Naia and the Professor

by Natasha Knight

  “Damn you, Naia!” 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'd seen her at the club, he'd known it. And if he were smarter, he'd have told her to go to hell. When he'd suggested the spanking, he hadn't been sure if she'd accept his proposition. A part of him wanted her not to be at the hotel today, but the more dominant part was glad she was. Was glad she'd let him do what he'd done.

  “Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath as the doors opened and he stepped out into the lobby. She was still under his skin and that was putting it mildly. He'd had feelings for her back when he was her teacher, but she'd been safe from him then.

  No, he'd leave her alone. He'd go back to burying himself in his work, find another woman to 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.

  * * * *

  Naia stared at the closed door in awe. Her sex burned for attention but her heart sank the moment he'd told her goodbye. He didn't want her. He'd taken what was his due, what she'd freely offered. He'd 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 mini bar 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 pussy still ached from need and he'd 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 Templar!” she said to no one in particular. She took two pills out of the bottle of Advil in her purse and made her way to the bathroom. It was Friday night, the start of the weekend and she imagined Club Templar 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 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 Templar thought he'd won, he had another thing coming. She wasn't through with the son of a bitch. Not by a long shot.

  * * * *

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

  “Let go of me!” Naia tugged at her arm to get free. She'd arrived twenty minutes later 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'd caused enough of a scene that Oliver had taken her aside.

  “There's a woman here to see you, Sir,” he said.

  At least he was here.

  “What's your name, Ma'am?” Oliver asked.

  Her name? Screw the bastard. He had to know perfectly well that it would be her. “Tell him it's Naia White!”

  “Ms. White, Sir.” A pause and 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. Templar 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 lounge. “What would you like to drink?” he asked, stopping at the same booth she'd occupied with Liam just last week.

  She faced him and folded her arms across her chest, trying not to look as intimidated as she felt. “I don't want a drink. I want to see your boss. Now.”

  “I'm sorry, Ms. White, that isn't possible. If you'd like, you can sit in a private room, but that won't be as comfortable as this. What would you prefer?”

  His expression told her he wouldn't budge. Naia hesitated for a moment, then slid into the booth.

  Oliver remained nearby but at least he didn't sit with her. Naia stewed, looking over the crowd 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 and leave like he had 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 she finally saw him. He was in the same pants and shirt, his sleeves still rolled up like they had been when he'd been with 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.

  “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.

  “Keep your voice down, 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 bastard you are?”

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

  “You're hurting my arm,” she said, tugging it free. “Between you and your bouncer, I'll be black and blue tomorrow.” People at the surrounding tables stared at them now.

  He looked furious, but let her go. “Not another word until we're 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. And to be honest, she could use some time to collect her thoughts. What was she going to say? Hadn't he done what he'd said he'd do? What she'd 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. Liam stepped out and she followed him, in awe of her surroundings. His office was vast and plush, with a sitting area and a separate work area. But the part that caught her attention was the fact two of the walls were made of glass.

  “You can see everything but I gather no one can see you?” It had to be one-way glass because she certainly hadn't noticed it from below and it looked like no one on the main floor was the wiser.

  “Correct,” he said, leaning against his desk and folding his arms across his chest. “Why are you here?”

  She turned her full attention to him. He looked so big as he stared down at her. If he was trying to intimidate her, it was working.

  “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 dick? Where did that fit in?” Christ, she hated to say it that way but it was her only weapon.

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

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

  Their eyes locked for a brief moment of truth where neither hid behind a mask. 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 cascaded down her cheeks.

  *

  Liam dropped his hands and watched as she came 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 material 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 every 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 she was mad. He laughed a deep, hearty laugh and when she came at him ready to strike, her tears forgotten, he caught her wrist mid air 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. High school's over. 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 grown up 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 walked backward a few paces.

  “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, hoping 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 emotion from her face. But he could see through her, 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.

  “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 Templar.”

  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'd wanted to ten years ago, like he'd 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 watch.

  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 4

  “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 two tall, wooden posts and a padded bench a few feet in front of them. On each post, there hung a chain with a cuff. The stage 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 small, naked girl onto the stage. She was a pretty, young blonde who kept her gaze down rather than scanning the audience. She stood between them and one of the men read out her sentence. She was to receive twelve strokes with the cane.

