Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Dean Anderson
I can’t help the sadistic smile as it crosses my lips. Granted, this isn’t the most painful tool I have in my arsenal. Not by a long shot. It should, however, go a long way in imparting to Ashleigh just how much she’s mucked everything up.
Even as I pull it out of the armoire, I have to give her a modicum of credit for how her mind spun these facts into something even I haven’t considered. It’s no secret Chase made enemies. Hell, even Professor Richards is still leery of the boy.
Was. Was still leery.
As much as it hurts to lose a member of The Society, I have to accept that he’s gone. If Ashleigh is right and it was murder... But who would do something like that?
Pulling away from the safety of the armoire, I shake my head as recrimination fills my gut. Who wouldn’t want to kill him? If half of the stories I heard whispered around the dorms were true... He was going to be dealt with sooner or later.
Somehow, I hoped that serving under Mistress Nadia would have given him a better appreciation for his role as a burgeoning dominant. All it seemed to do was fill him with rage. Rage he must have been taking out on poor drunk girls on campus.
As the dean of Loftry, I should want nothing more than to find out just how his death happened. As the leader of The Society, all I can say is good riddance. Things are safer now. No matter how it happened.
Regardless, I can’t have Ashleigh thinking she can write what she wants. Her inflammatory article does nothing but fan the flames, making his death a far more public affair than it needs to be. She’s still young enough, na?ve enough, and rich enough not to consider how her actions affect others, and that ends today.
Once I turn to face her, those curious eyes of hers widen until they seem to eat into her face. That doe-eyed, breathless visage shouldn’t make me hard. It shouldn’t make me want to defile her until she’s just as depraved as me. As the leader, I don’t have the luxury of making a mistake.
And that’s exactly what she would be... a mistake.
Until I can figure out exactly how to get her into The Society and ensure her silence, she’s off limits to me. An anathema, the vector of my damnation. Just one wrong look into those pretty eyes of hers... Damn. She’s far more fae like than she’ll ever know.
“You can’t be serious.” My balls tighten at her scoffing tone. “You actually bought a cane? But when? You didn’t know about the article mishap until this morning.”
“How utterly na?ve of you to think I would wait until an if would happen when we both know it was always going to be an inevitable when.”
When her mouth drops open, all I can think about is sliding my cock between those pretty lips. Maybe that will be the only way I can ever shut her up. And what a pretty picture that will make. No doubt it will make for great masturbatory fodder.
“You’re a madman,” she finally spits out as her bluster seems to fade.
“Do you deny that you did wrong?”
“Well, no. But-“
“And did you not understand the terms of our interactions?”
“Well, yes. But-“
“Then I have no idea why you’re standing here gaping like a fish instead of grabbing the other side of my desk so I can punish you and be done with it.”
Another tinge of light pink graces her cheeks as she looks down to the floor. “I don’t look like a fish.”
“If that’s your only objection, the desk, if you please.”
This time, when she looks back up, there’s something else in her expression, something dangerous. For a moment, it seems as if she bats her eyes, but that’s insane. Surely if she was trying to seduce me, she’d do something else. Then again, it might be that she doesn’t have as much practice in seducing others.
Fuck. That was the absolute worst thing to think about. I don’t need to be standing here picturing myself as her instructor, her tutor in the ways of eroticism. These thoughts and ideas do nothing to quell the erection tenting my pants so much that I’m surprised she hasn’t noticed.
“Are you sure you have to cane me? I mean, can’t we work something else out?” For a moment, her fingers trail down the front of her shirt, drawing my gaze to the bit of flesh exposed when she inhales.
Dear God. It sounds like she’s reciting a bad porno.
“You’re not trying to seduce me, Miss Hartwell. Are you?”
“I... No. Of course not. That would be very, very bad. Wouldn’t it? Naughty, even.”
An unexpected chuckle rumbles through my chest as I look at her face and body posturing. Innocent for sure. She’s all awkward angles and clumsy mumblings. Unfortunately, it simply makes her all the more endearing.
“It would be inappropriate, is what it would be.”
“Oh?” she snorts, all pretense of seducing me gone from her face. “And caning me isn’t?”
“Ahh. But I’m not trying to give you pleasure from this.” As her cheeks turn a deeper crimson, I lean in closer. “You’re not actually enjoying this. Are you? It’s supposed to be discipline. Not for your gratification.”
“O- of course not. I- No. How could anyone find anything pleasurable about our interactions?” she sputters as her face continues to get redder by the moment.
“How indeed. Now then, pull down your pants.”
This time, all the red leeches from her, leaving her face a sickly shade of pale. “W- why do you need my pants down?”
