The Professor's Pet (A BDSM Romance Novel) (9 page)

I deliberately tamped down the irritation in my eyes.
Submit with grace,
I muttered to myself again. When I met Jake’s gaze, my look was calm and serene. “Yes, Professor Ballard,” I said softly. “I will check.”

It was startling. The instant I changed my attitude,
the instant I resolved to accede to his orders, calm descended on me. I was here, of my own free will, doing as he asked because something in me needed to let him control me. The moment I stopped fighting it, I was relaxed and centered.

I walked over to the guy. “Hi,” I said hesitantly to him. “Could I get some help, please?”

His eyes had been following us walking through the store. “Sure thing,” he replied readily. His eyes met Jake’s; both of them looked amused. Working in a sex store, he probably saw a little bit of everything in his work day. A woman in that store might be a trifle unusual, but it was hardly likely to be the craziest thing he’d ever seen.

“I need cotton rope,” I said. “A hundred feet.” I blushed as I said it; A hundred feet of rope provided a lot of binding possibilities.

“Hmm,” he said. “I don’t think I have any, just the fifty feet packages. But let me check in the back.” He disappeared through a door in the back.

Jake was just behind me, I leaned back a little, wanting to feel him against me. He pulled me close, my back to his chest. “Buy two of the fifty feet packages if you can’t find a hundred feet,” he said in my ear. His breath tickled me faintly, and
my sudden arousal almost overwhelmed me.

“Yes, Professor Ballard,” I said softly.

He kissed my neck briefly, as the clerk re-entered the shop, then backed away from me. The clerk was shaking his head as he walked up. “Sorry, don’t have any,” he said.

“That’s okay,” I replied. “I’ll just take two of the fifty feet packages.”
I looked at my list again. “Nipple clamps,” I said, red-faced.

He pointed to the glass display case. “We have several kinds,” he said. “What are you looking for?”

I flushed. “They need to have bells,” I read from my list. “And a chain that connects them.” My voice had gone very quiet as I spoke; I was mortified. I could feel Jake’s amusement radiate off him.
Submit with grace,
I reminded myself.

“Hmm,” the clerk said. “Let’s see.” He took out a few packages from his cabinet, placed them on the counter. “This is what I have,” he said. I looked, setting aside the ones that were for beginners. Two were left. I looked at Jake in appeal; he just smirked at me. I remembered the rules; he wouldn’t help me.

“Between these two,” I asked the clerk, gesturing to the packages, “which one would you recommend?”

He eyed the two clamps. “This one,” he said promptly, picking up one package. “My girlfriend swears by it. It’s adjustable, and you can add weights to it as well, if you’d like.”

Jake spoke up for the first time. “Weights, that’s a good idea.” He quickly pointed to a couple of packages, those were added to my growing selection of sex toys.

“You can leave your packages on the counter while you shop,” the clerk said helpfully. I reddened. He was trying to be helpful, but it was embarrassing to see the pile of toys; anyone could see it as soon as
they walked into the store. But I did as he suggested; I could hardly shop for floggers and crops if my arms were laden with parcels.

I surveyed my list again, went to look at the butt plugs. Thankfully, that was easy, there were several packages that fit my requirements. I picked one set of black pl
ugs. The Ben Wa balls were on the same wall, and I grabbed one. Also black.

“Might as well stay colour-coordinated,” Jake said dryly.

I flushed, but met his gaze with a smile. “That’s what I thought,” I grinned.

He laughed and shook his head. “Crops, Emily,” he said. “I’m very much looking forward to cropping you.”

I gulped at the implied threat of those words, but my pussy gushed at the implied promise. My eyes darkened with lust.

“Hurry this up, please,” Jake said softly. “My flight’s at midnight, and I really want to
get a chance to put the shopping to use first.”

“Okay,” I whispered. I was enveloped in lust; my body was responding to his arousal with my own. I walked towards the counter. “Can I get some help with the floggers and the crops, please?” I asked
the young clerk. My voice was finally relaxed; my mind was on Jake, and the things he was going to do to me.

The clerk helped me pick a flogger and a crop that wouldn’t hurt too much. “Best to start light,” he said. I just made sure they didn’t say ‘beginner’ anywhere.

“Do I have a couple more minutes, Professor Ballard?” I asked Jake. I really wanted to buy a ball-gag, as submissive fantasies went, being gagged was one of my favorites. I also really wanted a spreader bar; the idea of being helpless, unable to clamp my thighs together as my lover played with me, again and again, till I was helpless and drained from my orgasms was another powerful fantasy.

