The Ivy Lessons (18 page)

My breasts are okay. Nothing special. Same with my bottom, although boyfriends have always complimented me on it. So. What does he see in me? Youth? We’re only a few years apart in age, and he’s been with women younger than me. The whole pupil, teacher thing? Perhaps.
But there are plenty of pupils he could have chosen, many of which are far more beautiful and experienced.

Underwear or not? I take off my underwear and catch a glimpse of my naked body.
I’m very natural looking.
Jen
is always going on about bikini lines, but I can’t bear to tear hair out of myself, and I
kind of like everything as it should be
.

Dressing in jeans and an off-the-shoulder silk top, I realise I’ve chosen badly. The jeans cut into me, and the silk top shows my breasts a little too clearly. I ch
o
ose a thic
k, sequinned
blue jumper
instead, and team it with leggings and ankle boots. No one can see anything that way, and I’m comfortable.

I check my watch
and
,
realising it’s nearly half hour before class, I grab my bag and head towards the lecture theatre.

Marc
is waiting for me when I arrive, perched on a desk wearing a pin-striped suit.
He raises an eyebrow when I appear in the doorway.

‘Gl
ad to see you o
n time. Underwear
?’

‘No
,’ I squeak, feeling
suddenly very exposed.

‘You’re familiar with the stationary cupboard,’ he says, walking to the cupboard and opening the door.

‘You know I am.
Marc
, about this punishment. There are certain things -’

‘You’re about to get more familiar with it,’ says
Marc
. ‘In you go.’

I walk into the cupboard, but I’m prepared to tell him where to go if he suggests doing something I don’t like.

Inside the stationary cupboard, I see something that makes me stop dead. There are two small metal hoops screwed into one of the shelf above the desk, and a length of rope runs through them.

O
n the desk
sits a bamboo cane – the old-fashioned kind you see in Victorian classrooms. I stare at the little joins along its length.

‘What
’s that for
?’ I ask.

‘You’ll speak when you’re spoken to,’ says
Marc
. ‘You’ve been a very bad girl, and I’m going to teach you a lesson.’

He turns
me around so my back is agai
nst his chest, and I feel
a growing hardness against my backside
.

‘Trust me, Sophia,’
Marc
whispers, shutting the cupboard door. ‘You can stop any time. Just tell me.
But right now, I think you’re going to enjoy this. What I’m teaching you
today is self control. You’ll learn to control yourself. You’ll learn that sometimes you can’t come until I tell you to.’

He pushes me forwards until I’m pressed against the desk, and
ties my hands with
the rope. Then he pulls the rope
tight, and my hands shoot
up into the air.

‘Oh
!’ I say in surprise, and
Marc
ties
the rope into a complicated knot.

‘If you w
ant to be released,’ he says
, ‘just pull at this part of the rope, and the k
not will undo. This is one-hundred percent
consensual. I know you want this. I hope you’re able to admit to yourself how much you want this. How much you want me to punish you.’

Do I? It really depends what the punishment is. But I’m glad I can pull the rope down.

Marc
rubs his
palm around my buttocks. ‘You’ve been a v
ery bad girl,’ he says. ‘
And now you have to be disciplined.

He pulls my leggings to halfway down my thighs, and carries on caressing my buttocks with his hand.

‘Good girl. No underwear.’

Then he pushes up my jumper and ties a knot in it so my buttocks are exposed.

‘You’ve been such a bad girl,’ h
e murmurs, picking up the cane
.
He tests its springiness in his hands, then swishes it back and forth and my stomach goes weak.

‘Don’t hurt me,’ I say.

He rubs it back and forth over my butt
ocks, and I feel its smoothness, and the little bumps of its joins
. It’s
torturous, not knowing if he’s going to w
h
ack me with it, and I think he knows it.

‘Are you going to hit me?’ I ask.

‘Do you want me to?’
He pulls the cane
back, and I turn to see him holding it in the air, as if ready to strike.

‘Maybe
,’ I admit, feeling hot between my legs.
‘Not too hard, though.’

He brings the cane
towards me, but stops an inch before my buttocks.

‘Oh.’ I moan, and lean into the ropes. ‘Hit me. Please.’

He puts the cane
down. ‘Right now, I have a class to teach. You’ll wait here until I’m ready to deal with you.’

‘You’re going to leave me here?’ I ask.

‘I told you. You’ll wait here until I’m ready for you.’

‘But the class will arrive.’

‘Then you’d better be quiet.’

With that he leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

Moments later, I hear the sound of pupils arriving and taking their seats. I can’t hear what anyone is saying, but I can hear the low hum of conversation.

Against it, I hear
Marc
’s deep voice and it resonates in my stomach. I feel my nakedness and ache for him to come back and touch me. How long does he plan to leave me here?

The conversation lowers to silence, and I hear
Marc
talking to the class. This is torture. I want him to touc
h me so badly, to use the cane
on me like he threatened. I see it there beside me and feel so turned on at the thought of it. But now I’ll have to wait until class is finished. Or will he leave me here even longer? I won’t stay if he does.

