by J Lerman
He rubs my buttocks again with the flat of his palm.
Oh that feels so good.
‘Say you’re sorry, or I won’t fuck you,’ he says.
‘You’d do that with the whole class outside?’ I whisper.
‘Most certainly I would,’ he says. ‘And you won’t make a sound the whole time. An excellent lesson in self control, don’t you think? So. If you want me to fuck you, say you’re sorry.’
‘I’m sorry.’ The words spill out of my mouth.
I see a smile playing on his lips. ‘So you want me to fuck you?’
‘Yes,’ I stammer.
‘What’s the magic word?’
‘Please,’ I say.
‘Good girl. Spread your legs open again.’
I do, and gasp as I feel him against me, hardness against my buttocks. I see a glimmer of something, and the flash of a condom packet.
The next moment he’s inside of me. I want to cry out with the pleasure of it, but I know I have to be absolutely silent.
He rocks me silently into the desk, and it’s so hard not to make a sound. Again and again, he rocks into me, but then suddenly he withdraws and I hear the zip of his trousers.
‘Don’t stop,’ I beg. ‘Please don’t stop.’
I hear him breathing heavily. He paces around for a few seconds, then walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Now I see what he means about punishment. Having him turn me on like this, but not being able to have him, is utter torture. And I can’t leave until the class finishes.
I hear Marc’s low voice again, talking to the class, and I can’t bear it. I almost pull the rope to set myself free, but where would I go? And does that mean he’ll just punish me again, some other way?
I stand and wait, thinking maybe Marc has a point about self control. He obviously has amazing self control, being able to turn himself on and off like that – enough to walk outside and take a class. And he’s the most amazing actor I’ve ever seen. I mean he just becomes the roles.
I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and suddenly it strikes me as unfair that I have to fall so badly for someone like Marc. But maybe that’s exactly why I’ve fallen so hard. Because Marc isn’t like the other people I’ve dated or slept with. He’s in charge. Maybe he’s what I need.
After an agonising wait, I finally hear the clatter of feet on the floor, conversation and papers shuffled and stuffed into bags. I bet Tom and Tanya are wondering where I am. They’d never guess in a million years that I’m a door away, my buttocks exposed, tied to a shelf and waiting for the teacher to come and fuck me.
Hurry up and leave, I think. God this is torture.
When silence falls, I hear the creak of the door handle and turn to see Marc.
‘Well, Sophia. I hope you’ve learned an interesting lesson today.’
‘I have,’ I say.
‘And it was good for you, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I say, ever the obedient pupil.
He picks up the cane, and bends it between his fingertips. ‘You’ve been silent when you had to be, but can you be silent when you don’t have to be?’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
‘I’m going to fuck you now,’ he says, ‘and I want absolute silence, or I’ll stop. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ I whimper.
‘Put this in your mouth.’ He holds the cane length ways in front of my mouth. ‘Do as you’re told. Open your mouth.’
I do, and he puts the cane between my teeth.
‘Good girl. Now bite down. I like you this way. I may even have to take a few more pictures.’ He takes out his iPhone and takes three snaps: one from behind and one from each side.
‘Open your legs up for teacher, there’s a good girl.’ He doesn’t wait for me to move my feet this time, he just forces my legs apart with his hands and pushes himself between my thighs. ‘Oh God, do you know how hard it is to be controlled around you?’
I feel hardness pushing against me, and I want to moan but I bite the cane instead.
‘Knowing you were in here, ready and waiting for me. I nearly ripped open the door and fucked you with everyone listening,’ says Marc. ‘I thought I could control myself, but it’s dangerous with you. You’re testing my limits.’
He pushes himself a little inside me, and although it’s a tight fit, it feels so good.
His hand slides between my legs as he pushes himself further and further. Now it’s a very tight fit, and a few times it catches me just a little bit painfully. He seems to sense this, and keeps me just on the threshold of pain. Bearable.
The further he gets inside, the better it feels. I notice his hand rubbing too, and warmth builds inside.
