Bastard's Bride (Loftry University Playthings 4)

Lana and Parker had each other. I was just the friend that made them both feel good. At least, that’s how it felt on my end. I enjoyed the times I had with them, but it wasn't quite as satisfying as the relationship I craved. And until Ryker died, I wasn’t allowed to explore anything one-on-one. That left me with way more experience in ways that didn’t really matter and no experience in the ways that did.

What I want for Shelaine and me goes far beyond a friends-with-benefits situation. Though I will never tell her about the horrors inflicted on me, I still want her to know the real me. To experience the razor’s edge of pain and pleasure the way I crave it. I want forever, and that means I’ll have an eternity to learn her.

“Dean, do you have anything that will help speed this up? I’m sure you’re a busy man and don’t want to take all day with this.”

Frowning, he walks over to the large armoire near his desk and pulls out a key. When he opens it, my jaw drops in shock. Almost any impact implement I could ever want hangs from little hooks or resides on smaller shelves. I walk over toward him and study each nook and cranny.

“You’re a kinky motherfucker, aren’t you?”

His lips finally twist into a semblance of a smile. “Whatever gave you that impression?”

Reaching down, he opens a drawer at the bottom, but this one only has a few things in it compared to the rest of the armoire. He grabs a thick paddle and turns it over in his hand before looking back at Shelaine.

“I haven’t had to use this in several months, but perhaps that’s the problem. You got too complacent with my dominance. What do you have to say for yourself?”

So maybe they did have a relationship. Why else would he have a special paddle in a separate drawer just for her? My vision blurs as he continues to fondle the wood, flooding my brain with images that should never exist. Just the thought of him touching her in an intimate way makes my blood boil.

Turning back to me, he notes my expression and gives me a grin. “Before you let your brain run away with you, it was all platonic. Maintenance spankings. Since she didn’t have a Dominant to play with her, I decided to help her out. She’s nothing more than a type of ward to me.”

Just like that, as if a vent was turned off, my anger dissipates, leaving me cool and calm. Nothing in his body indicates that he’s lying, and the times he does look over at her, it’s more in a fatherly way. Perhaps I’m just overreacting, but the desire to keep her all to myself beats hard at my chest.

As he and I talk, Shelaine squirms about, as if the conversation is making her uncomfortable. Good. It’s about time I turn up the heat even more. Now that I know nothing’s going on between the two of them, I can allow a little fun at my expense. She’ll probably hate it, though, which makes it all the more delicious for me.

Even from where her face is buried on the desk, I can see the hint of pink that creeps up her cheeks, and my balls clench in response. I never knew that humiliation was a kink of mine, but it’s becoming apparent that with my little rabbit, it’s going to be a major part of our dynamic.

Every blush, every squeak of protest, every tremble of her body gets me hard. The only damper on all of this is having Dean Anderson participating, but that’s what’s amping the humiliation up. If it were just me, she’d probably have less difficulty in obeying my commands.

“Do you mind paddling her disobedient ass for me? I want to see how it’s done.” It’s a bald-faced lie. Anyone can paddle a person. I just want to watch her squirm.

Nodding, he steps over and rests his palm on her back. My uninjured fingers curl up into a fist as I watch the patronly way he talks to her and prepares her for the paddling. There may be nothing going on between them, but it’s all still too close for comfort. I won’t be able to rest until she’s in my house and under my supervision.

“Stretch your hands to the other side. You know what to do. This isn’t how you stand for a punishment.”

Walking around to the other side of the desk, I sit down in the dean’s chair and watch her. “Eyes on me.”

When those blue orbs lock onto mine, it takes my breath away. There’s a steel core in those depths, a promise of retribution. It’s a look I’m all too familiar with. Let her try to fight me. I will win every damn time.

When the paddle connects with her ass, all pretense of a fight is gone as she howls and lifts her head up to the ceiling. No doubt the belt marks I left earlier are flaring back up with every swat. I don’t count the number of times he spanks her with the unforgiving wood; I’m far too drawn into her eyes, small gasps, and soft cries.

