Teach Me a Lesson

by Jasmine Haynes

  He leaned down. A warm breath whispered across her nape. “Hands behind your back.”

  The order sent a shiver through her, straight down to her clitoris. She crossed her wrists at the small of her back and watched him in the window as he reached for something on the mantel. He didn’t bind her with rope as she expected, but instead wrapped something silky around her right wrist, then her left.

  “Silk handcuffs.” A tantalizing breath whispered over her again. “Too tight?”

  She shook her head and answered as well. “No-o.” Her voice cracked.

  She’d asked for a spanking. He was escalating. And drawing her oh-so-willingly along.

  He reached to the mantel again. The firelight danced around him as his shadow separated from hers, but she couldn’t make out the object. Until he trailed something soft down her spine, leaving tingles in its wake. Feathers.

  He tapped the inside of one foot with his shoe. “Spread your legs wider.”

  Charlotte readjusted. Featherlight, he caressed the line of her thong where it bisected her cheeks. She watched him in the window, his gaze intent on her body.

  “You have an amazing ass.” He stroked back and forth, up and down. Between the fire and the closeness of his body, her skin was ablaze. She understood what Lola had said, that the words were as important as the actions. It was the whole package that got her blood pumping.

  “No spanking this time?” she ventured.

  He glanced up, breaking his concentration on her butt. “My dear Miss Moore, your infraction was so egregious that you will need multiple punishments, one of which may or may not be a spanking, depending on how I feel.” His voice dropped to a mere breath of sound. “So stop directing. Stop questioning. And simply do what I tell you.”

  “Yes, Principal Hutton.” There was definitely something to be said for giving up her control. She was nothing more than a mass of nerve endings begging for his attention.

  The exquisite torture continued, her spine, her bottom, the backs of her thighs, up along the inner thigh, then the feathery softness between her legs. Charlotte barely trapped the moan inside. Then he trailed the waistline of her thong, following it around to the front until he stood before her.

  “I’m told it’s called a feather teaser,” he said, his head bent as he swished it—three feathers on a wooden stem—across her mound. “Your breasts are definitely a temptation. I don’t know how I can concentrate on your punishment.” He raised just his eyes. “Perhaps they need their very own punishment.”

  Yes, yes, please. But Charlotte didn’t beg.

  The feathers teased their way up to the swell of her breasts above the bra’s demicup. “What a blessing your breasts are, Miss Moore,” he murmured. “I had no idea.”

  He surely had, since she wasn’t one to button all the way to the top, but she loved the way he talked, the words a stroke as exquisite as the feathers. She would remember everything for her clients, how each mini-event in the evening affected her, the physical sensations, the emotional tidbits.

  With a flick of his wrist, the front clasp of the bra snapped open. Instead of pushing aside the cups, he tickled the feathers beneath the lace. Her nipples peaked. This time, Charlotte allowed herself the moan.

  “That sounds like you’re enjoying your punishment, Miss Moore.” His eyes suddenly gleamed with evil intent and he pinched her. Hard. Electric jolts shot straight to her center.

  God. This was what she’d counseled couples on when their love lives had gone stale. Make each caress unique. Savor one individual touch at a time. Don’t rush. Role play. Drive your partner crazy. The principal was certainly using every technique in the manual.

  He pinched her other nipple, stroked the feathers back and forth between her legs. It didn’t matter that she wore the thong; he pushed her to the edge. Her limbs trembled, her belly quivered, her breath panted from her lungs. She didn’t realize she’d closed her eyes until he was suddenly flush against her body, the hard imprint of his cock on her belly.

  “What was your infraction, Miss Moore?” Harsh demand laced his voice.

  What had she said or done the other day to make him angry? She couldn’t remember. With the state he had her in, she wasn’t thinking clearly. But she’d do it again, whatever it was, if this was what he gave.

  “Begins with a C,” he prompted.

  Oh yeah. Now she remembered. “Cocksucker,” she whispered.

  “Indeed.” He smiled like the devil himself. “You shall have your wish.”

  * * *

  “BUT FIRST, MY DEAR MISS MOORE, I HAVE SOMETHING ELSE planned for you.”

