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Literallyandfiguratively.
I don’t know why the former makes me so wet. The last thing I should want is the man’s attention. Anyone who helps Windsor and this sorry excuse for a school doesn’t deserve anything from me. The whole damn clusterfuck galls me to no end because I know—I know—that no matter how much I pretend otherwise, I’m going to love being whipped. There’s something about Professor Vaughn that makes everything inside of me come alive. Maybe it’s the entire situation. Maybe I’m so fucked in the head, I need that to get off. Whatever it is, I need to fix it asap because it’s stupidity like this that’ll get me killed, and I can’t die in this hellhole.
Karma needs my help destroying these assholes.
A shrill whistling is my only warning that Professor Vaughn is cracking the whip down, and then my world implodes as the first bite of the tips dig into the flesh of my back. Funny how I thought it would feel like an explosion with everything inside of me splintering outward. Instead, it’s like my back is a sinkhole where the whip gouged into me, and now everything is cascading inside until it’ll swallow my entire being in this moment in time. I’m not sure if I cry out because I lose track of everything. It’s as if Professor Vaughn didn’t just blindfold me but cut off all my senses.
There’s only me and the whip that he wields so masterfully.
Sometimes it’s a gentle lash, but others filet my skin open. The metallic scent of blood is the first thing to pierce through the haze on my senses, and the drip of my life force down my spine itches my skin, leaving a wet trail that I yearn to wipe clean. Professor Vaughn doesn’t deserve my blood, my desire, my pleasure—they’re too intimate and meant for a lover, not my abuser—but he doesn’t care. In fact, I’m sure he derives all the more happiness by taking them from me instead of asking.
To my shame, the red drops aren’t the only thing dripping down my body. Between my legs, I’m sopping wet and gush like I’ve just come. A part of me prays Professor Vaughn and the boys can’t see, but the sicker part of me hopes they do. I’ve never been so at war with my emotions, but almost hate myself as much as I do the bastards in this room and that run Bitterwood. As if the Devil heard my prayer, Professor Vaughn crowds into my personal space, running a hand down my back before cupping my pussy. It’s slippery between my legs, and I know he’s painting me red with my own blood.
“You like the whip almost as much as the cane, don’t you, princess?” I don’t answer, expecting him to growl in anger, but he continues as if it was a rhetorical question. “You’ve taken your punishment beautifully. Do you want to come again?”
Bentley and Cashel snarl, and I realize he’s taunting them, not me, but I don’t think my heart can take anymore tonight. Sweet relief sweeps through me when he steps away only to be dashed when I feel something between my legs. His damned, clever tongue—licking my juices and blood away. Clamping my lips tightly shut, I think about my first night and escaping the pit, but it does nothing to even muffle my need. My body doesn’t care that Professor Vaughn is just tormenting me, or the pain I’ve endured. It only knows the pleasure the professor’s tongue can give, so I ride his face because I can’t fight it, but just as I’m about to come, he stops.
I feel the tickle of leather dancing across my breasts, my nipples tightening at the sensation. “I should whip you here next, princess. Redden these perfect tits with my whip, make you come without laying a single finger upon you, all while Bentley and Cashel watch. Would you like that?”
Before I can respond, he rips my blindfold off. I blink against the bright, florescent light of the room, disoriented and dizzy from hanging for so long. When my gaze lands on Cashel and Bentley, they’re staring at me with unabashed lust, eyes roaming my bare skin from my heavy breasts to my shaking legs. Their dicks are at full attention, and it becomes evident that Professor Vaughn was teasing them just as much as me. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, the professor swoops down and picks up the cat-o-nine tails. Twirling like a dancer, he spins gracefully, extending his arm back behind his head before snapping it forward. The whip sings through the air before cracking over the head of Bentley’s cock still encased in his boxers.
The dark-haired boyhowls, and I see true terror bleed into Cashel’s eyes because he knows he’s next. Professor Vaughn doesn’t even pause, but pulls back his arm for round two, unleashing the whip over Cashel’s cock. He tries to swing out of the way to the side, and instead of flicking the tip, the whip lashes his length, wrapping around it like a lover’s tongue. His scream is even louder than Bentley’s, and all the while, Professor Vaughn wears a manic grin of satisfaction, his left hand squeezing his own erection.
My brain scrambles to piece together the situation, but the professor tosses down the cat-o-nine tails and strides over to me. For a moment he just stares at me, running his eyes over my exposed skin. He cups my breasts, squeezing hard and I groan as he leans in close. “Misbehave again, and I promise you won’t survive the level of depravity you’ll suffer by my hand.”
Professor Vaughn drags his hands off my skin and reaches up to loosen my cuffs, refusing to meet my eyes. My hands slip free, and I collapse to the floor, my feet still shackled. Numbly, I snatch a shred of my torn blazer and cover myself, then try to rub feeling back into my limbs as I gaze up. A scream lodges in my throat when I find myself staring straight at Professor Vaughn’s impressive dick. Faster than lightning, he must have freed it after me. He strokes it twice before cursing and unloading all over my surprised face. Shame washes over me when my tongue darts out to lick the salty droplets, and a guttural groan falls from his lips.
When he’s done, I know my entire face is coated in his cum. Professor Vaughn slumps forward to catch his breath, before straightening and staring down at me as if to admire his handy work. The spot between my legs throbs maddeningly, and the only sound once more in the room is our collective choppy breathing. The professor tucks himself neatly back into his slacks before turning away and pressing something against the far wall. The secret panel whooshes open to reveal the office with all the dead animals and the guards. Bianca sits there primly, waiting, her eyes wide when she sees my glazed face. I don’t even feel any victory when she throws a wounded look at Professor Vaughn—I don’t feel anything in the empty hollowness of my body except the ache he caused in my core.
“We’re done. Escort everyone back to their rooms.”
“Yes, sir,” Bianca’s guard salutes and guides her away as the other three guards come back in for Cashel, Bentley, and me.
Professor Vaughn glances at the boys apathetically as the guards uncuff them. Together, we leave the room that will star in my nightmares for the rest of life back into the office where Professor Vaughn halts to assess Cashel and Bentley.
“I hope you two learned your lesson.”
“Don’t worry,” Bentley spits venomously. “You can tell Windsor we’ll follow his stupid fucking rules from now on.”
“Good, good, but I didn’t mean that.” Professor Vaughn leans in close and whispers something I barely catch, but I’m fairly certain I heard him say, “Remington ismine.”
Drowning out the hum of my satiated body, I hiss at his words.
No one owns me—they can fucking die trying.
