Paddled by the Teacher Page 2

  “How could they? I mean, look at you.”

  “I’m pleased you’re happy with my looks.”

  “I’d have to be brain dead not to be.”

  “I hope that will make this pleasant for you.”

  But what about making it pleasant for you? “Mr. Taylor, I—”

  “Please call me Slade.”

  “I thought Doms were called ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’?”

  “Not until we earn the title, and not all dynamics are the same.”

  “All right. Slade, you don’t have to pretend I’m pretty or sexy. It’s okay not to say it. I’m used to that.”

  An expression of humor and wickedness creeps into his eyes, sending shivers down my spine again. It’s both delicious and a bit frightening in its intensity. “Do you know what I would make you do if you were my submissive and said that to me?”

  My body is frozen, so this time I don’t even nod in response. Every nerve ending is on fire as I pretend that I am his sub, and I’m about to be punished for my self-deprecating comment. I’m so turned on my clit throbs.

  “I would take you down to the club during peak hours, completely naked, and let every Dom in the place touch you and play with you in ways you loved, until you were so aroused you came over and over. You would be begging me to let you rest, but I wouldn’t do it. Not until you told me, with a sincere voice and facial expression, that you were a sexy, beautiful woman.”

  The images those words conjure up send tingles racing over my skin. I shudder, certain he notices. His eyes darken, and a slow grin spreads over his face. “You like that. Shall I continue?”

  “Yes,” I whisper. “Please.”

  He scoots closer until I’m able to count the fine dusting of hairs on his chest. My breathing is quick and labored, and my heart is pounding so quickly I’m afraid I will pass out. “I would make you do that every evening, until negative comments about your appearance never fell from your sexy lips again. You would be so full of love for yourself that you’d ask me to let you walk around naked at home all the time. You would want me to see your ripe, curvy body. You would beg me to touch you, play with you, and fuck you.”

  “I … I don’t know what to say.” Well, there’s an understatement!

  “You don’t have to say anything, Chelsea.” The softest touch grazes my left forearm, forcing a moan from me. I want so many things, but I’m unable to verbalize any of them. All I do is stare into his dark, sexy eyes, willing him to read my mind.

  “But please, please do not ever accuse me again of pretending. I mean what I say, and I say what I mean. Do you understand me?”

  Oh God. “Yes. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend—”

  A finger against my lip sends an urge to lick it racing through me, in addition to silencing me in mid-sentence.

  “You did not offend me. I’m merely setting expectations.”

  When he removes his finger, I still sense it against my mouth. A question pops into my head that I’m almost afraid to ask, but I have to. “May I clarify something?”

  “Yes. And that was a very respectful way to ask a question.”

  “Thank you.” I swallow hard again. “Are you telling me that you really do think I’m pretty and sexy? Even as heavy as I am?”

  At first, the incredulity in his eyes has me worried I’ve crossed a line again. But within seconds, his gaze softens and I let out the breath I was holding. “You’re not heavy. You’re curvy and luscious. I like hips I can hang onto, and breasts I can bury my face and hands in. And yes, to answer your question, I think you’re very pretty.”

  When he touches my hair, I lean closer and inhale his scent again. The musk is stronger now. Does he sense how fucking aroused I am? “This is the color of sunshine, and your eyes are so blue. Like sapphires.”

  I’m too overwhelmed to speak. I suddenly don’t care if this is real or not. I came here for a reason, and obviously this man is going to fulfill his end of the bargain. All I have to do is enjoy it. And why shouldn’t I? Years of fantasies have left me empty and unfulfilled because I had given up hope they’d ever come close to reality.

  My reality is here. It’s now. With this man. And I’m ready to embrace it.

  Chapter Three

  “Tell me what you want, Chelsea.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That’s a cop out. What do you want?” His voice is coaxing, seductive, and when he gently cups my face, I moan again. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  “I … I thought you were supposed to tell me what to do.”

