The Kink Therapist: Nothing But Trouble (Erotic Romance Novelette) (5 page)

“Um … no, Sir.” David shakes his head, looks
over his shoulder and gives me the evil eye, which is sexy as
fuck.

When he turns back around, I can’t contain
the smirk that beats down my smile. Yipee. I slouch in burgundy
leather and wish I had popcorn as the headmaster orders him to bend
over the desk. Even unbent, he has a really nice ass. Too many guys
have flat ones, but his is a nice, spankable curve. Yum. I could
bite it for hours. I’m not sure if this guy is even into spanking.
I wonder what’s going through his mind.

Headmaster Ryan pulls a paddle out of his
desk drawer and walks around to the other side, smacking his palm
several times.

“Do you understand why you’re here?”

“Yes, Sir. I lusted after Molly Channing and
did … very naughty things to her body. And some really
nice
things too.”

I smile and slap away the laugh at our
private joke.

“You will get fifteen. Count ’em.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Fifteen? Fuck. I have such a long string of
infractions, Santa had to create a new naughty list just for me.
I’ll be here all freaking day! I have to be to work by 5.

“Drop your pants.”

David didn’t move an inch. I could hear his
wild breaths, so sexy and earthy.

“Drop your pants, or you’ll be taking it
bare.”

“Yes, Sir.” He fiddles with his belt and in
five seconds, his pants are cuffing his ankles. Mmm. Nice. His
athletically molded ass looks spectacular in boxer briefs. He gets
back into position but moves over a little bit, elbows on the desk,
butt waiting for wood.

I jerk and my pussy catches fire when the
paddle swings into that target with a gorgeous “fwap”. I clutch
myself as it flutters and pleads for thrusts. A million bubbles
kiss my face, trying to boink the ones lifting in my head.

A loud exhale whooshes out. “Uh, one,
Sir.”

Uh, the sights, the sounds are perfection.
I’m getting so weak at the smack, smack, smack and the resulting
groans. The headmaster isn’t paying me any mind and is taking his
time, stretching out David’s punishment, so I rub and circle
fingers over my damp panties and bring delight to my throbbing
clit. Mmm. God, I’m so wet. I don’t want to take the chance of
being caught knuckle-deep, so I stay outside my panties, skimming,
stroking, flicking. I tuck up one leg and pick up speed. I’m
lolling in the leather chair, drowning in desire.

By the eighth crash, David’s grunting out
the count, and I can only imagine the pink that’s there. I’m so hot
right now and quickly building to my breaking point. His fucking
underwear looks nice, but it’s evil and cruel, covering up hot
results.

At eleven, he cries out a dotted line of
“Aaahs” before saying, “Eleven, Sir.”

A massive climax slams my pussy. I curl my
lips in to shut up a moan. Mmm, ohmygod. I rhythmically arch my
back several times and cup my hand around my swollen labia as
contractions build up into a wonderful ache. Fuck. Aaaahhh. My
mouth falls open. I close my eyes and pant softly and droop back
with a sigh. That’s the second time I’ve brought myself off while
watching a spanking unfold. As a wave of relaxation spills down my
body, I’m still involuntarily squeezing at my fingertips. Mmm,
yeah. Maybe I’m a peeper too. Bearing witness to sexy things does
drive me wilder than I ever knew. I’m not sure how I feel about
that.

When my lungs slow down, I put my leg down
and fold my hands in my lap like a good, obedient girl who did not
just come.

The whacks harder now, David chokes out
number fourteen, and huffs out, “Fifteen, Sir,” at the mother of
all hits. My toes empathetically curled and butt cheeks clenched at
the loud gasp and yowl right before the number left his lips.

He took the paddle well and never moved from
position.

He folds his arms on the desk and buries his
head in the cradle. The sound of his breathing is off the charts
and his muscular legs are strained and begging for any kind of
touch. I’m not sure if he’s crying too, but his back is bopping up
and down. I want to comfort him and kiss his poor butt.

“Straighten up and go stand in the corner,
David. You may pull your pants back up.”

“Yes, Sir.” David shudders as he draws his
pants up. When he turns around, I notice the skin around his eyes
is blotchy and the orbs themselves are glossy. He doesn’t even look
at me as he heads to the corner.

Now, I’m stuck in Headmaster Ryan’s
glare.

“Miss Channing,” he says, with an annoyed
huff. “You’ve been a bad girl. The reports I’m getting, the things
I’ve seen and heard. Let’s just say, you are in for a world of
hurt, my dear.”

