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Chapter 12
Christine
When I threaten to report Niccolo to Human Resources, something inside him snaps like a twig. The air thickens with anticipation as he rolls up his sleeves and gestures toward the phone. The video captures him drawing closer to me, his eyes narrowing in a way that makes my stomach churn. “Give it to me,” he orders.
“No,” I protest, taking a step back. “If there isn’t a camera on you, who knows what you’ll do?”
I can think of a dozen filthy things he’d do to me if no one were watching.
His frustration reaches its boiling point, and I see where he crosses over from giving a damn to saying fuck it. Niccolo takes three large, quick strides toward me unexpectedly. When he grabs my wrist, I’m afraid he’s going to hurt me. “I’ll keep recording,” he says sarcastically as he rips the phone out of my hand.
I know I should scream for help. There are people milling about in the hallway. If they heard me, they’d be forced to stop andsee what’s going on. But sound dies in the back of my throat as Niccolo drags me to his desk. A part of me wants to fight him off, but something else takes over my body, telling me that fighting him will only make things worse.
“You want a video so bad, might as well make it a good one.” He shoves me over the front of his desk before struggling with my shorts. The edge digs into my stomach, an irritating sensation that becomes a pleasurable ache as I realize what he’s doing. Though Niccolo isn’t very dexterous with one hand, he bares my bottom after a few long, exaggerated seconds.
He positions me just so: arched back, bare bottom on display for him like a dessert platter. A cool breeze whips through an open window in the back of the room, causing goosebumps to dimple my exposed skin.
Before I can comprehend what’s happening, he lands a stinging slap on my left cheek that echoes in the quiet room like a thunderclap. The pain flares up momentarily before being drowned in a sea of pleasure that leaves me gasping for breath. Niccolo’s hand is warm where it lingers on my skin, branding me with his commanding touch.
“I think you get a perverse pleasure out of being a brat.” Niccolo senses my arousal, his dark eyes gleaming with implacable intent and unmistakable lust. His fingers trail across the pert fullness of my ass, dipping briefly into the tempting valley between my legs. “I think youwantme to spank you. I think youlikeit, Christine.”
I counsel myself not to respond, knowing that’s what he wants from me. He wants me to argue and give him a reason to keep going. His hand lingers on my skin as the heat fades away, replaced by the familiar pleasure of his touch. The brush of hisfingers stirs feelings in my chest I have never felt before, and I gasp under their intensity.
“For someone with so much to say during class, you sure are quiet now. Cat got your tongue?” He asks after a few moments. Again, I don’t respond, but it only emboldens him.
Niccolo spanks me again. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoes in the room, a primal crack that strips me down to my base desires. His touch changes, no longer brusque or punishing but sexually teasing. The contrast between the hard spanking and gentle caresses creates exquisite friction that torments and brings me closer to the brink of sweet release. I arch my back in search of more, in search of escape, in search of something I can’t quite put my finger on. My moans mingle with the sounds of his skin hitting mine, creating a rhythm that excites us both.
The tension in the room grows palpable, amplified by our heavy breathing and the soft rustling of clothes as Niccolo adjusts his stance. His arousal is visible beneath his pants, straining against the fabric as he takes in the sight of me exposed and vulnerable on his desk.
His rhythmic tempo is a fusion of suffering and sensuality that escalates with each stroke. My body throbs with need as I dance on the tip of my toes, desperate to evade each swat while conversely wanting him to spank me harder. He ignites a heat inside me that makes me moan with barely concealed desire.
I’m deeply aware of the red glow spreading across my bottom under his palm, caught on camera for me to watch later. A million sensations invade my senses as my breath grows ragged.
I reach out to grab the edge of the desk, fingers curling to grip the other side as I ride out a unique blend of aching satisfaction.His firm hand guides me to the height of my desire, leaving me trembling with anticipation. Tension coils tightly around us, a sensual dance that veers on the edge of insanity.
The slaps slowly become playful yet still leave their mark. His movements are measured and precise like he knows just how much of him I need to give in. His roughness is like a drug, and it feels obscene to let him have me like this.
When he finishes, it takes a few moments before I notice. Niccolo strokes my skin, grabbing and squeezing my tender bottom to feel the heat of his discipline radiating back at him. When I look over my shoulder, his eyes are dark with lust and desire, as deep and devious as my own.
“Good girl,” he growls.
I’m mortified, ashamed, embarrassed to my core, and still, I know my center is wet. As I move to stand, Niccolo steps back, the camera continuing to record my every movement.
“You want to take this to HR? Go right ahead. But your wet little pussy is damning evidence. When you show them this video, they’re going to hear you moaning and see you shoving your ass back at me, wanting more.”
He tosses the phone back to me, and I barely catch it as I’m trying to pull my shorts up. “If you want to play hot and cold with me, that’s fine. But don’t bring that shit into my classroom, Christine. If you walk through my door again, you better respect me when you take your seat. Otherwise, I’ll repeat this performance every day until you do. Do you understand?”
I fumble with my shorts and phone until the former are pulled up, and the latter is shoved in my back pocket. My bottomblushes crimson, throbbing from our actions, and I bow my head in subservience. “Yes,” I mumble.
Niccolo steps forward to grab my chin, forcing me to look at him. Our eyes meet, and I see something forbidden staring back at me. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s my good little girl.”
Chapter 13
Niccolo