  “No. It doesn’t work that way. This is all about your consent. Your expectations. Do you want play only, or may I kiss you? May I touch you in a sexual way, or only in a non-sexual way, as I’m doing now? Tell me what you want from me.”

  Sex? If I ask for actual sex, will he give it to me? It can’t be that easy. I have to tell him something, but speaking has never been so difficult. “Kissing is okay.” He’s waiting, a patient expression on his face. No doubt he’s been here before. With how many women? How many were as hopeless as I am? “And…” Just say it, for fuck’s sake! “Sexual touching is okay, too.”

  “Excellent.” He releases my face, and I immediately miss the touch. “Your application says you’re on the pill and have no STDs. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.” Holy shit. This might actually happen!

  “I’m only asking in case you give your consent for penetration at some point. I use condoms on principle, but I have no STDs either. We have to be able to trust each other on those matters.”

  “Yes. I understand. I trust you, and you can trust me.”

  “Okay. We’re ready.” He shifts even closer. Our thighs are touching. If I lean over I’d be able to reach his mouth with mine. The last time I was this close to a half naked man, it did not turn out well, but I push those thoughts away. That won’t happen with Slade. He will not mock me or laugh at me.

  “What do you want to start with, Chelsea?”

  Everything. “I suppose I should get undressed.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  No. “Won’t it make spanking me easier?”

  That wicked grin is my undoing. “I won’t lie. I want to see your naked ass, but if I spank you through your clothes, you will still feel it.”

  I nearly choke on my own spit as I try to swallow. “I’m really unsure what to say right now. I’m overwhelmed, but in a good way. Would it be a huge disappointment if I asked you to direct this?”

  “Not at all. And thank you for verbalizing that. I’m very proud of you, Chelsea.”

  He is? My heart swells with joy. I’ve finally done something worthy of praise from a man.

  “You should see how your face lit up just now. May I ask you a very personal question?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Are you a virgin?”

  “No. Not technically, at any rate. But I’ve had … my sexual experiences have not gone well.”

  “May I ask you to be more specific?”

  “I was a sophomore in college the first time I was even kissed. He was a bit drunk, and so was I. He’d had sex before but I hadn’t, and when he realized I was a virgin, he laughed at me. I got out of there before it got any worse.”

  I lick my lips. You can do this!

  “The second time was a year later, and we had dated a few times and I thought he really liked me. But when we had sex, I had no clue what to do and he was all rough and tumble. He got upset with me because I didn’t come. As if that was my fault. It was over in under a minute. I had no time to climax. I tried to explain that to him and … and he told me that fat girls don’t come as easily as skinny ones.”

  “That’s horseshit.”

  I’m so grateful for his comment I have to fight the urge to lean over and kiss him. “I know that now, but at the time, I was clueless. I’d been teased for my weight and my shyness so much that I believed anything I was told.”

  “I’m sorry you we
nt through that. What about the others?”

  Here it comes… “Um, that was it. I haven’t dated or bothered to try to have sex since then.”

  I’m sure the surprise on his face isn’t meant to hurt me, but I’m crushed nonetheless. It’s gone quickly, replaced by determination. “Chelsea, will you consent to penetration if it comes to that? I would hate to stop our play to ask, if the desire strikes us both.”

  Did I hear him correctly? “Um, yes. Absolutely.”

  “Wonderful. And are you certain you want me to direct this?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  “All right. Let’s get started.” He pulls me close and holds me. It’s so perfect that I choke back a sob. His body is warm and hard, in contrast to mine which is soft and puffy. No! Stop that! How in the world will this ever work? I can’t simply turn off decades of internal negativity.

  “You feel so good in my arms.”

  “So do you.”

  His lips graze my neck, and I’m not able to stop the moan. When he hums low in his throat, my clit throbs again. The urge to laugh and cry at the same time is powerful, and the emotions unleashed with it give me confidence. My movements are bold, at least for me, as I run my fingertips along his bare back.

