Hot Lessons

by Annie Windsor

  HOT LESSONS

  An Ellora’s Cave Publication, June 2005

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

  1337 Commerce Drive, #13

  Stow, OH 44224

  ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-4199-0278-4

  Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

  Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

  HOT LESSONS Copyright © 2005 ANNIE WINDSOR

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Edited by Heather Osborn.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Warning:

  The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. Hot Lessons has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

  S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

  E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.

  X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

  Dungeon Heat:

  Hot Lessons

  Annie Windsor

  Author’s Note

  Dungeon Heat: Hot Lessons has a contemporary setting, but the story is just that—a story, a tale, an erotic fantasy.

  Relationships in this book have a strong BDSM flavor, and show Master/slave relationships. However, none of the books in the Dungeon Heat series are intended to portray true BDSM or Dom/sub relationships as they actually occur.

  In the spirit of erotic fantasy, the Dungeon Heat books are also total fantasy when it comes to responsible sex. In that complicated real world we all so love to escape with books like these, keep it safe, sane, and consensual, and always practice safe sex.

  Yours in delicious naughtiness,

  Annie Windsor

  Dedication

  This book owes debts of gratitude to Patti Duplantis, Crystal Scott and Master Nage. Huge debts of gratitude are owed to Violet Wanda of Eclectic Electric at www.violetwands.net and Sire Don of www.sdleather-lace.com, who helped make sure I didn’t do anything too—er—shocking. After Violet Wanda’s wonderful literature and Sire Don’s brilliant and intriguing description, I truly believe several hundred dollars might be cheap for the glowing toy depicted in this book!

  Chapter One

  Blackmoor Downs.

  Just the name of the castle gave her delicious shivers, even though she was sitting in an office miles away, at quiet little John’s River College.

  Celia Lambert wanted to see the fancy manor, not just visit it—she wanted to explore the mystery, dig around every stone until she uncovered its hidden rooms. Well, one hidden room in particular.

  If the whispered stories were true, Blackmoor Downs, an actual English castle transplanted to John’s River, Tennessee, had one hell of a secret.

  A dungeon. A very special kind of modern, kinky dungeon, if the rumors could be believed.

  Reginald Blackmoor was the most eccentric man Celia Lambert had ever met. He was older, very British and incredibly sophisticated. He also happened to be her boss in the history department at John’s River College, which made Celia wonder if she had absolutely lost her mind.

  All of a sudden, Reggie’s academic office felt too small. The shelves of books seemed to close in around her, and the remnant scent of cherry pipe tobacco overwhelmed her.

  “Steady.” Alan Sparks shifted in the chair beside her and took her hand. The feel of his powerful grip, the smoldering look in his bright blue eyes and the thought of what they might accomplish today helped Celia buck up enough to stay in her seat. For the moment.

  “What if it’s all speculation?” she murmured. “What if he just throws us out and tries to get me fired?”

  “You know him better than that.” Alan let go of her fingers and put his hand on her leg, just below her tight power skirt. The black fabric slid up as he pushed, revealing her bare thigh.

  “Stop. What if he comes in?” Celia tried to nudge Alan, but he only grinned and slid his hand under the skirt’s firm hem.

  Always pushing limits. Always taking it to the edge. That was Alan. She had sensed that about him the day he took his position at John’s River. They had been dating for a few months now, and there was a lot more to the big blond hunk of mathematician than quadratic equations and matrices, thank God. Still, he made her a little nervous. That’s why she hadn’t let him take her too far with their bondage play. She trusted him in so many ways, but…

  But total trust wasn’t Celia’s strong suit. Neither was throwing caution out the window, even when she was fairly sure she was safe. Just once, she wanted to turn loose sexually, to really let go and experience total submission, total pleasure, freedom from all her worries—from every last thing that held her back. She’d let Alan push her further than any lover, and she knew he wanted take the next step. Hell, she wanted to take the next step, too, whatever it was, but in the end she always panicked.

  She felt like they needed help. Maybe some training.

  They had looked through internet ads, checked out some clubs in Nashville, even read books. Each experience taught them something, but Celia just couldn’t bring herself to plunge ahead under the direction of strangers or printed words. She knew Alan was frustrated with her hesitance, but she still felt like they—he—needed a little guidance.

  His hand, however, needed no guidance at all as it slid higher, higher, inching toward her already-drenched bikini underwear. Her nipples hardened and she gripped the arms of one of Reggie’s heavy oak office chairs.

  “Alan, cut it out. I’m serious.”

  “No, you’re not serious. You’re wet.” He flashed her one of his devastating grins. “You should be more honest about what you want. Less reserved.”

  Almost casually, without shifting in his chair or looking at her, he pulled the soaked strip of silk and cotton to the side, baring her pussy. Celia gasped. She knew her face had to be turning redder than her hair. Damn, she needed to smack him, make him stop before Reggie caught them fondling each other in his office—but it felt so naughty.