“Seems as if my punishment yesterday made no difference to you. I aim to rectify that. You may, of course, leave your panties on. Propriety. You know.”
“Right... Propriety.”
Her fingers tremble as she turns to face my desk and fiddles with the front of her pants. While she’s unable to see me, I reach down and cup myself again as I study the alluring curve of her ass. Propriety indeed. If anyone saw, if anyone knew, I’d be fucked, and not in the way I find enjoyable.
All too soon, her pants slip down to her ankles, showing off yet another thong. The dark maroon bisects her cheeks, as if she’s giving me the palette from which to paint her skin. Honestly, it will be a miracle if she can stand the cane for long enough for it to get to that color.
But then, it’s not as if this will be our last interaction. Knowing her, she’ll be right back in here soon, awaiting my firm, disciplining hand. Each time she makes a trip over my desk, I’ll be sure to increase her punishment until she can accept more, crave more, molding her into the pain slut I need, I desire.
I may not be able to take her sexually, but I will plan and plot. In the meantime, she’s agreed to my terms. She’s the one demanding I take action. All I can do is give her exactly what she’s asking for.
“My suggestion would be to hold on to the other side as tightly as you can. This is going to hurt.”
With her body stretched out over the dark wood, I can’t help but lust after the sight of her in such a submissive pose. Every inch of her cries out for my punishing touch. Soon. Somehow, someway... soon.
“Spread your legs for me like a good girl,” I growl, unable to keep my desires fully in check.
For a moment, I worry I’ve shown my hand, but if she took any notice of my words, she makes no show of it. In fact, for once, she doesn’t fight me. Not only does she widen her stance, but she also turns in her toes. “Ahhh. You remembered.”
I’m just supposed to cane her, then let her go. Nothing more. Nothing less. But she’s whittled her way into my brain, bored herself into my soul in a way that no one else has.
It’s just a warmup. That’s it. It isn’t a way for me to cop a feel in a way that has plausible deniability. But then, nothing about this has actual fucking plausible deniability. If she wanted to make a fuss, she could, and I’d be held liable.
This is stupid. It’s not just about me. It’s about everyone else I look over as both dean and head of The Society. The fact that I’m willing to put all of this in jeopardy over some student is just asinine. Only, the thing is, I now have a better understanding for those who find the ones they want and move heaven and earth to have them.
What am I willing to give up for her? Anything? As I run my hand down the cool skin of her ass cheek, I realize I would give everything. Not just because she’s some obsession I can’t seem to get out of my brain, but because I’ve craved her from the moment she stood toe-to-toe with me and demanded I allow a school paper.
She’s the first to be willing and able to stand up to me for what she wants. As such, she’s a refreshing change, a breath of fresh air, all wrapped in the most alluring of packages. Who thought I would end up wanting a brat? Certainly not me.
But she feeds me in a way the ultra-submissives don’t. I crave the violence I’m about to impart onto her skin. I crave that moment when her will eventually cedes to my own. Most importantly, I hunger for the quiet energy that crackles between us with each strike of my palm or crack of my implements.
Smack .
The first strike of my hand against her delectable ass sends her up on her toes. Not surprising since I’m not holding back this time. Not like yesterday. As much as I desire her free spirit and indomitable will, she needs to learn there’s a time and place for everything.
I pause for a moment, waiting for her to yell at me or cry out, but she does neither. She quietly takes my punishment with only a slight squirming to show her discomfort. For a moment, I worry that I’ve misjudged things, but a quick glance at the gusset of her thong shows just how fucking wet she is from my treatment of her.
Smack.
I warm up the other cheek then pull away. If I keep touching her, I might give into the madness until nothing will keep me from propping her thigh up onto my desk so I can fuck that sweet pussy of hers. No. I need distance. I need a clinical touch only a tool can provide.
“Just know this will hurt you far more than it will hurt me,” I grumble as I bend the cane between my hands.
Just a touch of give. It’s enough to give her that bite of a sting and the unyielding thwack of the rod. Coming to the side, I line it up on her ass as I decide where I want to lay down the first strike. So many decisions. Thankfully, I plan to lay down quite the sadistic ladder, so each spot will get a stripe soon enough.
“Grab the desk and hold tight. After each slice of this wood against your backside, I want you to thank me for taking you in hand instead of stripping Loftry of its only newspaper.”
The look she shoots over her shoulder is pure venom. Again, I laugh, and the sound erupts from my lips like a squawk from a rusty instrument.
“I don’t see what’s so funny about this.”
“Your face, my dear, says everything you probably wish to keep hidden.”
