“Was she your wife?” she guessed, seeming eager to figure out this mystery.
He plucked the girl’s fingers away from his temples. “Leave.” He batted her off in the direction of the door, then lay down again.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked.
“No.” He just wanted to be miserable by himself. He heard her not leaving, seeming to stand by the door, breathing quietly. “What?” he asked, assuming there was something she hadn’t said, hadn’t asked, hadn’t bothered him about.
“Just… Thank you for staying,” she told him with a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”
“There are worst things than staying at a palace like this for a couple of weeks, even though I have to spend it with a crazy witch who wanders into my room uninvited,” he murmured.
“Ha! You wish I’d come here all the time,” she teased, and then finally left. He could hear her light footfalls wander down the hall. The strange thing was that as soon as she was gone far enough, his headache finally completely went away, his body finally relaxed.
He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked up at the ceiling, wishing that the girl didn’t make him feel so insanely on edge.
Chapter Eight
Moriarty smirked and smoked a cigar as he waited for his wife to get ready for their little ‘scene’ together. He was already looking spot-on perfect—even more so than usual—since he dressed in a tux when they’d gone to the opera.
What an opera that was, too! He couldn’t remember what he’d gone to see already, even though he’d just gotten back about ten minutes ago and had spent a small fortune for their own private box. All through the first act he had slowly tried to slip his hand into his wife’s skirt and up her delightfully soft little thigh while she looked around, paranoid that someone would notice.
After she decided either that they didn’t notice, or possibly she stopped caring altogether, she eventually opened up her thighs to him so that he could slowly hook his finger underneath her silk panties. What proceeded after that was the slowest, most passionate, public—and especially quiet—lovemaking that he’d ever done. For the last two hours of that opera, they had teased, tantalized, slowly moved, stroked, cupped, and pinched in the most unnoticeable way that even the people sitting in the box next to them probably couldn’t have seen even if they had turned their heads and looked right at them.
Damn it all, he had the sexiest little wife in existence, and for some reason she even put up with his adventurous nature. She allowed him to paw on her like he was some lusty teenager, and the best part about it was that, after having been together for nearly two decades, they knew each other inside out and backwards yet he was still impossibly far from being bored.
“Alright,” he said, noticing that he didn’t enjoy his cigar quite as much as he was looking forward to a good, hard, solid fuck. “I think I’ve waited a good long time, darling. I don’t know what you can be doing in there. You can’t improve upon perfection.”
“You’ve waited five minutes!” she protested.
“Eight, by my watch. Eight minutes without you feels like an eternity.” He meant it, too. He couldn’t even remember what it must have been like being a bachelor for all those years. Now, he was addicted to the mere scent of his wife. He loved everything about her—it was hard to explain, but he honestly loved the things he didn’t like about her, too, like the way she tended to warm her ice-cold feet between his legs at night, or the way she’d snack in bed with biscuits and leave crumbs everywhere, or the way she’d dunk donuts into his tea and leave a gross mass of soggy crumbs at the bottom.
His wife wasn’t perfect, maybe, but she was real; real and delicious and wonderful.
Except when she took forever getting ready for sex. Dear lord, was she building a cocoon in there for her metamorphosis?
His cigar dropped right off his bottom lip when she eventually came out of the bathroom. Metamorphosis complete—only instead of looking gracious, sexy, and rich, she was dressed like a naughty schoolgirl, complete with too much mascara, white knee-highs, penny loafers, and pigtails.
His cock was so excited that it didn’t know what to do with itself! Actually, his dick knew what it wanted to do, but it was taking so much blood out of his brain that he stammered for a moment, didn’t come up with the right words, and she stood in the doorway as if she was gloating.
Suddenly he looked at her confident I’m-sexy-and-I know-it expression and his lip curled up at one end. If bed sport was an actual sport, then he was a goddamned gold medalist. He would not be conquered in the bedroom. He was the one who would be drawing the gasps out in this activity!
