by Diane Adams
“You are such a slut,” he breathed into my parted lips, and my eyes popped open. I tried to protest, but instead of sounding indignant, it came out in a kind of negative-sounding yelp. He regained his grip on my tie and rubbed the side of his face against mine. “Don’t deny it; we both know it’s true.” His breath was hot against my cheek, and I shuddered when it brushed my ear. My cock was completely over any embarrassment and was already taking a reawakened interest in things. Adam chuckled and rocked his hips against me. His dick was just as hard as mine, but no one was accusing him of being a slut. My defense was weak, and I was afraid that in the next few minutes it would crumble completely.
It turned out I overestimated how long it would take. Adam let go of my tie and unfastened my pants. He slid one hand down the back of my underwear and cupped my ass.
“A slut and a very, very bad boy,” he said before he moved away from me. “Bend over the desk, Taylor.” That was when I noticed he still held the ruler. He tapped it against his thigh impatiently as he waited for me to do as he said. I wet my lips, glanced down at his hand and back up at his face. There was no doubting his intent. Just beyond my door, I heard the rowdy sounds of an office party celebrating someone’s birthday. I saw the campus through the tinted windows that thankfully kept anyone from seeing in. I was reasonably sure there were no witnesses when I turned and bent over my desk. I felt the weight of Adam’s hand briefly on the small of my back; then the ruler came into my line of sight when he laid it on the desk beside me. He slid my pants and underwear off my ass, and they slipped to my ankles. He wouldn’t let me step out of them, and they restricted the movement of my legs as effectively as if they were bound. My heart pounded as I waited for him to decide what would happen next.
He rubbed a hand over my ass in small caressing circles. The light slap—when it came—wasn’t unexpected, and the brief sharp pain drove a spike of lust into my groin. My balls tightened and my dick twitched. I bit my lip hard in anticipation of the need to remain quiet. The party in the other room might cover the sound of his skin against mine, but someone would notice if I started howling. Screaming “spank me, baby” was probably not the best thing for my reputation. The thought amused me for a moment before Adam slapped my bottom again, a little bit harder, and the sting was worse. I gasped and shifted a little, and the edge of the desk dug into my hardening cock. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but it was sharp against my aroused flesh. It might be the source of more pain than pleasure.
I grabbed my jacket and shoved it between my dick and the desk. When the next slap came, my cock was cushioned, but the friction was there when I rocked my hips forward, and it made me gasp. My cock slid along the slick lining of my jacket, and my body weight kept the edge of the desk in contact with the full length of it. The feeling was unexpected but not unwelcome, and I rocked my hips again: the sensation was the same. I contemplated humping the desk, but Adam had other ideas. His hand came down, and I was distracted from the fuckability of my office furniture by the burn of his palm against my ass.
“You aren’t my boyfriend,” I grumbled against the pile of papers under my cheek. My eyes were fixed on the blurry shape of the ruler just beyond my nose. It was too close for me to focus on, but I was transfixed by it. It wasn’t the traditional wood; it was made of a very flexible plastic. He spanked me again for speaking. I grunted, and the burn of my ass translated itself into an ache in my balls. I licked my lips and stared at the ruler. I wanted him to use it.
“Letting little boys suck you in the office?” he replied. “Someone needs to spank your slutty stupid ass.” The words were harsh, but the tone was amused. Maybe I was a little bit slutty, but Adam liked it and we both knew it. The ruler beckoned.
“Not a little boy,” I grumbled. “He’s probably older than you.”
Adam leaned over me. I could feel his body heat through his clothes, and the rough material of his jeans brushed against the sensitive skin of my ass. It made me squirm. When my dick rubbed against the desk, I groaned and moved my hips just enough to feel the edge again.
“What did you say?” he asked. Adam did not like to be reminded how much younger than me he was. Not out of college himself, he didn’t have much room to call another upperclassman a little boy. Stretched out half-naked across my desk and completely in his power might not have been the smartest time to point that out, and so, of course, I said it again. I did so at the same time he realized my hips weren’t moving to rub my ass back against him and that, at the moment, I wasn’t even thinking about him very hard. I was caught up in the interesting effect my desk was having on my dick.
