The Professor's Pet (A BDSM Romance Novel) (17 page)

I looked at her. She was right; meetings that were classified as updates on Friday afternoons were usually corporate-speak for layoffs. But our team was doing excellent work, and our company was hiring like crazy, not laying off.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said mildly. “If we all get laid off, it isn’t like we’ll have trouble getting rehired, really.” It sounded arrogant, and perhaps it was, but honestly, everyone on my team was receiving weekly calls from recruiters; advanced statistics was an incredibly specialized skillset, and every employer in Silicon Valley wanted it.

“Besides,” I added, “this could be good for you. If Sanjay isn’t your boss anymore, perhaps you can finally ask him out.” Anna’s painful crush on Sanjay hadn’t abated in the last six months.

“I didn’t think of that,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “But I don’t think I’ll actually have the courage to do that.”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Anna,” I reminded her teasingly. Anna had a proverb for every occasion; I was happy to give her a taste of her own medicine.

She made a face at me. “I guess I asked for that,” she commented wryly.

***

At eleven, we all filed into the small conference room that was at the corner of our floor. I looked around the room. There was tension in the room; a couple of faces showed clear signs of stress. Sanjay strode into the room a couple of minutes after eleven, took a vacant seat.

“I know everyone’s wondering if you are getting laid off,” he started, his voice a smooth drawl that reminded me of Jake. Damn it. I fought to keep my attention on the meeting. “You aren’t. Relax.”

A couple of sighs around the room, some giggling, as the tension in the room drained out. “What’s the meeting about then, Sanjay?” Sergei asked. Sergei was the newest addition to the team; he’d joined two months ago with a PhD from Stanford. Sergei reminded me of Jake as well; razor-sharp, with a sense of hidden depth.
Fuck it, Emily, everyone reminds you of him.
I was irritated with myself at my inability to recover from my time with Jake.

“I’m leaving, today’s my last day,” Sanjay replied, dropping a bombshell right into the meeting room, dragging my focus back to the meeting.

“A few of us have been working on an idea for the last few months,” he continued, interrupting the chatter that had broken out at his revelation. “We’ve been pitching to the VCs and to the angel investors. A better way to do social search.”

Social search was the next wave of searching on the Internet. The idea was that you were similar to your friends, and if they had found a search result useful, chances were, you would too. It had its possibilities and its limitations – the biggest limitation being privacy. I hardly wanted my mother to know about my bondage porn searches, for example. That constraint had slowed any widespread adoption.

“Yesterday, we finally inked a deal and secured funding for the first year of operation. I’m leaving to be the temporary CEO, at least until we find someone more qualified; Anya Nekrasova and my friend Jake Ballard will serve as technical officers.” Sanjay’s eyes made contact with mine as he said that.

The blood drained from my face. How could Jake juggle running a start-up with all of his other work? I didn’t understand. Everyone crowded around Sanjay, congratulating him and wishing him the best of luck in his new venture, but my mind could only think of one thing. Jake Ballard.

***

I knocked
on the door of Sanjay’s office at a quarter to five. The last few hours, I’d sat, unable to focus, my brain a jumble of thoughts and emotions. The mention of Jake had thrown me. He was going to be in San Francisco a lot; that much was clear. Did I dare find out more, did I dare try again, go find him and beg and plead for another chance?

Sanjay looked up as I walked in. “Emily,” he greeted me with a smile. “What can I do for you?”

“How exactly is Jake going to be involved in your new venture?” I asked. I wanted to keep my voice even, but I had failed miserably. I could hear the pain and the hope in my voice, and my emotions were excruciatingly transparent. 

He looked at me, the smile gone from his face. “Jake is my friend,” he said finally. Evenly. “I don’t enjoy seeing him hurt.”

“We both have scars, Sanjay,” I said harshly. I shouldn’t have gone out with Andrew, but Jake had rejected me as well. He wasn’t blameless in this, not by a long stretch.

“Why do you want to know, Emily?”

I took a deep breath. Sanjay wasn’t my boss anymore; I didn’t need to be especially circumspect. “Because I care,” I answered.

He eyed me expressionlessly. “I don’t enjoy seeing Jake hurt,” he repeated.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” I replied.
Talk to me, damn it, Sanjay. Tell me what I need to know.

Another long pause. “I’m in love with him,” I added finally, softly. It was weird telling my boss this. Though, in fairness, he was going to be my ex-boss in about fifteen minutes.

He smiled at me finally, and answered. “He’s taking a year sabbatical from his job; he’s moving to San Francisco.” His lips twitched at the look of shock on my face. “He’s in town now, he was at the meetings yesterday, of course. He’s staying at the same hotel he always does.”

He looked at his watch. “If you leave now, you should be there in an hour.”

He reached for his phone. “Please don’t tell him I’m coming,” I begged. “I want to know what he really feels.”

