by Livia Grant
“We begin again.” Lifting my arm, I swung, the plastic cracking at contact, flexing over her curves and causing her to cry out. If I’d not seen her play before, hadn’t known she was accustomed to being spanked, paddled, and flogged, I might have gone easy. Then again, it was unfortunate for this little submissive that I did know what she had experienced in the past. And, as her dom, I was determined to take her a bit further than she’d ever been before.
Each time the paddle landed, she’d buck her hips, her feet would kick up, her fingers would grip the desk tighter, and she’d make a cry. But, by the sixth stroke, her ass was wagging from side to side, attempting to move out of the way. No such luck. I simply increased the pressure of my hand on her back, pinning her to the desk.
“How many more?” I asked, laying the ruler against her ass. The clear plastic didn’t hinder my view of the dozens of red circles now decorating her pale flesh.
“Fi-five, sir.”
“Five?” I questioned, turning to my class. “Is that correct?”
“No!” they shouted enthusiastically, obviously enjoying the show.
“I didn’t think so,” I said, shaking my head. “Professor Edward, perhaps you can help clear up the confusion?”
I watched Marty’s head whip back, her eyes glistening, her mouth open as the man who was supposed to have been her dom, climbed the steps to join us at the desk. While setting up the scene, I’d thought why not? The man had done me a favor, and I wasn’t above giving this lesson away for free. Lifting the paddle off her ass, I moved aside just enough to allow him to step into place. He could help, but I wasn’t about to let him go too far.
He proved to be a smart man as he simply nodded, and using the tip of his index finger, tapped against the first line. “One,” he said, dropping his finger to the next, tapping it and counting down the lines clearly visible on her ass. Reaching the last, he said, “Seven.”
“See!” Marty hissed.
“But, since the first one didn’t count, it’s only six. Meaning six more are required,” Edward countered, a grin on his face.
“Thank you, Professor,” I offered, letting him know his fifteen seconds of fame were over. To Marty, I said, “I suggest you put a bit more effort into your mathematical homework, young lady. Head down and ass up, if you will.”
She would and did. I was running out of area that had yet to be smacked, but I really didn’t want to layer another stroke over a previous one. That meant the last few would be laid across the backs of her thighs. But first, there was that sweet spot where her ass met those shapely thighs.
“Oh, God, please,” she moaned when I tapped the area. Since she only sent up a plea and none of those words were a color, I drew my arm back and delivered the stroke.
“Ahhhhh!” she screeched, her hands releasing the desk, but instantly grabbing it again. Seemed like my little student was a quick study. She knew what would happen if she broke position and obviously didn’t want to pay the price.
The paddle cracked loudly and her cries grew shriller as I continued, giving her the next four. Tapping against her thighs which were now quivering, I asked, “Are you going to be late to class again?”
“N…no… no, sir,” she said, her voice quavering.
“See that you aren’t,” I said. “The next time you are, the price will increase, understand?”
“Ye… yes, sir.”
“Good. Now push your bottom well out for the last stroke.” I waited until she’d obeyed, the white lace of her panties stark against the red dots covering her flesh, the heart cutout framing her punished cheeks beautifully. I tapped, she moaned, and I finished the spanking with my hardest stroke of all.
“Oh… oh… oh, God!” she cried, her entire body trembling as it attempted to accept the pain.
“Just breathe,” I said, once again leaning over her back to speak into her ear. Giving her a kiss behind the delicate pink shell, I said, “Just breathe and accept the pain. It was only a dozen, remember.”
I had to grin as she hissed, but saw her lips twitch up just a bit. Taking the lobe of her ear between my teeth, I gave it a sharp nip, earning a soft moan, and I could feel her press her ass up into my body. Giving the bite a lick of my tongue, I whispered, “You did great, honey.” This time, her eyes opened, and I saw a look that had me wanting to moan. Behind a sheen of tears, the green depths were softer than I’d ever seen them before. It would be so very easy to forgo the rest of the lesson, but I was a patient man. Marty had been topping from the bottom for as long as I’d known her. Hell, she had a bit of a reputation for doing so around the club. We all thought she was a great woman, but it was time to teach her that she could be a great sub as well. One trip across a desk for twelve, well really thirteen, of my best might have made a very nice impression against her ass, but would not imprint that lesson on her mind.
Rising, I stepped back, allowing the audience one last look at her punished ass before I said, “All right. You may take your seat.”
She rose, and I held onto her arm to make sure she was steady on her feet before I let go.
“Thank you,” she said, and I wasn’t sure if she meant for the support or for the spanking. It didn’t really matter. It was always nice for a dom to hear a sub giving him thanks. I almost chuckled when she started to slide into her chair, jumped back, her hands flying to rub at her butt. I didn’t bother to chastise her—her classmates did that for me.
“No rubbing allowed!” they chorused.
Marty proved she was a good trooper as she lifted her hands in surrender, gave her audience a smile which turned into a grimace as she slowly slid into her chair.
I waited until she wiggled a bit, wincing with each tiny movement and finally settled. Looking up, she met my gaze, folding her hands on her desk, waiting to see what I’d do next.
“Class dismissed.”