  Lance could feel her full-body quiver beneath the feathers he swished back and forth across the swell of her breasts and her tempting nipples. He thought of the woman in the sex shop and her suggestions. Nipple clamps? No, not for Charlotte; he couldn’t risk damaging her. And he certainly didn’t want to share his domination of her. He had her right where he wanted her, the tantalizing scent of her arousal rising, mesmerizing him, keeping him as close to the edge as she was. He shifted slightly, rubbing the hard ridge of his cock against her belly.

  “Close your eyes,” he told her.

  “Yes, Principal Hutton,” she purred sweetly, and closed her lids, hiding the almost feverish glow of her emerald green irises.

  He circled her again, trailing the feather, giving the crease of her ass one last tease before reaching for the last item he’d set on the mantel. The no-frills vibrator. Before he forced her to her knees, he was going to make her scream his name.

  “Spread your legs as wide as you can go,” he whispered, standing close to her once more, his breath ruffling the fine tendrils of hair tucked behind her ear.

  She redistributed her weight on her shoes, gasped as she teetered. “I’ll fall over.”

  “I’ll hold you up.” He pressed flush against her back. The top of her head skimmed his jaw. She made him feel big, strong, and powerful next to her petite height. He rotated his hips slightly, the angle of her hands in the silk cuffs forcing her to cup his cock.

  She squeezed his balls. Lance barely suppressed a groan, barely restrained himself from surging into her grip. But he was saving the surging for later.

  “Stay still,” he commanded as he wrapped his arm around her waist. Holding the tip of the vibrator in one hand, he turned the base with the other, and the thing purred to life.

  Charlotte jolted when he touched the whirring device to the crotch of her thong. “Oh my God.” She ended the lament on a moan.

  “It’s Principal Hutton,” he corrected, “not God.”

  “Whatever your name is,” she answered with a dreamy note in her voice, “don’t stop.” She leaned her head back against his shoulder. She was small enough for him to be able to look straight down to the vibrator between her legs.

  “I won’t stop until you come for me, my dirty little slut.”

  As she quivered in his arms, he realized how uninventive he’d been in his lovemaking. He’d rarely used a vibrator on a woman. Never tied anyone up. Seldom employed dirty talk to excite and tantalize. Not to mention the spanking. Maybe it was him, maybe it was the partners he chose. Safe, unimaginative women who never required much from him. He was reminded of what the woman in the sex shop had said. He wasn’t leading Charlotte; she was leading him. Charlotte Moore was a whole new breed of woman.

  And he fucking loved it.

  Pulling back the elastic, he slid the vibrator inside her panties. The device slipped in all her moisture, and he allowed his fingers to follow the path down to the tip of the vibrator to test her wetness for himself.

  “Christ, you’re creamy.” He switched hands and put his fingers to his lips to taste her. “You taste good.” He wanted his mouth on her pussy, her juice on his tongue. So many things he wanted from her.

  But first he wanted her to come. “Is that the right spot?” He didn’t care that he needed to ask.

  “God, yes.” She gasped, bucked once. “I mean, yes, Princip
al Hutton.” Then her body began to move sinuously against him. She panted and huffed, murmured soft words, her head lolling against his shoulder. “Don’t move, just hold it tight, right there, just like that.” She moaned. “Yes, yes.” First her legs began to shake, then her whole body quaked against his. He responded, riding her wave, thrusting into her bound hands.

  “Tell me.” His voice was a harsh rasp in his throat. The sight of her in the reflection, her body splayed before him, was as mesmerizing as the feel of her skin against his.

  “Oh God, Principal Hutton. Yes, yes.” She threw her head back and her orgasm rolled through her, rolled through him, shook him, took him, turned him into her servant.

  He held her in place through the entire experience, relishing it, drinking in her sensations.

  Finally, when her tremors abated, when it seemed her breath had come back, she whispered, “My, my, Principal Hutton, that was amazing. What would your students think if they knew what you’re really capable of?” She tipped her head to the side, nipped his chest, the bite shooting sensation straight through to his cock. “Now I’m ready for my encore.”