I’m quaking and breathing crazy. My pulse is
maddening in my chest and ears.

He extracts a ruler from his desk and holds
it in both hands as he orders me to get up and step forward. I do.
His clappy shoes thunder on the floor as he storms over to me.

“First, we will deal with you disrespecting
me. You called me a loser, cursed to my face and told me to go
screw myself. Stick out your hands please, palms down.”

As soon as I do, he crashes the ruler down
on my knuckles, and I yowl, “Owww,” and yank my hands back. Tears
sting my eyes and hover on the lids.

“We are not finished. You
will
hold
your hands steady.”

After frantic exhales and the forging of two
wet trails, I wheeze out, “Yes, Sir.”

I clench my fingers a few times, then
straighten them out again and wait. He makes me wait. He whacks me
again and I let out an embarrassing rill of sobs. This is
ridiculous. I can be stronger. I’m not going to be bested by a
conceited jerk with a ruler, no fucking way. My hands are in agony,
but I refuse to shrill or sob again. I curl my lips in. I’ll choke
to death on my screams before I let that happen. He hits me again …
and again … and again, with me wincing and groaning at every one.
Without my consent, tears spill, but that’s all he gets out of
me.

He leaves me with six and says, “Lace your
fingers together and keep your hands behind your head.”

I’m so thankful for the switch, but I think
he’s on to me, now determined to demolish my fortitude.

I do as he asks, and he taps my left breast
with the ruler. No, no, no. Fuck you, Brent. He finds a good spot
outside my bra and gives me a light slap. It didn’t really hurt,
but I grab my boob in shock. “Uh! Fuck!”

He orders my hands back over my head.

“Watch your mouth, young lady.”

When I’m back in the vulnerable position, he
does the same thing with the other, but I refuse to satisfy his
ears. He’s not letting up, and after drumming on my breast very
gently, he delivers two more slaps to each of my babies. He doesn’t
seem determined to hurt me, I think he wants me to worry that he
might, that he could.

“David. Come face Molly and lift her
skirt.”

I gasp, having forgotten momentarily that he
was in the room. Sorry, I was caught up the in potential boob pain
that never came.

He’s not told to, but when he’s in front of
me, he wipes away my tears and smooths my hair before his hands
drift down my sides. He slowly lifts my hem in both fists and
clutches the bunched material around my waist. We look into each
other’s eyes. I’m much calmer now with him closer. I’m ready to
take more pain, real pain. Bring it, Sir. The distress on David’s
face makes me sad. He’s much kinder than I am. I was getting off on
his punishment, and he’s suffering with mine.

“Poor Molly. You know you deserve this. Tell
me why you are being hit with a ruler?”

“Because I disrespected your rule over me,
your authority.”

“That’s right. I’m going to ensure you never
do that again?”

Not ready for it, I cry, “Aaaahhoow,” when a
stripe is painted on my thigh with a nasty sting. He lands another
and another. They keep coming and coming. I wince and groan every
time. I get nine more in all, across my butt and thighs. Great.
I’ll probably be stuck in pants or capris for days.

“Thank you, Mr. Fanelli. You may head back
to the corner.”

Never taking his eyes off me, he holds onto
me for three seconds before conceding. “Yes, Sir.”

“Go get one of the straight-back chairs,
Miss Channing.”

I turn around, glare at him and cross my
arms. “No way!”

“Excuse me? We are working on you
obeying
here.”

“You heard me. I won’t. You’ve whacked me
enough! I’m not some child. You can’t treat me like this! My father
will knock you out when he hears about this!”

“Your father, my dear, said to go ahead and
even strip you bare if I so choose. If you keep up with the bratty
behavior, that’s exactly what will happen.”

I gawk.

“As it is, you’re getting a hand warming and
the paddle. If you’re not back with the chair and over my lap in
ten seconds, you’ll taste the cane as well.”

Hell no. I’m not taking any cane, and I
really don’t want to safeword out. I huff and hustle over to get
the chair. I place it in front of him and cross my arms.

He sits and tugs me across his lap and
positions me so I’m stable.

I put my hands together on the floor and
cringe as he flips up my skirt and yanks my panties down to
mid-thigh.

He makes me wait for slaps, wait, until I’m
trembling uncontrollably.

