Taming Naia (3 page)

“Take your panties down.”

“Can I keep them on?” It was one final attempt to salvage some semblance of pride.

“No.”

She looked over her shoulder to find his eyes on hers, his expression different than it had been a moment ago, his arousal now darkening the usual paler shade of green. She turned away before reaching back, hooking her fingers around her panties and slowly sliding them down until they fell to the floor.

“Step out of them and take your legs to shoulder width.” His voice was hoarse. He was anticipating, as she was, but something entirely different. In a way, it leveled the field, at least a little bit.

“Yes, sir,” she said, allowing herself to settle into her role. She pushed her panties aside and arched her back.

“Put your elbows on the desk, palms flat, and face forward, Ms. White.”

“Ms. White again?” She couldn’t help it.

A hard smack to her right hip made her yelp. “Ow!” she said, reaching back to cover the spot.

“Respect, Ms. White. That won’t count as one of your sixty.”

“That hurt!”

“This is punishment. What did you expect, a love pat?” He tapped her bare legs with the tip of his shoe until she widened her stance. “Do I need to restrain you?”

The thought sent a flush of heat straight to her sex.

“No, sir.” Although she wouldn’t mind being tied up by him.

“Resume your position. If I have to bind you, you will receive double the strokes.”

“Double?” Instantly his hand delivered two swift smacks. “Ow!”

“You will not speak during your punishment but to count or to thank me, Ms. White. Am I clear?”

He spanked her one more time and she bit her tongue to keep her response to a quick, “yes, sir!”

“Good. You may call out if you need to but I’m pretty sure these walls aren’t that thick. I don’t mind a visit from security, but you might.”

* * *

Christ, she presented beautifully. He had grown hard just watching her bend over the desk, lift her skirt, and take her panties down, and now she waited for him, bent and exposed, her position arching her back so that her bottom was lifted high. Just waiting for him to spank her.

The few spots he’d already struck had turned a pretty pink. Otherwise, the skin was white, soft, and pillowy, an ass made to be spanked. He imagined how her bottom would bounce and tremble with each blow. Unable to resist, he caressed them, lifting them high, spreading them slightly. She clenched her cheeks and sucked in a breath.

“Relax, Ms. White,” he said. “Remember, you’re here because you choose to be. Or are you backing out? Using your safe word already?”

“No, sir,” her voice cracked.

“Soften, don’t clench your bottom.”

It took a moment, but she did and the mounds once again softened in his hands.

He weighed her cheeks, spreading them wider as she shifted in discomfort. Her slick pussy drew his attention, the lips glistening as if in invitation. Taking one hand underneath, he found her swollen clit and teased it. She tensed but didn’t make a sound and he imagined she was determined not to let him know that she was enjoying his attention to that very sensitive region of her body. But as he continued with his ministrations, a moan escaped her.

“You’re wet, Ms. White. Do you like this?” He continued teasing. “Is it the preparation, the bending over and baring of your bottom to my gaze? Is it my looking at you? What is it? What’s got you so slick?” He rubbed his fingers along her moist sex as he said this, but didn’t enter her. It was too soon for that.

When she didn’t answer, he delivered a hard smack to her bottom, watching it bounce upon impact.

“Ow!” she jumped.

“I expect an answer when I ask you a question.” The other cheek was subjected to the same treatment.

“Yes!”

“Yes, what?” He spanked again.

“Sir.”

“Tell me what’s got you so turned on.”

“Professor…” she begged.

“Tell me.” One finger found the opening of her sex and entered, causing her to shudder as her pussy tightened around it. “Tell me unless you want me to stop touching you,” he threatened, sliding his finger in and out of her slick passage.

It took her a moment as she shifted her position, lifting her hips, her breathing coming shorter. “I’ve thought of you, of this, for a very long time, professor.”

He smiled at her confession and, taking her clit between two fingers, he squeezed; a little reward for her honesty. “You’re not alone in that, Naia,” he said before he began.

“Count. If you lose track, we’ll start from one.”

* * *

The first spank landed, harder than the ones he’d already administered.

“One,” she counted, grunting, as each one left its burning mark on her tender flesh. She imagined how her bottom bounced with each smack, especially as she tried to wiggle out of his way avoid the blows. Seemingly without effort, he pinned her to the desk with one hand on her low back, her hips lifting higher as he did. The pain of the spanking was sharp and hot, but not unbearable. Not yet. What made it difficult was that just when she had geared up to take another one, he would slow down and caress her cheeks softly and when she would relax into his hands, he would start again.

His hand seemed not to tire as it delivered her punishment and by the time they reached thirty, she was begging him to slow down, ease up, give her a moment to catch her breath. She began to let out small yelps as the blows came harder over her already stinging backside and thighs, and even though she wanted to scream at him, she remembered his warning about someone hearing and bit back the louder protests.

When they reached forty, tears began to fall from her eyes. It was painful, no doubt, but at the same time, the idea that he, Professor Roark, stood behind her, spanking her bare bottom, turned her on like no fantasy of him ever had. As much as the spanking hurt, part of her was also very aware of the heat between her legs, the moisture there that dampened not only her sex but the tops of her thighs as well. She dared a glance back and her eyes settled for one brief moment on the huge bulge that pressed against the crotch of his jeans. She wanted him to fuck her, to spank her then fuck her as she lay bent over the desk. She needed him inside her, behind her, pounding into her until she lost herself in orgasm.

