Professor Richards
A hard jab to the ribs startles me out of my thoughts. I should have been watching tonight’s spectacle, but instead, a certain, mousy girl has been filling my mind. I glance up at the submissive John has trussed up, her body heaving against the cross. As tempting as she would be, tonight, I’m just not feeling it.
The underground space has always had a somber feel to it, but things seem even more ominous tonight. The cave-like walls threaten to close in, sealing me off inside. Where they were once comforting, they feel claustrophobic. The cross dominates the space, leaving little room for the plush burgundy chairs and even less for us long-limbed men sprawled out on them. Why we weren’t in the main hall tonight, I haven’t a clue, but John seemed to want the intimacy.
Other dominants come and go, Masters and Mistresses alike, but only a few pause for any more than a few moments. The no-named submissive cries out as several take their turn with her, using the agreed-upon implements lying on the ornate, rolling table next to her. Almost every item has been used, leaving her red, raw, and undoubtedly sore. But she shows no sign of stopping. Insatiable. None of it stirs me.
It’s been a few days since I’ve fucked Chelsea, but it did nothing to tamp down on my desire. Every waking thought is consumed by this girl that has no right being this tempting. A feeling akin to anger clenches around my heart. I shouldn’t have to suffer like this. If she could just screw up, then everything would be great. I’m tired of slaking my lust with my hand. It’s a poor substitute, but so are the other submissives. I need to fuck this girl into oblivion, so I can go back to the way things were.
Normally John and I would be tag-teaming her, both of us making her cry out with pleasure and pain. I’m just not feeling it. Glancing over, I note John’s worried expression. He knows me well enough to know something’s not right. Sighing, I lean back in the chair, contemplating if I should even mention Melody.
Clearing his throat, John nods to some new member who resumes flogging her and pins me with a knowing stare.
“I saw you uploaded a practice exam. It’s exactly the same as the midterm. Wanna tell me about that?”
No. I didn’t want to tell him anything. I didn’t want to admit that this slip of a girl has me wrapped around her finger, and I haven’t even fucked her yet. I don’t want to admit that I’m falling for a practical stranger. Hell. I don’t even know if she’s submissive. All signs point to yes, but it’s ridiculous to think about, especially when there’s ready and waiting submissives like Chelsea who will bend over and take what I give her, no fuss, no questions asked.
“I’m giving them a break. That’s all.”
He laughs, his eyes twinkling for a moment. “Who is she?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play that with me. I know you better than anyone here. I can tell you’re bent around the axel. I wanna know who’s got you like that. No one else has distracted you before.” He places his fingers under his chin and bats his eyes. “Is it twue wove?”
My lips turn up into a sneer as I punch him hard in the arm. His chuckles stutter out as he rubs the area, but his smile never leaves. Fuck. Now I’ll never hear the end of it. Determined to throw him off my scent, I stand up and walk over to the girl hanging from the chains. I sift through the remaining implements, noting John’s favorite paddle and a few other floggers and whips. None of them will do. I need to get this aggression out that’s crawling under my skin like an itch I can never scratch.
The heat rising off her body is incredible. I hover my palm over the skin for a moment, feeling it radiating off of her. Turning to the side, I pick up my drink and stir the ice around in the liquid for a moment, contemplating my next move. With a smirk, I pull out one of the cubes and run it along her abused ass, watching in fascination as the ice melts away on her skin, the liquid running down her legs to drip onto the old, wooden floors.
After cooling her down, I bring my palm down, the crash of skin against skin booming in the small space. She inhales a sharp breath, her fingers clenching and unclenching around the cuffs. Turning to the other cheek, I do the same before peppering both equally with swats. The water increases the sting; I can feel it on my palms as I smack her. Turning into myself, I shove everything out and concentrate on the sharp rhythm, letting the beat lull me into an in-between haze. Looks like I’ll be fucking my own hand again tonight.