Page 12 of Masters of Play

"You're going to be a good girl, aren't you, Kellie?"

I had to think about Alan's question for a moment. I was not being a good girl at the moment. I was standing near nude in front of my teacher while two other men tied me up in an effort to show my level of kinkery.

Nope, this definitely wasn't good girl behavior.

Alan grinned at me as though he had graded my performance and came up with the same marking. He slipped the rope around my wrists and looped it into a knot. A tight knot.

"Do you need to come?" Alan asked.

It took everything inside of me to keep my gaze focused on Alan and not let it slide to Professor Sinead. It would not be a good look to come while he was watching me. But I doubted I'd have any control over that when the moment came. And I knew, with the gleam Alan had in his eyes, that he would make that moment come.

"You'll come," he said. "But only when I say you can."

I didn't even have it in me to offer a bratty comeback. I was truly fucked. Or at least I was about to be.

There was silence in the room for a few moments. All that could be heard was the whisper of rope as Alan and Owen worked their loops. The scritch of fibers as the boys tied their knots. And the squeak of shoes on tile as they moved around me in their efforts to get me bound and airborne.

There was dead silence from the corner of the room where Professor Sinead sat. I know because I didn't take my eyes off him the entire time I was being bound by the Carson twins. At times, it looked like Professor Sinead was barely breathing. More times than not, I know I was holding my breath.

With every touch of the rope tugging at my flesh, my breath caught. Every time my breath caught, Professor Sinead's nostrils would flare. His fingers would jerk. But other than that, he didn't move.

Alan slid a length of rope between my legs. He let the heavy twine rest in the nook of my thigh over the elastic of my panties. His gaze connected with mine, asking for permission he knew he already had. Though I was getting off having my professor watch me, I knew that Alan was the one truly in charge of my pleasure. He dangled the rope in my face.

"Please," I whispered.

"So eager tonight."

Alan rubbed the rope up my thigh. I closed my eyes and shivered. The rope was nowhere near my core. I didn't need it to be. I was bound, weightless, flying high. He could blow on me and I'd come.

"How's she doing, Professor?" asked Owen. "She gonna pass her class?"

"If she can quantitatively describe this experience, then yes."

My eyes flew open. "What?"

Alan chose that moment to swipe the rope over my clit. "Come for me, Kellie."

The orgasm slammed into me. My mind went into a haze as pleasure coursed through my core. My vision filled with Professor Sinead's face. My ears synched to the sound of his voice.

"This experience surpasses what I've read in your findings," said his deep baritone of a voice.

The tone was like honey, slipping and sliding over my body and making the orgasm linger. But the actual words scratched at something in my brain.

"The data needs to be both qualified and quantified to withstand the rigor it will be brought under by your dissertation committee. Frequency analysis should be employed here."

I was struggling. I was bound by the ropes into immobility, which is what I love. The hum of Alan's command to come was still sparking on my fingertips and in my core with the aftershocks of my orgasm. But Professor Sinead's words were growing louder and louder in my head, like a storm picking up speed and ferocity.

Because he was right. He was fucking right. I should've employed frequency analysis to show that my findings were solid. And I hadn't.

I was no longer thinking of the fact that I'd just nutted in front of a man I wanted to impress intellectually. I was gutted that he'd found a flaw in my carefully crafted masterpiece. Shame stole the last vestiges of pleasure from me.

When I opened my eyes, the chair Professor Sinead had been sitting in was empty.

Chapter Eight

I don't remember falling asleep. I rarely do after a scene. I usually hightail it out of there after the last knot is untied. The intense feelings that came with a scene could lower inhibitions. For a lot of people, it was a stronger high than any manmade drug. The natural chemicals of endorphins, adrenaline and oxytocin were at sky high levels in the body, making subs and Doms alike feel like they were card-carrying members of the Justice League.

But after a time, that cocktail of natural chemicals would drop and the crash could wreak havoc not only on the body, but even more intensely on the mind. There were many a sub that would chase that particular high and make questionable decisions to get back to it, agreeing to scenes that could leave permanent physical or mental damage.

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