by Livia Grant
“I need some runners to set up a scene,” he said.
“I’d be glad to help. Do you know what you want?” Jayla asked, giving him a smile.
“Yes.” After that one word, he guided me to the wall next to the door, turning me to face it. “Do not move a single muscle, sub.”
I glanced over my shoulder, wanting to know what he had planned, but when his hand instantly descended to slap against my ass, it was obvious he didn’t need or want my input.
“Move again and you’ll earn extra,” he said sternly, snapping his fingers and pointing at the wall. I obediently turned my head and saw nothing but a boring expanse of paint. I’d much rather be allowed to peruse all the costumes hanging on racks or the props stacked within the room, but that ‘extra’ had me a bit nervous. Yes, I was a submissive and had heard that word before, but when I thought about it, it had never before had my ass cheeks clenching. The warmth around my neck disappeared, and I knew that Owen had as well. I could hear low voices and the occasional sound of excited laughter as other participants entered the room, but honestly had no idea what my future held. After what seemed like hours, I sensed a presence behind me.
“Good girl.”
How two simple words could thrill me, I had no clue, but they did. His thick fingers threaded into my hair again, turning my head to the side to meet my dom’s gaze.
“If I remove your gag, are you going to remember to keep your mouth closed unless given permission to speak?”
I nodded vigorously, then winced at the sting caused when my hair pulled against his fingers.
“Make me repeat the lesson and you’ll be begging for this ball gag.”
My nod was a little less enthusiastic as I wondered what that could mean. My hair was released and the straps unbuckled. I didn’t immediately spit the ball out which seemed to please Owen. He held out his hand, palm open and I worked with my tongue to push the rubber from my mouth. The moment it landed in his hand, I could feel my face heat. Though my mouth and lips felt as dry as a desert, the ball was covered with drool. I had no idea where he got the handkerchief he lifted to wipe my mouth. After he’d wrapped the gag in the white cloth, he slid his hand back to cup my neck again, and I realized I’d missed it. Turning me again, he led me to where Jayla was waiting.
Stepping back, Owen crossed his arms over his chest and gave Jayla a nod.
She immediately moved behind me, and I felt the zipper of my dress being lowered. This wasn’t the scenario I’d imagined where I’d be slowly dragging my dress down, revealing my body inch by inch as my dom licked his lips in anticipation. Instead, when Jayla said, “Arms up,” I lifted my arms, and my ability to see was taken away as the fabric was pulled over my head. Determined to make the most of the reveal, I made sure I had my sexiest smile on my face when the dress was fully removed. My expectation of seeing the first look of pleasure on my dom’s face was dashed. Owen was gone!
“Where did—”
“Shhh. Step in,” Jayla interrupted, shooting me a glance holding humor as well as warning. Right, I wasn’t supposed to speak without permission, and I was pretty sure that consent was only supposed to come from my dom.
I lifted my feet one at a time and stepped into the garment Jayla had squatted down to hold for me. The moment she began to drag it up, I knew exactly what scenario Owen had chosen. The blue and green plaid, pleated skirt was tugged into place. I shook my head—it was short—and I mean miniscule! Sure, I understood the ‘school-girl’ uniform worn in a BDSM club was far more provocative than one worn out in the real world, but come on! The hem was nowhere near my knees. It barely covered the tops of the thigh-high stockings I was wearing.
The blouse was next. White, of course, with a Peter-Pan collar and puffed, short sleeves. Forget his edict of silence, this wasn’t going to work.
“This is too small,” I whispered.
“It’s exactly what your dom ordered,” Jayla replied, beginning to push buttons through their corresponding holes.
“I’m going to bust out of it!” I protested, seeing the fabric strain over my breasts.
Jayla giggled and continued her task. “Don’t worry. I’m used to replacing buttons.” She tucked the blouse into the waistband and them zipped the skirt closed. “Lift your hair,” she instructed, and once I held it up, she ran a black strip beneath the blouse’s collar, tying it into a perfect Windsor knot, leaving the ends of the tie to hang between the valley of my boobs.
