School's in Session

by Various Authors

  "I'm looking forward to it," he casually replied, and began greeting the other students as they filed in and deposited their short stories on top of hers.

  Sighing happily she took her seat and settled in to stare at her dreamboat, barely able to contain herself.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Patrick began the class, but in spite of her best efforts to focus her mind strayed constantly, her thoughts wrapped around the manila envelope that contained her lascivious story. When the two hours finally ended and the students headed from the room, Isobel remained seated at her desk, and Patrick, waiting patiently, leaned against the blackboard with his arms crossed.

  “Yes, Isobel?” he frowned as she rose from her desk and walked casually towards him.

  His firm demeanor sent a shiver down her spine, but doing her best to ignore it she forced herself to look directly into his heart-stopping eyes.

  “It’s my short story,” she managed.

  “What about it?”

  “Well, it’s not the normal kind of...I mean it’s probably not what you’re used to,” she stammered.

  “How would you know what I’m used to?” he asked moving the few steps to his desk and pulling the envelope from under the others piled on top of it.

  “You’re not going to-”

  “What?” he interrupted, “read it now? You seem anxious for me to look at it. Have you changed your mind?”

  “No, it’s just...” shit, I didn’t think he’d want to read it in front of me?

  “It’s just...?” he pressed, opening it up and pulling the pages out.

  “I have to go,” she said hastily grabbing her bag.

  “No, I don’t think so, you stay right where you are,” he directed. “I’m sure it’s very good. There’s no need for you to be embarrassed.”

  “It’s really personal,” she said quietly.

  “Even better,” he replied raising an eyebrow. “Now sit down. I don’t make a habit of this, be grateful.”

  “Sorry, I am, it’s just...”

  “You keep saying, it’s just. Relax. Please sit down,” he repeated.

  Heart pumping and face reddening she returned to her desk, then nervously watched his eyes scan the pages. Never had she heard such silence; it was broken only by the turning of each piece of paper, the sound echoing through the empty room. Watching his face, looking for any signs of approval, his deadpan expression gave nothing away.

  You'd be a great poker player. Why don't you just stop and swoop down on me? You're more than halfway through. Surely you want me by now. Maybe you're not kinky after all. Maybe you think my fantasies are crazy...I'm crazy. Shit, maybe you're not as attracted to me as I thought.

  She could not have been more wrong.

  Not only was Patrick captivated by her salacious story, his member was pressing urgently in his trousers, and any doubt he had about taking Isobel to his bed had been vanquished. As he finished the last page he took a deep breath, exhaled dramatically, looked across at her and shook his head.

  "You didn't like it?" she asked fearfully.

  "Oh, yes, I definitely liked it, very much. I can honestly say it held my attention to the very last word. As I told you last time we talked you are a talented writer, but Isobel, you are also a very naughty girl."

  The butterflies that had been fluttering around her stomach suddenly burst forth and tripled in number.

  "I am?" she squeaked.

  "You certainly are," he smiled, "and you know it. The question is, what am I going to do about it?"

  Isobel was not the first student to have reached out to him through their work, but she was certainly the most brazen, and she'd made her dark desires shockingly clear.

  "Give me an A?" she giggled, then blushed furiously at the facetious remark that had spilled from her lips. “Sorry,” she added quickly, “sometimes things come out of me before I have time to stop them.”

  Rising from his chair he walked slowly towards her. Her eyes were full of expectation, and as he neared he had to fight the desire to yank her to her feet, throw her across his desk, spank her soundly, and devour her body.

  "You were right," he said softly.

  "What about?" she breathed, knowing he was about to say something that would completely take her breath way.

  "Me," he said simply.

  Gulping, she stared up at him as he perched on the edge of her desk.

  "I would love to indulge us both," he began, "but you need to know the ground rules."

  Rules already? Oh, my gosh, how great is this?

  "Sure, of course," she nodded, and if I break them will I be spanked?