He nodded. “Absolutely,” he said. “I’m very much looking forward to this.”

I could feel his raised eyebrows as I looked at the gags. My hand hovered over a package, but Jake stopped me. “Too large,” he said. “Start smaller, else you’ll just hate it, and never try it again.” He pointed a more suitable size; I reached out and grabbed it. I also grabbed a spreader bar, ignoring his amused chuckle, and went to the counter, reaching for my wallet to pay for all my toys.

His arm stopped me. “
No way, Emily,” he said firmly, handing the guy some cash.

“Jake, it’s over two hundred dollars,” I whispered, aghast. He gave me a slightly irritated look; I shut up instantly.

***

In the car, I
started giggling, finally just laughing outright. “I can’t believe I did that,” I exclaimed.

His lips twitched. “You are a funny one, Emily,” he drawled. “You think nothing of coming over to my house, kneeling on my patio, sucking me off, but this? This is being brave?” He shook his head. “Strange.”

“Oh,” I said. I guess he was right. “It didn’t seem that risky, I guess. I did sort of know you.”

He just shook his head. “Try to be a little less trusting, Emily,” he said. “As it is, you are asking to be devoured by the wrong guy. You need to take better care of yourself. Ask questions, be wary when you seek a Dominant after we are done.”

My face must have fallen, because he stopped talking. “Okay,” he said wryly. “I’m going to stop the lectures. Let’s go try out the toys, if you still want to?”

It wasn’t that he wasn’t right, because he was
; I should be more careful. He thought that my falling face was a result of his lecturing, but I searched my heart and mind, and that wasn’t the cause of the disquiet. Instead, it was his casual reference to me seeking a Dominant at the end of our eight weeks. He’d said something similar this morning, and he’d said it now, and both times, a little lance of pain had slid through me.

If I had any sense, I would have cut my losses right then, before I gave him the power to break my heart. But I’d never been known for caution, and though every logical voice in my head told me to run away, I ignored them all and turned to him.

“Your place or mine?” I asked him.

Emily:

We drove back to Jake’s hotel room. I was lost in thought; the Jake at my side was very different from the Jake of my one-night stand. He was still arrogant and amused, but there was more patience, and more communication. That first night, for the most part, he’d just barked out orders and I had obeyed. My obedience had thrilled me, but here, now, I actually felt like I was learning something from him.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he remarked.

“You aren’t the same here as you were in Boston,” I commented. “I’m trying to figure out why.”

He laughed. “I can tell you why, more or less,” he said, grinning.

“Okay,” I was curious. “Tell me why.”

He responded with a question of his own. “You worked in that building for five years, right? Same floor as me? What did my students say about me?”

Hardass was the kindest thing I’d heard. Dickhead was often used. Asshole was another favorite. But he had a flogger and a crop in his bag, so I chose my words with discretion. “They thought you were hard on them,” I said carefully.

He laughed again. “I’m assuming they called me a
prick behind my back; enough of them called me that to my face.”

My lips twitched. “Okay, I’ve heard that word being used to describe you,” I admitted. “Why are you a
prick then?”

“Because I have to be,” he replied. “My students come to work for me because my reputation precedes me - every student who has ever graduated from my program has landed a prestigious tenure-track position. But do you know how many incredibly qualified applicants there
are for each tenure-track position out there? Ten, at least, maybe more. My job is to make my students work harder and better than they’ve ever worked in their entire lives. Because, then, maybe, they’ll have a chance to get what they want.”

He grimaced. “My job,” he said wryly, “is to make them forget the idea of
things like sunshine, and spare time and fun. I’m the prick.”

“
But they get what they want, in the end,” I said softly.

He nodded. “I’m especially brutal at the start,” he said. “Because you need to know you really, really want this, with every fibre of your being. It is going to take over your life; you need to be convinced it is worth it.
Either you stay with intent, or you run. Those are the choices.”

I looked at him in sudden understanding. “Were you especially brutal at the start with me? Was that why?”

He shrugged. “Not deliberately. But you did need to know what you were getting into.”

“So, why are you nicer now then?” I asked.

“Am I?” he said wryly. “You are on a journey. If I don’t think you are where you need to be, you’ll regret it, trust me. But as long as you are doing okay? I see no reason to be a jerk.”