  “And what would your students think if they saw you down on your knees, Miss Moore?” He was glad his voice didn’t crack with need, but he was close.

  Charlotte laughed. “They’d be horrified to know what a good little cocksucking slut I am, Principal Hutton.”

  “How good you are remains to be seen. I’m going to have to give you a little test run.”

  “Oh, Principal Hutton, it’s not going to be little at all. Be prepared for mind-blowing.”

  He had a feeling she was right.

  Shifting her, he set her to the side, adjusting the angle so he could watch her from above and still have a view of her head above the sofa in the window’s reflection. His hands on her shoulders, he pushed her to her knees.

  “Impress me, Miss Moore.”

  She looked up, fluttered her eyelashes at him. “You’re going to have to undo for me.”

  “My pleasure.” He unzipped without bothering to unbuckle his belt. He’d gone commando underneath.

  “Oh my, Principal Hutton.” She tipped her head back to gaze up at him. “I certainly don’t think your students have any idea about that.” She licked her lips.

  “I do try to keep my private parts private.”

  “I’m honored you’d show this magnificent tool to me.”

  “As I said, Miss Moore, it’s my pleasure. But I suggest you stop talking.”

  “I will if you fill my mouth with something.”

  He held her head by the hair, fisting his fingers in the silkiness of it, and wrapped his hand around his cock. His blood beat through him.

  Charlotte opened her mouth. He watched in the reflection as he fed his cock to her. So many sensations he’d missed, as if he’d skimmed his sex life. Charlotte showed him how much more there could be. Then he couldn’t miss another moment of the close-up as she engulfed him, sucked him deep, and blew his mind just the way she claimed she would.

  * * *

  HE WAS SALTY AND SWEET AT THE SAME TIME. THICK AND HARD between her lips, yet his skin was soft and resilient. A vein pulsed against her tongue. The principal was a hell of a man, something she’d never suspected. But then she’d never really looked. The age thing. But oh, what she’d been missing.

  “Suck it, Miss Moore.”

  She relished the feel of his hand in her hair, guiding her, halfway to forcing her but in such a delicious way. Yes, there were a multitude of techniques she could suggest to her clients. Then Charlotte gave herself up to the taste and feel of him.

  He filled her to the back of her throat, stopped just short of gagging her. With her hands secured behind her, she was at his mercy. His pre-come sluiced her tongue, the taste sweet enough to make her shiver and salty enough to excite her taste buds for more of him.

  Above her, he let his head fall back, a low groan slipping from his lips. “Fuck.”

  Dirty talk was hot. She pulled away to whisper, “More. Talk to me. Call me names. Tell me what to do.”

  “Suck the tip hard, you dirty little bitch. I know you want it.”

  She did. Badly. Charlotte wasn’t too old to learn new tricks. She swirled her tongue around the ridge, stabbed lightly at the slit, grazed his skin with her teeth, then sucked hard.

  In turn, he gave her what she wanted: dirty words and his loss of control.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby, yes, like that, shit.” His breath puffed with every word. “Deep. Suck me deep, my pretty, perfect little whore.”

  She took him all the way. Where she’d muttered Oh God, he chanted, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” and she knew she had him. She was an A plus. She was his honor roll student.

  His legs started to tremble, and he held her head with both hands, fucking her mouth, thrusting deep, a litany of swear words falling from his lips, words she was sure the principal practiced not saying. But then he never lost control.

  Not until now. For her. Wrapping one big hand behind her head, he reached under and squeezed his balls, an act she was sure he would have made her do if her hands weren’t bound. Then he filled her mouth, punctuated by dirty words even she’d never heard. Charlotte swallowed every drop, savored it all, drank him, feasted on him. Owned him.

  She generally counseled sharing in ecstasy, but there was something so delicious in being restrained and unable to make herself come at the same time. Something so powerful. She sucked him dry. God, yes, she did. Savoring every quake of his body, every grunt and groan. Every word. Every sensation.

  He opened his eyes to look at her. They were a stormy gray in the dim light.