His hand gripped my hip hard. His hot breath brushed my ear again. “Holy crap, you really will fuck anything,” he muttered, bemused without sounding mad. I resisted the urge to rub against the desk again, but it wasn’t easy. My cock throbbed and my balls ached. I needed to get off. We were locked up in my office and didn’t have long before someone was going to come looking for me.
“A fuck’s a fuck,” I told him in my very best slut voice.
“Oh, is that so?” The whisper of his breath against my skin sent a shudder through me. As he stood up, the ruler disappeared from in front of me, and I tensed in anticipation. Adam didn’t disappoint, and the sting of the flexible plastic ruler when he brought it down on my ass forced the air out of my lungs in a hiss. The burn where it struck gave an impression of precise dimensions, though I could only imagine how stark the red stripe looked against my fair skin. He brought the ruler down on my ass three more times in quick succession—the impression of that first precise strike was lost. I buried my face in my arms to smother my cries. My skin flamed and burned, but I wanted more. I wanted him.
The ruler fell to the desk as he leaned over me again. One hand braced his weight as he hovered over me, and the other hand petted and soothed my burning flesh. His fingers delved shallowly between my clenched cheeks. I made an approving sound and tried to relax, but my ass was too busy remembering how those strikes against it had felt and wasn’t ready to play nice.
Adam chuckled. “You are a very bad boy,” he breathed into my ear. “I might be able to teach you something if you didn’t like the lessons so much.” The amusement in his voice annoyed me a little. I didn’t need a lecture; I wanted his cock in my ass. He wouldn’t like me half as much if I turned into choir boy on him. I growled my frustration at him and rutted against the desk. If he wasn’t going to get me off, I had nothing against self-service. Adam’s hand on my hip stilled my motion, and his teeth sank into my shoulder. I had no idea why everyone who fucked me thought he had to leave a calling card.
Adam lifted off me, and I felt his hands brush my ass as he unfastened his belt. My heart pounded in anticipation, and I shifted my feet in a failed attempt to spread them wider. A slap from Adam’s hand stilled my restless movements, and I focused on trying to identify what he was doing. The crinkle of the condom wrap and the hiss of his indrawn breath when he rolled the rubber down his cock were a dead giveaway. The slick feel of his fingers probing my ass revealed that he was better prepared than I was for this moment, and I vowed to keep stuffing his Christmas stocking with packets of lube. Dry fucks were not a part of my regimen, and contrary to the bareback hype, spit was not lube. The little packets of lube didn’t hold much, but in combination with a pre-lubed condom, it’d get the job done.
Adam stretched me carefully, opening my ass and stroking his fingers over my prostate. I gave a choked cry against my arm and rutted against the desk. The lining of my jacket was wet with precum, and I had a moment of clarity during which I hoped no one called an unscheduled meeting where I would be expected to show up wearing the cum-stained thing. Adam slipped his fingers out of my body, and the empty feeling that followed cut off my short bout with reality. Before I could protest the loss of his talented fingers, Adam gripped my hips firmly with both hands and pressed the head of his cock against my opening. I moaned and focused on relaxing. With so much less lube than I was accust
omed to using, the stretch and burn of entry was going to be worse than normal, and my body was tense with anticipation of the pain. Adam’s hand came down on my ass with an unexpected smack. Distracted by the sting and burn of my skin as he spanked me again, his cock was fully seated before I realized he’d breached me.
Adam’s hands locked on my hips again. I could feel the rough material of his jeans against my ass: he hadn’t taken them down, just pulled his cock out. He pushed deeper and my entire body shuddered. I thrust back, dragging the length of my dick along the desk edge as I did. My ass clamped tighter around his dick in reaction.
“Fuck, Taylor,” Adam gasped. He backed out of my ass and then pressed forward again. His motion was steady and sure, just like he fucked me at home. The sounds of the party from the outer office seeped back into my consciousness. I had no idea how long we’d been at this, but time was running short.
“Stop playing around and fuck me,” I demanded as I pushed back into him again. His hand seared my ass.