  "I'm a single guy and I like it that way. Whatever we do there can be no strings. No unannounced dropping by, or tearful goodbyes when things have run their course. I don't do drama, Isobel. Can you live with that?"

  Though his radiant blue eyes were compelling, and his manicured hands promised hours of prurient pleasure, she felt a distant, but distinct recoil.

  He will absolutely break your heart. You don't know how to do casual, you never have.

  "So, Isobel, can you?"

  "Sure!" she declared. Shit. Did I just say that?

  "In that case..." he breathed.

  As he rose to his feet he reached down, grabbed her arm and pulled her from her seat.

  "You really are a very bad girl for handing in such a licentious piece of work. If I'd decided to read that during class I would have had a very hard time."

  "That was kind of the point," she giggled, "making things hard for you. I'm surprised you're not grateful!"

  "You really want to be spanked, don't you?" he wickedly grinned.

  "Kind of," she squeaked.

  His firm grip on her arm was sending a hot wave of need through her sex, and as he led her to his desk a quiver bristled down her spine.

  "Elbows down," he said firmly, "and arch your back."

  Grateful she'd decided to wear a skirt rather than slacks, tremulously she bent forward, closing her eyes as the exquisite feelings began to sweep over her.

  God I love this, I love this so much. There must be something seriously wrong with me! I can’t believe this is happening. Oh, my, God, I’m about to be spanked.

  Patrick wasted no time, dropping his hand in a flurry of quick sharp smacks, eliciting just as many gasps of surprise, then flipping up her skirt up he stared for a moment at her cute, French-cut black panties before dispatching them down her legs.

  "Lovely," he murmured smiling at the slightly pink, round backside waiting for more.

  “Th-thank you," she managed.

  Breathless and overcome Isobel was lost in the moment. She had just been spanked for the very first time by her handsome teacher, the hero of her fantasies, and she was convinced she would faint from the sheer excitement of it all.

  “Patrick, this is amazing,” she whimpered dropping her head into her hands.

  Without responding he traced his fingertips lightly across the width of her bottom, drawing forth a wriggle, then flattening his palm he began to deliver slow, sound smacks. It didn't take long for the squirming to start, and as he increased the zing her gyrations were joined by utterances of pain.

  "I'm sorry," she bleated gasping between the words as his hand fell. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I thought you'd be reading the stories at home!"

  Her apology brought a respite, and he smoothed his hand across her glowing moons.

  "I don't believe that for a second," he scolded. "The intent of handing me that story was to turn me on, and it never even occurred to you when I might read it. Correct?"

  "Yes, correct," she admitted.

  "You should have waited until after class to give me something so salacious," he said sternly, "and besides your general lack of focus, that, Isobel Parker, is why I'm going to make your bottom very red."

  His threat sent fresh heat swarming through her sex, and as the spanking resumed she rubbed her thighs together chasing the elusive pleasure.
r />   "No, no, young lady, you get those legs apart," he growled dropping his hand to slap the backs of her thighs.

  "OW, sorry," she wailed hurriedly shuffling her feet.

  "Don't try that again," he ordered bringing his hand back to her crimson cheeks without skipping a beat.

  "I won't," she promised, "please, no more. I'll behave, I'll be so good, I'll pay attention every second, I swear!"

  His member almost bursting he hastily unzipped his fly, cursing himself for not having a condom in his pocket.

  "Fingers on your cunt," he said huskily, "let me see your climax."

  Wailing a grateful cry she dropped her fingers against her sex, searching out her clit, rubbing furiously. She could feel her orgasm looming, and as it washed over her she cried out her joy just as his hot cream squirted across her seared bottom.

  “Stay there,” he said breathlessly.

  Grateful that he had his gym bag he hurriedly retrieved a towel, wiped himself, then carried it back to her.

  “I think you’re going to have quite a tender backside tomorrow,” he smiled as he cleared away the evidence of his attention and pulled up her panties. “On Wednesday night you’re to wear something underneath your dress to match the story you wrote.”