“Okay, hair,” she said, picking up a brush off the counter.
“What about my hair? I paid a lot of money for this look!” I said.
“As I’ve said before, your dom left explicit instructions for me,” she said, dragging the brush through my hair with one hand, gathering the weight of it with the other. “And, for you.”
I was about to ask what that meant, when I realized I didn’t have to. She’d actually warned me, and suddenly I was a little nervous that I’d ignored the warning. But surely she wouldn’t rat out a girl, would she?
A few moments later, she asked me to bend down, which I did. Another black strip became what I had to assume was a huge, ridiculous bow on top of my head. The ponytail I now sported brushed against the nape of my neck. Jayla appeared in front of me and smiled.
“You look great.”
I wasn’t falling for that little lie. Instead of thanking her for the compliment, not that I believed a word of it, I rolled my eyes. She laughed and turned me around to face a full-length mirror I hadn’t noticed before.
Oh my God! Where had the sexy-as-shit woman who’d walked into Black Light gone? In her place stood what appeared to be a Catholic school-girl. And not a well-behaved one if her appearance had anything to say about it. I’d known the skirt was short, the blouse tight, but seeing it actually gaping open across my breasts, the skirt barely covering my ass, my legs looking even longer in my black stilettos, my hair pulled into a high pony-tail on top of my head… well, every single inch of my reflection screamed naughty… or, to be more blunt… school slut.
“Like I said, perfect,” Jayla said. “Don’t worry about your dress. It’ll be here when your dom allows you to change.” I watched as she hung the dress that had cost me a week’s wage onto a hanger, hooking it over a rack. “You are to report to class now.”
Remembering school days of old, I lifted my hand, and she laughed but nodded permission to speak.
“Where exactly would that be?”
“Out the door, turn left. You can’t miss it.” She glanced at the wall and then added, “I suggest you don’t tarry. I’ve heard Professor MacAllister doesn’t look fondly on students who report late to class.”
Of course he wouldn’t. “I don’t suppose you’d give me a tardy slip?”
Her laugh filled the room as she shook her head. “Sorry.”
Tugging my skirt’s hem, which did nothing to make it longer, I took a deep breath. Hell, I might be dressed in a uniform four sizes too small, but at least I was wearing clothes.
“Have fun!” Jayla said once I’d reached the door. “Oh, and Marty?”
Turning my head, I waited.
“Love your undies!”
I smiled. “Thanks!” I hoped Owen would love them as well. An idea flashed across my mind and after a quick conference with Jayla, I realized I was actually having fun. And if Owen wanted a show, I was going to make damn sure I gave him one.
Chapter 6
Owen
I watched as my student sauntered towards me, her hips swaying, her ponytail swinging as she approached. My lips twitched when her steps slowed as she got closer. I’d known she’d be able to figure out her role the moment Jayla helped her into her uniform, but I was pretty damn sure she hadn’t suspected just how far I was willing to go to set up the scene. From the look on her face, I knew I’d succeeded.
Her face was flushed as she had to maneuver around chairs where spectators sat, ready to watch the show. God, she looked fabulous! From the looks on several of the male
guests’ faces, they tended to agree. Those close to the steps probably got the first look at her ass as she walked carefully up the steps to reach the floor of my newly erected classroom. Those sitting a bit further away didn’t need to worry—they’d be treated to the sight in just a bit.
She paused at the top of the steps, which was my clue to begin.
“You’re late—again,” I said. “Do you have a reason for disrespecting your fellow students by your tardiness?”
Her eyes darted around the platform to see her fellow students were all looking at her expectantly. I knew she’d expected to be the sole participant, but my little sub needed to learn she wasn’t in control… of her dress or her play. I’d had no problem asking guests who’d come for the party if they’d like to play out a scene. Hell, I’d had to turn a dozen away. The six I’d chosen now all sat in chairs, hands on their laps, grins on their faces as they looked at the late arrival.