He hesitated. Finally, he dropped his phone back on his desk. “Don’t make me regret this, Emily,” he said quietly.

I barely mumbled my thanks before I flew for the door.

***

He was sitting at the bar, alone, typing something into his phone. I drank in the sight of him for a few seconds, and then I moved forward.

“Jake?” My voice was hesitant.

He turned, looked at me. Pleasure rose in his eyes; he smiled at me. His evident happiness at seeing me gave me courage.

“I heard you are moving here?”

He nodded, his eyes on me. “For the next year, at least.”

I gulped. Now or never.
Magic 8-ball, I
asked myself silently.
Is this what I truly, truly want?

The answer came, emphatic and clear.
Without a doubt.

“Can I be your submissive? For longer than 8 weeks?” I asked him. I didn’t keep any of the emotion I felt out of my voice. It was all there; the hope, the fear of rejection, my desperate need for his control, and finally, my powerful, all-consuming love for him.

His eyes were still on my face. I heard my phone buzz; I ignored it.

“Answer it,” he said softly.

“What?” I asked, stupidly.

“Answer your phone, Emily,” he prodded, a smile in his voice.

I fished for it in my bag; I could sense him rolling his eyes as I rummaged through the clutter to find it at the bottom. A new text message. From Jake Ballard.

“Read it,” he said quietly.

I opened his message.

“Will you let me be the net beneath you when you fly?” 

I looked at him. He smiled at me. “Will you?”

I melted into his arms, kissing him like my life depended on it. His arms tightened around my waist, and he kissed me back, right there, in the bar. I finally pulled back from his mouth; I still needed to answer his question.

“Yes.” My grin stretched my face, threatening to split it into two. My heart was overflowing with happiness.

“I’ll be working crazy hours,” he warned.

“Me too,” I replied.

“I’m going to be hard on you,” he continued.

“I’ll roll my eyes when I’m irritated,” I promised him.

“And when you do, I’ll put you over my lap and spank you silly,” he countered, his lips twitching.

“Yes, you will…” I said. My voice was a breathy mass of need.

“But I love you, and I will never let you fall,” he said quietly.

I looked at him, gladness rising in me. “And I love you, and I’ll fly,” I promised.

He gulped down his drink; threw some money on the bar. He held out his hand, and I put mine in his. “In that case, Emily, shall we?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, Professor Ballard.”

We walked out of there, hands held tight together, into the rest of our lives.

About the Author

Hello, I’m Tara Crescent. I’ve always fantasized about being a mysterious spy, leading a secret double-life, and now, I find that that’s come true!

Sort of.

By day, I’m a mild-mannered corporate drone in Toronto, but by night, I’m limited only by my imagination; I sit, and I type, and I am a daring writer of BDSM, erotica and romance.

In my spare time, I write of course. I also read, garden, travel, cook, and almost never clean. I just started watching Walking Dead on Netflix (zombie erotica, anyone?), and I’m impatiently awaiting the next episode of Doctor Who. (I would kill for a TARDIS.)

I’ve scribbled bits and pieces all my life, chiefly inspired by what I’m reading, which tends to be mainly science-fiction and fantasy, with a healthy sprinkling of romance and erotica thrown in.

I’m a huge believer in happily-ever-after, but tempered by real life, where happily-ever-after is possible, but takes work.  My favorite kind of romance stories are ones that are somewhat believable; I like strong men and women who know what they want out of life, and are driven to get it.

From time to time, I blog about what I’m writing at
http://www.taracrescent.com
. The blog is also where I post book excerpts; highlight information about upcoming promotions, and so on and so forth. Follow me there to keep up with all the fun!

If you have any thoughts about this book that you’d like to share, kindly leave a review. 

Books by Tara Crescent

BDSM Romance:

Teaching Maya

The House of Pain

The Professor’s Pet

BDSM & Medical Play:

Triage (Doctor Dom Volume 1)

Observation (Doctor Dom Volume 2)

BDSM Fantasy:

Chronicles of Raan

The House of Pain

Text copyright © 2013 Tara Crescent

Sara White is outwardly a good girl; she follows the rules; works in a professional office; has a boyfriend who treats her with consideration. However, deep inside her, there’s a craving for pain, a desire to be spanked and whipped, to be submissive, to be controlled.

One day, she walks into the House of Pain, a sex store in Toronto that also does shows in the back, where women are whipped and spanked in front of an audience. Transfixed by the idea, she signs up.

Doug Patterson has met Sara at work, but discovers a whole new side of her when he sees her at the House of Pain. He approaches her and suggests Sara become his submissive. Sara is attracted to Doug; but afraid of complication.

Will Sara surrender to Doug, and yield to her desire to be submissive?

Contains BDSM, flogging, anal sex, and much more...

