Page 77 of Lesson Learned

“It wouldn’t count as discipline if I stopped just because you didn’t like the punishment, would it?”

My breaths become shorter, the ruler sliding between my legs now, slick with my arousal, fighting for space with the fingers still thrusting into me, and the pleasure scales my terror, surging up like it’s mountain climbing, desperate to reach the peak at any cost.

“No… okay… no.”

“Those are some mixed signals,” he says with a teasing note, moving the ruler faster, in opposition to the rhythm of his fingers. I hear voices in the corridor outside and that fear joins with the rest, all of it heightening my desire until I want the pain, look forward to it, anything to cut through the building surge inside me, the wave growing larger by the second, ready to crash, ready to cascade down the other side.

My voice cracks as I moan, “I’m ready.”

There’s a sharp snap, and the flash of pain whites out my vision. It’s so intense, my body can’t make sense of it, doesn’t know where to put the avalanche of response so spills it everywhere, flooding my senses with nonsense until I can smell colours and taste sound. A hand clamps over my mouth and it might be to silence a cry or prevent it; I don’t have enough awareness to tell if the scream inside my head made it out of the escape hatch or not.

“Shh,” Conner murmurs in my ear, lips brushing the lobe. “You did so well for me. Lift those hands, angel.” My palms buzz as I remove them from the desk, my shoulders still hunched in shock as he replaces the ruler on the desk, as I hear the sounds of his belt and zipper. “Do you want your treat?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, pulling me back against him as he sinks into the chair. One hand remains over my mouth while the other cups my pussy, a cage to protect my battered clit from further harm.

His cock presses against me as he twists me until he gains entry, ramming inside, filling me with his fat erection, my sides rejoicing at the girth as they tumble headlong into an orgasm, the throbbing aftermath of the ruler extending it, drawing it out until I’m shaking, head lost in the long moments of rapture before Conner moans against my neck, jerking as he reaches his completion.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” he mutters, pressing his forehead between my shoulder blades as he catches his breath.

There’s a box of tissues on the table and he leans forward to drag it closer, wiping me carefully so he doesn’t cause any further harm.

I wait for the usual response to fire inside me. The guilt. The shame. The scorn of my uncle’s voice playing in my head on a loop.

But it doesn’t come.

My memory drifts on a warm sea, bringing only good things to the surface as Conner tidies himself, pulling my dress into a respectable shape and carefully carrying me, placing me back in the opposite chair.

Other pinches and scraps float upward as I cling to the armrests, trying to regain my composure. Conner’s only just taken his seat when a knock sounds on the door.

“Yes?”

I stare at the door in panic as it opens and Ms Neeves pokes her head through, doing a double take when she sees me. “Sorry. I didn’t realise you were mid-appointment.”

“It’s okay,” Conner says, while my mind struggles to understand even those simple words. “We’re nearly done here. How can I help?”

“Gregory’s on his way and we can have a meeting about—” Her glance cuts to me again, and she finishes, “about class stuff.”

“Give me five minutes and I’ll be with you.”

She closes the door and I turn, facing him, sagging in my seat, heartrate in the stratosphere.

Conner barely has a hair out of place, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stares at me with a faint smile. “Are you okay?”

I nod, feeling a faint burn as I shift in the seat. Nothing like it was. The pain evaporated somewhere in the tidal wave of my orgasm. “We shouldn’t…” I swallow, my throat clicking.

“We shouldn’t do this again?” he asks, leaning forward. “You’re the one in control of that, Paisley.”

“I’ll follow your instructions,” I say, even as the idea of being caught out for disobedience again shines like a temptation.

He stands, passing me an application form. “You should read this over and let me know if you have questions.”

I nod, standing too, tugging at my skirt, which suddenly appears a lot shorter, the fabric moving with a luscious drag against my reddened skin.

As I open the door, Conner puts a light hand on my lower back, the touch soothing. “See you in class,” he whispers, a fingertip touching against the skin just below my hem, there and gone.

CHAPTERNINETEEN

PAISLEY

---