“I’m waiting,” I said, making my voice stern as I straightened from where I’d been leaning against the teacher’s desk I’d had the runners set up.
“Oh, um, my mother had to iron my blouse,” Marty said, running a hand down her side, drawing attention to the fact that her blouse was several sizes too small.
Good try, but I wasn’t going to fall for that diversion, no matter how tempting. “Your lack of proper time management has been a repeating factor of your lateness,” I said. “Now that you’ve deigned to join us, shall we begin?”
“Sure,” she said, moving again.
I waited until she’d reached the only vacant chair—the one directly in front of my desk and the only one that was an actual student desk. She had to slide into the seat, her height and the fact she was wearing four-inch stilettos assured her knees came close to bumping into the underside of the built-in surface where a real student would rest their books and papers. She folded her hands on top of the desk and looked up at me—innocence personified, but I knew better.
I was about to speak when her lips pursed, and I watched as her tongue peeked out. I had to shake my head as I watched a bubble appear, growing larger until it obscured half her face. A loud pop sounded, and she sucked the pink wad back into her mouth. I didn’t know where she got the gum, but it was exactly the sort of thing Marty would do. Several of her classmates snickered and she grinned.
Stepping to her desk, I snapped my fingers and once again held my hand out. “Gum.”
“Oops, sorry,” she said, which I knew was a blatant lie. She bent forward and spit the gum onto the handkerchief I was very glad I’d kept.
I moved back to my desk, tossing the cloth into one of the drawers and then turned to face my class. It was time to take control out of my naughty student’s hands.
“I didn’t instruct you to take your seat,” I said.
“What? Oh, I thought—”
“Come now, Marty,” I said, shaking my head. “As familiar as you are with being late, I’m sure you know there are consequences.”
“Consequences?”
“Yes.” To aid in what I had planned, I moved to the blackboard that had been set up and picked up a piece of chalk. I was aware Marty watched my every move. I wrote a line across the top of the blackboard. Turning, I looked at my ‘students’. “Class, who can tell me what is the penalty for being late to class?”
All six hands shot into the air, and I almost chuckled. I hadn’t prepared them for anything, just told them to follow along. Using the chalk, I pointed to a woman sitting in the middle of the row on the left of Marty. “Cathy?”
She stood and said, “Well, since Marty is always late to every class, I think a half dozen would be good.”
A few of her classmates huffed in obvious disapproval, but Marty just smiled.
“A half dozen. Yes, I believe that is a good start. Marty?” I gestured and watched as she slid out of the chair, tugged her skirt down and sashayed towards me, holding out her hand. Poor unsuspecting soul.
Lifting my eyebrow, I said, “I’m not interested in shaking your hand. Assume the position.”
“The-the position?” she asked, her eyes darting from my hand holding the chalk. “I thought you were going to have me copy that line.” She pointed to where I’d written Students are to report to class on time on the board.
“You thought wrong.” Pointing to a man in the front row, I asked. “David, would you be kind enough to remind Marty of the proper position to receive her penalty, please.”
“I’d love to,” the man said, causing the others to laugh. He just shrugged and grinned. “Everyone knows she is supposed to bend over the desk, grab the other side… oh, and push her ass out.”
“Correct,” I said. “Do so now, young lady.”
His answer didn’t seem to faze my sub. Marty smiled and turned around, her hips swinging as she sauntered to my desk. Once at the front, she turned to look at me. “Like this, sir?”
I watched as she slowly lowered her torso over the surface, her hands easily reaching the other side. The move made her skirt ride up, revealing the tops of her stockings, and I could see a strip of white. I was about to see a whole lot more.
“No,” I said, shaking my head and again turning towards my classroom. Before I could even speak, another male student shouted. “Her skirt is in the way! I can’t see her ass!”