Suddenly, I hear a creak of hinges and turn to see the door handle turning.

Oh my god.

I see
Marc
in the doorway. No one from class could see me unless they walked right into the cupboard.

Marc
closes the door behind him.

Chapter 40

‘What are you doing?’ I whisper. ‘The whole class is out there.’

‘Be quiet.’
He picks up the cane. Holding it hi
gh in the air, he smacks it
on my buttocks.
There’s a tiny ‘thack’ sound, but not loud enough to be heard in the classroom.

I gasp, and have to bite my teeth together to stop from crying out – not from pain, but from pleasure. The line where the cane hit tingles, and I want him to do it again. So badly. And he does. Once. Twice. Three times. I hear a light swoosh as the cane flies through the air, and my knees go weak.

Marc
puts his hand between my legs and rubs back and forth, then lets his fingers slip inside me and out again.

‘Don’t do that,’ I beg. ‘Please. I can’t bear it.’

‘This is what you get for misbehaving,’
Marc
whispe
rs.
‘Open your legs,’
he instructs, standing back and sliding the cane between my thighs.

‘But the class are outside,
’
I whisper.

‘Do as you’re told.’

I move my feet apart.

‘Good girl. Now bend over the desk.’

Oh god. His w
ords are making me feel things
I’ve never felt before. I bend forwards, my wrists pulling against the ropes.

He slides the cane inside
me, and moves
it back and forth.

Oh god.
I
can’t make a sound.
This is torture.

Then he puts the cane down on the desk with a clatter, and walks out of the room, banging the door closed behind him.

I hear Marc
talking to the class, and feel totally desperate for him. I hear the zip of the projection unit coming down, and then the drone of a movie being played.

The cupboard door opens again, and
Marc
slams it closed and strides towards me.

‘Are you sorry for misbehaving?’ he asks.

‘I didn’t misbehave,’ I say.

He rubs my buttocks again with the flat of his palm.

Oh that feels so good.

‘Say you’re sorry, or I won’t fuck you,’ he says.

‘You’d do that with the whole class outside?’ I whisper.

‘Most certainly I would,’ he says. ‘And you won’t make a sound the whole time. An excellent lesson in self control, don’t you think? So. If you want me to fuck you, say you’re sorry.’

‘I’m sorry.’ The words spill out of my mouth.

I see a smile playing on his lips. ‘So you want me to fuck you?’

‘Yes,’ I stammer.

‘What’s the magic word?’

‘P
lease,’ I say.

‘Good girl. Spread your legs open again.’

I do, and gasp as I feel him against me, ha
rdness against my buttocks
.
I see
a glimmer of something, and
the flash of a condom packet.

The next moment he’s inside of me. I want to cry out with the pleasure of it, but I know I have to be ab
solutely silent
.

He
rocks
me silently into the desk
, and it’s so hard not to make a sound
. Again and again, he rocks
into me, but then suddenly he withdraws and I hear the zip of his trousers.

‘Don’t stop,’ I beg. ‘Please don’t stop.’

I hear him breathing heavily.
He paces around for a few seconds, then
walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Now I see what he means about punishment.
Having him turn me on like this
, but not being able to have him
,
is utter torture. And I can’t leave until the class finish
es
.

I hear
Marc
’s low voice again, tal
king to the class, and I
can’t bear it. I almost pull the rope to set myself free, but where would I go? And does that mean he’ll just punish me again, some other way?

I stand and wait, thinking maybe
Marc
has a point
about self control. He obviously has amazing self control, being able to turn himself on and off like that – enough to walk outside and take a class. And he’s the most amazing actor I’ve ever seen. I mean he just becomes the roles.

I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and suddenly it strikes me as unfair that I have to fall so badly for someone like
Marc
. But maybe that’s exactly why I’ve fallen so hard. Because
Marc
isn’t like the other people I’ve dated or s
lept with. He’s in charge.
Maybe he’s what I need.

After an agonising wait, I finally hear the clatter of feet on the floor, conversation and papers shuffled and stuffed into bags. I bet Tom and Tanya are wondering where I am. They’d never guess in a million years that I’m a door away, my buttocks exposed, tied to a shelf and waiting for the teacher to come and fu
ck me.

Hurry up and leave,
I think. God this is torture.

When silence falls, I hear the creak of the door handle and turn to see
Marc
.

‘Well, Sophia. I hope you’ve learned an interesting lesson today.’

‘I have,’ I say.

‘And it was good for you, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ I say, ever the obedient pupil.

He picks up the cane, and bends it between his fingertips. ‘You’ve been silent when you had to be, but can you be silent when you don’t have to be?’

‘What do you mean?’ I ask.

‘I’m going to fuck you now,’ he says, ‘and I want absolute silence, or I’ll stop. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ I whimper.

‘Put this in your mouth.’ He holds the cane length ways in front
of my mouth. ‘Do as you’re told.
Open your mouth.’

I do, and he puts the cane between my teeth.

‘Good girl. Now bite down. I like you this way. I may even have to take a few more pictures
.
’ He takes out his iPhone and takes three snaps: one from behind and one from each side.