Lost in Light (7 page)

“Please,” I heard someone moan desperately, their voice full of wanton and unabashed need. I was shocked to discover that it had been me, and that I didn’t care. I arched into his touch, rocking up onto the balls of my feet as I sought more contact.

“Please what?” he coached, his words flowing teasingly over my skin as he delved his tongue between my breasts again, tasting the sweat on my skin.

“More. Please, more,” was all I could beg, my mind fogged with need and arousal.

My eyes flew open in surprise as he pulled down the thin fabric of my bra to reveal my breasts, my nipples already stiff in desire, hardened to almost painful degrees in the cool air.

“Is this what you want?” he asked seconds before he swept the broad flat of his tongue over my nipple.

“Yesss,” I hissed, my eyes fluttering closed in hedonistic delight. I pulled against the leather binding my wrists, craving the feel of his hair beneath my fingers as he licked and sucked first once nipple and then the other, until they both stood proud and glistening atop my breasts.

His hand reaching to undo the top button of my jeans made me panic and take a step backwards, but a finger hooked in the waistband stopped me from retreating too far.

“Do you trust me?” he asked calmly, his eyes locked on mine.

“I… Y-yes,” I replied after a moment’s thought, startled to learn that I did in fact trust him implicitly.

“Then stand still. I’m going to remove your jeans.”

He popped open the button and slowly drew down my zipper, my sex clenching with need as his knuckles grazed my pubic bone through the thick denim. At his direction I kicked off my sandals, and stood mesmerized as he crouched in front of me and pulled my jeans down my legs with agonizing slowness. Lifting one leg and then the other I managed to not fall over as he removed my jeans and folded them, setting them on the chair beside the door.

Remaining crouched in front of me he looked up, his eyes sparkling with humor and heat. A smirk tugged up the corners of his mouth at my wanton moan as he ghosted his fingers down the backs of my thighs, pausing to stroke the tender skin at the back of my knees, before continuing down my calves.

“You’re very responsive,” he said with an appreciative smile, running his hands back up my legs to stroke the crease below my butt, drawing another shuddering breath from me. “I like that.”

I couldn’t help pressing my thighs together tightly in an attempt to alleviate some of the yearning in my sex as he tickled the tops of my thighs, his fingers dancing along the elastic of my panties. My movements didn’t go unnoticed and his rich, throaty laugh sent jolts of electricity straight down into my center.

Languidly rising to his feet he held my chin in my one hand, bringing my face up towards his as he cupped my mound with the other, drawing a long and guttural moan from my parted lips. I rocked forward onto my toes and pressed my hot center against the palm of his hand. He clucked his tongue disapprovingly, but his chuckle told me that he wasn’t really displeased.

“Demanding little vixen, aren’t you?” he said with a wicked smile, his hand gently squeezing my swollen lips together. The rush of sensation that flooded my sex when he released his grip made my eyelashes flutter in delirious pleasure.

Flexing his hand again he cupped me firmly, the heel of his palm pressing against my clit while the tips of his fingers framed my cleft. That simple touch was a thousand times more exhilarating than anything I had ever felt before. I felt weightless in his grip, every thought, every sensation, focused around his fingers stroking and squeezing me.

Just as I felt the pressure beginning to build between my legs he stepped back, smirking devilishly at my moan of protest. Sitting on the edge of his desk he admired me with a hungry gaze that drove heat down into my core and made me whimper with frustrated need.

“What should I do with you now that I have you at my mercy?” he mused, stroking his bottom lip.

“Kiss me?” I ventured, tossing my head with a defiant confidence that I did not feel, my uncertainty shining through in the questioning lilt in my voice.

“While that is a most enjoyable suggestion, I have something a bit more titillating in mind. Tell me, have you ever been spanked?”

“S-spanked?” I stuttered, a flicker of cold dread lancing through me. “I-I guess so, when I was a kid. Why?”

“I’d like to spank you now.”

“But I haven’t done anything wrong! I’m a good girl!” I exclaimed, tugging fiercely at the leather belt binding my wrists.

