by Sienna Mynx
She closed her eyes as his hand moved around and cupped her pussy.
“You understand now, don’t you? I will go as far as we both can stand. We need a safety word for your protection because this body… this ass… this pussy… I plan to have all of it.” He moistened his lips. “Give me a safe word.”
“Please, Sir,” she answered.
“Aaah… that word again. Please? It’s a tease. Choose another.”
She opened her eyes. “Stop. I choose stop.”
“Too cliché and boring. Besides, I don’t like the denial in the word. The label that says I can have no more. I need the word to speak of rest, the need to pamper your pussy a little before I can go on. Choose another.”
He circled her. He faced her. He rubbed the cord up and down her side and traced the curve of her body from under her arm to her hip. “Give me a meaningful word.”
“I trus-trust you. I don’t need safety when I’m with you.”
He quirked a brow. “Very flattering, Destini. You are learning to please me. I’m learning how to please you. But I haven’t earned your trust and you still have to prove your loyalty. Therefore, we need a word my darling. I’ll take you without the contract but not without consent. Having that word between us always gives consent. Do you understand?”
She nodded that she did and smiled.
“So? I will give you a safety word. The one you keep thrusting on me. Let’s call your safety: love.”
Destini’s head slowly lifted. There was a hint of mockery in her soulful brown eyes that he didn’t expect, as if she was holding something back from him. Maybe it was his imagination. She was submissive to him. Of course it was his imagination.
“Yes, Sir. Safe is love.”
***
Sir rewarded her with a sweet kiss. Her tongue melted against his. He gathered her long thick tresses in his hand and tugged, bringing her mouth away and her head back. “Are you ready? This isn’t just about pleasure. This is about you and me and a place where no one can touch us. Do you understand?”
Destini nodded the best she could. He kissed her chin and released her. She relaxed, momentarily. Her lids fluttered shut. He walked around her again. From nowhere, he delivered four consecutive whacks to the center and most fleshy part of her ass. She nearly bit through her bottom lip to keep from crying out. Her nipples became painfully tight. Her stomach twisted in knots, and her pussy tingled.
Sir rubbed the sting into her raw, burning skin. Her head dropped forward and she gasped. He moved up behind her to lick her sweaty spine. That was before he delivered three more whacks. Her arms jerked in the bindings. She groaned, holding on.
“What do you say?”
“Thank you, sir. May I have another.”
*whack*
“Thank you, sir. May I have another.”
*whack*
“Thank you, sir. May I have another.”
*whack*
“Th-th-thank…ya-you, sir. May I have another.”
*whack*
*whack*
*whack*
Destini moaned, gasped for breath and exhaled slow. He came behind her, dropping the cord and rubbing his meaty cock between the halves of her raw ass. He cupped her breasts, holding them in his hands, squeezing and plucking her nipples.
“You are so beautiful. No man can deny it. Especially me. But no man can have you. Not you, my sweet Destini. I can never let you go.”
Destini struggled with her breathing.
“Did you like this?” he twirled her nipples between both fingers.
“Yes.”
“Do you know how beautiful your breasts are?” he asked.
“No.”
“Do you understand that men do? If they see these bare or under a sweater we know they are beautiful.”
“I-I-dunno.”
“Did he stare at these?” he asked.
“He?”
“Russ, the ex-lover. When you were with him tonight. Did he stare at your lovely breasts in that sexy dress of yours?”
“No. I, ah, I don’t remember.”
“I don't believe you.” he pulled her nipples with vice like pinches of his fingers.
Destini cried out softly. “I don’t think so.”
“No man can sit across from you and not stare at them.” he turned them with an even tighter twist. “I never could. At Wellington I would ask you to bring things to my office, to lift something from my desk, just to see them move.”
“Russ doesn’t matter to me. I swear it! I didn't allow it."
He finally let go and her head dropped forward.
“He touched your back,” he whispered in her ear.
“Yes. He did.”
“I'm displeased.”
“For-give...” Is all she could mutter, the pain to her nipples and backside was intensely warming with hot stings over her flesh.
“Maybe my Destini. Maybe I will. But not now,” he said as he stepped away.
“Is it still mine?” he asked.
“Yes,” she panted.
Destini heard the squirt of gel and heard the slickening of his cock before he returned. She anticipated the action before the thick head of his penis probed her opening. She had to part her feet and lift on her toes. The chains rattled as she pitched forward so her ass could lift and he could find a perfect strike. He slammed an inch in and the rest glided with ease. Her mouth stretched in a silent cry because it was so much better this way. Yes, yes, she liked it when he gave it to her from behind. He cupped her pussy with one hand and her left breast with the other. Biting down into her shoulder, he pumped his cock in and out while pinching and rubbing her clit. Tremors gripped her thighs and leg muscles all the way to her ankles. She strained on her toes but nothing lessened the assault. Her body spiraled on a Tilt-A-Whirl of passion and pain. Her eyes rolled into her skull as he fucked her repeatedly from behind, and she came.
She crashed.
She burned.