He glanced at himself in the mirror, decided that he was also quite sexy—of course, even a monkey would look good in a tuxedo—and stood up, drawing his shoulders back.
“Miss DeMornay,” he said, adjusting his tie, which was out of place, probably pushed by his own Adam’s apple during his swallow when he saw what he was about to be cock-deep into within the next half-hour. “I’m on the way to a fundraising event for the school, and you know I have absolutely no time at all to deal with your shenanigans,” he said, putting on his best exasperated authority-figure voice. He didn’t want to be accused of missing a single beat in this role-play.
She blushed down to her toes, seeming to know where this was going. Spanking, at the least. That had to have been what she had in mind with that naughty little ensemble! “Good,” she finally said with confidence, drawing her head up with proud defiance. “Then don’t. It was just a couple of cigarettes, anyway. Besides, it’s not like you don’t imbibe. You stink like cigar smoke.”
He took the cue, but not the bait. She liked the way he smelled after smoking a cigar, and they both knew it. But that was real life. This—this was even better.
“I am a full-grown man, and I only smoke once a month. What I do is none of your concern, anyway, Miss DeMornay. You are a pupil under my guardianship. What you do concerns me, and what concerns your health concerns me, and what you do to blatantly break the rules of the school concerns me. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“You’re in my business, but think yourself too high-and-mighty to actually do what you’re always telling us to, that’s clear.” She crossed her arms all-too-confidently across her chest, doing everything she could to give him fodder to enjoy the scene, but to give him plenty of reason for him to take her across his knee. He was, of course, the head master in this little play of theirs. “I’m only following your exemplary example.”
“Stop baiting me, Miss DeMornay,” he warned, but then gave her a smoldering look. “Or else I’ll start to think you like this.”
She blushed, but then rolled her eyes. “Like what?”
“Breaking the rules to get me to punish you constantly. At this point in time I might as well name my implement after you; it’s rarely used on anyone else. Tell me why?” He had put his body incredibly close to hers. She was forced to crane her head all the way up to look at him. Alice knew that this was a play, with lines, and she had the power to end the scene at any minute, yet he could still detect a small gulp. The sexual heat in the scene had suddenly increased tenfold and Alice must have felt that to, since her knees wobbled slightly, as the knees of girls who are exceptionally aroused are wont to do.
“I’m not breaking them on purpose,” she lied.
He raised one of his dark eyebrows theatrically, just to get her to squirm. “So you were caught smoking by accident, then?”
“Well, yes. I mean, no,” she said, looking confused for a moment. “I mean… I mean, I don’t want you to punish me at all.”
“Oh, so you just want me to make an exception for you, because you’re so important that the rules don’t apply?”
Her eyes narrowed. “No, I just—”
“You don’t think I’ll pull out the cane like I’ve done before?” He pinched her chin, which surely would have really been crossing a line if he actually was a headmaster of a finishing school, but good thing h
e wasn’t. Besides, they were about to cross a lot of lines if he had his say. “Now, you have to know me better than that by now.”
“Not the cane,” she complained. “They were only a couple of bloody cigs!”
“Do you want me to rifle up a birch instead? Because I could find one.” Moriarty didn’t have a birch because Alice would absolutely hate it. She enjoyed getting spanked, but she was actually quite choosy about what she liked to be spanked with. Despite her little act, his wife liked the cane, or at least it got her wet.
Alice was far, far too sweet to have ever been birched for true punishment, either. So it was a delight to watch her face light up with actual concern. “No,” she replied sulkily.
“No, what?”
“No, sir.”
He grinned. “And why don’t you think you deserve the cane? Just so I can have a good laugh later?”
Her face twisted. “Go fuck yourself,” she finally said, saucily tilting her chin into the air. “Sir.”
God, she’d gotten good at this. She had a good handle on the scene herself, now. So, she was going to be rewarded with a hand spanking—her personal favorite—for her efforts.