Finally, sixty came and he stopped. She was gasping for breath and crying. She moved to rise but he pushed her back down with one hand between her shoulder blades. He leaned over her so that his cock pushed against her bottom through the rough material of his jeans. He pressed his hips to hers and brought his mouth close to her ear. “There it is, that mythical spanking, long overdue,” he said, his breath coming short. “I hope it lived up to your expectations, Naia.”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

Letting her up slightly, he shoved her blouse up and over her head then pushed her bra under her breasts, freeing the small, plump globes. He kneaded and stroked her nipples into hard points as she moaned with pleasure.

“Naia,” he whispered and without having to look at him, she knew he had an evil little grin on his face.

“Professor,” she said, breathless.

“Thank me for your spanking.”

He kept working her nipples.

“Thank you for my spanking, professor.” Oh, god, would he fuck her now?

“You’re welcome. Now tell me what you want, Naia.” The fingernails of one hand scratched one tender buttock, making her rise on tiptoe.

“Oh… professor…

“Tell me what you want.”

“You, professor. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me, please, sir.”

His fingers found her pussy and two drove in hard. “Christ, you’re soaked, Naia.”

“Oh…” She heard him unzip his jeans.

“Kneel,” he said, turning her to face him.

She looked up at him, realizing what he planned. But she wanted something else, needed it badly.

“Please, fuck me,” she begged even as she slid down to her knees. His eyes told her that her punishment wasn’t over quite yet.

“I plan to,” he said. “Open your mouth wide. I want to fuck your mouth. And keep your knees apart. I don’t want you to rub yourself to orgasm just yet.” Her eyes grew wide at the thick length of his cock. She wanted him inside her, anywhere inside her, now. With her hands on his thighs, she opened her mouth and licked the tip of his cock, tasting the salty sweetness before wrapping her lips around him and sucking, working the length of him. He fisted handfuls of her hair and closed his eyes. “Good girl, Naia. Open wider, let me have the back of your throat.” With that, he began to fuck her mouth, nothing gentle in it as he held her head still. He pumped in and out fast until she felt the twitch of his cock signaling his imminent release. His thrusts slowed to a stop and his grip on her hair tightened, causing more tears to form in the corners of her eyes. Warm liquid spilled down her throat and she swallowed every drop, tasting him, wanting more of him.

It was a moment until he spoke again. “You look lovely with my cock stuffed in your mouth,” he said, his hold on her hair loosening until it turned into a caress.

She couldn’t speak, only met his eyes.

He pulled out slowly and she fell to her hands as he tucked himself into his jeans and zipped them up.

“I want to come,” she whispered. Her pussy was swollen, neglected, unsatisfied.

“Not yet. Think of the ten years I’ve waited for my apology.”

“Please. I’ll do anything.”

“I know you will,” he said. He helped her to her feet and smoothed her skirt down to cover her.

“Please,” she begged as he looked down at her.

“I hope you feel better after that,” he said, tucking her bra back over her breasts, stroking her arms lightly. “I know I do. Goodbye, Naia.” He leaned down to take her open mouth in a soft kiss.

With that, he left her standing there, awestruck in the middle of the hotel room, watching as he walked out without a backward glance.

Liam stepped onto the elevator, his face hard. He should have spanked her and left. He shouldn’t have done what he had done.

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

“Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath as the doors opened and he stepped out into the lobby. Naia White was still under his skin and that was putting it mildly. He had had feelings for her back when he was her teacher, but she’d been safe from him then. But now that she was no longer a student?

No, he would leave her alone. He would go back to burying himself in his work, find another woman to fuck and 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 for good.

* * *

Naia stared at the closed door in awe. Her sex burned for attention but her heart had sunk the moment he had told her goodbye. He didn’t want her. He had taken what was his due, what she had freely offered. He had 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 minibar 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 sex still ached with need and he had even 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 Roark!” she said to no one in particular, making her way to the bathroom. She found her purse on her way and took out a bottle of Advil. It was Friday night, the start of the weekend, and she imagined the club 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 owned nothing else that even came close to appropriate attire for the place otherwise. 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 Roark thought he’d won, he had another think coming. She wasn’t through with the son of a bitch. Not by a long shot.

* * *

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

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

“There’s a woman here to see you, sir,” he spoke into his mouthpiece. At least he was here.

“What’s your name, ma’am?” Oliver asked.

Her name? Screw the bastard. How many women demanded to see him that he couldn’t figure out it would be her? “Tell him it’s Naia White!”

“Ms. White, sir.” A pause, 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. Roark 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 restaurant. “What would you like to drink?” he asked, setting her down in the same booth she had occupied with Liam just last week.

“I don’t want a drink. I want to see your boss. Now.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. White, that isn’t possible. If you would prefer, we can sit in a private room, but that won’t be as comfortable as this. What’s your preference?”