I bite into the cane, feeling an orgasm overtake me, and Marc pulls out.
I fall into the ropes, breathing hard, feeling pleasure all over.
Marc takes me carefully in his arms and unties the ropes, then helps me into my clothing.
I glance down and see he’s wearing a green condom that seems stretched to bursting point.
Wow. That thing was inside of me? Amazing. I’d never of thought it could fit.
Then something else occurs to me.
‘Didn’t you come?’ I ask.
He shakes his head.
‘Why not?’ Didn’t you want to? Was I too disappointing?
‘I like to stay in charge,’ he says. ‘It wouldn’t do to lose control in front of you. I’m teaching you about pleasure. I’ll take my own later.’
‘How?’ I ask, thinking about the tabloid story. ‘With another woman?’ I cringe as I say the words. Another woman. It’s not like you’re his girlfriend ...
Marc smiles. ‘Would it bother you if it was?’
‘I don’t know.’ I look at my fingernails. They’ve always been bitten, but they’re so much worse since I met Marc. I realise then how stupid I’m being. I’ve been swept along by this man, but everything is on his terms. ‘Yes. It bothers me. And it bothers me you didn’t come.’
‘Why?’ Marc asks.
‘I suppose it’s the control thing. You can control me. How I’m feeling. But you’re not allowing me to have an effect on you.’
‘Oh believe me,’ says Marc, taking off his suit jacket and throwing it on the desk. ‘You’re having an effect on me.’
‘But you’re not letting me in,’ I say. ‘You’re not letting me close to you.’
Marc stares at the plays lined up along the shelves. ‘I’ve let you closer than anyone has ever been.’
Chapter 41
‘Really?’ I say.
Marc nods. He looks at his knuckles, suddenly, and I see they’re criss-crossed with scars.
‘It doesn’t feel like you’re letting me close at all.’
‘I am. For me I am.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Everyone else, I’ve just had fun with, in my own fucked up way. But with you ... it’s something more. Your pleasure is so much more important to me than my own.’
I breathe out, wishing I had the courage to ask him again about other women. But something inside tells me I won’t like the answer.
Marc puts his hands either side of my face, and brings me closer to him. His eyes are so intense. So riveting. And he’s so handsome. This man says he has feelings for me. It’s hard to believe.
‘I’m looking forward to our next lesson,’ he whispers, and I feel a hardness in his trousers. ‘You’ve had a lesson in inhibition. And self discipline. Now I think it’s time to stretch your boundaries. To have you try things you’d never dream of doing.’
I stare at him. ‘You think I’ve dreamed of being tied up in a stationary cupboard?’
He nods. ‘If you’d used your imagination, I’m sure you could have dreamed it up, in the right circumstances. Some nice student boyfriend. A few drinks. He finds a bit of rope and wants to play around.’
‘So what wouldn’t I dream of doing?’
‘That’s what we�
��re going to find out,’ says Marc. ‘But not on campus.’
‘Where?’ I ask.
‘My town house. Tonight. We’ll have dinner. And we’ll get to know each other a lot better.’
And here I was thinking we knew each other pretty well.
‘Your town house? Are you sure.’ Going to his home for dinner – it sounds almost too normal.
Marc nods. ‘There are no lectures tomorrow. It’s a study day. So you’ll have plenty of time to recover.’
‘What time tonight?’ I ask, barely able to contain he eagerness in my voice. ‘And – how am I going to get there without anyone seeing me. The press ...’
Marc checks his watch. ‘I’ll let you know. In the meantime, don’t study too hard.’
‘I have a class with Denise Crompton right after this,’ I say. ‘Singing. I can’t sing.’
‘Everyone can sing,’ says Marc. ‘It’s all about letting go.’
Chapter 42
The class with Denise is lots of fun, and we finish with a round-robin chorus that leaves us all in a good mood.
As we’re leaving class, Denise takes my arm.
‘Sophia my love, can I have a quick word?’
I look at Tanya and Tom, who look back at me quizzically.
