Chapter 6
JOHN
Ican’t believe she’s my fucking student. What are the odds? I knew she was young, I just didn’t know she was in college. My college. Everything in me is screaming to walk away.
I’ve tried to ignore the need to touch her. To light up her skin with my belt. I’ve been a cold, moody bastard to her. Hell, I’d even given her first paper a lower grade than she deserved to try to get her to drop my class.
But images of that fucker knocking her down on the first day still flood my brain, and I give in to the need to check on her.
I’m not her dom, and she cannot be my sub. I don’t date students. There are definitely rules against this. Aren’t there? There must be, but fuck if I know—the thought of getting involved with a student has never crossed my mind. Until now.
If I continue engaging with her as Daddy Dom, it will blur the lines my rules are so carefully built upon.
Me
Bring her to my room tonight. Eight o’clock.
Alyx
Who? You’re gonna have to be more specific.
Emma
But she hasn’t had any more nightmares. Or she hasn’t told me about them, if she has. No more freakouts, she hasn’t balked from someone’s touch, and I haven’t heard her talk about another man. Were there other criteria you forgot to tell me?
She did react to a man’s touch. Someone knocked her down on the first day of class, and I helped her up. She doesn’t know it was me, though.
Shit, is she okay?
I think so, but I’d like to check in with her, so bring her to my room tonight.
What if she doesn’t want to come?
She will.
When there’s a knock on my door at exactly eight, I breathe a sigh of relief. Why does this girl have me so twisted up in knots? And how the fuck can I release them? It’s been three weeks since the massage, and I thought I’d be able to walk away. Clearly, I’m a bigger masochist than I thought.
“Bring her back when you’re done, I know the drill.” Alyx closes the door behind him as Emma stares after him in confusion.
Clearing my throat, I redirect her focus. “I want to reiterate that I have your consent.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That you are okay with this arrangement, where you don’t know who I am under here, but I know who you are.”
She blinks in confusion. “Has that not been the case this whole time?”
Now that I know who she is, it’s important to me that I reconfirm her consent, if anything for my own selfish peace of mind. “And you’re comfortable with that arrangement? I have your consent to proceed?”
“Yes, I’m okay with it, and you have my consent.”
“If this is going to work, you have to abide by my rules.”
“Aren’t rules supposed to be negotiable in a BDSM dynamic?”
She’s clearly done her research, and it turns me on more than it should.
“When it comes to a dom/sub dynamic, everything is negotiable, but when you’re in my room, if we’re going to do this, I have certain rules that are non-negotiable.”
“Okay,” she says, drawing out the word.
“Our dynamic only exists within the confines of these four walls. You cannot ask me about my life outside of the club. Is that clear?”
She nods and then speaks as if she already knows I’m about to correct her. “I understand.”
“There will be no feelings involved. You may experience intense emotions while in a scene and feel the need to confess them. You need to remember that the things we do in this room are designed to test your limits, emotionally and physically. It will make you feel things. I have held subs while they cried. I have watched them scream and curse and break down. This type of power exchange is not for the weak.”
Her shoulders visibly tense. “Got it.”
“You have a problem, I’m helping to solve that problem. That’s all there can be between us,” I say, as if codifying the sentiment could possibly make it true.
“No catching feelings.”
“I will reach out to you when I feel another session is necessary.”
“Yes, sir,” she says with bite, not her usual sweet submissive tone.
“And I know it’s a double standard, but you have to be completely honest with me. I need a clear understanding of your emotional state, your health, and any concerns you may have so I can ensure your safety and trust.”
“Yes—”
“Strip,” I growl, interrupting her before she can finish the “sir.”
She hesitates briefly before complying, and my cock swells with pride at her willingness to obey. When she takes everything off except her panties, I take a step toward her, backing her up against the door. “I said strip. I want you bare before me, pet.”
“But last time I left my panties on. I just figured…” she trails off, her earlier fight gone as she pulls down her panties. “Sorry, sir.”
“Is that a rule you want to negotiate?”
She thinks for a second. “No, sir.”
“Go stand in front of the cross,” I command, and she quickly complies.
I follow the sway of her ass and clock the two day old dark bruise on her left cheek.
I blow out a deliberate breath for show and growl.
I know how she got the bruise, but I need to pretend like I don’t if I’m going to sell this.
I stomp toward her, stopping inches from her body.
“Who did this to you, pet?” I ask, gently tracing the edges of the bruise, and she winces.
“It’s nothing,” she shrugs.
“Don’t lie to me, pet. Who gave you this bruise?” I say, gripping the flesh above her cheek and pulling her against me.
“It was a random guy. I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I fell when I opened the door while he was exiting.”
Why is she making excuses for that frat fuck? I saw the whole thing, watched her make herself small the entire walk to the classroom, and saw that fucker knock her over as she tried to get out of the way. She was looking where she was going; she was hypervigilant.
