“Shower?” he asked, standing in the
kitchen, leaning against a counter, watching me. Unexpected consideration; I
was sticky with his come, and a shower sounded like bliss.
“Yes, please, Professor Ballard,” I
replied, my eyes still on the floor. I’d lowered them as soon as I’d walked in.
“You can make eye contact, you
know,” he laughed at me. “I like watching the resentment flare in your eyes as
I make you do something outside your comfort zone. And then the lust takes
over, and you just obey.”
I made eye contact, and as he
predicted, resentment flared in my eyes. I didn’t like being laughed at, and he
clearly knew it, and was deliberately needling me. I counted to ten inwardly,
else I was going to throw a mug or something at him; the smug bastard.
His lips twitched as he watched me
struggle to still my temper.
“Very good, pet, I admire
self-control. Come on, let’s see about your shower.”
I followed him up the stairs; trying
not to stare as I took in the details of his home. It was warm and comfortable;
filled with books, paintings and colour. Lamps were everywhere, causing the
rooms to glow in their warm light. Jake’s office at the University was
functional; overflowing with paper and take-out containers, old cups of coffee.
His home was a vivid contrast.
He handed me a towel and gestured to
the bathroom. “Ten minutes, and if you aren’t out in time, I’m coming to get
you, and you will get a spanking you’ll regret,” he said evenly. I nodded, took
the towel and placed it on the bathroom counter. I didn’t bother closing the
door; I was naked, and if there was any part of me he hadn’t seen so far, he’d
see it before the night was over. I just turned on the water, and stepped into
the shower, moaning in satisfaction as the water gushed out, steamy and
perfect.
His water pressure was amazing; I
didn’t want to get out. My student apartment shower was a trickle; on a daily
basis, I had the habit of detouring to the gym, mostly because of the superior
water pressure of the gym showers. But the gym showers had nothing on this
shower; the pressure was heavenly; the water temperature was perfect. I was
initially hesitant about the clear glass shower door, but it quickly fogged up
and I just took a deep breath and let the relaxation flow through me.
Magic
8-ball, what am I doing? I mouthed to myself. Jake had been right to accuse
me of submissive posturing; I had played submissive games with previous
boyfriends; but we’d always ended up doing what I wanted to do. But tonight
with Jake, things were different. He ordered; I obeyed. And I loved it. I wasn’t
nervous; I wasn’t jumpy. I was calm and centered.
Reply
hazy, try again, my imaginary Magic 8-ball replied. I laughed. I’d been
reduced to getting guidance from an imaginary Magic 8-ball. Certifiably insane.
Shit. My eyes flew open. How much
time had passed, while I luxuriated under the shower? I looked around; there
was no clock in the bathroom. I hastily scrubbed myself with soap, rinsed
myself off; toweled myself dry as quickly as possible. I stepped out of the
bathroom; hoping I’d made it in time.
***
There was only one open door; I
stepped into it. Jake was there; lying on his side, facing the door, looking
sexier than any man had the right to look. He had kicked off his shoes; but he
was otherwise still clothed; his jeans had been zipped up after he’d come all
over my breasts.
“How long did I take?” I asked him.
He looked at me silently.
Crap. “How long did I take,
Professor Ballard?” I reworded my question quickly.
He laughed at me. Again, the mocking
amusement. “What would you like me to tell you, pet? Would you like me to tell
you that you took less than ten minutes? Or, do you crave the spanking instead,
at the hands of a man who won’t slow down or stop when you plead?”
Damn him. He’d read me perfectly,
and I hated him for it. I did want to know what the spanking would feel like; I
did wonder what it would feel like to be absolutely powerless under his arms;
knowing he’d stop spanking me only when he felt like it.
I didn’t meet his eyes; and I could
hear his laugh again.
“Come here, pet.” His voice sounded
slightly indulgent. “Come, lie down on the bed, and spread yourself open for
me.”
He patted the side of the bed next
to him.
I padded into the room; dropped the
towel; climbed on the bed next to him; spread my legs apart. He just watched
me, his eyes unreadable.
“Lift your hands,” he said finally.
I lifted my hands; he took them in his own; moved them over and up, above my
head. There was a headboard there, with wooden slats. “Hold on to the slats;
don’t let go.”
I nodded in compliance. He smiled at
me; still amused, then rose up to kneel between my spread legs.
“Spread them wider, pet,” he
ordered. I obeyed; the muscles on my thighs protesting as I parted them as
widely as I could. I tried to tune the word ‘pet’ out. It wasn’t growing on me.
“Now, pet, I think you deserve a
reward,” he said huskily, his fingers reaching out to touch my pussy.
I twisted slightly; looked at him.
My gaze was even.
“In that case, Professor Ballard, I
know what I want,” I said steadily. Inwardly, I was mocking myself; my
ridiculous attempt to make this night something more than what it was. To lend
it some meaning.
He looked at me, one eyebrow raised.
I wasn’t following the script.
“What do you want, pet?” he asked
me. His voice was expressionless.
“I don’t want you to call me pet,” I
said. “Call me Emily.”
I’d startled him; I could see that.
First, there was surprise in his eyes; and then, an expression I couldn’t read,
only for an instant, and then, finally, that hated amusement. But there was no
mockery in his gaze this time, as he looked at me, his lips twitched.
My heart was racing as I waited for
him to speak.
“Emily,” he said. “I had a different reward in
mind…”
He bent his mouth to my pussy.
***
Enjoyed the extract? Buy the book here!