Have mercy. She fell apart!
Destini cried out until she went hoarse as bands of colors exploded behind her tightly shut lids, and foreign sensations rippled under the sensitive walls of her pussy. Spent, her head dropped forward just as he shot off his release.
***
Sir had cleaned himself and her. She barely spoke when he fed her. Neither did he. The act of eating required most of their energy. It was a dinner he had prepared for their night. One he cooked himself. How could she deny him this after betraying him by dining with another man?
To Sir’s pleasure, Destini ate without complaint. Once dinner was done, she lay across his lap and let him brush her hair. He enjoyed it very much. How different the texture was. How softly it let the brush rake through its thickness. When he was done he returned her to their bed and then blew out several candles, leaving many lit. He joined her. He was exhausted but his sexual appetite remained as aroused as hers. He kissed her because he couldn’t resist her lips any more, smiling at their tender sweetness. Every part of her was tender and sweet. He had slipped in her once without protection. The rest of the night he would not be as careless. Sir sheathed his cock before he rolled over on her.
Sir licked her lips, kissed her nose, and captured her mouth again as he lifted his hips. She parted her knees wider for him, lifting her ass from the mattress, granting him permission to enter. He wasn’t about to make her wait. She had been a good subject. Very accommodating. Now he would reward her with all the tenderness he could muster.
Sir positioned himself above her, taking his time. Extracting every last, sweet moment of anticipation in one fluid motion, he thrust himself all the way home.
And this time, it was better, if that were possible. The sheer power of their coupling magnified tenfold. She fitted him so well. Her skin, her body, her pussy, all of her moved like poetry against his body, inciting him to greater heights of pleasure. It was his job to please her, but she was so damn good she was rocking him down to his toes.
Once again he was rem
inded why she was the one. His search would end here, in her arms. He would have her, would worship her. He reared up, straining, feeling close, needing leverage as her hot mouth left his to trail down his neck.
He exploded into the reservoir of his condom like a tornado, wild and unhinged, demolishing his cool and reducing him to violent shudders and lasting whimpers. Sweat-slickened and panting, sleep tugging at him; insistent and unrelenting he dropped down in pure exhaustion.
“You…slay me,” he moaned.
She stroked his back and he thought he heard her chuckle.
Sir woke to find himself alone. He groaned, rolling over, looking for her. His eyes landed on a note left on his pillow. He lifted and blinked away sleep, not aware of time or space. It took long minutes for him to recall where he was.
Sir –
The night was magnificent because it was with you. You are who I choose. Our days will belong to Gaylor Prep. The nights will belong to you and me. It’s our fantasy.
Rain.
Sir smiled, dropping back on his pillow. “You and me, huh, Rain? At last.”
Eighteen
Three long weeks and Destini Sanders was stomping on clouds. Her days were filled with shaping inquisitive young minds. As a new teacher, the school administrators wanted her to expand on their curriculum based on the needs of her students. It was a freedom she’d never found in the public schools. The best she could hope for with tenure at Gaylor Prep was that they’d continue to trust in her skills. A school once strictly disciplined was now diverse in its pupils as well as its teaching programs. She was even considering taking over the debate club.
And then, of course, there was Sir. Dr. Bryce Carson Gaylor himself was truly invested in his role as their leader. He governed by one rule: the needs of the students must always come first. He was always present. She discovered he graduated from Princeton with a degree in Cognitive Early Childhood Development. She’d seen him take on a couple of classes when teachers were absent, and the children adored him. They sought him out constantly during recess or after classes. Sir could often be found in the gym most afternoons, running up and down the courts with the young boys, teaching them jump shots. He could be found in the study hall, tutoring or joining study groups to brainstorm with the students in some of the most forward-thinking ways. Destini had become a snoop. She’d hidden in the stacks and listened to his voice, and marveled at his wit. She’d sit in the top bleachers and watch him play horse or one-on-one in basketball. His days were as fulfilled as hers, and they loved their work jointly.
But nothing compares to your nights. Right, Destini? Sure, he’s a smart sexy bastard that loves the school and the kids. But that’s not what gets your panties wet when he looks at you from across the cafeteria. It’s the practice of the black rose, the Black Jade that fills your nights...
“Ms. Sanders! I think I know! I know!”
“Hands please,” Destini gently reminded the chorus of shouting voices.
Destini chose the reaching fingers at the back of the classroom. A freckled, redheaded boy named Stanley. He wore black-rimmed glasses too large for his face, minus the lenses. When she asked Sir about the strange obsession with lens-less spectacles, he shared that Stanley’s father died two years ago. Stanley’s mother remarried another wealthy man and shipped him off with nothing but his clothes and his father’s spectacles. It was Sir’s idea to remove the lenses so Stanley could wear them instead of keep them in his pockets. Sir had a special way of relating to the kids.
“Go ahead, Stanley.”
“It’s a prepositional phrase! The combination of a preposition and a noun phrase is what makes a prepositional phrase.”
“And what is a preposition?”
