Page 79 of Wicked Lessons


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“Dirty girl,” he says with a pleased rumble. “I want you to cum for me. All over my shoe.”

I quicken the movement of my hips, cling onto the arms of his chair for balance, and rut harder. Pressure builds up around my pussy, pushing down on my nerves with the force of my embarrassment.

“Hurry,” he snaps.

An exasperated breath huffs from my throat. “Give me a minute.”

“You have a count of three before I withdraw my foot.”

I pick up my pace.

“One,” he says in a deep voice that hits me straight in the core. “Two—”

My orgasm hits harder than it ever has before. I part my lips, a huge breath gusting into my lungs.

Professor Segul lurches forward, clamps a hand around my mouth, and muffles the scream, but it does nothing to quell the sensations rolling through my system.

I lose myself in the intensity of the climax, my entire body shattering. It’s more powerful than the time he fucked me with the wine bottle or used me as his pussy cup. This time, it’s powered by humiliation that he didn’t do this to me—I did it to myself.

Bloody hell. I have a humiliation kink.

Tears rise to my eyes. I’m not sure why. Before I know it, he scoops me into his arms and pulls me to his strong chest, both keeping me upright and holding me together as I continue to splinter.

“Shhhh…” he whispers in my ear. “You’re safe with me.”

I breathe hard against him, not knowing how long we’re pressed together, but my entire body melts. A flicker of common sense in the back of my head asks why I’m seeking comfort from the very man who degraded me, but I snuff it out with a sigh.

As my breath returns to normal, I pull back and meet his warm gaze.

“Thirsty,” I whisper.

His deep chuckle resounds across my chest. “I have something you can drink.”

I open and close my aching jaw. “Thanks, but I’d rather take another spanking.”

Professor Segul’s head tilts up in the direction of the wall clock, then he releases his arms, and lowers himself back, on the seat.

“Come on, then.” He pats his thighs. “Get over my knee.”

“But my ass is still sore from Saturday,” I say from between gasps.

“I won’t ask you twice.”

My gaze darts to the door. For a nano-second, I consider my chances of sprinting out into the hallway. But a reckless part of me wants to know what he’ll do next.

I lie across his lap, and Professor Segul places a steadying hand on the small of my back. Excitement thrums through every nerve, but the muscles of my body stiffen as I brace myself for a stinging slap.

He pulls open a drawer and extracts something that hits the leather tabletop with a gentle thud.

A leather paddle?

Shivers run down my spine.

He wouldn’t.

When I hear the scrape of something that sounds like a jar being opened, my brow furrows, and I ask, “What are you doing?”

After pushing the fabric of my knickers aside, he runs the tip of one finger over my asshole with a touch so gentle that my cheeks relax.

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