She turned like she was going to walk away, and he grabbed her wrist and carefully twisted it around her, firmly guiding her to a chair by the desk, sitting down, and flipping her over his lap so that her bottom was perfectly up in the middle of his lap, her white panties on display, covering up her creamy-colored bottom even before he flipped the hem of her skirt playfully back.
“Stop it!” she cried as he flipped up her skirt. “Sir!” she admonished, then stretched her legs out wildly as her bottom jiggled seductively from the first of his spanks against those lovely cheeks. “Stop!”
Not on her life. There was a safeword out there that she could use, but ‘stop’ certainly wasn’t it. In fact, he always forgot what it was, but he figured he’d know it when he heard it. For now, he was just focused on that perfect little bottom of hers and pinkening her sit-spot, where her thigh met her bottom. He loved that spot—sometimes when they were having sex in their own bed, he would stop humping her just so he could nibble on her sensitive flesh there. She was so soft, so sweet, so responsive… Just like she was now.
“You know what? I was looking forward to that fundraiser, but you have a fantastic ability to distract me, Miss DeMornay,” he lectured as she squeaked and squirmed around wildly.
“You can’t spank me with your hand! You’re a teacher!” she cried, as if she was astounded by her scandalous situation.
“I can, especially because you’re not quite acting like a student, Miss DeMornay! You’re acting like a foul-mouthed little brat!” And a tease to boot.
“Goddamn it! You can’t do this to me!” she cried.
“I can and I will, Miss DeMornay. I can see I’ve been a little too lenient with you. Favoritism has gotten you nowhere.”
“Favoritism?” she repeated incredulously.
He grabbed the hem of her panties, and she cried out. “Favoritism!” he snapped in assurance, and continued to pull down that wonderful, full-bottom piece of fabric.
She gasped, as if the panties being lowered were far more than she bargained for. She was so wet that even the insides of her thighs were glistening. The sight and the scent made his cock twitch uncomfortably.
He pulled her panties down to her thighs, happy to finally get a look at her beautiful pink bottom and her beautiful glistening pussy, already swollen from his earlier affections. God, he couldn’t want to bury his length deep inside of her again.
“Well, I’m going to spank the snarky words right out of you, young miss, and then you are going to beg me to cane you—nicely.”
“Un-fucking-likely!”
Thank you, he thought, not bothering to batten down his smile. He was able to spank harder, bring the scene a level higher, and get her bottom even redder.
She was really beginning to squirm, probably because it was actually beginning to cause her pain, but she wouldn’t call him off yet. She loved when he grabbed onto her sensitive, just-spanked bottom when he was plowing his length into her almost as much as she did, and so she was undoubtedly going to let him continue until she had a red bottom for him to grab.
But it was the attention the girl loved most of all. He hadn’t been with her long before he realized that much; he promised himself he would always give her more attention that would help make up for her first thirty years of her life, where she had been severely neglected and cast aside by her own people. She had a large glass to fill, there, and he was always more than up to the challenge.
“Stop it! That hurts, damn it!” she complained, kicking more furiously now that her panties were around her ankles.
“Is it time for the cane, then?” he asked simply, pausing for a moment.
She kicked again. “Hell, no! You’re completely bonkers!”
“Alright, then.” He spanked harder; heat was beginning to warm his own palm, so she had to really be feeling the sting as he continued to rhythmically spank away, eventually focusing on the thighs.
That’s when she said, “Fine! Stop it! I’ll get the cane!”
He spanked some more until she realized that he wanted her character to ask him for the opportunity.
“Please can I get the cane, sir?”
“Why yes,” he said, in an enlightened sort of way as if it was a novel idea, indeed. He finally let her scramble off his lap, where she reached down for her panties. “Nu-uh-uh!” he chided sing-songishly. “Keep those down. We’re not done yet.”
Her cheeks were pink and she gave a cute little foot stomp before turning to grab the cane from where he had packed it in the suitcase, though they acted as if she had grabbed it from a usual place in his office, then she returned and handed it to him.
