Schooled Page 4

  “Open your legs wider.” I bite back a sob and obey. Why is this making me so wet, when it hurts like hell? Why is my inner core pulsing and hungry, even as flames of agony lick up my thighs? I clench my fists so tight my knuckles go white. “That’s enough!” I shriek, and start to close my legs.

  Very firmly, he places his hands on my inner thighs and forces them open again. “Do you want me to call the board of trustees, Josie?”

  “No, please don’t!” I beg him.

  “Then you keep those legs open for me until I tell you otherwise. You’ve earned this punishment, Josie. And now you get five extra for trying to defy me. Nice and wide, there’s a good girl.”

  I sob into my arm as he deliveries a series of harsh slaps on my already aching thighs.

  Finally he finishes, and my flesh is red and stinging.

  Then, to my mortification, he kneels down and kisses me between my legs, his lips on my soaked panties.

  “Is this all for me, Josie?” He breathes in deeply. “It smells like heaven.”

  “Oh God… Yes…” I gasp. “Yes, it’s all for you.”

  “You want to come, don’t you, Josie?”

  “Yes, sir. Please, sir.”

  He stands up, his tone turning harsh and severe. “You’ll come when I say you can come. Stand up and face me.” I obey, wiping away my tears with the back of my hand as he fishes in his pocket and pulls out two wicked-looking clamps.

  “Take off your shirt and bra.”

  As if in a trance, I obey him. I bite back a cry of pain when he applies a clamp to each nipple.

  He grabs me by the upper arm and leads me behind his desk. The clamps burn, but I don’t dare try to take them off. He sits down in his chair and gestures at me to kneel.

  “The nipple clamps don’t come off until you make me come.”

  “Yes, sir.” Then he frees his cock from his pants.

  “Sir, I’ve never done this before.” I stare up at him, anxious. “I don’t want to be bad at it. Teach me, please.”

  Chapter Seven

  Carter

  “Teach me, please.” Those words from her lips—pursed and pink and oh-so fuckable—are almost enough to make me come right then and there. I bite back a groan and stare down sternly at her. She needs that from me—needs me to discipline her. Guide her.

  Her nipples are erect and a bright rosy pink from the pressure of the clamps, and I resist the urge to tweak the playthings away and replace them with the wet warmth of my mouth. Her perky tits beg for my attention, but I’m going to make her wait. Make us both wait.

  “Take hold of my cock and stroke it,” I instruct her.

  She’s had lovers before me, but I can tell she’s never had the opportunity to really explore a man’s body with her hands and mouth. Aroused curiosity glimmers in her eyes as she wraps her fingers around my length and begins to stroke me from root to tip.

  “Good… That’s it; oh God, that’s good.”

  I groan as she runs her fingers over the head of my cock, spreading the slick bead of cum at my tip in tiny circles. Then her tongue darts out to taste, and I grip the arms of my chair until my knuckles turn white.

  “Suck the tip,” I instruct her. “Pretend you’ve been a good girl for me and I’ve given you a lollipop. Taste me.”

  Her tongue darts out again, nervously wetting her lips, then she opens her mouth and takes in the head of my cock, swirling her tongue around and around. God, she’s a natural.

  I groan and shift my hips, and the motion pushes me further into her warm, wet, welcoming mouth. She opens with a little muffled sigh and sucks in more of my length, and I let my hands drift to her head, stroking her hair and murmuring rough encouragement as she starts to bob up and down, getting into a rhythm.

  She has to stop once or twice to catch her breath, but she goes right back to work, licking and sucking, nearly purring with pleasure as she laps at the cum gathering in my slit then sinks back down onto my cock until she’s almost swallowing me. Before long I’m clenching my fists on the chair arms again, fighting back the urge to come, but I know it’s a losing battle.

  As she dips her head again, taking me in, her hum of appreciation sends delicious vibrations from my balls shooting straight up my spine. I shout and my hips buck as cum pulses from me in endless waves of pleasure-pain.

  And Josie…sweet, naughty Josie doesn’t miss a beat—she swallows every drop, then she licks me clean, just as if my cock really were a piece of candy.