“Slut,” he accused, but he got it and his hips pumped faster, driving me forward against the desk repeatedly. Instead of palming my cock to get off while he fucked me, I rubbed it against the edge of the desk, humping it through the padding of my coat. Dicks were not as delicate as women seemed to think. I thought I was straight once upon a time, a long time ago. I had a girlfriend, plans to get married and do the whole baby thing… the works. I remembered the soft touch of a woman’s hand on my cock, the hesitant play of her lips. Women should watch more porn. Balls were highly sensitive, but the cock? Well, Adam fucked me against the desk, and the harder I rubbed against the edge, more than once crossing the line between pleasure and pain, the closer it drove me toward orgasm. I would have never considered the keen edge of a piece of furniture as something I wanted to rut on, but now I wondered if I could do this to myself or if the sensation depended on a dick pounding my guts at the same time.
Adam’s orgasm was close. He was hunched over me, fucking me hard and fast, his fingers digging into my hips, unmindful of the fingerprints he was leaving behind. The friction of rubbing against the lining of my coat was making my cock raw, but as my balls drew up into ever tighter knots, I got that telltale concentration of electric heat in the base of my spine— the pain didn’t matter. I came first with a muffled shout against the fist I’d balled up against my mouth in an effort to stop myself from making so much noise. I bit my knuckles hard, and my other hand scrabbled for a hold on the opposite edge of the desk. My ass clenched and milked Adam’s orgasm out of him. He came hard, his hips stuttered against mine, and I wondered if he’d bitten his tongue through in an effort to keep his reaction down to just a few barely audible grunts. Adam usually made a much bigger production of getting off.
He pulled out of me, and I managed to lift myself off my desk. I stared down at my jacket; it was a wreck, but at least the rest of my clothing was salvageable, if rumpled. I pulled my underwear and pants back up and tucked my shirt in, pretending not to notice how raw my dick was. The desk edge seemed a lot less friendly now than it had a few moments before, and I frowned at it. Buckling my belt, I turned around to frown at Adam too.
“Dude, slut?” I demanded. He grinned and tossed the condom he’d tied off into the trash beside the desk. He fastened his jeans while still looking at me. He stepped closer, his brown eyes soft as he met my gaze. His lips captured mine, and I allowed him to gather me into the circle of his arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing close. His teeth nipped at my lips, and he sucked my tongue into his mouth, kissing me thoroughly before he pulled back to look at me again. I had no idea what he was going to say, because someone chose that moment to bang on the door.
“Mr. Jordan, aren’t you coming to Mary’s party?” a young woman’s voice called through the door. “You work too hard! Come out and have some cake with us!” That would be Joyce, my would-be mother. She wouldn’t give up until she’d shoved cake, punch, and ice cream down my throat.
“Sure, Joyce. I’m just finishing up in here. I’ll be right out,” I called back to her. That seemed to satisfy her, as there was no more banging or yelling. The moment between Adam and me, whatever it had been, was gone. He let me step out of his arms without comment. I made sure I was presentable and flashed a grin at him. He moved to let me exit first, but as I passed him, he leaned over and whispered in my ear:
“Slut is my favorite flavor.” And I felt the firm slap of his hand on my ass.
About the Author
Diane Adams wrote her first stories in high school, but life interfered and the notebooks were packed away and forgotten. There were jobs, a series of them, and children... a series of them as well and not a lot of time left over for daydreams. A few years ago, after the first of the series of children were almost grown Diane discovered fan fiction and a dreamer was reborn. She enjoyed some success as a fan fiction writer, gathered a strong following, and won quite a few awards. It was nice, but the real dream was to have that same success as a writer of original fiction exploring worlds of her own creation. That dream is, at long last, coming true.
She tweets at https://twitter.com/d_adams. You may contact Diane at [email protected].
Also by Diane Adams
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Copyright
A Measure of Discipline ©Copyright Diane Adams, 2010
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
4760 Preston Road
Suite 244-149
Frisco, TX 75034
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art by Anne Cain [email protected]
Cover Design by Mara McKennen
This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the Publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
Released in the United States of America
October 2010
eBook Edition
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-619-4