The audience loved the complaint, their calls of “we want to see”, “bare her ass”, and “skirt up”, all leaving no doubt what they expected.
“Skirt well up, and naughty ass well out,” I instructed. Marty turned to look at me with an expression bordering on humor as she released the desk, reached back, and grabbed the hem of her skirt. As she slowly drew it up, I heard appreciative gasps and felt my cock lengthen. Fuck. I’d purposefully not watched as she transformed into a school-girl, wearing what I’d instructed, but I’d totally forgotten about underwear.
“You’re out of uniform,” I said. “These are not regulation panties, are they?”
“They’re white,” she quipped, her smile reaching her eyes, and I knew she’d known the reaction she’d get the moment she revealed her choice of lingerie.
She was telling the truth. What there was of the lace, was white. But instead of a complete set of panties, there was a heart-shaped cutout where the seat should have been, leaving the majority of her ass totally bare. Her position also caused the flesh to jut out a bit around the cutout. A small red bow decorated the waistband centered right above the crack of her ass. I’d get fired or jailed in any real school, but this was Black Light. Running my hand over her ass… I felt the silkiness of her flesh. Feeling her quiver at my touch had my cock protesting its confinement.
“I’d think someone who had already bent over my desk would not be so quick to be flippant,” I admonished and then lifted my hand to tug at the bow. “This is red.” I gave it another tug and added, “But not as red as your ass is soon going to be. An extra three for non-standard undies.”
“But you didn’t… ouch!”
“And another three for arguing with your professor,” I said, my handprint blooming red against her right ass cheek. “Open the center drawer and hand me the ruler,” I instructed.
I loved making a submissive hand me the item of their impending doom. I enjoyed it even more when I heard Marty’s gasp as she withdrew the thin ruler from the drawer. Expecting wood, no doubt, she found plastic instead. Wood was great and I used paddles of all shapes and sizes, but for this, nothing could beat how quickly a Lexan paddle could make a sub very sorry she’d disobeyed her dom.
Snapping my fingers, I held out my hand. She glanced back as she laid the paddle on my palm. It was one from my personal collection. I’d made it myself. Twenty inches long, it was only three inches wide. I’d drilled two rows of small holes along the length. Flexible and yet sturdy, I knew it would get her attention quickly. Bending over her back, I spoke softly into her ear.
“You ever been spanked with a Lexan paddle?”
“No.”
; Grabbing her ponytail at its base, I pulled her head back. “I promise you don’t want to keep adding to your total. No, what?”
“No, sir,” she said quickly.
“You’ll keep your feet down and your fingers around the edge of the desk. If it’s too much and you need me to pause, say Yellow.” Black Light used the traditional stop-light system of safewords. Green was good to go, yellow meant to please pause or slow down, but red meant an immediate stop to whatever activity was happening.
“No problem,” she said with a smirk. “I’ve managed a great deal more than a dozen.”
I just grinned, releasing her hair. As an experienced dom, I knew a dozen with this ruler would feel like a hundred with another paddle. Stepping to the side so as not to block the view, I laid the ruler against the very center of her ass, watching her buttocks clench. I left it in place until the globes relaxed. Lifting my arm, I brought it down and the reaction was instantaneous.
“Holy fuck!” she screeched, jumping up, her hands flying back to rub at her ass, her eyes wide as saucers.
“Tsk, tsk,” I said, shaking my head. “Class, is cursing allowed in school?”
“No!” the unanimous chorus answered.
“So that one doesn’t count,” I said, using the ruler to point at the desk. “Back into position.”
She was far slower to obey this time, but obey she did.
“Skirt!” someone yelled from the audience.
Marty’s hands came back and pulled her skirt up. In the short amount of time she’d broken position, two lines of perfect circles had formed on her ass. Each one was red and I knew they stung like a son of a bitch. Pressing my hand against the small of her back, I tapped the paddle right beneath the first line.