My added students stood, picking up the folding chairs they’d been sitting in and moving toward the steps. I noticed Marty starting to slide out and said, “All except for you, Marty. Did you forget you have detention?”
“Oh, um… yes… I mean no, sir,” she said, settling again.
As her classmates moved past her, I heard them making comments about how much they’d enjoyed the class. We all knew they meant they had enjoyed the show. The woman I’d named Cathy, dropped her voice.
“On a scale of one to ten, how much does your butt hurt?”
Marty smiled. “I’d give it a hundred.”
“Wow! Well, you two make a great pair. I’m going to come back and give this club a try. It’s been amazing.”
“You can’t beat it,” Marty said and returned the woman’s little finger wave. It was just like Marty to encourage another woman and to compliment the club, but that’s not why I was smiling. What she had just done fit perfectly into the next scene I had planned. Once the platform was clear of chairs and people, I moved to lean against my desk, ankles and arms crossed as I waited for my sub to give me her full attention.
“Come here.”
She slid out of the desk with a bit of a wince, smoothing down the back of her skirt once her ass was clear of the seat. Walking towards me, she didn’t hesitate, her small smile indicating her anxiousness to continue our play.
I had just opened my mouth to inform her what that would include when a shout rang out and I went on alert. It wasn’t the shout of someone in a scene, or of a female in pain or ecstasy. No, this had been a shout of anger. Even as my head swiveled towards the commotion to see a man coming through the door of the club, I had stepped away from the desk, pulling Marty behind me.
Chapter 7
Marty
“Should you go help?” I asked.
“No, not unless I’m needed,” he answered without turning his head.
I moved to look past Owen, and his hand instantly came around to push me back. Surprisingly, it didn’t annoy me at all, simply made me press up against him, secure in the fact he was doing exactly what a good dom wou
ld do… putting himself between his sub and any possible danger. His sub.
My bottom throbbed like it never had before, and I was not a spanking novice. Yet, when I repeated those words in my mind, I reveled in every pulse of my blood. I had become a member of Black Light the moment I’d discovered it, but for the very first time, I felt like I’d been missing something… something vital. His fingers splayed against my side, keeping me tucked away, stirred every cell in my body.
“Security has it in hand,” Owen said, tightening his grip in order to pull me to the side.
“What happened?” I asked, trying to see beyond the crowd of onlookers.
“Nothing you need to be concerned about,” Owen said, moving me again until I was standing directly in front of him. “All you need to be thinking about is the warning I gave you earlier.”
I accepted that I didn’t need to worry about what was transpiring off this platform, but I really had no idea what he was talking about. Evidently, my expression conveyed my confusion because he reached up to cup my cheek.
“What did I tell you would happen if you spoke without permission?”
What?
“I was just asking if you should help,” I said. “You can’t fault me for that!”
“Actually, I can, but that is not what I’m talking about.”
“You’re not?”
“No, you get a pass for that,” he said. “What you don’t get is a freebie for your earlier transgressions.” He moved his hand and I instantly missed the warmth of his flesh against mine. “Now, answer my question.”
It took me a moment to even remember the question and then I was struggling to think of a possible answer when he began to run his fingertip along my bottom lip. As wonderful and sensual as that felt, it also served to jar my memory. I began to speak as he removed his finger.
“You said I’d be gagged again, but, I raised my hand and only answered your questions.”
His dark head shook and my fingers itched to push into the mass of his hair, to feel the texture, to pull his mouth down to mine. To replace his finger with his lips. But the look in his mocha colored eyes wasn’t one offering me permission to do so. That was the very moment I realized I’d been playing at submission. Never before had I once hesitated to state what I wanted. Had not considered that in demanding whatever scene I was involved in went according to my likes, followed the script in my head, I was denying my dom the very basic elements required in a D/s scene. I’d never thought of myself as a switch, someone who flipped between roles, insisting I was a submissive. But I wasn’t… or at least not a good one. No, what I did wasn’t submit. Owen was right. I topped from the bottom.
“You’re right,” I said when he remained silent. “There were times when I didn’t wait for permission to speak. And I talked to that woman after you dismissed the class.”
The corner of his mouth lifted and I smiled back, ridiculously pleased I’d evidently given him the answer he expected. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I guess I’m still learning.”
“Lessons are better learned by experience,” he said. “On your knees.”
My heart began to thump as he took a single step back, allowing me space to obey. I sank down before him, my suspicion of what he planned to gag me with proving true as he reached for the zipper on his pants. The club could be burning down around us and I don’t think I would have looked away. I knew Owen was a shibarist, knew he was a member of the club, knew he played, but I’d never actually seen him up close and personal… not like this. As the zipper lowered, I felt my body instantly responding. My nipples joined in my body’s throbbing, my pussy contracting, aching as if demanding to be filled. And my panties? Hell, if they got any wetter, I’d be dripping onto the floor.
I don’t know how I managed not to speak as his cock was revealed. Owen went commando, which I found sexy as shit. I reached forward and he instantly reacted. He grabbed the tie around my neck, yanking it up until my head arched back.
“I didn’t give you permission to touch. Hands behind your back and eyes on me.”