I breathe a sigh of relief when his hand
finally begins to fall on my ass in an even beat. That bouncy thing
won’t be far off. But it doesn’t hurt as much as I assumed. He
gradually spreads out all around my mounds and down my upper
thighs. After a couple minutes, this thing, this nice spanking, is
over. Slaps suddenly descend like darts of fury on my naked, piqued
flesh. I squirm and moan as he gets harder and harder. It snatches
my breath and has liquid pooling in my eyes. Though it hurts, it’s
all wrong. I’m not sure why. He’s spanking me, so what the hell’s
the problem? What am I looking for? What do I need?

“This is for your bratty behavior, Miss
Channing, your insolence, and your slutty attire, that’s not even
close to regulation. You will obey me, and your teachers, and do as
you’re told.”

I want to push his buttons and make this
punishment seem more real-
ish
. I want him mad, genuinely
mad. It feels fake for some reason. I’m not sure if this is
working. “Fuck off, shithead!”

He stops the rhythm, his hand frozen in
midair. That might be too much sass. I can feel his anger, the boil
inside, in the abrupt cease of his inhale. I think he might deck
me. “That can certainly be arranged, Miss Channing.” He hurls me
off his lap and over his shoulder.

“What! Ow. Fuck. Let me go.” I pound on his
back and try to thrash my legs and kick him, but he’s got my
extremities pinned against his torso.

He carries me into a smaller room off the
office and slams the door.

I’m shivering in absolute fear but
gut-wrenching arousal. I’m hornier than a succubus.

He strips off my skirt and panties. I
shudder when I notice all the S&M contraptions, including a
spanking bench and a giant X. But it’s a flat bench he’s quickly
strapping me face-up to, arms bound over head, feet up in the air
and spread apart on suspended chains. “Let me go. What the hell are
you doing?”

I drool as he sheds his clothes, leaving
them all on a heap on the floor. He’s a statue of hotness.

My eyes bug out. Some cocks droop a little,
even when erect, but his ten-incher is ready to pile-drive me and
yank out screams. I thought this wasn’t supposed to be sexual. What
the fuck!

I jerk against my restraints. “What are you
doing!”

“What was that you said, Miss Channing? Fuck
… off?” He circles me like a shark, his eyes swimming with a
promised attack. I watch him stalk around and around. Then,
suddenly, he’s over my body in a flash, in between my spread legs,
the tip of his erection pressing against my entrance.

“Say it again.”

I’m quaking under his heavy chest and torso.
The words linger on my tongue, ready to break, yet never, ever
wanting to. He sticks his thumb in my mouth and tugs my jaw down.
His thighs are so statuesque and warm, his cock, so fucking hard.
The tip is a breath away from breaching and impaling me. “Are you a
filthy, little slut, Molly? You want me to slide this hard cock in
and pound you senseless?”

I surround his thumb with my wet lips and
suck on his tip as I nod.

“You want me to fuck
off
… in there?
In that hungry, wet pussy.”

I bob my chin up and down, still encasing
his thumb that is now stroking my tongue and making me gag.

He pulls his thumb out of my mouth. “Say it.
Say, ‘Fuck off, Sir. Fuck me good’.”

I mutter it, and he sends a firm but not
painful slap to my face.

“No. I want you to shout it like you’re in
the midst of orgasm. Shout it, loud and clear, while moaning your
starving heart out.”

I buck and writhe against him, aching for
him to fill me up. He pins my shoulders. “Please. Fuck off, Sir.
Oh, God. Fuck me, fuck me. Oooooh, fuck me good. Please, Sir.
Aaahhhh. Pound me with that cock. Oooo. Yes, yes … yes! Just like
that. Yes, yes! Aaahhh.”

My eyes had fallen closed for a moment, but
when I reopen them, I can see by the twinkle in his eyes that he’s
teasing me and only having me put on a show for listener David. I’d
seriously smack him back if I weren’t restrained.

“What a good beggar you are. You’ll make
such a good subbie slut someday. But you’re too naughty for this
cock. Who knows where you’ve been.” Headmaster Ryan strokes my
hairline and kisses my cheek, then climbs off me and puts his
clothes back on with slow elegance.

Tears spill out of my eyes because I’m not
getting fucked.

“Bad girl.” Once dressed and proper, he
rolls up his sleeves and selects an implement. He approaches me
slowly, filling my ears with reprimands and chastisement. He stares
down at my vulnerability in chains, lifts his hand and swoops down
onto my sensitive flesh with a double-thronged belt thingy with a
handle. He calls it a tawse. Wrong. It’s hell.