“Yes.” She nods eagerly, her wavy tangles of hair bobbing. I watch as she bites her lip shyly. “Yes, sir.”
Academics are her strong suit. “Very good girl. I’m proud of you.”
There’s nothing short of adoration in her eyes now. God, I can’t fucking do this. I can’t stay apart from her, so far away, not when she’s yearning for my approval so badly.
I crook a finger at her, and she crosses the room to me, her eyes on mine. My blood pumps harder as she draws near, the faint smell of her arousal and need permeating the air between us.
When she reaches me, I place the tip of my finger under her chin. “I want you to get ready for bed, now. I’m going home. I’ll call you in a little bit.”
She nods, and her eyes silently plead for something, but she won’t say it out loud.
Run, my brain warns. Go.
I silence the protests. She’s done what she was told. She took the hard spanking and asked for forgiveness.
“Now, you get a kiss.”
Her eyes register surprise when I cup her jaw, lower my mouth, then brush my lips against hers. She sighs into me, then inhales deeply, like she’s drowning and my kiss gives her life. Placing her hand on my chest, she draws closer. I reach my hand to her lower back. The fabric clings to her damp skin.
She moans into my mouth as I kiss her. I cup her ass, give her a squeeze, and she gasps louder. I bite her lip, relishing the way her breath hitches with the sudden pain. I deepen the kiss. Her breaths become mine.
I pull away when I feel myself losing control. If I give into more of what I want, there’s no going back.
“I’m going home,” I whisper. Her shoulders slump. “When I get there, I’ll call to see if you’re ready for bed. Got it?”
She nods. “Yes, sir.”
I leave with great reluctance. I want more than a goodnight kiss, but that isn’t what’s troubling me. I don’t like walking away, because it makes me feel like I’m somehow neglecting a duty. She needs protection, and every step I take away from her is one more second it takes to come back.
What if she’s bugged? What if the junkie asshole isn’t so easily forgotten? What if someone else wants her? I don’t want walls and space between us. I want her in my bed, between my sheets, and in my arms.
I watch the feed on my phone to appease me all the way back to my apartment. Every step feels more wrong than the last.Chapter 7Mia
I wake up to a changed world. I wake up a changed person.
Was that all real? My professor, my bodyguard, my guardian, telling me that I have to call him sir and be his good little girl? It feels like a dream, until I move and the throbbing sensation in my ass tells me that it actually happened.
What a mindfuck. Now I have two impulses warring inside me. I want to be independent. It’s time that I faced the world on my own terms. But I also want to crawl into his arms and be held the way he held me after he spanked me, to feel safe and secure.
The fresh light of the new day makes everything feel new. Past sins are erased by morning light. But I figure I’ll just commit a whole lot more today. There's an ache when I move, and when I get into the shower, the hot water makes my skin sting.
He spanked me.
He made me call him sir.
And he kissed me.
That kiss made it all worthwhile. I find myself daydreaming about it while the water beats down on my breasts and my stomach before draining between my thighs, a warm flow over the tender part of me which craved his touch, and yet did not receive it. I give it to myself, let my fingers wander where good girls’ fingers never go. What would my professor think of this, I wonder, conjuring the mental image of him shirtless. I’ve never seen him that way, but I saw the wet outlines of his chest when I threw water on him and that’s all the material my fevered imagination needs as I rub myself, leaning against the shower wall, my legs spread wantonly. He wants me to be a good girl, but he knows where I come from. I was born to be a bad girl. A very, very bad girl.
Can he see me now? I know he's watching my apartment. Is there a camera in the bathroom too? Does he watch me when I strip naked? Can he see the way I’m touching myself, rubbing and pinching the bud of my clit, panting and moaning, letting a finger drift toward the entrance of my body, where I never penetrate, but like to play. Does he know how badly his wet little girl wants his cock?