  The skin is warm and slightly damp. Muscles ripple as I touch them, moving my fingers down, but not quite reaching those leather pants. His movements, on the other hand, are not as tentative as mine, and I welcome the familiarity.

  He caresses my hair, inching down my back and straight to my ass. I’ve worn what he asked me to. A white blouse, like the kind a schoolgirl might wear as part of a uniform, and a simple skirt. No socks or hose, plus slip-on shoes. My underwear is plain white cotton. I felt naked walking here dressed this way, but kept my focus on my mission.

  As his hand slips down my skirt and under it, I gasp and he pulls away, meeting my gaze. “What’s going on inside your head, Chelsea?”

  “You won’t like it.”

  A soft chuckle puts me at ease. “I’ll consider myself warned. Tell me anyway.”

  “My thighs are flabby, and your body is as hard as a brick.”

  “Why do you think that matters?”

  I shrug. “I always thought guys, especially muscled guys, didn’t want to touch fat bodies.”

  His gaze drifts away from me for a second or two, and when it returns, there’s a new determination in it. “Wait here a second.” He rises and walks toward an armoire. When he opens it, my jaw drops. Literally. It’s a mini version of the wall downstairs in the main play area, stuffed full of equipment and implements. He stands there for a moment, hands on his hips, finally plucking a thick, black, leather paddle with holes in it off a hook.

  As he strolls toward me, my focus is on that paddle. I imagine it smacking my flesh. Those holes will add an aspect I hadn’t considered. That thing will hurt like a motherfucker. No doubt about it. Is this really what I want?

  Open-handed spanking was all I had envisioned, despite reading about a multitude of ways to engage in impact play. But now that I’m up close and personal to a paddle, I’m intrigued as hell with the possibility of other implements.

  When he takes his seat again, he’s as close to me as before he stood, but my gaze hasn’t left the leather torture device. He smacks it against the opposite palm, and I suck in a breath.

  “Here’s what I propose we do for the remainder of the time we have together. If you say anything negative about your body, and I mean any part of it, or say anything I interpret as negative, I give you … three swats with this on each of your bare ass cheeks. As hard as I can. For each subsequent thing you say, I add one swat on each cheek. What do you think?”

  I need to clear my throat before I speak. “What if I can’t handle it?”

  “You take it anyway. It’s not meant to be pleasurable. It’s a punishment for negative self-thought. But if that’s too much, or not what you were imagining, please say so. It’s only a suggestion. We won’t do anything without your full consent.”

  “Will it mess up your experiment?”

  “Not at all. In fact, it will add a dimension I hadn’t considered, so in essence, you’d be doing me a favor. Of course, the main point of this is to retrain the thoughts about yourself.”

  No one has ever offered to help me feel better about myself, or retrain my negative thoughts and beliefs. Tears spill over my lashes before I have time to stop them. I don’t even know him, and yet he cares enough to try.

  “What are you thinking, Chelsea?”

  “That … that’s the best offer I’ve ever had.” I swipe at the tears. “But may I ask for one thing?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think I should take the three swats now, because we did talk about this earlier and I put my assumptions on you again.”

  His head tilts slightly, as if he’s considering my point of view. “All right. I see that. Are you curious what this paddle feels like, or is this strictly a belief that you should be punished for your words?”

  “A little of both.” God help me, I want to experience that thing with his full force behind it. I am soaked, which he will notice in a moment if he lifts my skirt and pulls down my panties.

  “Very well. Stand up, Chelsea.” I do as he says. My legs tremble slightly. “Take off your panties and shoes, but nothing else right now.”

  I slip off my shoes and curl my toes in the soft carpeting. The panties are more difficult. It’s such a vulnerable state, even though my blouse, bra, and skirt are intact. They’re as damp as I had imagined, so I start to toss them onto the floor but he grabs them out of my hand.

  He bunches them up and grins in a heart-stopping way. “You are soaked, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that because of me, Chelsea?”