“Oh? A good girl you say? You mean you
haven’t
thought about me while touching yourself? Or imagined me kissing your breasts? Touching your wet little pussy?” he asked, his words making me blush in embarrassment and guilt. “Besides, I don’t want to spank you because you’ve been a bad girl.”

“Then why?” I asked plaintively, my voice thick with unshed tears. I didn’t want him to spank me, didn’t want him to hurt me like Jake had.

“It’s quite simple really. I want to spank you because it gives me pleasure to do so. Oh hush now, there’s no need to cry. Come here and stand next to me,” he instructed in a commanding tone, extending a hand towards me.

Sniffling loudly I regarded him with hesitation, relenting when his expression softened. I moved to stand beside him, though there was a stiff hesitation in my shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

“You cry beautifully my dear, but there’s really no need,” he reassured, his hands warm against my cheeks as he wiped away my tears. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, cutting me off before I could nod.

“Before you answer, know that while I will untie you with no argument it will be the end of anything happening between us. From that point on I will be nothing more than your professor, so consider your reply carefully. Now, do you want me to release you?”

Halting the automatic nod of my head I paused to weigh his words. While I didn’t want him to spank me, the thought of him never touching me again was unbearable. He had so much to teach me, had opened my eyes to so much already. I’d be a fool to run away now. Could I bear the pain and humiliation of being spanked by him if it meant that he would kiss me? That he would touch me again?

Swallowing my fear I raised my eyes to his, surprised to see a glimmer of fear reflected in their depths as though he were afraid that I might tell him to stop. It was that vulnerability that cemented my decision. Shaking my head with far more confidence than I felt I said, “No, I don’t want you to stop.”

Smiling warmly at me he stroked my cheek, humming in approval when I leaned in to his touch. Pushing my shirt off my shoulders he bunched the fabric around my bound wrists and guided me to lie across his lap, his body hot and firm against my belly. Dropping my braid over my shoulder he began to stroke my back in slow gliding motions. My skin tingled in the wake of his fingers, excitement and fear making my muscles tremor. Hooking a finger in the back of my underwear he pulled them down to bare my butt, my face warming in embarrassment.

“Beautiful,” he murmured reverently, cupping my butt cheeks, giving each a squeeze before removing his hand.

The first strike of his palm was shocking, the sound deafening. The initial sting was unlike anything I had ever felt, though it quickly dissolved into a subtle warmth in my skin.

“Ouch!” I exclaimed reflexively, suddenly unsure as to whether I could bear this treatment. I struggled in his lap, my hands bound behind my back making my movements awkward and ungainly. My squirming was immediately halted as he laid the flat of his hand in the middle of my back and held me down. Clucking his tongue disapprovingly he shook his head in recrimination.

“I warned you to be quiet, Miss Parker, far more times than was prudent,” he admonished as he withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and crumpled it into a ball.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed, his harsh tone leaving no room for argument.

Swallowing audibly I opened my mouth, my eyes wide with surprise as he pushed the wadded up handkerchief into my mouth, the soft cotton instantly clinging to my tongue.

“There, now I won’t have to punish you for disobedience.”

Groaning in irritation behind the makeshift gag all I could do was glare at him, the lingering throb in my backside making me feel defiant. Ignoring my angry gaze, he ran his hand over my injured cheek in lazy circles, soothing the skin. Switching over to the other side he first caressed the skin, making my flesh thrum with anticipation before landing another swat. Yelping as much as I could with the handkerchief in my mouth, I felt my eyes prick with the beginning of tears. Again he paused to soothe my stinging flesh before switching back to the other cheek.

And so it went for the first five strikes.

The next five were harder to bear, and I began sobbing uncontrollably, tears streaming down my face and snot running from my nose. I wanted to cry out, beg him to stop, tell him that I couldn’t possibly take one more strike of his hand. Yet as the twelfth swat landed on my upturned backside something seemed to shift inside me. The pain in my ass was still at the breaking point of my tolerance, but as his hand landed again, drawing another yelp from behind my gag, I became aware of a distinct warmth and wetness between my thighs.