Overcome with the desire to teach her a lesson and dole out my punishment, I grip her by the neck, turning her face toward mine. “I prefer you wear my bruises, pet. Would you like that?”
“I… Uh, that sounds…” I wait for her to form words, but she continues to stammer. When I see her thighs clench together, I relax, knowing she’s exactly where I want her.
“Use your safe word if you don’t want that,” I say, running my free hand down her right ass cheek. Cocking it back, I hover near her skin, ready to strike, or pull away.
“Please, sir,” she begs in that breathy fucking whisper, and I fight the urge to rub my cock against that bruise. I release my hand, letting the sting of the slap reverberate against her cheek, before rubbing soothing circles around the spot.
“What else happened?” I ask as close to her ear as the mask will let me get, frustrated it won’t allow me closer, but thankful for its existence, especially now that she might recognize my voice.
“I was excited about this class, but my super moody jerk of a professor couldn’t decide what personality he wanted to try on today. First, he helped me up after the bro knocked me down, then picked on me for the rest of class. He’s such an A-hole.”
Biting my lip to stifle my chuckle, I slap her ass cheek again.
“Oh! What was that for?” she says in surprise.
“To teach you a lesson. Don’t let a man pick on you or push you down. Think of it like another rule I expect you to follow, except this applies in all areas of your life, not just in our dynamic or in this room.”
“But he’s my teacher. I can’t just tell him to eff off if he’s mean to me. What am I supposed to do?”
“Are you going to follow my rules?”
“Yes, sir. But what should I do about Professor A-hole?”
“Want me to teach him a lesson for you?”
“Could you really do that?” she asks, seeming to consider my offer before breaking into a fit of laughter. “He looks like he works out, but I think you could take him. Plus, you have this whole intimidating Dom thing going for you.”
Little does she know I need the voice modulator now more than ever.
“Am I a joke to you?” I smack her cheek harder as she lets out a squeak of surprise.
“No, sir.”
“Shut your mouth and spread your legs.”
“What are you going to—”
Smack.
The sound of my hand slapping her wet cunt reverberates through my entire body as she gasps and grabs the cross to steady herself.
“It’s taking every ounce of restraint I have not to crawl between your legs and lap at your perfect virgin cunt. I want to bury myself so deep in you that you soak the hair on my face. I want to be covered in so much of your arousal that my tongue alone couldn’t clean it.”
Her breathing picks up, and I stare at her tits as they heave and jiggle with each stuttered breath and she slides her legs apart further.
I want to drop to my knees, remove my mask, and devour her, but I can’t. Instead, I cup her ass in my hands, squeezing each cheek firmly before smacking them both in unison.
She yelps, and I slide a hand between her legs and cup her pussy. “When you’re in my room, this is mine. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
I deliver several quick hard slaps to her pussy before sliding a finger in and stroking her G-spot.
Her hands tighten their grip on the cross and I remove my finger, dragging it up her front until I connect with her clit.
I start with slow circles, reading her body as I increase the pressure and speed.
“I’ve touched every inch of this perfect fucking body.”
She nods as a small moan escapes her mouth.
“Who does this body belong to?”
“You, sir.”
“Who does it come alive for?”
“Only you, sir.”
I shouldn’t like that answer as much as I do.
“I want you to come all over my fingers like you’d come all over my cock.
Fucking fall apart for me, pet. Drench me.
Show me how much you want this. How much you need my touch.
Come for me.” I continue working her clit with one hand and use my other to fill her cunt with as many fingers as she can take.
“Yes, sir, I need it. Oh God, I need it so much,” she cries as her pussy spasms around my fingers.
I don’t dare remove my mask, but I can faintly smell the scent of her arousal as my mouth waters.
Once she comes down from her orgasm, I remove my fingers and slip them under my mask and into my mouth, savoring the taste of her as a low growl emanates from my throat.
Just like an addict, I swear this is my last hit. I’ve got to put a stop to this. Nothing good will come of this if I continue down this path, and she is too good, too pure. She deserves everything I can’t give her.
After a generous amount of after care and returning her to Alyx’s room, my phone lights up with a text as I’m getting in my car.
Mary
Hey John. I’m sorry to bug you during the semester.
I chuckle to myself. She starts most texts this way.
I promise you’re not bugging me.
Okay. Sam is out of town again. Can you stay over?
Mary had a rough childhood, living in poverty in an area of the world known for violence.
She scares easily and doesn’t like being alone.
She moved in with me a few years ago, and I let her stay at my place in Columbus with Sam and their son.
During the school year, however, I rent a room from a fellow professor near campus so I don’t have to commute from the city.
Our living arrangement works for all of us, and I’m happy to help them out.
I’ll be there in twenty.
This is the reminder I needed. Mary and her family need me.
There are people in my life who depend on me to not get mixed up with students.
I’m working toward a goal that is bigger than just me.
I am someone’s white knight, even if it’s not in the romantic sense.
And I need to focus on that and not the young woman permeating my thoughts and dreams.