I absorbed all of this in silence. I remembered taking his class. He had
been patient with us at the start, but then unleashed his caustic wit if someone didn’t work as hard as he felt they needed to. At the end though, I had learned more than I’d thought possible. I remembered the sense of pride and accomplishment I’d felt when I earned an A.

W
e didn’t talk for the rest of the drive.

***

“Ready, Emily?” he asked me, as he swiped his key card at his room door to open it.

“Yes, P
rofessor Ballard,” I muttered.
Submit with grace,
I thought to myself.

“Good.” His voice was crisp. “I’m going to grab a beer. I’d like you to go to the bedroom, take off all your clothes, and
kneel by the bed, facing the door. You can use a pillow for your knees. Any questions?”

“I need to go to the bathroom, Professor Ballard,” I said.

He nodded. “I’ll give you ten minutes to get in position, will that work?”

“Yes, Professor Ballard,” I said.

***

Magic 8-ball,
I whispered to myself,
I really, really want to do this. Can I be a good submissive for Jake?

Most
likely,
came the reply.

I
smiled to myself, amused by my optimism. What Jake did was push at limits. He’d done it in class, pushing us, taking us higher and higher, till we’d learned more than we had believed possible. He’d done it the first time we’d fucked, on that one-night stand so many months ago. I assumed the same thing was going to happen here, I would feel like I was drinking water from a fire hose, utterly overwhelmed at times. But in the end, I would learn.

I
assumed the position on the floor, knees parted, hands on my thighs. I took a deep breath in this position. Peace swirled over me as I waited for him to enter the bedroom and use me any way he wished.

***

“Emily,” he said, as he came into the room. “Tell me, as a kid, were you the kind that ate all your Halloween candy right away, or did you wait and ration it out?”

I looked at
Jake from my position on the floor. He’d come right next to me, standing dangerously close, and it took all the control I had not to reach for him, and to hold my position. “I ate it right away, and I was sick for days after, every single year,” I admitted ruefully.

He laughed. “
Well, I was the kid that rationed my candy. One piece a day. It used to drive my siblings crazy; they’d be out of candy by the first week of November.”

“The reason I ask,” he continued, “is because, although we have a candy-bag of sex toys, we aren’t going to use all of them today.”

“We aren’t?” I asked, somewhat disappointed.

Jake
shook his head. “If I’m going to flog you, I want to make sure we have a night together after; it’s intense, especially the first time, and I have a responsibility to make sure you are okay. When you cede control, you are trusting me to ensure that you feel safe and secure.”

I nodded. This was the other part of Jake
; the part that often got lost. Hidden behind the amused mocking, the sarcasm and the arrogance was the fact that Jake worked harder than anyone I knew. He was at work earlier than anyone else; he left later than everyone else. His students always had their emails responded to in less than an hour, no matter what. And even when he taught the Intro-level classes, he held his own office hours; didn’t shirk the task of teaching the basics to an assistant. He took his responsibilities seriously.

He would expect my best. But in return, he would give me his best.

“Today,” he said, “I thought we’d try the nipple clamps out, some rope, and a buttplug. Okay?”

I nodded.

He reached for the rope we’d bought at the sex store, took a pair of scissors from another bag. He quickly pulled out the length he needed, snipping it off.

“Stand up,” he ordered. I obeyed instantly. I was going to be good for him today.

“Turn around,” he said. I did; I was now positioned in such a way that I was facing away from him.

“I’m going to tie your hands together,” he told me. “Clasp them behind your back, please.” His tone was even; the tone of someone who was very secure in the expectation that he would be obeyed.

I put my hands behind my back, loosely clasped together.

“This
will cause some discomfort, but not too much. I’m going to tie your arms together, from your wrists ‘til your elbows.” His voice was calm. His hand stroked my shoulder gently as he spoke. Everything about him radiated competence and reassurance.

I nodded again. He started working, staying silent as he pulled my arms together so that my shoulders were pulled back, and my breasts were pushed out. But though he didn’t talk, he touched me as he worked; small strokes that both reassured me and aroused me.

“How’s that feel?” he asked finally.

I assessed the tension in my shoulders, the strain on my biceps, both within my capacity to bear. “It’s good for the moment,” I said.

“The strain on your arms will increase as time goes by,” he said. “Do you want to see it?”

“Yes,” I said. He led me to a full-length mirror, and I craned my head around to peek at my bindings.

