What the hell was she thinking?
Chapter Two
Liam packed his laptop away and pushed the button to call the elevator. Since seeing Naia on Sunday night, he hadn’t been able to think of much else. He’d been thirty-two years old when he was Naia’s English Lit professor and mentor of sorts. She had been eighteen. Legal, but not really; not for the young professor all the girls had a crush on. He had been madly attracted to her, even flirtatious, but he had never crossed that line. When she had pushed too far and he’d had to reject her, she had become furious. She had a temper back then and, he imagined, she had one now as well. She’d gone to the board and accused him of spanking her. At least it hadn’t been anything more. But that accusation was enough to cost him his job and his reputation.
All in all, he’d done well for himself. He had founded Exhale, a BDSM club, six years ago and it was a thriving business. He had more money than he knew what to do with, but teaching had been his passion.
He realized when he saw her the other night just how angry he still was with her for stealing his career. But he would have to manage himself tonight, if she were still there that is. He didn’t want to hurt her, not really. He would give her exactly what she asked for, what she had accused him of back then, what she perhaps needed. And he would enjoy every moment of it. He was still as attracted to her now as he had been back then, more so even. He would punish her tonight, take what was his due and that would be that.
The elevator dinged and the door opened. Liam walked through the club where patrons were already gathering. Going over a few last minute instructions with Oliver, the club manager, he said goodbye and set off for the hotel.
* * *
Naia sat at the edge of the bed, her stomach a jumble of nerves. When she had sought the professor out, her plan had been to apologize. But if she was truly honest with herself, she wanted more. She wanted what she had accused him of years ago and much, much more. When she found out he owned a BDSM club in town, it was as if fate had laid out her chance. But now, after seeing him, she wasn’t so sure. No, not that she wasn’t sure; she was just scared. He was still angry and although she could understand that, his anger frightened her. She had stolen everything from him out of spite. He had rejected her and she had been embarrassed and angry. She had wanted revenge. She hadn’t planned on what had happened though. She had thought he would get a slap on the wrist. But her temper tantrum had cost him much, much more than she had ever intended. And now it was time to pay the debt she owed.
She jumped when the knock came at precisely nine p.m. Standing, she checked her reflection in the mirror. She had worn a short black skirt and a button-down blouse that ruffled at the front with a lacy coral-colored bra and matching boy shorts underneath. Her black leather pumps had a three-inch heel that added to her height and accentuated the curve of her legs.
Brushing her hair back behind her shoulders, she walked to the door of the suite and opened it.
Liam Roark stood there, all dark and brooding, looking huge in the narrow hallway. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans, a white button-down shirt and a jacket. His hair hung loose down his back and he looked a little like he used to back at school. Just scarier. But here she was ready to invite him in to play.
“Ms. White,” he said.
“Professor Roark,” she answered.
He smiled. “You look lovely, as I remember you always did,” he said, his eyes traveling the length of her. “Good choice on the skirt.”
“Thank you, professor. I always appreciated the special attention you reserved just for me.” She had always been able to hide behind her quick wit. And even though by being here tonight she had agreed to her punishment, she wasn’t going to go into this a meek, frightened little girl. She wanted to take it as much as she knew he wanted to give it to her. She would be damned if she’d let him have the upper hand. At least while she was still clothed and standing upright.
“Arrogance was always your fatal flaw.”
“I thought you liked the cocky in me.”
“I’ll enjoy spanking it out of you.”
Her mouth fell open as his smile vanished.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in? Or would you rather we do this out here?”
“Come in,” she said, stepping back. She closed the door behind him and leaned against it as he looked around the large suite. Against the far end of the room was a king-size bed. A couch and coffee table with a flat-screen TV made up the living area and in the corner at the window stood a desk. The desk she’d be bent over in the not too distant future, she imagined.
“Nice, spacious room,” he said. “Should work for our purposes.”
“Would you like something to drink?” she asked, making her way to the minibar. She could definitely use a drink.
“Vodka tonic, if you have it,” he said.
She poured two of them and turned to hand him his. He sipped the drink, his eyes never leaving hers as she drank hers down.
“Nervous?” he asked, his expression unreadable.
“Why would I be?” she retorted, even though she’d been unable to eat a thing all day.
“Why indeed?”
Anticipation was a part of the game and he was loving this, she just knew it.
She moved to sit on the couch and he followed.
“Have you ever been spanked, Ms. White?”
She choked on the sip she had just taken. “We’re not going to talk about it, are we?” she asked.
“Of course we are,” he said, a small smile playing along his lips. He raised his eyebrows as if waiting.
“No,” she managed, taking another, bigger sip.
“I’d like you to refer to me as sir or professor when you address me,” he said.
She lifted her eyebrows now and exhaled. “No, sir. I’ve never been spanked.” He was not going to humiliate her. Not yet anyway.
“You’ve still got that smart little mouth, haven’t you?”
“Is that a question, sir?”