Putting my hands behind me, cupping my elbows as I had previously, I locked my eyes onto his.
“This isn’t a submissive using her mouth to worship her dom’s cock. This is a dom using his cock to teach a submissive two things. First, when her dom instructs her to be silent, she should close her mouth.” He released the tie, but I kept my head exactly where it was, watching as his finger lifted to run along the seam of my lips again. “Second, it is to show you what it means to be submissive.” His finger pressed harder, keeping me from saying I knew what submission meant. “No, you don’t,” he said as if reading my mind. “You think you do, but, Marty, you have no idea. But by the time I release you, you will.”
His hand moved again to tug at the other black ribbon I wore. Removing the bow from my hair, he said, “Give me your right hand.”
I offered it, palm up, fingers open.
“You won’t be able to safeword with my cock down your throat. If you need me to stop, drop the ribbon. Understand, sub?” he asked, pressing the ribbon into my hand.
“Yes, sir,” I said. I couldn’t keep my eyes from drifting down as his hand moved yet again, fisting around his cock. God, he was huge! For the life of me, I also couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped my throat. His tone, his look, his very domination flooded through me. I’d given blow jobs before, but I suddenly understood this would not fall into the category. Never had I safeworded—I’d never even come close. But as my fingers closed around the ribbon, I couldn’t help but fear that, though, I’d still not speak the word, I just might let a piece of cloth do the talking for me.
“Open.”
My eyes went back to his as I swallowed hard, licked my lips and then opened my mouth.
“Good girl.”
God, did every submissive on the planet get a thrill hearing those two words? Did they instantly make them want to behave in a manner assuring they’d not be revoked? I supposed it didn’t matter about other submissives. What mattered was they made me take a deep breath, then another as if storing oxygen in my lungs in an effort to make sure I’d continue to be that ‘good girl’.
The head of his cock was shining with precum, more oozing from the slit as he ran his hand up his shaft again, squeezing right behind his cockhead for a moment before sliding down to the base again. This might be a lesson, but my mouth flooded with saliva. God, I wanted to taste him, to run my tongue along the flesh beneath his fingers. I wanted to lick, to kiss, to swipe and swirl. I wanted to give him the best fucking head he’d ever dreamed of.
“You won’t move a muscle. You’ll accept what I choose to give you. The only single thing you have control of is that ribbon in your hand. Drop it and this ends. If not, then the end will come when you swallow every drop of the cum I’ll be shooting down your throat.”
He didn’t ask if I was ready. He didn’t need to. I was the submissive—the vessel for his pleasure. I felt the bulbous head of his cock touch my lips… both top and bottom and opened my mouth further. He didn’t release his hold on his shaft until I felt the head brush against the back of my throat… and there was still more to take. He reached for the handle Jayla had so sweetly provided him, wrapping my ponytail around his fingers and pulling my head back. I felt his cock slide forward and had to fight my gag reflex as it breached my throat in another push forward. He wasn’t thrusting, wasn’t pumping in and out. No, all he was doing was steadily feeding me more of his cock without a single pause.
I struggled to remember everything I’d ever heard about not panicking, breathing through my nose, knowing Owen wouldn’t allow me to suffocate, but reading an article was nothing like the real thing. I’d never deep throated a man before. Hell, I’d never had my face fucked. If I took a man’s cock into my mouth, it had always been my choice. This act… this lesson wasn’t on my terms. It was on my dominant’s.
His grip on my hair, the sting of the strands pulling, the ache already
building in my neck and my throat, the enormous cock in my mouth, the throb of my ass and pussy all moved me to a place I’d never truly been before. And when I struggled to accept his entry and finally felt the weight of his balls slap against my chin, I knew he’d been right all along. I’d played at submission. But this—this was submission. He pulled back just as smoothly as he’d entered.
“You’ll do well to breathe deeply whenever I withdraw,” he said, his voice as calm as if he were giving advice on which tomatoes were the best choice in the produce section.
I immediately filled my lungs, sucking in as huge a breath as possible with his cock still in my mouth. He pushed back in, then out, then in. I settled into the rhythm, my body relaxing, but I should have known better. No sooner than I’d believed I’d deciphered his pattern, he changed it.
This time after I’d drawn a breath, he didn’t slide in slowly; he thrust in hard and fast, demanding my throat open. His hips began to pump, the strangled sounds of my struggle to accept him mingling with the wet slap of his balls hitting my chin again and again. The saliva I couldn’t control slipped out of the corners of my mouth. His hand tightened in my hair, keeping me arched, my eyes up, though I was having a difficult time focusing on his gaze. Every bit of my concentration was on breathing, of obeying, of accepting the lesson. Again and again he fucked my throat. Again and again his testicles battered my chin. Everything and everyone in the world disappeared except for the two of us.
One man and one woman.
Teacher and pupil.
A dom and his sub.
Tears slid down my face as my eyes watered. Spittle dripped from my chin to wet my blouse. And still his cock commanded me, controlled me, punished me by filling my throat and then blessedly gifting me with the very oxygen I needed to remain alive… alive and on my knees, servicing my dom.