I swallowed as I confronted the intricately tied rope, binding me decoratively from my wrists to my elbows. I looked like an object of fantasy, tied up for a man’s pleasure, and lust ran rampant through my blood at that thought.

Jake
was watching my face carefully, and his eyes darkened as he saw the arousal in my eyes. “Is your cunt wet, Emily?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes, Professor Ballard,” I whispered, meeting his eyes, letting my need shine though.

“Part your legs,” he instructed, dipping two fingers into my dripping pussy, then licking my wetness off his fingers. It must have been among the most erotic moments of my life as I watched him suck my pussy juice from his fingers, and then, he did it again, and this time, I parted my mouth as he placed his fingers on my lips, and I cleaned my sticky juice off his fingers.

He pushed me back against the mirror, kissed me hard. “I can taste
you, Emily,” he growled. I could taste myself on his lips as well, and it set me dripping still more.

“Nipple-clamps now,” Jake said, as he pulled away from me. His voice was calm, but his erection was clearly visib
le beneath his pants.

He positioned me again so that he was behind me, and then pulled me into his chest. I eyed the nipple-clamp in his right hand with a measure of fear,
and my body tensed automatically.

“Hush,” he stroked me gently. “Relax.” His left hand reached for my right breast, and he played with my nipple, rolling it between his thumb and fore-finger, pinching and pulling it till it stood erect. “They aren’t at their tightest setting,” he said calmly. “But they will be, in time. Now, breathe through the pain, I want you to be good.”

I took a deep breath. “Yes, Professor Ballard,” I said. He placed the clamp; I hissed in pain.  It hurt, but it was also turning me on; I could feel my pussy throb in response.

His hand cupped my breasts, one finger reached out and gently set the little bell on my nipple clamp ringing. The chiming sent a line of heat straight to my pussy; I bit my lip as I shuddered in arousal.

“How’s that for tightness?” he asked me.

“It’s pretty tight,” I said, through gritted teeth.

He laughed, a sound of pure amusement. “Stiff upper lip, and all that, Emily,” he chided.  His fingers moved to my left nipple, subjecting it to the same pinching and pulling that got me groaning in need, before he swiftly clamped it, and set that bell jingling as well.

I clenched my fists in my bindings; took a couple of deep breaths to steady myself. The pain was receding into a dull ache, but it had left arousal sparkling in its place. I needed to feel Jake; needed him to touch me.

“One more thing,” he said, coming around my front. The chain that was to connect the clamps dangled from his fingers. “Stay still,” he said, “if you wriggle, this will hurt like hell.”

My breast jiggled as he clipped the chain to one clamp, setting the bell tinkling again.
The sound sent a sharp ache through me, an ache that felt startlingly like the ache in my pussy, as it craved his touch. His fingers caressed my breasts, bringing them closer together as he pulled the chain over, and attached it to the second clamp. He slowly let go, and my breasts bounced back into place, sending another ache through me.

“Professor Ballard,” I begged. Sweat shone on my brow; my eyes were filled with lust.

“One final thing, Emily,” he said. “The medium buttplug. Okay?”

I would have agreed to anything right then, if he would let me orgasm.
Anything at all. I stared at him, my gaze wild and vacant; every nerve in my body begging for release.

He looked at me. There was recognition in his eyes, and a sense of assessment; how close was I to flying? To reaching that pinnacle that he deemed necessary, before I was allowed release?

“Professor Ballard,” I begged. I repeated his words from yesterday back at him. “Please let me come. I can’t think or act or even breathe without breaking into a million pieces…”

His lips twitched. “Such a good student,” he said. His hand reached out to stroke my hair, tuck a stray tendril behind my ears. “Get on the bed
on your knees, put your head on the pillow,” he instructed, my pleas for release ignored for the moment.

***

I obeyed; what else was I going to do? My hands were tied behind my back; a climax was impossible unless he allowed it, and he wasn’t going to allow it unless I was good. Not that I needed external incentive to be good, because the desire to do what he asked me was roaring in my blood, and I could not deny this essential need within me.

The bed dipped as we both got on; Jake helping me up. My face found the pillow; my nipples lay close to the mattress, but despite my fears, were not ground into it. His fingers found my pussy, and he pushed in, hard, and my entire body moved forward, and, on cue, the bells chimed. Moisture gushed from me; a Pavlovian response to the sound and the sudden pain in my breasts as they jiggled back and forth from the movement. I whimpered in response; his hand stroked my back, urging me back to calmness.