  I’m still riding the blissful high of my orgasm, and the look of pride on her face is adorable…but I want to see it wiped off and replaced with an expression of stunned completion. I pull her to her feet as I rise, and I lift her onto the desk again, parting her thighs and sinking to my knees. I flip up her skirt and yank down her panties, burying my face in her pussy before she has time to react.

  Almost at once she’s moaning and squirming against my mouth. I know my stubble is abrading the tender skin of her inner thighs, but neither of us cares. She loves that edge of pain, as I always knew she would.

  I pull back for a moment and look up at her. “Take off the clamps,” I instruct her, then return my lips and tongue to her quivering clit, lapping and sucking.

  I hear the faint tink-tink as the clamps hit the desktop, then her startled, heartfelt moan as the bloodflow returns to her nipples, a tender hurt that magnifies every lash of my tongue against her soaking pussy.

  God, she’s so responsive I can hardly stand it, and I skim my hand up her thigh so I can slide my finger into her clenching channel, beckoning her orgasm toward me. She fists her hands in my hair, hard enough to hurt, and her thighs clamp tight to the sides of my head as she comes against my mouth—wave after wave of spasming pleasure.

  I don’t stop. I wring every drop of pleasure from her until she’s limp and gasping, cursing incoherently, her body jerking as though she’s being electrocuted.

  As I stand, her face is flushed, her eyes closed and her lips parted as she struggles to draw in air.

  I help her to sit up.

  I pull her panties up for her, and she adjusts her skirt.

  She’s trembling all over, so I pull her into my arms.

  “I’m proud of you, Josie,” I say, letting my fingers trail down her back.

  “Why, sir?” her voice is a soft whisper.

  “I’m proud of how well you’re doing in your classes. You managed to get caught up in no time at all, and your writing is excellent. You’ve got a very unique voice when you write. I’d love to have you take creative writing with me. And I’m proud of how well you take my punishments. You’re so strong and brave.”

  She melts into me, her head resting on my shoulder, and she’s not trembling any more. I keep stroking her back, because it seems to calm her, and I don’t want my little Josie to be upset. “I…I can’t always be quiet, sir.”

  “I love it when you make noise. The way you cry out…it makes me so fucking hard.”

  She tips her head back up and looks at me. “I love that I make you hard.”

  I bend down and kiss her gently, on the lips. I can’t remember the last time I kissed a woman. When Josie’s lips part on a sigh of surrender, I grab her hair and kiss her hungrily, my tongue twirling around hers, sinking in deeper and deeper. Claiming her as mine. Time becomes elastic, stretching and stretching, and I have no idea how long I’ve been kissing her when I finally pull away.

  She’s staring up at me with such hunger and longing that it takes my breath away. Could this be real? Could I claim her for my own, forever?

  Her gaze drops, and she stares at the floor. “I should go.”

  “I’ll walk you to your car,” I say, as she hurries over to grab her backpack.

  “I’ll be fine, sir.”

  “Yes, you will, because I’ll be right by your side.”

  She brightens at that, and I walk her out to her car and wish I could sling my arm around her shoulders without worrying about the students walking to th
eir dorms right now. I wish I could claim my Josie right there in front of everyone.

  Chapter Eight

  Carter

  Thursday afternoon, I’m sitting in the teacher’s lounge when Josie strolls through the door. I glance at her, puzzled.

  “She comes in here all the time,” Miss Bellingham sneers. She’s been sitting in a chair watching me, as usual, in that creepy way of hers.

  I glance over at her. “Must have been when I wasn’t here. What does she do here?”

  “She’s always drinking the coffee and eating bagels. Like she can’t afford her own breakfast.” Miss Bellingham rolls her eyes.

  That’s odd. We do always have a nice spread of bagels and donuts in the morning, but why would Josie need them?