My first panicked reaction was to think that I had wet myself, or that my period had come early, but I quickly dismissed both ideas. That meant that there was only one explanation for the moisture soaking my underwear.

I was aroused.

The realization was shocking, my mind unsure of how to process this information. Did this mean that I was some weird and twisted pervert? How could I possibly be normal if getting spanked got me hot? I was so distracted by my thoughts that I forgot to cry out when his hand landed on my butt again, my protest coming seconds later as more of an afterthought than a real expression of pain. Time seemed to still, fracturing into a thousand crystalline shards, as the world I knew crumbled around me and reformed with my new awareness.

All this time I had been crying and railing against the spanking he was giving me because I thought that was how I
supposed
to react. It wasn’t painless by any measure, but it certainly wasn’t unbearable. What Professor Davis was doing to me was wholly different, and was obviously inspiring a different reaction within me. He paused to soothe my aching skin as he had after every swat before, but this time I found myself moaning in appreciation and lust rather than crying out in pain.

The next impact of his hand brought the same reaction, as did the next, and the next, until I was writhing in his lap in pleasure instead of discomfort. As I bucked and arched beneath his hand I slowly became aware that he was enjoying it a lot as well. His erection pressed against the soft skin of my belly, each time I bucked he shifted his hips to bring us into contact again. I had done this. I had made him react this way. Again my mind was aflame with thoughts and questions I had never considered before.

Gradually I became aware that he had stopped spanking me and was now stroking my butt slowly. His touch was light and soothing as it traced over my burning cheeks, occasionally dipping down to tease the cleft between my thighs, stroking my swollen lips through my soaked underwear. I drew in a shuddering breath through my nose, purposely arching in his lap to press against his erection and fingers. His rich chuckle let me know that my actions had not gone unnoticed.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked with a laugh, his fingers trailing over my sore and swollen backside, making me hiss in both pain and pleasure. Rather than answering him I shifted again, purposely rubbing back and forth across the hard bulge in his pants, drawing a groan from him, the sound sending a sharp surge of arousal down into my sex.

“That’s quite enough,” he admonished softly as he guided me back up to my feet. My knees felt like jelly as I swayed for a moment beside him, only his hands on my arms holding me steady. Rising to his feet he looked at me pointedly as he adjusted himself, the front of his pants straining beneath the pressure of his very evident erection. I ducked my eyes sheepishly though I didn’t try to hold back the swell of pride deep in my chest. Cupping my chin tenderly he instructed me to open my mouth and carefully withdrew the wet handkerchief, stuffing it into his pocket.

I hummed my delight as he stroked the loose tendrils of hair back from my face, his own face shining with pride and pleasure.

“You did well, my sweet brave girl,” he said with a smile, bowing to bestow a kiss on each of my tear dampened cheeks.

Eagerly I leaned in to him, reveling in the nearness of him when he let me rest my head on his shoulder, drawing the scent of him deep into my lungs. For several minutes we stood like that, his arms wrapped around me, one stroking the back of my head while the other danced along my spine. I was about to press my lips to the soft and fragrant skin of his neck when his hands resettled on my shoulders and steered me back a couple of steps.

Turning me around he pulled my shirt back up onto my shoulders sending a shiver running through me as the cool air began to raise goose bumps on my flesh. I was suddenly cold without the heat of his body against me. His movements were quick and smooth, practiced, as he loosened the belt around my wrists, releasing me. Turning me back to face him he methodically inspected each of my wrists in turn, massaging each one in the process. Besides a minor ache in each of my shoulders and the lingering warm ache in my butt I was none the worse for wear.

“Go ahead and get dressed,” he said, his voice holding the barest trace of disappointment as if he were sad to see the fun over for the evening.

Beneath his watchful gaze I adjusted my bra and shirt and pulled on my jeans, hissing softly under my breath as the denim rubbed against my sore skin. Slipping into my shoes I stood in front of him, unsure of what to say or do.

“Perhaps now you have a better understanding of my tastes,” he said with an unapologetic smile, breaking the silence. My hand automatically went to rub my ass that felt as if it was pulsing in time with my heartbeat.