  “I will,” she panted, still trying to recover from the startling experience and her jolting climax.

  “No, no, Isobel, try that again,” he murmured leaning over her and kissing ear. “I think it’s time you started using the ‘s’ word.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she smiled.

  “There you go, much better,” he whispered. “Grab your stuff and I’ll walk you out.”

  “Is a hug permissible?” she muttered as she slowly rose from the desk.

  “Of course,” he nodded, opening his arms.

  Falling against his chest she smelled the delicious aroma of his cologne. Sighing heavily she closed her eyes, determined to remember the first moment she felt his warm engulfing hug, shrouded in the warmth of her orgasmic afterglow.

  “All right, Isobel, let’s move it,” he said firmly. “It’s getting really late.”

  “I know,” she mumbled hating to relinquish him.

  Reluctantly extricating herself from his hold she felt an unexpected rush of emotion, and swallowing hard she fought back the tears.

  “Let me just grab my things,” she remarked hastily, moving quickly away to avoid his gaze.

  Dropping her pad and paper into her satchel she zipped it up, and faking a smile she turned to face him, but he was busy packing up his own belongings, and as she watched him she felt the tug at her heart.

  Shit. I think I might have jumped down the rabbit hole.

  You can handle this, you can. Just enjoy the awesome physical thing.

  Right, just enjoy the physical thing.

  “Ready?” he asked, his gym back over a shoulder and his briefcase in his hand.

  “Yep,” she grinned cheerfully, “lead the way.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” he chuckled, “it’s the only way I fly.”

  The parking lot was dark and empty, but a low fog had moved in cloaking the tall lights, its soft mist dampening her skin as she moved towards her car. As she unlocked her door and threw in her bag he smiled down at her.

  “See you Wednesday, and don’t forget, something naughty under your dress.”

  “I won’t forget,” she promised.

  He made no move to hug her, so she slipped into her seat and started up the engine, then watched him saunter to his SUV just a few yards away.

  As she slowly drove from the lot a frown began to crease her brow and a wash of sadness moved through her heart.

  He didn’t even kiss me. He didn’t even kiss me. Shit, he didn’t even kiss me, and she forced herself to swallow the hot lump threatening to burst in the back of her throat.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Staring at the pages in front of him, Brad sipped his coffee. His cock was aching for attention, and Isobel sitting innocently just outside his office door emailing and making calls was driving him crazy.

  She’d placed the file folder on his desk, and leaving him to glance through the pages she’d returned with his habitual morning Kona. When she’d placed the coffee mug on his desk she’d seemed preoccupied, almost removed, and her morning jocularity which always brightened the place up was MIA; something was bothering her.

  Something was bothering him too.

  Besides Isobel’s odd attitude, the short story he’d just read had made his brain fuzzy and the urgent need in his trousers impossible to ignore.

  I have to read that passage again, he silently sighed, and reaching across to his intercom he pressed the black button.

  “Isobel, could you please come in here for a second?”

  “Sure,” she replied, and rising from her desk she hurried into his inner sanctum, eager to hear what he had to say.

  “Did you like her other stuff?” she asked anxiously.

  “Absolutely,” Brad nodded. “Isobel I cannot stress enough how important it is that you reach her. She may have sent this work into other publishers, and I-”

  “She hasn’t,” Isobel interrupted.

  “How do you know?” he frowned.

  “Because Kate doesn’t have the confidence to do that,” she muttered.

  “Huh, well she should. I want to read it again, but without any distractions, so please close my door and hold my calls. I’ll buzz you when I’m done.”

  “You got it,” she answered.

  Waiting until she closed the door behind her, Brad quietly rose from his desk and moved quickly to lock it. His cock was blatantly pressing against his trousers, and he’d have been mortified if he’d moved to shut it himself and she had looked up from her desk.

