking with your mouth full. You can’t even set a good example.” I cram the rest of the toast into my mouth and grin.

  She smiles at me. “Go. To. Class.” She says it with her mouth full, then sticks her oatmeal-covered tongue out at me and makes a face.

  “Gross! Okay, I’m going, I’m going.” I’m laughing as I head out the door.

  I barely make it to my first class on time. College algebra. Ugh. And I’m so tired I’m yawning throughout the whole class.

  But thinking of what Professor Lowe will do to me if I don’t get all my homework done, I head over to the tutoring center after class. If it weren’t for the threat of getting my butt spanked again, I’d probably have just napped in the library until it was time for Western Civ this afternoon.

  I can barely keep my mind on my lessons, thinking of what’s waiting for me on Wednesday night. What will he do to me? Will he beg me for more?

  I try to concentrate, but my mind keeps drifting back to Carter.

  What does he think of me? Does he even like me? He called me lazy and spoiled. I am spoiled, that’s true; I’ve had everything handed to me on a platter. I used to ask my parents for outrageous things just to see what they’d do. “I want a pony, Daddy.” “I want to fly to Switzerland this weekend, Daddy.” “I want a diamond tiara for my sweet sixteen, Mommy.”

  They never said no. After a while I got bored of asking.

  Am I lazy, though? That kind of stings. I’ve always gotten good grades. Granted, before college I didn’t have to try hard.

  It annoys me that Professor Lowe is judging me just like every other grownup I’ve ever met. He looks at me and sees a bratty rich girl who’s been swaddled in designer silks since birth. He doesn’t know the real me, he doesn’t know my life. He doesn’t know how lonely I am in my big, empty house, how angry I am that my parents treat me like something that needs to be scheduled and managed, how frightened I am of losing my Louise.

  I think about telling him everything, but then I bite back a bitter laugh. I remember what happened the last time I trusted an “authority figure” with my secrets.

  With a sigh, I force myself to concentrate on my math homework.

  Chapter Six

  Josie

  I go to Louise’s house to clean and cook breakfast for her again on Wednesday morning, and I still manage to make it to class on time – barely. Savannah, who’s still salty because of the money, wrinkles her nose. “You smell like bleach,” she informs me, sliding her chair away from me. “What happened to your maids?”

  “She buried them in the back yard, and the bleach is from her cleaning up the crime scene,” Melody decides, and promptly starts sketching a gruesome murder scene.

  “Freak,” Savannah sneers. “Ever since you started dating that comic nerd, you’ve been getting weirder and weirder.”

  Melody looks hurt. “His name is Steve, and nerds are cool these days. Bill Gates is a nerd and he’s a billionaire.”

  “And you’re getting meaner and meaner,” I snap at Savannah. I look at her. Her pupils are dilated and her nostrils look red and irritated.

  Savannah grimaces. “I’m sorry. I’m going through some stuff.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask quietly. Professor Lowe is standing with his back to the class, writing something on the board. He’s wearing a gray silk suit that looks as if it’s tailored just for him. My heartbeat speeds up as my eyes wander over his broad back and his firm, round ass.

  “Nothing to talk about,” Savannah says with a shrug, staring moodily out the window.

  Melody’s pen dances over the paper. “Me and Steve are making comics together,” she tells me. “When he graduates, we’re going to start marketing them.”

  “Loser, much?” Savannah rolls her eyes. “You used to be cool before you started dating Poindexter.”

  “And you used to be a lot nicer before you started dating a drug dealer,” Melody snaps.

  Dating a drug dealer? I look at Savannah, startled.

  “You little bitch!” Savannah hisses.

  “Ladies!” Professor Lowe’s voice cracks through the air. We all look up, startled.

  “Sorry, sir,” I call out.

  “Oh, it’s sir now, is it?” Savannah sniggers, covering her hand with her mouth and mumbling just loud enough for me to hear.

  “If it happens again, there will be consequences.” He’s looking at me when he says that.

  “Yes, sir.” I stare down at my notebook, biting my lip.

  For the rest of the class, I scribble furiously, taking notes on everything he says.

  My body hums with anticipation all day long. I’m distracted, and also tired from waking up at the butt-crack of dawn every day, but I force myself to pay attention in all my classes because I don’t want to disappoint Professor Lowe.

  That evening, it’s dark as I drive back to campus and park in front of the humanities building. He’s standing in the doorway waiting for me. Watching over me. I tell myself it’s because he’s worried about my safety, because he cares about me. I know I’m lying to myself, but it feels good to believe that.

  We sit down in his office, side by side on a small couch that faces his desk. He reviews my work for my other classes, then nods with approval.

  “Very good,” he says to me.

  “You don’t have to sound so surprised, sir,” I say indignantly.

  “Very good,” he says in a deep, exaggerated voice. Then he does it in a fake British accent. “Jolly good. Is that better?”

  I laugh out loud.

  “No, sir, that was much, much worse. Don’t quit your day job.”

  “Brat,” he says, but there’s fondness in his voice, and he strokes my hair from my face with such tenderness that sudden tears prick my eyes.

  We sit there in silence for a few moments, and arousal warms the place between my legs, but I want more than sex, hot as it is. I at least want to pretend that we’re a real thing.

  “You know everything about me. I don’t know anything about you. That’s hardly fair. Sir.”

  He shrugs those broad shoulders. “Life’s not fair.”

  Yeah, that’s for damn sure. Why does someone like Louise get sick and struggle to pay her bills at the same time? Where’s the fairness in that?
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  But he sees the sad look on my face, and maybe he thinks that it’s because of what he just said, so he tells me a little bit.

  “My parents were both professors. I get my love of reading, and of teaching, from them. My mother taught poetry and my father taught English. My mother died a few years ago, and my father retired and is travelling the world now.”

  “I’m sorry about your mother.”

  A faint, haunted look drifts across his face, then vanishes instantly.

  I’m making him sad. I don’t want to do that, so I change the subject. “Is Surrender the first BDSM club you’ve worked at? You work security there, right?”

  Something about that makes him smile. “I’ve been involved in the BDSM community since I was in my early twenties. Even before that, I was a natural dominant.”

  Somehow, thinking about him with other women gives me a sick feeling deep inside.

  I want to ask him about his past relationships, but he’s standing up, and when I see the look on his face, my stomach clenches with mingled fear and anticipation.

  “You wore your short skirt again today. I like you in short skirts, little schoolgirl,” he says, his voice husky. “And you did all your homework. But you were talking in class today, so you still get punished.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He takes my hand and leads me to his desk. Then he grabs my hips and lifts me up so I’m sitting on the desk facing him. He puts his hands on my thighs and spreads them open. My skirt rides up, and I’m embarrassed because I’ve soaked my panties with the juices of my arousal.

  He reaches for that damn ruler again. I clench the sides of the desk as he smacks my inner thigh sharply.

  “Ouch! Please, sir, I— Ouch!”

  Each time the ruler hits my flesh, there’s a sharp sting, but it’s entwined with intense pleasure. He smacks me at the very top of my inner thighs, where it won’t show, and I writhe on the desk, whimpering with pain and arousal.

  “Please,” I moan. My skin is hot and throbbing. “Please, it hurts, sir! I’m sorry, I’m really sorry!”