‘Sure,’ I say.
She waits until all the pupils have left the room, then closes the classroom door. It’s very warm in her classroom. Almost stuffy, but not quite. She goes to a kettle by the window and switches it on.
‘Tea?’
‘Oh. Yes please.’
‘I only have herbal, I’m afraid. The milk goes off in here. Take a seat.’
I sit down, confused.
‘Look, I’ll straight get to the point,’ says Denise, putting teabags into cups. ‘I heard about rag week. That you had something put into your drink.’
I nod. ‘I’m much better now.’
‘Are you sure?’ says Denise. ‘I just wanted you to know that if you ever needed to talk about anything, I’m right here. I’m a very good listener.’
‘Thanks so much,’ I say. ‘Marc – I mean, Mr Blackwell, has already been really kind. He had me taken to a private hospital. And I was ... thoroughly checked over.’
‘Very kind,’ says Denise. ‘Yes, Marc’s a good man.’
‘How well do you know him?’ I ask, wondering if maybe I can get some information about this complex man, whom no one seems to know anything about.
‘I’ve known him since he was a boy,’ says Denise.
‘I heard something about that,’ I say. ‘That his dad wasn’t very nice to him. Or something.’
Denise nods. ‘He’s a very complex character is our Marc.’
You can say that again.
‘I know he seems very stuck up at first,’ she continues. ‘Even arrogant. But deep down he has people’s best interests at heart, no matter how he comes across on the surface.’ She pours water into the cups. ‘Do I detect some ... how can I put this? Some interest in Mr Blackwell on your part?’
My blood runs cold. Does she know what’s going on between Marc and I?
Denise hands me a cup. ‘It’s not my place to ask anything personal, but I can promise you, if you wanted to get anything off your chest it would be absolutely confidential. I wouldn’t tell a soul. Even as part of the university staff, my students come first. Always.’
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I appreciate that.’
Denise sighs. ‘I’ve noticed ... a change in Marc this term.’ She watches me carefully. ‘He seems confused. And he’s spoken about you. He’s never mentioned a pupil before.’
My eyes widen. How much does she know? ‘What did Marc say to you?’
Denise shakes her head. ‘Nothing at all of any significance. But he didn’t need to. I hope this doesn’t sound too big headed, but I’m a very intuitive person. I can feel things clearly that most people are blind to. And I see feel Marc is interested in you. And you him. So maybe something is unfolding between the two of you. Am I right?’
‘Um ...’ I take a sip of hot tea and burn my tongue. I look into her kind eyes and know I can’t lie to her. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Things are maybe ... I like him.’ I feel relieved to tell her. ‘But I’m not sure ... the way things are going. I don’t understand it. It’s like nothing that’s ever happened to me before. He seems to care about me. To really feel things for me. But everything’s on his terms.’
Denise nods. ‘That sounds like Marc. Maybe I shouldn’t have spoken to you about this. I should have let you talk to your friends, or whoever your confidents are. But I understand from your application form that your mother passed away, and I felt l wanted to put myself forward as someone you can talk to. Should you ever want to. I want you to know I care.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, feeling overwhelmed by her concern. ‘I appreciate that.’
‘Have you and Marc ... may I ask, has it been intimate?’
Chapter 43
‘Yes,’ I say, blushing. I take a sip of tea. It’s soothing and I feel my throat loosen up.
Denise smiles. ‘Tell me to get on my bike if you think this is none of my business.’
‘No, it’s okay,’ I say. ‘It’s a relief to talk about this, actually. To someone mature.’
‘And you’re using contraception? I’m sorry to be so blunt, but I care about my pupils and I want to make sure they’re okay. A lovely young woman like you doesn’t want a baby to have to worry about – not when she’s just starting out in life.’
I feel embarrassed and nod quickly. ‘Yes, he’s been taking care of that.’ I put my head in my hands. ‘It’s so hard. Everything has to be a secret, because if anyone finds out Marc wouldn’t carry on teaching here, and all the students would lose an amazing actor as their teacher.’
