Page 11 of Masters of Play

"How can you prove it?" Professor Sinead raised that eyebrow at me in challenge.

"It's based on an individual's perception of their own sexual deviancy. For example, mine."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to swallow them back down. Except I also wanted Professor Sin to see that I was right.

"Have you come to play, Kellie?"

I looked up to find Owen grinning down at me. Alan was behind him, winding rope around his forearm. Meanwhile, Professor Sinead stood at my back with his brow cocked and loaded. It was sensation overload.

"Yes," I said. "Yes, I have. But can we have a private room?"

Chapter Seven

"Who's this?" asked Alan.

"This..." I thought about lying for a split second. The problem was that I've never been good at it. The truth has always been my friend. Mainly because it was easier to remember since it's what actually happened in real life. "This is my teacher. He's here to check my work for my study."

"Hmm." Alan's tone sounded exactly like Professor Sinead's.

The two men were physically as different as could be. Alan had to be at least ten years younger than Professor Sinead, if not more. That wasn't to say that Professor Sinead looked aged. Not at all. But there was a maturity set in the smooth lines of his jawline. Whereas the arrogance of youth was what rounded out Alan's chin.

Professor Sinead also had a couple of inches on the twins. But all three men were lean and muscled. Not muscled in the bulky sense. They each looked as though they'd lettered on the swim or varsity team where their muscles were used in calculated movements and not for brute strength.

The starkest difference between the men was their coloring. The Carson twins were blessed with golden looks that the Greek gods would've envied. Golden locks of hair and golden tan skin. Meanwhile, Professor Sinead had been adorned with dark looks that I still believed came from Lucifer himself. Thick, dark waves crowned his head. His skin was more burnished tan than golden. He was only just a few shades lighter than my brown skin.

"Your teacher?" said Owen. "Does that mean this is a test?"

"Sort of," I said.

"And once you pass, we'll finally be able to fuck you?" said Owen.

"Hmm." Professor Sinead looked over at me.

"I haven't—" I started and stopped. "I didn't—"

"She said we couldn't have penetrative sex with her until she was done with her study," said Owen, ever helpful. "Because it would be unethical."

"She was right about that," said Professor Sinead.

Professor Sinead looked around the room, taking in all the toys on the wall. An assortment of dildos, butt plugs, and vibrators lined one side. Floggers and canes lined another. Cleaning products were shelved on the third wall. There was no bed in this room. Just a tripod for suspension.

I cleared my throat, readying my analytical mind. I needed to explain this academically so that Sinead would understand. But it was hard to ignore the wetness gathering between my legs.

"I've identified as kinky since I was a teenager," I said as I began my impromptu presentation. "I've always liked when my partners held me down during sex. Being rough and using force is common in many bedrooms on this earth. Some people derive pleasure from it. Others don't. I later learned that my kink went beyond that, to an extreme."

I don't know what I expected Professor Sinead to do. He stared at me, expressionless. Both brows down. No tug at either corner of his mouth. He simply regarded me, waiting patiently. So I continued, while also unbuttoning my jeans.

"I derive the greatest pleasure not only from being held down and tied up. I experience the most amount of pleasure when I'm also suspended off the ground."

Professor Sinead blinked at me. That was the only sign that he was listening. Also, his blinking eyes didn't dip to my chest as I tugged my shirt over my head. I stood before my teacher in a matching bra and panty set—unicorn rainbow, of course. And like a courtly gentleman, he kept his gaze on my face, listening to my every word.

"That puts my perceived sexual deviancy near to the top of the meter, but I haven't hit a cap yet. Not on the high end and not on the low end. You're asking me to measure a scale that I'm in the process of building. That's not possible."

Now technically, I could've stopped this little demonstration there. I'd said my piece, and that was all I needed to say. But as Professor Sinead stood there looking me dead in the eye, I couldn't help myself.

My shoulders went back. My chin dipped. My hands went out, palms up, in an offering.

Professor Sinead did not take my offering. Alan stepped in front of him and took me in his hold. Behind Alan, Professor Sinead took a seat in the single wooden chair in the room. His gaze focused on me. I couldn't take my eyes off him.

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