Taming Naia

by Natasha Knight

“Please, fuck me,” she begged even as she slid down to her knees. His eyes told her that her punishment wasn’t over quite yet.

  “I plan to,” he said. “Open your mouth wide. I want to fuck your mouth. And keep your knees apart. I don’t want you to rub yourself to orgasm just yet.” Her eyes grew wide at the thick length of his cock. She wanted him inside her, anywhere inside her, now. With her hands on his thighs, she opened her mouth and licked the tip of his cock, tasting the salty sweetness before wrapping her lips around him and sucking, working the length of him. He fisted handfuls of her hair and closed his eyes. “Good girl, Naia. Open wider, let me have the back of your throat.” With that, he began to fuck her mouth, nothing gentle in it as he held her head still. He pumped in and out fast until she felt the twitch of his cock signaling his imminent release. His thrusts slowed to a stop and his grip on her hair tightened, causing more tears to form in the corners of her eyes. Warm liquid spilled down her throat and she swallowed every drop, tasting him, wanting more of him.

  It was a moment until he spoke again. “You look lovely with my cock stuffed in your mouth,” he said, his hold on her hair loosening until it turned into a caress.

  She couldn’t speak, only met his eyes.

  He pulled out slowly and she fell to her hands as he tucked himself into his jeans and zipped them up.

  “I want to come,” she whispered. Her pussy was swollen, neglected, unsatisfied.

  “Not yet. Think of the ten years I’ve waited for my apology.”

  “Please. I’ll do anything.”

  “I know you will,” he said. He helped her to her feet and smoothed her skirt down to cover her.

  “Please,” she begged as he looked down at her.

  “I hope you feel better after that,” he said, tucking her bra back over her breasts, stroking her arms lightly. “I know I do. Goodbye, Naia.” He leaned down to take her open mouth in a soft kiss.

  With that, he left her standing there, awestruck in the middle of the hotel room, watching as he walked out without a backward glance.

  Chapter Three

  Liam stepped onto the elevator, his face hard. He should have spanked her and left. He shouldn’t have done what he had done.

  “Damn you, Naia White!” he cursed, turning his back on his reflection in the elevator mirror.

  He knew he wasn’t over her, didn’t he? The minute he had seen her at the club, he had known it. And if he were smarter, he would have told her to go to hell. When he had suggested the spanking, he hadn’t been sure if she would accept his proposition. A part of him had wanted her not to be at the hotel today, but the more dominant part was glad she was. Was glad she had let him do what he had done.

  “Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath as the doors opened and he stepped out into the lobby. Naia White was still under his skin and that was putting it mildly. He had had feelings for her back when he was her teacher, but she’d been safe from him then. But now that she was no longer a student?

  No, he would leave her alone. He would go back to burying himself in his work, find another woman to fuck and take his mind off of her. She was in town for two more weeks. He wouldn’t return to her hotel or make any attempt to see her again. He had to forget all about Naia White for good.

  * * *

  Naia stared at the closed door in awe. Her sex burned for attention but her heart had sunk the moment he had told her goodbye. He didn’t want her. He had taken what was his due, what she had freely offered. He had enjoyed it thoroughly, and now he was through. And she was left standing alone in the hotel room, her ass and her pride hurting from her punishment. Humiliated at her willing submission and his now second rejection of her, she turned to the minibar and took out three little bottles of whiskey. She hated whiskey.

  * * *

  The room was pitch black when she woke from a fitful sleep. She checked the clock: just past midnight. Remembering the events of the evening, Naia closed her eyes and buried her face in her pillow. Her sex still ached with need and he had even haunted her dreams, his expression a smirk as he gazed down at her, a mess on the floor.

  Anger got her to her feet.

  “Fuck you, Professor Roark!” she said to no one in particular, making her way to the bathroom. She found her purse on her way and took out a bottle of Advil. It was Friday night, the start of the weekend, and she imagined the club was busy now. Stripping off her clothes, she took a quick shower and put on the leather corset and skirt she’d worn to the club the first night. She owned nothing else that even came close to appropriate attire for the place otherwise. She took five minutes to apply eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick, and brushed her hair into a ponytail before heading out the door and into the elevator. If Liam Roark thought he’d won, he had another think coming. She wasn’t through with the son of a bitch. Not by a long shot.

  * * *

  “Mr. Roark?” Oliver spoke into his mouthpiece.

  “Let go of me!” Naia tugged at her arm, trying to get free. She had arrived twenty minutes ago and stormed into the packed club demanding to see Liam. No one would tell her where his office was or whether or not he was there at all until she had caused enough of a scene that Oliver had taken her aside.

  “There’s a woman here to see you, sir,” he spoke into his mouthpiece. At least he was here.

  “What’s your name, ma’am?” Oliver asked.

  Her name? Screw the bastard. How many women demanded to see him that he couldn’t figure out it would be her? “Tell him it’s Naia White!”

  “Ms. White, sir.” A pause, then, “Yes, sir. I’ll hold on to her.”

  “Hold on to me?” She pulled at her arm again but he wouldn’t let her go.