  She sucked hard and reveled in the jerk of his body.

  “Well,” he said, his voice harsh with aftermath, “you certainly took your punishment well.”

  She nodded, unwilling to let him loose. She flicked her tongue along his slit. He shivered. Oh yeah. She performed her detention well, very well. And that vibrator orgasm he’d given her was the icing on the cake.

  He pulled out, tucked himself away inside his slacks. She wasn’t ready to let him go. Charlotte wanted a lot more.

  “Now what, Principal Hutton?” She smiled wickedly.

  He was silent a long moment, glaring down at her from his position on high. “You look like the cat that ate the cream.”

  Charlotte licked her lips. “Oh yes, I did.”

  “Proud of yourself, aren’t you.”

  She nodded. “Very.”

  “That deserves a little punishment, too.”

  He dragged an armchair across the carpet and pushed her face-first into it. She was still secured at the wrists, her hands at her back, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Then he spanked her hard. Charlotte turned her face to the side and shouted at him. “Bastard.”

  He leaned over the chair, bracing himself on the arm, slapping her ass again, hard, his fingers connecting with her pussy. Exactly the way that drove her insane. He smacked. She quivered. He swatted. She moaned. And gasped. And writhed. And finally came in an explosion of stars and an exquisite burning across the flesh of her butt.

  7

  IT WAS PERFECT. TOO PERFECT. CHARLOTTE COLLAPSED AGAINST the chair cushion, her hands still secured at the small of her back by the silk handcuffs.

  She drew in a long, deep, satisfied breath. Yes, perfect, her body humming, her clit buzzing . . . but there was one slight problem. Anything this perfect could become addictive. Especially sex. Not in the traditional “sex addict” sense, where someone had sex with anyone, anytime, anywhere, like they were shooting a drug into their veins. But sex was such an emotional time bomb. It was one of the biggest battlegrounds for couples. Not just sex, but sex in all its nuances: romance, physical well-being, emotional sustenance, the need to feel loved, wanted, desired. She’d seen it all, talked her clients down off the ledge, helped them shed the obsession.

  Naughty, over-the-top sex could become addictive, and yes, Charlotte could easily become
obsessed with the way this man made her feel. Being a therapist didn’t preclude her from that. But it did make her aware of the danger.

  She waggled her fingers. “Principal Hutton, I think it’s time to undo me. Now that I’ve received my punishment.”

  Even his scent was hypnotic as he insinuated his knees between hers, leaned over her, caressed the silk bonds, stroked her skin.

  “We’re not done, yet, Miss Moore.”

  What more could there be? He’d come in her mouth. She’d come multiple times.

  He snugged up close behind her bottom, his cock hard, and she knew what more there could be.

  “My oh my, I didn’t think you’d be ready for that.” So soon. Especially for a man his age. A quick recovery was another thing Charlotte liked about younger men. But Principal Hutton was turning all her misconceptions about older men upside down.

  Yes, he was far too perfect.

  And she wanted him inside her.

  After a few rustles, his zipper, and the ripping of a condom packet, his warm fingers caressed the crotch of her thong. He pulled it aside, stroked her. Charlotte groaned.

  “Christ, you’re wet.”

  She waggled her fingers again, for a very different reason this time. “Please, please, Principal Hutton, won’t you untie me? I’ll do anything you want, if you just remove these cuffs.”

  “Anything, Miss Moore?”

  “Absolutely anything.” She’d think about obsession later. Or maybe later, she’d see the whole thing in perspective. That he was just a man. That this was just really good sex. And it probably only felt this good because she hadn’t had sex in months.

  Then her hands were free and Charlotte braced herself against the back cushion of the chair, pushing her bottom against him. Begging.

  “Do you want me to fuck you, Miss Moore?” He rotated his hips, caressing her with his condom-clad cock.

  She wanted it more than anything, to feel him inside her, hot, hard, filling her completely. “I had a fantasy about my high school principal.” Her principal had been a woman. But if she’d been a he and he’d looked like Principal Hutton, well, she very well might have had a few fantasies. Before she decided younger men were better. Safer.