  So good.

  “I bet I could surprise you, Celia. I could teach you a few things.” Still casual, without changing his position, Alan thrust two fingers down, parting her swollen lips and trapping her clit.

  Celia rocked backward from the shock. Her nipples pressed harder against the white silk of her bra and blouse and she shoved herself up into the pain of his tight squeeze on her clit before she could think.

  Grinning wider, Alan rolled her clit between his fingers, half-pinching, half-stroking. “I could lock the door and fuck you on his desk.”

  “Stop it. We’re at work, for God’s sake!”

  “Or bend you over that leather couch and ram my cock as deep as you can take it.”

  “Alan—” Her eyes were closed, seeing the fantasies. This man, what he did to her. What he was doing to her! Shit
, that office door wasn’t locked and Alan had her skirt up, had the red curls of her pussy exposed, and he was rubbing her clit hard. And fast. And faster. Making her moan. Making her need more.

  She realized she was bucking against his strokes.

  Sweat beaded across her forehead.

  Each noise in the hallway outside made her jump, doubling the sensation. Fear. Need. Shame. Excitement. The tides broke across her all at once, making her squirm even more forcefully.

  Alan was looking straight ahead, that little grin plastered on his face. From behind, it would look like he was holding her hand—if she weren’t hunching and groaning so obviously.

  God, she was hot. The room was a friggin’ inferno.

  “You like this, don’t you?” Alan whispered. At least the bastard’s voice was hoarse. “You like being a slut in your boss’s office.”

  Celia’s mind started to turn loose. She tried to keep hold of herself, but Alan’s dirty talk made her twice as crazy.

  “Should I let you come, naughty girl?”

  “Please,” she whispered, shoving her pussy into his hand, forcing her clit against his moving fingers.

  He teased, slowing down and speeding up until she wanted to scream.

  Were those footsteps in the hallway? Were they getting closer?

  Help me…

  “I should stop and make you wait.” Alan slowed his strokes to nothing, making her grind her teeth so hard her jaws ached.

  “Don’t you dare,” she snarled.

  “Feisty today. Hmm.” He faked a yawn and she wanted to hit him.

  “Damn it, you’d better finish what you started.”

  “Whatever you say.” He stroked her fast again, pitching her off the cliff without any warning.

  Celia had to bite her lip to keep from screaming as the orgasm hit. Her body twisted under Alan’s fingers. Electric heat flowed up, up, through her aching nipples, down her arms, making her shake, bending her forward, making her moan low and long.

  He kept rubbing, kept rubbing, drawing it out, letting her twitch, knowing she needed to blow the roof off with a good, gut-level screech. But she couldn’t. Dear God. She was in her boss’s office.

  She’d let Alan make her come in Reggie’s office chair.

  Son of a bitch. She needed medication. Or counseling. Or something.

  “We need to leave,” she gasped, forcing Alan’s hand away, standing up so fast she almost overbalanced on her high heels. As she yanked down her business skirt, she realized Alan was laughing.

  Oooooh. No.

  Not Alan.

  Someone else. Someone behind her. As in, where the door was.

  Please, tell me no. Tell me that’s not—

  “I don’t think you need to leave,” Reggie’s proper British response cut off all hope of salvaging her dignity. “In fact, I think you very much need to stay, Celia.”

  In a totally new tone, a forceful, powerful bass she had never heard from the gentleman historian, Reggie added, “Sit.”

  Celia’s knees gave like he’d struck them from behind. It was reflex. Her damp ass hit the office chair so fast her breath left in a rush. Chills rippled all across the back of her neck.

  And her damned wet panties were giving her a wedgie.

  I think I want to die.

  Reggie came around the chairs and stood in front of them, arms folded.

  “It’s all in the tone,” he said to Alan. “If a woman wants to be mastered, if she truly trusts you and wants to submit, she’ll appreciate a confident command. Otherwise, not bad. Although you do let her talk back far too much for my tastes.”

  Celia’s breath once more left her body. Her flaming blush eased—but only a little—and nothing lessened her desire to beat Alan with the nearest heavy volume of British history.

  “You talked to him already,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “That’s why you weren’t nervous.”

  “Don’t be angry with him, my dear.” Reggie’s voice was back to its normal, kind timbre. Easygoing. Utterly without judgment. “It’s the mark of a true Dominant, his wish to protect you from rejection and the wrong sort of embarrassment. I would have thought less of him if he hadn’t approached me first.”

  Alan finally looked at her. His gorgeous eyes danced with excitement. “He agreed, Celia. There is a dungeon at Blackmoor Downs—and Reggie will give us a few lessons there.”

  Celia’s throat tightened.