“I am really proud of the way you’re standing up and accepting responsibility so graciously,” he told her, triumphant. She understood the sarcasm and rolled her eyes at him. He pointed to the desk. “Bend over.”
“Without my panties on?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Are you growing a sense of shame now?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Fascinating. Bend over.”
She bent over the desk, but did a small jerk of her hips that left her bottom sticking right out at him, pink and glorious and showing off that beautiful cunny between her cheeks. Dear lord, what a vision! He never had a camera close by when he needed one…
“Are you going to do this? Or can I leave now?” she sneered, but she couldn’t even help from waggling her bottom at him. As if he needed any more help being aroused!
He made some practice swings in the air. Not that his aim wasn’t perfect, but he liked the ‘whooshing’ sound canes made when he swung them, and he was quite sure that Alice saw that as a turn-on as well.
Then he lined up the cane to her peach-shaped bottom and swung. She cried out, jerked, and stomped her feet. “You should be used to this by now,” he said as both the headmaster and the husband. In honesty, however, she hadn’t taken any sort of punishment—play or otherwise—since before they had conceived Daniel.
Actually—it was the same night they’d conceived Daniel… Only she had been dressed like a naughty maid that night who had been caught stealing money out of his wallet. That had definitely been a good scene.
“It hurts,” she whined, shifting her weight foot to foot.
“It hurts when you break the rules,” he replied without sympathy. He gave another swish-swack, bringing their count up to four. Then he reached forward and rested his hand over her warm skin. “You know, you can just tell me why we keep finding ourselves in this position over and over, Miss DeMornay.”
He bounced the side of the cane against her skin a couple of times, watching her skin twitch and her bottom squirm with anticipation before he finally smacked it once again across both cheeks.
She sucked in air. “Why?” she whimpered.
“Because you like my company.” He snapped it across
her bottom again. “Admit it—you’re trying to seduce me.” He reached out and tickled his fingers down her red cheeks until he reached her inner thigh. “Say it.”
She moved her bottom out to find his hand and moaned. “No.”
He gripped her bottom tightly in his hand. “Say that you want my cock deep in this naughty little pussy of yours,” he said seductively in her ear. He unfastened the front of his trousers and quickly freed his length. He pumped it twice in his hand before he brought his hardness to her hot, moist womanhood. He didn’t fill her; he teased her. He ran his length up and down her crevice. “Or maybe you don’t…” he said, pulling away as soon as her breath shuddered with anticipation.
“No, sir…” she moaned.
“No, what?”
“Don’t leave me like this,” she begged. “I need you inside of me, Headmaster Miles.” She thrust her bottom out to meet him.
He bent over her and kissed her neck. “I knew it, you naughty thing.” With that, he pushed his entire length into her sheath with one firm thrust. He pressed his palms against the desk under them, and then began to thrust hard into her. Her hips pumped back against his own.
He reached up and grabbed off his damn bowtie and heard the button on his collar go flying. He was too hot to wear it, sweating from exertion. He couldn’t get unclothed fast enough. She pushed back, frustrated that he stopped moving for a second.
He pulled out, deciding on a new tactic by flipping her over, sitting her up on the desk, and bringing her thighs all the way up to the edge. Here he was free not to just grab her ass, but to boldly reach up her blouse and roughly paw one of her breasts, even tweaking one of her hard nipples.
She wrapped her legs tighter around him as she came, and he felt her tighten around his cock, trying to pull a release from him. But he wasn’t ready to end this delightful coupling just yet. She began to pant, to moan louder than she had before. After an orgasm like that, she had to be extremely sensitive. He liked to think she could feel every groove, every vein in his cock when he slammed it deep inside her. He pressed the top half of her body against the rest of the desk. They knocked a lamp to the floor in the process, but he didn’t give it half of a thought.
Her Master's Hand Page 10