  “Of course.”

  At first, I think he’s going to sniff them, they’re so close to his face. But instead he drapes them across the back of the sofa. “I want a taste.”

  “Okay.” Now, in addition to my legs trembling, the tiny movements travel up my torso.

  “You misunderstand. I want to taste your pussy juices, but I want to do so off your fingers.”

  “Oh…” Is he fucking kidding me? I’ve never touched myself in front of anyone. Does he suspect this? Probably. I have to step apart a bit to reach between my legs, but it doesn’t take much of a swipe to grab some juice. I really am soaking wet. This forces a quick giggle from me, which he smiles at.

  “Good girl. Bring that finger to my mouth, please.”

  This is the kinkiest thing I’ve ever done, and it sends a shockwave of desire racing through me when he sucks my finger. The low hum in his throat causes fluttery contractions inside my pussy, like I’m about to come. I assume he’s finally going to paddle me, but instead he grasps my face and brings it to his, planting a kiss on my mouth that has me scrambling to stay on my feet.

  As he shoves his tongue inside, I taste my own juices, and my arousal goes through the roof. I’ve never been this fucking turned on. It’s over too quickly, but the dancing light in his eyes tells me he cut it short on purpose. This teasing, playfulness is what I’ve been longing for. He really does want me. The realization hits me full force, and I have to plop down on the sofa because I’m dizzy with happiness.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Just … I don’t even have a word for it.”

  “Is it a good feeling?”

  “The best ever.”

  “Fabulous. Are you ready for those three swats I owe you?”

  “Oh yes. Yes, I definitely am.”

  Chapter Four

  He pulls me over his knee before I have time to process the movement. I brace myself, expecting a hard swat, but instead he brushes a finger across my labia. “I love it that you are so ready for me.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “Let’s see how wet we can make you.” One long digit slides into my pussy, and I let out a loud moan. I haven’t had anything inside there in se
ven years, so it’s tight and his finger fills the space. My vagina walls contract around it as he moves it in and out.

  “I can see we’re going to have to stretch you out a bit before I fuck you.”

  “Oh God…”

  “Would you like that, Chelsea? Would you like me to fuck you?”

  “Yes!”

  His soft chuckle washes over me. He removes his finger and brushes the edge of the paddle over my wetness. It’s cool and hard, and suddenly I want him to smack me with it. I want the pain mixed with the pleasure. Those have been my fantasies for so long. Now that they’re about to become reality, the emotion overwhelms me.

  The paddle moves to my ass cheeks, lightly grazing over them, one at a time. “Tell me what you did to earn these three swats, Chelsea.”

  “I called myself fat. I referred to my thighs as flabby, and said you wouldn’t want to touch them.”

  “Good girl. Spread your legs a bit.” I do as he asks, and am rewarded with both the paddle and his hand caressing my inner thighs until I’m moaning softly, squirming against the leather covering his thighs.

  “Do you like that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you still believe I don’t want to touch your thighs?”

  “No.”

  “What will happen if you refer to yourself in such a derogatory way again?”

  “I’ll receive four swats.”

  “Do you agree with this punishment?”

  “Yes.”

  “Close your legs.” I do as he says. “Are you ready, Chelsea? This is going to hurt.”

  “Yes. Please…”

  I yell loudly as the paddle smashes first my right ass cheek, then my left, in quick succession. Pain is not a strong enough word. It burns like the fires of hell have landed on my rear end. Instinctively, I try to get away, but he’s got his elbow pressed into my lower back, and his right thigh has trapped both my legs. I have no choice but to submit to the second two swats on each cheek.

  My pussy contracts hard as he hits both cheeks again, as rapidly and forcefully as the first time. The burning is almost unbearable, but at the same time, the emotion bubbling up fills me with joy. It’s as if every happy thought I’ve ever had coalesced into this one microsecond and burst open inside my mind, flooding it with bliss.