  Pulling some tissues from the box on his coffee table he settled back in his chair, unzipped his fly, and decided to remove his trousers completely. Taking his grateful member in his hand he flipped through the first few pages to the decadent words that had taken his breath away.

  The Dungeon Master touched his fingers to her glistening dew, drawing sighs of needful pleasure, then stepping back he raised the flogger and sent the tongues to life, kissing her crimson cheeks with their fiery sting.

  Closing his eyes, massaging fervently, Brad could see Isobel tied to the bench, her breasts pressed against the black padded seat, her bottom high the air begging for the prurient punishment. He could hear the swish of the whip as it landed on her skin, and her breathless gasps and cries for more.

  Desperate to come but wanting to indulge in one more passage he paused his hand’s urgent massage and opened his eyes, allowing them to fall on the page wherever they chose.

  His thrusts had gained momentum, and seeing her body grow taut with its pending release he paused, circling his finger around her dusky back hole.

  “You haven’t asked permission,” he declared.

  “Sir, I was about to,” she squeaked.

  “If you want to come you know what you have to do,” he said calmly as he teased with his cock, moving it slowly back and forth.

  “Oh, Sir,” she bleated, “please will you-you...”

  “Please will I what?” he pressed.

  “Please will you put your finger inside where it’s touching?”

  Her voice was tremulous, but knowing her orgasm would be withheld until she surrendered, she’d summoned her courage and made the wicked request.

  The Dungeon Master smiled. Her training had seen some bumps along the way but she was finally finding her way.

  “You may come at will,” he purred as he slowly pressed his thumb into her tight, frightened anus.

  “Thank you, Sir,” she murmured, relinquishing herself to the lewd intruder.

  Plunging forward he rode her urgently, and when her wails of gratitude echoed off the concrete walls, and her pussy pulsed against him, his cream burst from his loins...

  The scene wrapped itself around his brain, and clutching his coc
k it was only seconds before it was spewing across his hand. Breathless and drained he grabbed the tissues and quickly wiped up the mess, then leaning back in his chair he closed his eyes and thought about the woman who had snatched his heart.

  How can I show you the real me? How can I tell you it was me who wrote that chapter, that I was attempting to reach out to you, to show you how I feel? I still can’t fathom your friend wrote such an extraordinary piece, and it was so much like mine. Suddenly nothing is making sense. I feel like I’m living in some strange alternate universe.

  Taking a deep breath he sighed both in relief and frustration, then straightening himself up he pulled on his trousers, closed the folder and quietly unlocked the door.

  Sitting at her desk Isobel had been unable to concentrate. She had emails to write and calls to make, but the combination of her desperate need to tell Brad she was Kate, and her mixed feelings about the gorgeous Patrick had made work impossible.

  Her intercom buzzed, and shaking herself she picked up her pad and headed into Brad’s office.

  “Isobel, have a seat,” he said quietly.

  Moving across the room she dropped into the chair and stared at him, frantically searching for the right words.

  I need to tell you that I wrote all that. Kate is me. Why is this so damn difficult?

  “First, I really am very sincere about wanting to meet your friend,” he declared. “Second, I sense that there’s something on your mind, something troubling you. Is it me? Have I upset you somehow? Was it the remark I made on Friday? If it is I-”

  “No,” she interrupted, “no, honestly. It’s a couple of, uh, other things.”

  “A couple of things? You don’t have to tell me and I may not be able to offer any great pearls of wisdom, but sometimes just talking can help.”

  Isobel sighed, and dropping her shoulders she stared down at the pad in her hands.

  He is so sweet. Here I’ve been working for him for months and I’m only just getting to know him. Maybe I should tell him about Patrick. Maybe that might open the door for me to tell him about my writing.

  “You might be right,” she began tentatively.

  Brad had been patiently waiting for her to speak. It was obvious she’d been deliberating and he didn’t want to push her, but as she lifted her eyes and started to talk he leaned forward, eager to hear what she had to say.