He ignored her question and just looked at her instead, his gaze serving to make her more and more nervous. When he next spoke, his tone was different, serious. “Do you know what a safe word is?” he asked.
It took her a minute but she nodded, her demeanor changing, feeling herself on the edge of tears. This was really going to happen.
“What’s yours?”
“Violin,” she answered quickly, not at all sure why she chose that word.
“Violin it is.”
He took the remote and switched on the TV.
“What are you doing?” she asked, confused.
“Spankings are loud,” he said.
She hadn’t realized that, hadn’t thought how it would sound at all.
“Stand up,” he said, setting his still nearly full glass down and rising to his feet.
She put her empty one down and stood on unsteady legs.
“Are you ready for your long overdue spanking, Ms. White?”
“I don’t know, sir.” Her voice gave away just how nervous she felt.
“What are you feeling?” he asked, coming closer, his hands on her arms squeezing gently.
That gentle, reassuring touch was her undoing. Her eyes grew wide and she knew she’d be able to hide nothing from him.
“Scared and nervous.”
“Both normal. But what exactly are you scared of?”
“That it will hurt,” she began. She glanced away, then back. “And that it will be embarrassing.” That was maybe even more prominent than her fear of the pain.
“But you’re not afraid of me, are you, Naia?” he asked, another tender squeeze, no teasing either in his expression or his tone.
He’d called her Naia like he used to. Something just felt good about that. “No, I’m not afraid of you, professor.” She too was dead serious.
“Do you trust me?”
“I do, sir.”
His expression cha
nged, softened. He looked at her a little like he used to back at school. “I will give you the punishment you need, Naia, but I won’t do you any harm, do you understand?”
Tears sprung to her eyes and she nodded. Something about this man forced the real Naia to come to the surface every time. It was as though, even back at school, they danced along this fine line and every time, every single time, there she would be, exposed to him, no matter what.
He studied her for a long moment and she stood just able to hold his gaze. He then released her and walked to the window over the desk and pulled the curtains closed. He cleared the few promotional items the hotel had left off the desk and turned back to her. Taking off his jacket, he rolled up his sleeves to reveal thick forearms dusted with dark hair. Naia remembered that he had looked like that when he had taught, his jacket always on the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up, big hands holding chalk, gesturing as he spoke. But he looked different as he stood here today. He looked so much the dominant, the one with absolute control.
“Come here, Naia.”
She walked slowly to him. Her heart raced and tears slid down her face.
He reached out and brushed one of them away.
“You’re safe,” he said.
She nodded, but the tears didn’t stop. The opposite in fact. “I know.”
“Are you wearing panties?”
Oh, god. “Yes, sir.”
“Bend over the desk, please.”
Her hand covered her mouth and for an instant, she wasn’t sure she could go through with it. Taking a deep breath, she cast one last look at him before she moved to stand before the desk and slowly bent her torso over it.
“Lift your skirt up over your back.”
Reaching back, she raised her skirt.
“Higher and tuck it into the waistband so it will stay.”
She pushed it higher and tucked it in.
“Take your panties down.”
“Can I keep them on?” It was one final attempt to salvage some semblance of pride.
“No.”
She looked over her shoulder to find his eyes on hers, his expression different than it had been a moment ago, his arousal now darkening the usual paler shade of green. She turned away before reaching back, hooking her fingers around her panties and slowly sliding them down until they fell to the floor.
“Step out of them and take your legs to shoulder width.” His voice was hoarse. He was anticipating, as she was, but something entirely different. In a way, it leveled the field, at least a little bit.
“Yes, sir,” she said, allowing herself to settle into her role. She pushed her panties aside and arched her back.
“Put your elbows on the desk, palms flat, and face forward, Ms. White.”
“Ms. White again?” She couldn’t help it.
A hard smack to her right hip made her yelp. “Ow!” she said, reaching back to cover the spot.
“Respect, Ms. White. That won’t count as one of your sixty.”
“That hurt!”
“This is punishment. What did you expect, a love pat?” He tapped her bare legs with the tip of his shoe until she widened her stance. “Do I need to restrain you?”
The thought sent a flush of heat straight to her sex.
“No, sir.” Although she wouldn’t mind being tied up by him.
“Resume your position. If I have to bind you, you will receive double the strokes.”
“Double?” Instantly his hand delivered two swift smacks. “Ow!”
“You will not speak during your punishment but to count or to thank me, Ms. White. Am I clear?”
He spanked her one more time and she bit her tongue to keep her response to a quick, “yes, sir!”
“Good. You may call out if you need to but I’m pretty sure these walls aren’t that thick. I don’t mind a visit from security, but you might.”
* * *
Christ, she presented beautifully. He had grown hard just watching her bend over the desk, lift her skirt, and take her panties down, and now she waited for him, bent and exposed, her position arching her back so that her bottom was lifted high. Just waiting for him to spank her.
