Page 97 of Wicked Little Secret

I rush to get into position, my breathing already labored. Palms pressed against the smooth oak wood, I spread my legs ’til it almost feels crass.

Professor Adler’s stepped back to observe. “Did you wear no panties like you were told to do so?”

“Yes.”

“Yes,what?” he snaps.

“Professor Adler.”

“Professor Adler,what?”

“Yes, Professor Adler,” I blurt out quickly.

“It seems in just a few short days, you’ve forgotten your manners, Miss Oliver. Don’t worry, we’ll fix that today.”

He walks back to the front of his desk to retrieve an item from a drawer. I’m expecting the familiar slim, hard yardstick to make its appearance, but discover I’m wrong in thenext second. He’s pulled out the same wooden paddle from Friday night in Jackson Wicker’s penthouse.

I hadn’t ever meant for Mr. Wicker to get the chance to use it.

The entire situation was a trap. I’d set him up intentionally knowing he’d fall for it hook, line, and sinker. His sick proclivities for underage girls meant he couldn’t resist the opportunity. He first messaged me on a site some rich men use to find women called NSFW. He’d recognized me at Kane Driscoll’s funeral and suggested we meet up at the Scarlet Room for a potential role play scenario.

He thought he’d fulfill his sick fetish Friday night while I intended on making him the next Valentine victim.

So many years ago, he’d been on the board that voted to expel my mother from school.

More than deserved considering the evil he’d done in his life.

I’d never expected Professor Adler to show up. Or for the wooden paddle to make an appearance today.

“Look familiar?” he taunts. “I believe you know the drill, Miss Oliver. Spanking does seem to be your thing, doesn’t it?”

Though he’s giving me hell, he’s still right.

Professor Adler’s helped me discover that almost nothing gets me off as quickly as being spanked. I can come from that alone.

The hard swats against my ass make me wet. The breathless anticipation waiting for the next blow excites me.

There’s the element of repetition as I sink into the contrasting sensations.

Pleasure… but also pain.

A swatting pain that actually feels good.

So good.

Professor Adler’s massaging hands after the fact are the cherry on top.

He moves back behind me and flips my skirt over to expose my backside. “I expect total honesty from you. For every dishonest or dissatisfactory response, you get a blow. We’ll be here all day if we must. If it takes you that long to come fucking clean.”

Anger edges into his tone. Resentment I’m sure has grown over the past few days.

I give a nod. “Yes, Professor.”

“Why were you texting Jackson Wicker?”

“We exchanged numbers. It was weeks ago.”

“For what reason?”

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