  The girl didn't struggle when the men turned her and took each of her wrists, binding them simultaneously to the posts. Naia hadn't noticed the cuffs at the bottom of the bench until the girl's ankles were secured, spreading her legs wide, her body bent slightly forward so the bench supported her across her pelvic bone.

  “Why isn't she fighting?” Naia asked.

  “Because she wants the punishment,” Liam answered.

  When the men moved away, the girl remained still, but tested the bonds at her wrists, neither of which gave. Naia took in the sight of her bent forward and spread, her buttocks displayed, ready, waiting.

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

  “It can be very painful, intense,” Liam answered, watching the scene on the stage.

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

  “She's trained or it wouldn't be twelve. I know her Dom. This isn't her first caning.”

  “That's comforting,” she said. “What if it's too much?”

  “They've both agreed to the number but if she must, 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 Dom and his sub, 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 many never do in 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 he wasn't right. She'd 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 earlier that night and her face turned red. He must have observed her as he continued.

  “Mentally, it's already a lot to give yourself over to someone in this sort of scenario. You know for yourself how you felt when you followed my instructions, bared yourself and assumed a position which granted me power over you. Knowing all along you chose it. Remember one very important aspect of this is the very definition of submission. It is willingly given. The sub is never powerless, no matter how it looks to the observer.”

  She glanced at him for a moment and then quickly turned her attention back to the girl. Yes, she knew very well, still felt the shame of those moments before he'd begun the actual act of punishing her. And she also knew full well that had she chosen, at any moment, she could have stopped it.

  “When a sub is punished like she will be, publically, it's not a light matter and the lesson will be truly learned and understood. Most scenes involve some level of physical pain or discomfort at least, but both parties desire it, need it even. Tonight is different for her. Tonight is to punish the girl. Not only to take pleasure or give it, but to truly punish. It will be quite painful for her both physically and mentally. But it will also gratify her on a level you don't yet understand. This lifestyle isn't only about sex.”

  What did he mean … she didn't yet understand, Naia wondered.

  “So she'll have no privacy at all. Not even to cry.” It was strange to her that this fact kindled her own growing fire.

  “How do you feel about that? About what you will be a witness to? Shall I take you back to the hotel or would you like to stay and watch?”

  She kept her eyes on the stage as she thought about her answer. She didn't want to leave, that part was
easy. But how did she truly feel about what was happening? Habit wasn't an option with Liam. Everything was so new with him, so foreign to her that she had no point of reference. It forced her to truly consider her feelings. “I feel afraid for her. I don't know that he'll really stop and she won't have any say about it. But also, and I can't believe I'm going to say this,” she turned to him and met his eyes. “I want to watch. I don't want to leave.”

  He held her gaze. “If it were me, would you trust that I would stop?”

  “Yes.” She didn't have to think about that one.

  He smiled a satisfied smile. “Then know that she trusts him to know how far to take her. Any experienced Dom knows not to go past that edge but to play it, to ride that delicate line. That power is a part of the thrill for us.”

  Once the girl was prepared, the men left and another man, a smaller, older man, came onto the stage carrying the long rattan cane. She'd expected someone big, not this man. But the cane in his hand made her heartbeat quicken and the girl on the stage seemed to be holding her breath.

  The crowd clapped but quickly silence once again reigned. They were hungry for the show, for the caning. It was such a base notion but Naia understood it. She wondered if it wasn't strange she understood such a thing.

  The man moved to stand very close behind the girl and whispered something in her ear.

  “He's asking her permission now,” Liam said. “It's about to begin. Are you ready?”

  The girl nodded as did Naia.

  The man stepped back and to the side so the crowd had a good view of the girl's waiting buttocks. He raised his arm and Naia wondered what the cane would feel like against her own backside. She braced herself as it came down on the girl's tender flesh. The girl expelled a breath. She counted the first stroke into the microphone. Naia swallowed.

  Another stroke landed on the girl's trembling cheeks. Naia closed her eyes for an instant, imagining she was up there, being watched as she herself was being punished.

  The crowd remained hushed, listening to the sound of the cane move through the air then land against the soft buttocks of the girl. Each stroke was followed by her forced exhale, a grunt, and sometimes a scream. As she counted, the microphone amplified every breath, every moan, every sound from her lips and Naia found herself mentally saying the numbers along with the girl, not wanting it to stop.