  “Mr. Roark will be down in a little while. You’re to remain with me in the meantime,” Oliver said, walking her through the crowded club to the restaurant. “What would you like to drink?” he asked, setting her down in the same booth she had occupied with Liam just last week.

  “I don’t want a drink. I want to see your boss. Now.”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. White, that isn’t possible. If you would prefer, we can sit in a private room, but that won’t be as comfortable as this. What’s your preference?”

  Christ, were all his staff just like him? Bossy jerks? She humph’d and turned away.

  Oliver remained nearby but at least he didn’t sit with her. Naia stewed, watching the people around her but not really seeing anything at all. She was so wrapped up in what she was going to say to him, what she was going to do. How dare he do what he did, leave like he did, then treat her like she was nothing when she came to give him a piece of her mind?

  It was almost half an hour before he bothered to turn up. He was in the same jeans and shirt, his sleeves still rolled up like they had been when he had spanked her. The sight of his hands, his forearms, his hulking form, sent shivers through her, reminding her of her still unfulfilled need. It was as if her own body betrayed her with its desire for him.

  “Ms. White,” he greeted, but didn’t sit down.

  Meeting his gaze heated her face to what she imagined was a deep crimson. She’d chalk it up to anger, not embarrassment though.

  “Professor.” She held his gaze, rage giving her strength.

  “What can I do for you? I was under the impression our business was concluded,” he said, his expression unreadable. Was he really so unaffected, so cool?

  “Our business? You call that business?” she asked, scooting around the booth to stand.

  “Watch your tone and lower your voice, Naia.”

  “Oh, it’s Naia now, is it?” she asked, coming to her feet, her voice even louder.

  “I’m warning you,” he threatened.

  She wasn’t scared of him. “You’re warning me about what, professor? What are you going to do to me? Walk away like the cold jerk you are?”

  Grabbing her arm hard, he brought his mouth close to her ear. “Watch out, I’m not going to say it again. Wha
t are you doing here? What do you want?”

  “You’re hurting my arm,” she said, tugging it free. “Between you and your security guard, I’ll be black and blue tomorrow.” People at the surrounding tables were staring at them now.

  He looked furious. “Not another word until we are in my office. Walk,” he said, gesturing for her to go ahead.

  She did as he said, she didn’t want a scene any more than he did really. And to be honest, she could use some time to collect her thoughts. What was she going to say? What did she want? Hadn’t he done what he had said he would do? What she had asked for? What more would she be begging for tonight?

  They walked through the club to a private elevator. Liam inserted a key to call it. The doors opened and they entered, the silence thick between them. They both stared straight ahead as the elevator climbed to Liam’s office and the doors opened. Naia was about to step out but froze.

  “What the…”

  “It’s safe, you can walk through,” he said, stepping ahead of her onto what appeared to be a glass floor in his office.

  She followed, in awe of her surroundings. Glass covered the floor and three of the walls. “You can see everything but I gather no one can see you?”

  “Correct,” he said, leaning against his desk and folding his arms across his chest.

  “What if it… breaks?” she asked, testing her heel lightly against it.

  “It won’t.” His voice was hard, his gaze harder. “Why are you here?”

  She turned her full attention to him. He looked so big as he stared down at her and she wondered if he was trying to intimidate her.

  “I want to know why you left me like that,” she said, copying his posture, trying to look as self-assured as he did even as she shuffled her weight from one foot to the other.

  “We were through. You asked my forgiveness. I told you I’d need to punish you before I gave it. You agreed and took your punishment. I gave my forgiveness and left. That was the extent of our agreement, if I understood it correctly.”

  “What about my sucking your cock? Where did that fit in?” She turned bright red, flinching at her own words, but it was all she had left.

  He dropped his gaze from hers for a moment before returning his attention to her. He’d been thinking about it. Good. Maybe he wasn’t made of steel after all.

  “I shouldn’t have done that. I took advantage and I’m sorry for that, Naia.”

  Their eyes locked for a brief moment where she felt she glimpsed him, the real him she remembered before she had made a mess of everything. She let her arms fall to her sides and her eyes filled with tears. “Liam,” she said, her voice small, unable to stop the assault of tears that poured down her cheeks.

  * * *

  Liam dropped his hands and watched Naia come apart. Against his better judgment, he walked to her and wrapped her in his arms, holding her tight to his chest, her face pressed against him. He could feel her tears through the thin fabric of his shirt and one hand came to cradle the back of her head as he rested his chin on the top of it.

  “Jesus, Naia. Why the hell did you have to walk back into my life?”

  That only served to turn the crying into full-out sobbing where her body began to shudder with her breath.

  After some time, she stepped back and turned her face up to his. “I thought you hated me. That’s why I came back in here tonight, to tell you to go fuck yourself.”

  He had to chuckle at that.

  “Don’t laugh at me. You’re still a jerk. How could you do what you did, wind me up to the point you did, take your pleasure from me, and then walk out? How dare you?”

  It was like she just remembered that she was mad. He laughed a deep, hearty laugh and when she raised her arm, ready to strike, her tears forgotten, he caught her wrist midair and held her at arms’ length. “I’m laughing because you’re funny. You just can’t let anyone else have the last word, can you? You have to say something. You had that at school too. Time to grow up, Naia,” he said, letting her go and turning to the monitors on his desk.