The few spots he’d already struck had turned a pretty pink. Otherwise, the skin was white, soft, and pillowy, an ass made to be spanked. He imagined how her bottom would bounce and tremble with each blow. Unable to resist, he caressed them, lifting them high, spreading them slightly. She clenched her cheeks and sucked in a breath.
“Relax, Ms. White,” he said. “Remember, you’re here because you choose to be. Or are you backing out? Using your safe word already?”
“No, sir,” her voice cracked.
“Soften, don’t clench your bottom.”
It took a moment, but she did and the mounds once again softened in his hands.
He weighed her cheeks, spreading them wider as she shifted in discomfort. Her slick pussy drew his attention, the lips glistening as if in invitation. Taking one hand underneath, he found her swollen clit and teased it. She tensed but didn’t make a sound and he imagined she was determined not to let him know that she was enjoying his attention to that very sensitive region of her body. But as he continued with his ministrations, a moan escaped her.
“You’re wet, Ms. White. Do you like this?” He continued teasing. “Is it the preparation, the bending over and baring of your bottom to my gaze? Is it my looking at you? What is it? What’s got you so slick?” He rubbed his fingers along her moist sex as he said this, but didn’t enter her. It was too soon for that.
When she didn’t answer, he delivered a hard smack to her bottom, watching it bounce upon impact.
“Ow!” she jumped.
“I expect an answer when I ask you a question.” The other cheek was subjected to the same treatment.
“Yes!”
“Yes, what?” He spanked again.
“Sir.”
“Tell me what’s got you so turned on.”
“Professor…” she begged.
“Tell me.” One finger found the opening of her sex and entered, causing her to shudder as her pussy tightened around it. “Tell me unless you want me to stop touching you,” he threatened, sliding his finger in and out of her slick passage.
It took her a moment as she shifted her position, lifting her hips, her breathing coming shorter. “I’ve thought of you, of this, for a very long time, professor.”
He smiled at her confession and, taking her clit between two fingers, he squeezed; a little reward for her honesty. “You’re not alone in that, Naia,” he said before he began.
“Count. If you lose track, we’ll start from one.”
* * *
The first spank landed, harder than the ones he’d already administered.
“One,” she counted, grunting, as each one left its burning mark on her tender flesh. She imagined how her bottom bounced with each smack, especially as she tried to wiggle out of his way avoid the blows. Seemingly without effort, he pinned her to the desk with one hand on her low back, her hips lifting higher as he did. The pain of the spanking was sharp and hot, but not unbearable. Not yet. What made it difficult was that just when she had geared up to take another one, he would slow down and caress her cheeks softly and when she would relax into his hands, he would start again.
His hand seemed not to tire as it delivered her punishment and by the time they reached thirty, she was begging him to slow down, ease up, give her a moment to catch her breath. She began to let out small yelps as the blows came harder over her already stinging backside and thighs, and even though she wanted to scream at him, she remembered his warning about someone hearing and bit back the louder protests.
When they reached forty, tears began to fall from her eyes. It was painful, no doubt, but at the same time, the idea that he, Professor Roark, stood behind her, spanking her bare bottom, turned her on like no fantasy of him ever had. As much as the spanking hurt, part of her was also very aware
of the heat between her legs, the moisture there that dampened not only her sex but the tops of her thighs as well. She dared a glance back and her eyes settled for one brief moment on the huge bulge that pressed against the crotch of his jeans. She wanted him to fuck her, to spank her then fuck her as she lay bent over the desk. She needed him inside her, behind her, pounding into her until she lost herself in orgasm.
Finally, sixty came and he stopped. She was gasping for breath and crying. She moved to rise but he pushed her back down with one hand between her shoulder blades. He leaned over her so that his cock pushed against her bottom through the rough material of his jeans. He pressed his hips to hers and brought his mouth close to her ear. “There it is, that mythical spanking, long overdue,” he said, his breath coming short. “I hope it lived up to your expectations, Naia.”
She didn’t respond. She couldn’t.
Letting her up slightly, he shoved her blouse up and over her head then pushed her bra under her breasts, freeing the small, plump globes. He kneaded and stroked her nipples into hard points as she moaned with pleasure.
“Naia,” he whispered and without having to look at him, she knew he had an evil little grin on his face.
“Professor,” she said, breathless.
“Thank me for your spanking.”
He kept working her nipples.
“Thank you for my spanking, professor.” Oh, god, would he fuck her now?
“You’re welcome. Now tell me what you want, Naia.” The fingernails of one hand scratched one tender buttock, making her rise on tiptoe.
“Oh… professor…
“Tell me what you want.”
“You, professor. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me, please, sir.”
His fingers found her pussy and two drove in hard. “Christ, you’re soaked, Naia.”
“Oh…” She heard him unzip his jeans.
“Kneel,” he said, turning her to face him.
She looked up at him, realizing what he planned. But she wanted something else, needed it badly.
Taming Naia Page 2