“Make no mistake. I intend for you to see this expression. I’m not exactly looking forward to this, you know.”
Again, I hazard a glance at her underwear. “Oh, trust me. I know.”
Thwack .
The first line comes down right at the top of her cheeks. As expected, She arches up from the desk, a flurry of curses littering the air.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. What would your mother say if she heard you use such language?”
“Go to hell,” she grumbles. “It fucking hurts, and you fucking know it.”
“Shall I gag you? Will that help you keep a civil tongue in your mouth? The soap is still an option.”
Her delicate nose scrunches up as she lays her cheek against the desk. “Just get on with it. I can keep quiet now that I know what to expect.”
“You still didn’t thank me.”
As she lifts her face to look at me, her eyes narrow. “Thank you, oh magnanimous one, for allowing me to keep the free press free.”
“Close enough.”
Glancing down at her ass, I lower the cane a touch before rearing my hand back and slicing the thin wood through the air again.
Thwack .
“Mother fu- fudge,” she amends as she tightens her hold on the wood. “Thank you for allowing a school newspaper like every other school has.”
Thwack .
“God, are you trying to make each one hurt more than the next?”
“What was that? I’m sorry. I can’t hear you over the sound of your voice saying ‘I can keep quiet now that I know what to expect,’ running through my head.”
“Ha ha,” she replies, her tone devoid of all humor. “You’re a riot.”
“And you haven’t thanked me yet,” I rebut.
“Thank you, dictator-in-chief, for giving me the opportunity to expose what happens at this school.”
“Sir or dean will do for now. No need to add to my titles.”
Thwack .
This one hits a little lower on her cheeks, causing her to bow up as she does her hardest to keep the curse words at bay. To her credit, she’s taking her first caning like a champ. And if her soaked panties are anything to show for it, a lot of this bluster is little more than show.
“Thank you,” she grits out after taking a few deep breaths. “For showing me just how bad it can be in the real world. I’m sure I’ll need this experience for something.”
Stifling a chuckle, I line the cane up with the most sensitive part of her ass—where her cheeks meet her thighs. “Last one, Miss Hartwell. And from my research, this will be the most painful.”
“Most painful,” she mutters. “As if the others have been a tickle.”
I refuse to hold back and allow her to feel my ire as I let the last strike fly.
Thwack .
As expected, she jumps up and clutches her backside as tears finally glisten in her eyes. “Mother of God,” Ashleigh screeches. “You did that on purpose!”
“Oh, and the others weren’t? Thank me, Miss Hartwell, so we can be done.”
“Thank you for being done.” Her tone warbles a bit as she does what she can to compose herself.
“I’ll let you have that one since you took my punishment so well. As for this article, it’s done now. It’s out there. I’ve seen the comments and feel the best remaining punishment is for you to deal with the consequences of your own actions. You certainly may not have to deal with a cane when working outside of here. However, you will have to learn that though you are free to say or write whatever you want, you are not free from the consequences of what you say. Maybe think about that when you pen your next piece. I will consider this matter concluded.”
As she walks to the door, my heart follows her, desperate to pull her back into my arms and tell her how fucking proud I am with how well she took that pain for me. I want to soothe her, to comfort her, to show her all is forgiven between us. But I can’t. I’m forced to watch her leave with those damn tears starting to slip down her cheeks.
Fuck every bit of this. Yet again, I find myself needing to get off before continuing with my day. I could have a Society submissive see to my needs, but the very idea of someone touching me that’s not Ashleigh makes my skin crawl.
Sitting back in my chair, I undo the top of my pants and slide my hand inside. Shelaine knows better than to enter without warning, so I don’t have to worry about her seeing me free my cock so I can stroke myself.
I’m so fucking hard, and all from giving Ashleigh the punishment she deserves. Closing my eyes, I conjure the memory of her bent over my desk, legs spread, and ass in the air. She makes such a pretty picture all trussed up for me as I cane her.
My cock pulses as I run my hand to the tip and squeeze. God, what would her pussy feel like convulsing around me? Heaven, I’m sure.
Groaning, I continue to pleasure myself, using the mental image of her as my personal porn. My hand is a pale comparison to what I’m sure she’d feel like. Tightening my grip, I picture her on top of me, riding me as she cries out with pleasure.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take long, but soon, my balls clench even tighter until pleasure zips down my spine and up my shaft. I grab a tissue and hold it under my slit as cum pours out of me and into my palm.
Relief slithers down my spine, allowing my heart and brain to have a moment of peace. She’s invaded my very psyche and set up shop. What the hell am I going to do?