  I watch as Josie pours herself a cup of coffee, and then, when she thinks nobody is looking, she casually strides by Mrs. Wallace, who’s sitting on a pleather couch typing away on a laptop. Mrs. Wallace’s huge Louis Vuitton purse sits next to her on the couch, gaping open. Quick as a flash, Josie’s hand dips in and she snatches Mrs. Wallace’s purse. Then she saunters off casually, heading for the door.

  “I’ll call security!” Miss Bellingham says eagerly, standing up. “We can report her together.”

  I glare at her, leaping to my feet. “I will deal with this.”

  “Well, I’m still telling security.” Miss Bellingham’s tone is huffy now.

  “And then I’ll have to talk to your department chair about how you flirt with the male students in your classes to the point where you make them uncomfortable.”

  She glares at me, face flushing red.

  “I do not.” But she sinks back down onto her seat. And yes, she does—I’ve heard her students complaining about it.

  I stalk after Josie, who’s turning a corner and heading down the hallway that leads to the exit. I slide between her and the door.

  “Give me the wallet, now,” I snap at her.

  She looks at me, startled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  I shove my hand in her pocketbook and pull out the wallet.

  “Seriously, what is wrong with you?” I snap. “What is this middle-school shit?”

  Her sullen look melts into a smirk. “Maybe I just want you to spank me.”

  And then I hear her stomach growl. She blushes furiously and hugs herself, staring at the floor.

  “Come with me,” I snap.

  I lead her back to the lounge, and I hand Mrs. Wallace her wallet. “Excuse me, I think you dropped this.”

  “Oh, thank you,” she says, looking puzzled.

  Then I fetch my lunch bag from the fridge and gesture at Josie to follow me. We walk outside the building, and I hand her the bag.

  She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry,” she says in a sulky tone, like a five-year-old who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

  “You’re too skinny. You’re losing weight. Eat the damn lunch. That wasn’t a request. Or my next punishment will make you cry.”

  “Yes, sir,” she mutters.

  She takes her lunch and walks over to a bench, sitting with her back to me.

  I watch as she scarfs down my sandwich and apple like a starving wolf.

  She shows up to class on time on Friday and sits at the back again. Savannah, her “friend”, keeps writing in her notebook and angrily gesturing at it. Josie’s trying to pay attention to what I say, but Savannah keeps elbowing her.

  I walk to the back of the class and grab the notebook.

  “Hey!” Savannah screeches. “You can’t do that! It’s illegal!”

  I snort. “Please go complain to campus security, then. They could use a good laugh.” The other students laugh loudly, and Savannah folds her arms across her chest and glares at me through mascara-crusted eyes.

  I scan the notes quickly, flipping through the pages. Savannah is whining about Josie not lending her money and how she never used to be such a tightass—and also, picking up on the subtext of the notes, it seems as if Savannah owes someone a lot of money, probably for drugs.

  Something doesn’t add up here. I know that Josie gets five thousand dollars a month allowance, and she lives at home, so she has no expenses. And she dresses nicely, but she’s not like a lot of the students here with ridiculous runway-style wardrobes.

  I toss the notebook back down.

  “Josie and Savannah, you’re distracting each other. Josie, there is a seat in the front of the class. From now on, that is where you will sit.”

  I actually see a flash of gratitude in Josie’s eyes as she gathers up her books. Melody glances at Josie; she’s got pages of cartoons scribbled in her notebook, and when she sees me looking, she quickly shuts it.

  “You’re very talented, Melody, but this is English Lit. Please spend a little more time on your notes. Unless you want to do all your assignments in graphic novel form.”

  Her eyes light up. “I could do that?”

  “Yes, but they’d better be A-plus material.” I may be a hardass, but I want my students to succeed, and I’m willing to embrace unconventional methods to see that happens.

  Josie flashes me a smile that melts my heart.

  Then she settles in the front row, and I use all my willpower to ignore her as she leans forward over her desk, studiously scribbling notes.

  That evening, she shows up at my office right on time.

  We settle down on the couch, and I inhale her light, sweet scent of honeysuckle. Then I look over her schoolwork and nod with approval. “This is excellent,” I say. “I’m very impressed. Now tell me why you stole that wallet.”