‘Oh, he’s that alright,’ says Denise. ‘A truly amazing actor. But he’s been through some hardships to get there, just like your hardships make you a great actor too.’
‘I don’t see myself as a great actor,’ I say. ‘I’m not of Marc’s calibre.’
‘Maybe not at 23, but by the time you’re 27 I see no reason why not. You’re better than Marc was at your age, and he started younger than you. He was bullied into it. Acting. Did he tell you that?’
‘He hasn’t told me much of anything at all,’ I admit.
Denise nods, and takes a sip of tea. ‘Poor little lamb.’
I nearly choke on my tea. How could anyone think of Marc Blackwell that way? Commanding, intense, angry Marc Blackwell, a poor little lamb? Really?
‘I’ve never heard anyone talk about him like that,’ I say, twiddling my charm necklace.
Denise nods. ‘His father was a monster. An absolute monster. A failed actor, of course. Performed in all sorts of bad films and TV dramas, and insisted Marc performed from a young age. Too young an age.
‘When I first met them, I was performing on Broadway. I know, I know. Broadway. You wouldn’t think it now, but years ago I was quite something. Anyway. Marc was playing Oliver Twist and I was Nancy. He was such a dear little lad, but so serious. So afraid of his father.
‘His mother had health problems and died when he was very young, so I took him under my wing. I loved having him as my surrogate son, and I gave his father a piece of my mind more than once. His father hit him. If he didn’t win a part or he didn’t perform perfectly enough. Horrible man. Repressed. Taking his rage out on his boy.
‘When Marc was twelve, his father went to Egypt on a business venture and I offered to put Marc up for a few weeks. Those few weeks turned into months, and Marc and I had a wonderful time. I made sure he went to school every day, and insisted his evenings and weekends were free to do whatever he wanted.
‘Often, he wanted to perform in plays. Well, that was fine. As long as it was his choice. Then his father came back and all hell broke loose. He said I’d been holding his boy back. Stopping him from fulfilling his ambition.
‘I was offered a part back in London, and I asked if Marc wanted to come
live with me in England. He did, but his father wouldn’t allow it. Said LA was the place. So he took Marc there, and at sixteen Marc left home and pursued his dream alone.
‘By then, Marc was already well known in the business for being an amazing young talent with the worst mood swings in the business.
‘We still kept in touch. He’d ring me every Sunday, and tell me about the parts he was playing and the wonderful locations he was being flown to.
‘Then he had this college built to help young talent, and to my amazement he offered me a lecturer’s position. And we were reunited again. I love having him back in England, with me. It’s where he belongs. He grew up in England, you know. In London.’
‘I didn’t know any of that about him,’ I say. ‘I had no clue he’d been through such a hard life.’
‘But so have you,’ says Denise.
‘Not compared to ... no, I don’t think I have. Not really.’
‘Well.’ Denise folds her fingers together. ‘I don’t know what to say about you and Marc. I don’t condone it, but I don’t disapprove either. Marc’s a decent person, when it comes down to it, and you’re both consenting adults. What I will say is, are you happy to be having a relationship that right now has to be kept hidden? Do you really want that for yourself?’
I shake my head, and feel tears sliding down my face. ‘No,’ I whisper. ‘But I don’t see as though I have any choice. I don’t want Marc to stop being a teacher here. He offered, but I couldn’t live with myself if the whole class lost him because of me.
‘No one would plan a relationship like this. In fact, I wouldn’t even call it a relationship right now. I don’t know what it is. But I’m in the middle of it, and there’s no turning back. Not without venturing further in. Without getting myself completely caught up in him, and then probably completely hurt.’
‘It sounds like you’re already completely caught up with him,’ says Denise.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I should probably walk away, but I’m not sure I can.’
‘You’ve got some difficult choices to make,’ says Denise, getting up and putting her arms around me. She smells of soap and camomile tea. ‘You’re a grown woman, so it’s up to you to decide. But just you know, I’ll always be here if you need me.’