  Her gaze turned back to Reggie. He nodded, then addressed her unspoken concerns. “It’s a risk. We could get angry, take each other to task at some later date. But I’d like to think we’re both above such childish behavior.”

  “This is between us,” she agreed. “Personal, not professional.”

  “In the spirit of that boundary, I’d like to ask you never to have an orgasm in my office again.” Reggie’s smile was gentle. His sharp features made him look so much younger, yet wise beyond all age. “Actually, anywhere in this building, save for your own office, with the door locked.”

  Celia coughed. Alan laughed. Reggie kept up his smile until they muttered agreements.

  “Good, good. Boundaries and limits form the foundation of any healthy sexual relationship, with or without bondage and domination.” He edged backward, until he was sitting on the edge of his big desk.

  With a start, Celia realized she wasn’t embarrassed anymore. Something about Reggie’s manner was so clinical, so professional. It was like going to a doctor—a moment’s discomfort, then no problem.

  “Have you—ah—done this before?” The words caught in her throat, but she relaxed, tried to let them flow. “Trained people?”

  This earned her a chuckle from Reggie. “More times than I can count, Celia.”

  “I’m convinced he knows what he’s doing,” Alan added. “What do you think?”

  Celia was about to answer, but Reggie held up his hand. His familiar countenance shifted into one much harder, more stern.

  The sex doctor, Celia thought. The professional Master.

  “Don’t answer until you’ve heard my rules and plans, Celia. How can you give informed consent if you don’t know what I’m proposing?”

  Fishing for the right response, Celia settled on silence. She hadn’t thought about it from that perspective.

  Safe, sane, consensual.

  How many times had she read those words? Yet, as Reggie had just pointed out so sharply, she hadn’t really put them into practice.

  “You’re training me, too,” she said at last, when she felt more sure of herself.

  “Of course I am. The ultimate responsibility for protecting yourself, that rests with you.” Reggie relaxed his arms, looking casual despite the content of their conversation. “Safety lies in the choice of your partners, in the choice of situations, in the safeguards you establish. Never agree to the unlimited unknown. Find out the parameters first.”

  Celia swallowed, then considered her next words before speaking. “Okay. Reggie, if you train us, what will you do?”

  “Better.” He smiled again. “If we make this agreement, I’ll work some with Alan alone. Then I’ll require a full day as a beginning, with both of you in my dungeon. There, I’ll show you some of the many pleasures of bondage and domination.”

  Alan fidgeted in his chair. Celia saw his hungry expression. The man couldn’t wait to get started, that much was obvious. His eagerness flattered her, excited her, but it also gave her pause.

  I’m glad we came to the doctor.

  Reggie leaned back, grew stern again. “I won’t touch you, and you won’t touch me. I’m an observer, a teacher, not a participant. Any breach of that protocol and the lessons end. Permanently.”

  Celia agreed readily, in chorus with Alan.

  They spoke for another half-hour, going over details, from Celia’s safe word—Agamemnon—to some of her basic preferences and desires. She even managed to stammer out her longest-running, most devastatingly hot fantasy—being kidnapped by a dark, powerful bad boy
and kept at his mercy for a full day of unbelievably hot sex. Trying things she didn’t even know about, things she would never have the guts to try in her regular life. Hell, if he was really a hot, energetic dark stranger—a week!

  “I want—” her voice caught as she tried to finish. It was hard to bring her mind back to reality long enough to be coherent. To her great surprise, tears welled behind her eyes, threatening to humiliate her. What the hell?

  Breathing, breathing, she relaxed herself and let the urge to cry ease out of her body.

  “I want to learn new things,” she finally managed. “I want to be surprised, shocked—I don’t know. Completely transported.”

  Reggie’s smile was indulgent and once more, oddly comforting. “You want the night of your life, my dear.”

  “The night of my life,” she echoed, catching Alan’s bright blue eyes, letting him hold her gaze. “Yes. I want the night of my life. Maybe the weekend of my life.”

  The affair of my life? Oh, God, Celia. Get a grip.

  Alan broke the stare and turned his attention back to Reggie. He outlined his own desires as Celia tried to listen and absorb, but it was hard. Her body was on high alert. Her heart also seemed tuned to its highest frequency. She felt overly sensitive, terrified and very, very warm.

  What was happening here?

  What was she really agreeing to accept? Or more importantly, to surrender?

  The questions had no ready answers.

  This teacher has a few lessons to learn, it seems.

  She sighed and discreetly pinched her own hand to make herself focus. It was a trick she had learned during boring student readings and projects, and as usual, it worked.

  Reggie was careful to draw out their absolutes, to make them list what they dreamed of and what they absolutely would not tolerate.

  The doctor liked being prepared. Good. With each layer of conversation, Celia grew more comfortable, more relaxed.