She’s perfect.

“That’s enough, Dean Anderson. I want to finish out the punishment from here.”

He sets the paddle down and switches places with me, sitting down in his chair as I come up behind her. Shelaine’s body quivers under my touch as I slide my fingers along her spine.

“What this naughty girl isn’t telling you is that it’s my cum that’s soaking her panties. If she removed them as I ordered, you would have seen the stripes of my belt across that perfect ass of hers. Tell him, Shelaine. Tell him what you did?”

As I finish my words, I force her panties to the side to expose her pussy. She’s even wetter than when I belted her. My little rabbit loves humiliation, craves it even. Swiping my fingers across her swollen clit, I smile as her hips jerk backward.

Bringing my hand back, I smack her lower lips, filling the office with the squelching sound of her arousal. I resist the urge to bring my fingers up to my lips. I’ll have time to savor our taste later but now is not the time nor place.

“Well? Are you not going to tell the dean what you did in that front office? How you let me come onto that asshole of yours and then stuffed your cunt with it? Or would you rather tell him how you lied to me and earned my belt? Little late to be quiet. Perhaps I’ll give you some motivation.”

Instead of sliding my fingers into her pussy, I instead circle her back hole. Soon, I’ll fuck her here, forcing my way past that tight ring until she’s unable to decide whether she wants me to stop or keep going.

But for now, I’ll just have to make myself content with breaching her forbidden entrance with my fingers. The moment I start to push my way in, her fingers claw at the wood, her body wiggling as if to get away. Either she doesn’t actually like this, or the act itself is scaring her.

Being on the receiving end of anal violence, I know better than to push. Not until I know what’s going on. I don’t want to crush the spirit inside her. I want her to enjoy my attention when it comes to any part of her body. I never want her to be afraid of me in the same way I was Ryker.

I want her to have a healthy fear and respect for me. I want to see the uneasiness flit through her eyes when I start to work her over, but I never want her terrified of me. I don’t want to be the monster that haunts her dreams. I want to be the haven, the one she knows will always protect her no matter what.

“Am I hurting you?” She shakes her head a little, but I can’t tell if she’s saying no or trying to wipe the snot from her face. “I will have your words. Answer me, or I’ll keep going.”

“You’re not hurting me. But please. Please don’t do this.”

Her words tug at what’s left of my heart. They’re soft and plaintive, begging me to not defile her. “Has someone else hurt you here?”

I hold my breath, not wanting the answer. If it’s yes, then someone will have to die. I cannot allow them to keep living and torturing my rabbit with their existence.

“No, sir.”

Shock slams into me as I look back down at her, and that’s when another sensation slithers up my spine and takes hold. It’s far uglier than anger or hatred. It’s jealousy. If she’s not harboring painful memories, then the only other answer is she’s letting someone else play with her, someone that’s not willing to claim her.

Perhaps she prefers this nameless Dominant over me. God knows I’m still learning my limits. It just makes sense for her to want someone who’s already in control of themselves, smooth, collected. Someone like the Dominants that initiated me. Someone unflappable like Shrinky Dink or creative like Mr. Smiley.

What do I have to offer a submissive except a broken shell that’s pieced together to resemble a sane man? All I can give her is my body, pleasure with my hand, mouth, and cock. In return, I’d demand her undying loyalty. But if she already has her sights on another, then the only thing I know to do is take out the competition.

It’s the only thing I’m good at, the only thing I’m trained for. I was never built for love. I was never trained in the art of seduction. All I know is my knife and my fists. The things Ryker taught me have no place in a relationship like this, yet it’s all I know.

I hurt; I destroy, and sooner or later, I’ll crush this delicate flower and spill the remains all over the floor, scattering her to the wind like the ashes she’ll become. There’s no other alternative. No other ending that I can see. This is a tragedy, not a romance. It’s all I deserve.