*****

Read on for an excerpt from The House of Pain…

***

“Did you like getting whipped at the House of Pain?” His words pull me back to our conversation.

“Yes.”

“Did you like being tied up?”

“Yes…” I whisper again.

“So, what concerns you?” There’s no impatience in his voice. He’s trying to understand.

“I don’t like the idea of being obedient, submissive.”

“Are you submissive in bed?” he asks bluntly.

I flush. “Sometimes… but I’ve always had a choice; I don’t have to be submissive.” I’m explaining myself badly. I think I’m afraid I’ll lose my ability to choose; that my submission will not be a choice I make; but the expected behaviour from me.

Doug listens as I try to explain this. Finally, he raises a hand, interrupts me.

“As I see it,” he says, “you are trying to run before you can walk. These things, everything you are worried about – the nature of submission, the boundaries of the submission, they are complicated things that every couple negotiates over time.” He takes a sip of his beer, eyes me, continues... “Right now, I think we should be more concerned about the hard rules – things you have no interest in doing in bed; things you definitely want to do, that kind of thing.”

He’s right. Besides, as he said, this can be a one-time thing.

“No blood…” I say. “No permanent damage. No caging.”

“Ok.” We quickly agree on the basics; set me up with a safeword. Red.

“I really have only one rule, Sara…” Doug says. “One that applies to both of us, really. Open, honest communication. If something isn’t fun, say so. I’m pretty sure that we can find enough things that we will both enjoy.”

“Ok,” I say, softly. I am once again a bundle of nerves. I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this.

He senses my nervousness. “Sara, it’ll be fine, I’m not a jerk…” he says wryly. “Look, do you want to do this some other time?”

“No…” I don’t think I’d have the courage to go through this again. Besides, I broke up with Colin because of this dark chasm in me; and here’s my opportunity to explore it a little bit.

“Can I get a glass of wine?” I ask him.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Liquid courage?” he asks with some amusement. “Red or white?”

“Whatever’s easier,” I say. Doug opens the refrigerator, pulls out a bottle of white wine; pours me a glass. I take a sip; it is light, refreshing; a perfect summer wine. I take another sip.

“Let’s go back to the living room…” he says.

***

In the living room, Doug sits on the couch; pulls me onto his lap. He pulls me close; one hand encircling my waist, the other traces a gentle line down my cheek. He runs a thumb over my lower lip; an incredibly erotic touch that has me shifting restlessly in his lap.

“Want to do this?” he whispers in my ear; catching my earlobe between his teeth; nibbling it lightly. Little tendrils of arousal run through me; replacing the nervousness. I shift in his lap again; I can feel his erection against me, and I bite my lip. His body feels good, really, really good.

I nod. Yes. I want to do this.

He pulls me closer, kisses me. His mouth is initially gentle on mine. I sigh softly. I haven’t been kissed in over five weeks, and I miss it. My mouth parts, slightly, lets him in. That’s the signal Doug’s been waiting for. His lips are suddenly more insistent, his tongue pushes into my parted mouth, dances a delicious duet with mine. His free hand traces idle lines on my bodice.

I moan. Doug’s hands are, in their own way, creating a fire as insistent as the whip. My body tingles in pleasure; lust. I move into him; bring my hands around his head to draw him in, still closer.

“No…” he says softly, pulling away from my mouth for an instant. “Let me set the pace, please…”

Aah. The first demonstration of control. But he doesn’t order me, this is a request; not a command. I nod; I can do this for him. My hands remain at my sides.

He bends his head again, pulls my mouth onto his. He’s nibbling my lower lip now, softly, and the feeling of his teeth on my lip is awakening a deep hunger in me. I moan; shift restlessly.

“Keep still, baby…” he mutters. Again, not an order, but again, I obey.

His hands are now running lightly over my breasts. I want to shrug off the straps of my dress, lower the bodice so that his hands will caress my bared breasts; but I hold still. His fingers are dancing a little waltz on my bared arms; tracing a pathway along my exposed cleavage, running a fiery line along my thighs.

I part my thighs. Doug chuckles… “Keep still, baby…” he says again.

His mouth now is trailing little kisses on my neck. I love being kissed on my neck; it’s my secret erogenous spot, one with a direct line to my pussy. I feel the familiar stirrings as he kisses me; the familiar dampness. I bite my lower lip; moan.

The sunlight is streaming in through the windows in his living room. Doug groans. “The dungeon is in the basement…” he says, a little ironic inflection when he says dungeon. “The bedroom is upstairs. Which way, Sara?”

It is tempting to pick the safe path; to gesture towards the bedroom. I don’t do that. Instead I gather up my courage. “Downstairs…” I say quietly.

We walk towards Doug’s dungeon.

***

If you would like to read more of Doug and Sara, pick up their story,
The House of Pain
.