Stanley beamed, cutting his eyes at the other students and projecting his voice clearly. “A preposition links nouns, pronouns, and phrases to other words in a sentence.”
“Very good!” Destini said. The school bell rang. At once, her kids jumped up from their seats and rushed the door. Destini’s stomach grumbled. It was time for lunch.
“One at a time!” Destini called after them. She plopped down into her teacher’s chair. It was a swivel with a reclining back, worn from the predecessor’s constant leaning in it. She found it comfortable and roomy as she slumped down. She was tired most days. Nights with Sir and days with her students left so little time for her writing now. She was lost in her new life. Her writing was suffering because of it. Her editor had stopped calling. She felt awful about it.
“Ms. Sanders?”
When Destini opened her eyes, she saw him. More like the shadow of him. It fell over her like a dark cloud, yet she felt warmed in his shade.
“I hate to disturb you,” Sir spoke. “But I have to know.”
“Know what?” Destini asked, trying to mask the blush that rose to her cheeks whenever he showed up in her class. Private or not, she felt like an eleven year-old schoolgirl basking in the awe of her first crush. He was heroic, sexy, and he was confident. And his strict disciplinary manner never changed. He had expectations of his professionals and everything was very orderly between them both.
“Will you have lunch with me?” he asked.
“Your office or mine?”
He sat on the edge of her desk, his fingers drumming on the wood finish, “My office,” he said his eyes darkened with the promise of mischief. A zing of anticipation coursed through her veins, causing her heart to beat wildly.
“Okay,” she replied.
He smiled.
She could have left it at that. A simple yes and a nice lunch to help her transition into the remainder of her day was all that was expected. But her mother always said Destini knew nothing about perfect timing. It was true. Destini sucked at it. And she’d find out soon how much.
“Sir, we need to talk. I was wondering if you considered—”
“You want to go to see him.” Sir rose, hands in pockets, he stepped away toward the children’s desks where open textbooks and pencil bins were stored. He cast her an accusatory glare over his shoulder. “Do you still talk to him?”
“Yes. He has cancer. We talked about this and you agreed. Cancer is serious. My being a listening ear is an act of kindness. I don’t understand why it would bother you?”
“Because you evade when I ask about him.”
“Do I?” she asked.
He cut his gaze over at her.
She smiled. “If I do evade it’s because eventually the conversation devolves. And I don’t like to upset you. More importantly, I evade because he is no threat to you.”
“Not upset. Confused as to why you feel the need to be protective of a person who caused you so much pain.”
“You said you adore my caring nature. It’s one of the reasons you were drawn to me. Seeing how I am with the children and my friendships.” Destini pushed back from her desk. She went to her classroom door and closed it after peeking out in the hall to find it empty. She crossed her arms under her breasts. “Have I disappointed you by being me?”
“Never,” he said.
“Then you are disappointed because of my choice?”
“I was the one who amended the contract to give you the privilege of choice. As long as the choices you make never contradict the trust we share.”
“It never will,” she smiled.
“Which is why I’m not so anxious to hand you over to another man,” he said.
“Wait. Wait! We’re talking about trust. This has nothing to do with some unrequited love or attraction to Russ. And hand me over?? Really? Are you—”
“Perception is our truth, beautiful. I saw the way the man looked at you; I saw the way you looked at him. I can’t get it out of my head.”
“Well, you should. Because he’s a friend, my ex-boyfriend, and I haven’t spoken to him without your approval. Besides a few emails, and a couple of calls there is nothing more.”
“I don’t want you going out of town with another man. End of discussion.”
Destini chewed hard on the bitter reply, she felt it rising in her throat, and ready to wag off her tongue and start a verbal war she wasn’t quite prepared for. It would do neither of them any good. A fight over Russ would only inflate Sir’s perception of him being a threat. She lowered her voice in hopes he would keep his lowered and said, “I wish you would reconsider. To say it that way implies you don’t trust me. And that hurts. Because I trust you explicitly.”
“That’s ridiculous—”
“Second, you know he is going into surgery and he has no one to be there for him. I am just going to be there the day before and see him through the procedure. I will return home right after he is well.”
“I need you here and so do our students.”
“Three days? Two of which are on the weekend. I can’t believe we’re disagreeing over this.”
“It’s not a disagreement. It’s a decision that we both agree is mine to make and I’ve made it. You may have the best intentions in your heart but that man does not. And cancer doesn’t change who he is and how he has manipulated you over the years, cancer doesn’t change that you belong to me not him,” he said. There was an edge to his voice that made her heart flutter. There were few times when he showed her his anger, but it was always there. His ill temper would simmer behind his green irises turning them the darkest jade whenever he perceived her slipping from him. She didn’t like jealousy on him. It sullied what they shared.
“I’ve decided. I’m going, Sir,” she said. “Our contract gives me one veto a year. I am evoking it now.”
Sir could not counter her argument. He had introduced the amendment as an act of faith between them and to still give her some control of her life. He glared at her. The left corner of his mouth tipped into a sardonic smile. “Very well, Destini. Have a pleasant trip.”