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“I will be good for teacher,” Saoirse whispered, unable to keep the words buried in her chest.
Sutter’s grin lit the room. “Give me your consent to scene in front of these people. I’ll keep it above your underwear.”
Saoirse nodded eagerly.
“Take off your pretty shoes. Naughty girls in detention don’t get to wear heels.” He waited while she slipped out of her shoes and put them on an unused chair with her silk wrap. Then he shrugged out of his suit jacket and handed it to her. “Put on your uniform and go sit at the desk right in front of the teacher, you naughty, naughty girl. You’ll see what happens to girls who back-talk their teacher in class.”
Blood pounding in her ears, palms going sweaty as she pulled on his jacket and buttoned it, Saoirse slunk to the front of the room. She heard the V.I.P.s gathering at the far end of the room: the small shuffles of their feet, their breathing. But she tuned it out, focusing on the scene. When Sutter strode to the front of the room, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt to show his tanned, veined, and muscled forearms, he was all she saw, all she heard.
He sat down behind the desk and leveled a glare at her that made her shrink down in the uncomfortable, wooden chair with a creak even as her nipples pebbled against her satiny new lingerie and heat built in her belly.
“Little miss, why are you in detention today?” Sutter asked.
Saoirse gulped. “I talked back in class, Sir,” she said in a small voice, taking her cues from Sutter’s brief set-up of the scene.
Sutter shook his head, grimacing. “Disgusting behavior, little miss. Disgusting. Your generation has lost all notion of respect for your elders.”
His smile flashed and Saoirse fought not to return it. Her heart leaped at the moment of levity. Her Little liked to have fun in scenes, and Sutter seemed to intuit how to appeal to that side of her, without breaking the role-play.
“I’m so sorry, Sir,” she whispered.
“Oh, I doubt that very much, little miss, but you will be. I’ve found lines an excellent way to instill a little respect. But lines won’t be of any use if you’re writing them without a hot, red bottom, would they? Come up here, bend over my desk, and pull up your jacket and skirt, naughty girl.”
Saoirse trembled all over, not with fear but with wonderful excitement. Shaking, she rose and walked around his desk, dragging her feet against the rough, industrial carpet with each step. Sutter rolled his chair back and gestured to the desk’s surface, set with just a blotter and an old, rotary phone that wasn’t plugged into anything.
Bracing herself with her good arm, hand splayed on the blotter, Saoirse slowly bent over the desk. She braced on her elbows for a moment before Sutter’s warm hand landed between her shoulders and pushed gently.
“All the way down, little miss. Cheek on the desk. Close your eyes and listen to my voice.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, lowering herself further. Once she was pressed to the desk, she reached back and tugged up the jacket and her skirt, grateful it wasn’t as fitted as the dresses Sutter’s mother and sisters had painted on.
Sutter’s appreciative growl filled her ears a moment before he ran a fingertip down the seam of her cheeks, pressing the satin of her lingerie into her skin. Saoirse smiled to herself, hoping he liked her white satin panties with their embroidered, peek-a-boo daisies, as much as she did. She also hoped he’d get to see the matching bustier tonight.
Saoirse wasn’t shy about her body. Competitive athletes didn’t have the luxury of modesty, and she was used to being on display in front of an audience. She’d worn a lot less in front of many more. Still, she appreciated Sutter’s reassurance that he’d keep the scene above her underwear.
His hand flattened on her bottom and circled. The feeling was familiar now after two pleasure spankings. Saoirse relaxed wholly into the scene, spreading her hands across the blotter. Her hips followed Sutter’s hand of their own accord, wiggling in anticipation. As Sutter’s hand lifted, Saoirse’s sex clenched in anticipation.
Smack.
He wasn’t starting off light and the sting skated up Saoirse’s spine, raising goosebumps all the way to her shoulders. She shivered and lifted her bottom.
Sutter leaned over her; his voice was low and harsh in her ear. “Oh, little miss, someone might think you like that.”
Yes, sir!She thought.
Instead, she said, “I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Not enough yet, I don’t think,” Sutter rumbled. Cool air kissed her cheeks as he drew his hand back again.
Smack!
Saoirse jolted with the impact and squeezed her eyes closed at the hot-cold-hot sensation that ran through her.
Smack!
Saoirse panted through the burn and rush of heat. Sutter’s hand descended again, but this time he rubbed and kneaded, working the sting in. When Saoirse was sure her bottom was glowing brighter than an ember, Sutter tucked her skirt into her panties and tapped the small of her back.
“Up, little miss. I want twenty lines.I will be good for teacher.Perfect lines, mind you. If you make a mistake, cross the line out and start again.”