  She scowls at the ground. “Mrs. Wallace doesn’t even need that money. Her husband owns a real estate company. He golfs with my dad. Sir.”

  “That’s not an explanation.”

  She shrugs and looks away.

  Frustration coils inside me. “Walk over to the desk and place your hands on it,” I snap at her.

  “Yes, sir.” Her scowl melts away and she eagerly hurries over to the desk.

  I lift her skirt, exposing her magnificent ass. She’s wearing a black thong, and her rear end is like two halves of a peach, ripe and luscious. The marks from her last spanking have faded. I stroke her skin lightly.

  “I’m ready, sir,” she says breathlessly, squirming a little.

  “For what?”

  “My punishment. Sir. I deserve it.”

  I frown at her. “Is that why you did it? Because you wanted to be spanked?”

  Slight hesitation. “Yes.”

  Please. She’s got the worst poker face ever. “Don’t lie to me, Josie. I will be very disappointed in you if you lie.”

  Her body tenses. My fingers glide over the silken skin of her butt, drawing a trail of goosebumps.

  “I don’t want you to be disappointed in me, sir.” Sorrow laces her voice. “I’m trying to be better.”

  “I know. So tell me the truth.”

  “I can’t.”

  I could force her, but I want her to tell me of her own free will. Something’s wrong in her life, something’s eating away at her, and I can’t help her if she doesn’t open up to me.

  I want to take her, I want to plunge my cock into her until she screams my name, but more than that, I want her to open up to me so I can help her. I’m willing to suffer blue balls until the end of time if my suffering will nudge her in the right direction.

  “All right,” I say, withdrawing my hand. Regretfully, I tug her skirt back down so it’s covering her. “When you’re ready, you’ll tell me. Get out your textbook, please.”

  “What?” she says, twisting around to stare at me in bewilderment. “You aren’t going to spank me?”

  “Not while you’re keeping secrets from me, no.”

  Her face falls, and tears well up in her beautiful eyes. Sweet, inexperienced little Josie—she doesn’t understand true sadism. As the old joke goes, the masochist cries out, “Beat me!” and the sadist says, “No.”

  I can
tell she’s distracted during the rest of our lesson. She squirms in her seat. She bites her lip. She keeps glancing over at me as if she’s hoping that I’ll change my mind, and a couple of times when she swings her long, dark hair out of her face, she “accidentally” brushes her small, firm breasts against my arm.

  But I stay strong.

  When she leaves, she slams the door behind her, hard.

  Chapter Nine

  Carter

  Josie doesn’t show up to our tutoring session Saturday afternoon.

  Doesn’t call, doesn’t show.

  I’m both worried and pissed off. I call her, I text her. I consider going to her house, since I know that her parents are both away travelling, but that would be too risky. I search news reports to see if anything has happened to her, but nothing comes up.

  I’m getting angrier and angrier, but I also know my Josie. She’s sulking because I didn’t spank her and then fuck her the way she hoped. So she’s skipping the tutoring session to punish me. Well, she’s in for a nasty surprise the next time I get her alone.

  After a full day of stewing, I head to Surrender that night.

  I go into a changing room and put on my leather hood, my black jeans, leather boots and tank top. It’s a comforting ritual, the change of clothing representing a cross-over to a different world—a world where I can be fully myself.

  Usually, if I’m feeling frustrated, I can satisfy myself by finding a woman to tie up and spank, but ever since I started meeting Josie in my office, that option is off the table for me. As usual, a steady stream of women try to catch my attention, but I brush them off irritably and lurk by the bar.

  I make conversation with some of my friends who are regulars, I have a couple of drinks, but I’m just not feeling it.

  A couple of hours drag by, and I’m about to head home when I see a new club member ignoring his sub’s panicked plea to stop paddling her. When she yells out “red”, everyone rushes over. That’s the code word that someone needs help.

  The doofus argues, so we kick him out.

  The sub, a skinny brunette whose scene name is Phoebe, stumbles over to a couch and sits down, crying. I go and sit in a chair facing her. “You’re okay,” I tell her, patting her knee. “He’ll never come back.”