  “What now?” she asked his back.

  He punched a few keys on the keyboard and turned back to her. “What would you like now? Why are you here?”

  “I thought that would be obvious to a grownup like you, professor.”

  “Watch it or I’ll take you over my knee and this time, you won’t be sitting down for a week.”

  “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “You bet right,” he said, stepping toward her, his smile gone.

  She took one step backward.

  “Now are you ready to be a big girl and tell me what you want? Last time I’ll ask. I mean it.”

  He studied her and he hoped to God she’d just do it. She’d just say what he wanted her to say, what he knew she wanted to say.

  “I want… a chance,” she said, struggling to keep the façade of confidence in place. But he could see through it now, right down to that little eighteen-year-old girl who’d come into his classroom ten years ago and turned his life upside down.

  “Go on.” He wanted it as bad as she did, but she needed to say it. She needed to grow up.

  “I want a chance with you. I want what I wanted ten years ago but nothing stands in our way now. I want to be with you, Liam.”

  He exhaled and one side of his mouth curved into a real smile, one that touched his eyes. But there was darkness behind them. She had no idea what he wanted or needed from a woman.

  “I don’t think you know what you’re asking for. What you could be getting into with me.” No, no, no! His brain was yelling at him to take her into his arms, to make love to her and just hold her like he had wanted to ten years ago, like he had wanted to when he saw her again for the first time last week. Like he wanted to earlier this night.

  “You mean all this?” she asked, gesturing toward the club.

  “Yes. I mean all this. It’s who I am, Naia. It’s what I like, what I want and need.”

  Just then the curtains on the stage opened and the crowd below gathered to the foot of it.

  Shit. He’d forgotten about this. Well, this was as good a way as any for her to see exactly what she’d be getting into with him.

  Chapter Four

  “What’s happening?” she asked.

  His eyes followed hers. “A caning.”

  “A what?” she asked, unbelieving.

  “A caning. Between consenting adults. Nothing goes on at this club unless all parties consent and I approve.”

  “You approved of a caning?”

  “It’s a BDSM club.”

  “Oh.”

  The stage was set simply. In the center stood a bench with a padded top, with rings attached to the legs facing away from the audience and leather restraints attached to the ones closest to them. All around was lit with what seemed to be a thousand candles, setting an almost romantic glow to the proceedings. The crowd grew quiet as two men walked a petite young woman onto the stage. She was a pretty blonde who kept her gaze down rather than scanning the room. She wore a very thin white cotton dress that just came to the very tops of her thighs and even from this distance, Naia could see the darkened points of her nipples. They reached the bench and turned so she stood facing the crowd between the two and one of the men read out her sentence. She was to receive twenty strokes with the cane.

  The girl didn’t struggle as the men turned her to face the bench. She leaned over it when one of the men placed a hand at her back, guiding her downward. She slipped her hands through the two rings on the back legs, having to come up on the balls of her feet to do so, and wrapped her hands around the padded legs of the bench. The men bent down to spread her legs and bind each ankle with the restraints.

  “Why isn’t she fighting?” Naia asked, the realization that she was aroused watching this, watching this girl being prepared to be punished, unsettling.

  “Because she wants the punishment,” Liam answer
ed.

  The men then lifted her short dress, if you could call it that, and it slid over her back, exposing her bottom fully to those gathered. With her legs spread as they were, she was completely and wholly displayed.

  When the men moved away, the girl remained still.

  “What’s it like? Caning?” she asked.

  “It’s very painful, intense,” Liam answered, watching the scene on the stage.

  “Isn’t twenty strokes a lot?” she asked, the number seemed too much to her.

  “She has taken it before,” he said. “I know her dom. This was a final resort. Besides, he wouldn’t give her more than she could handle.”

  “That’s comforting,” she said. “What if it is too much?” she pushed.

  “Then she’ll use her safe word,” he answered.

  “And if he doesn’t stop?”

  “He will. There’s a certain level of trust between a dominant and his submissive, Naia. It’s essential in a relationship like this. In fact, if you compare a vanilla partnering to this sort of relationship, you quickly reach a depth of trust that many never do in what is considered a ‘normal’ coupling.”

  “I don’t know about that,” she said defensively.

  “Don’t you? Think about it some more.”

  She let it drop. Truth was, she wasn’t sure at all that he wasn’t right. She would never have let Liam punish her if she hadn’t trusted him.

  Back on the stage, one of the men hooked a microphone over the girl’s ear, adjusting the mouthpiece so her breathing was broadcast over the speakers.

  “The microphone?” This was too much.

  “A public punishment is very different from one dealt between a dom and his sub at home, in private.”

  Naia remembered her own spanking just earlier this night and her face turned red. He must have observed the change as he continued.

  “Mentally it’s already a lot to give yourself over to someone like that. You know for yourself how you felt when you followed my instructions, bared yourself, and assumed a position that granted me power over you. Knowing all along that you chose it. Remember one very important aspect of this is the very definition of submission. It is willingly given. The sub holds a great deal of power, no matter how it looks to the observer.”