sierra
Fuck. I sprinted off the bus and down two streets while gazing at the time on my phone. Thirty minutes late?! Why the hell did class get out so late? I should’ve been here on time, like I had promised Steve—I meant, Professor Patton.
When I reached the entrance, I leaned over my knees to catch my breath and gazed up at the same security guards I had spoken with last night. “I-I’m here f-for class,” I said between breaths, chest rising and falling.
“You’re late.”
“I know,” I whispered. “Can I please come in so Professor Patton doesn’t kill me?”
The stoic man chuckled and stepped to the side. I raced into the building without looking like a complete newbie in a room full of pro dominants and submissives, then found the back hallway, where the class was being held.
Still attempting to catch my breath, I pushed the door open and stepped into the room. All the seated students snapped their heads toward me while Professor Patton glanced up from the open textbook in his hand, his dark eyes on me.
“Sorry I’m late,” I whispered, closing the door softly behind me.
From the door in the back of the room, I scanned the room for an empty seat.
Professor Patton snapped the book closed and tapped an empty desk, front and center. I gulped and hurried down the aisle of seats toward the front of the room, my gaze not leaving his smoldering one once.
Once I finally collapsed into the seat, I scrambled to set my belongings at my feet and pulled out a pen. All the other students had open textbooks, and I cursed myself for not coming sooner. I hated the attention.
“As I was saying, if you feel uncomfortable with anything during this class”—he looked solely at me, his dark gaze lingering, and tugged on his tie to loosen it—“your safeword this semester will be unicorn. Do you understand?”
Students in class nodded.
“I need a verbal response,” he said.
In unison, students murmured in response.
He stepped toward me, his gaze making me feel all sorts of things that, as his student, I shouldn’t feel at all. He cleared his throat, his large hand sprawling across the desk. “Miss Monroe?”
“I understand,” I murmured.
“Louder.”
My cheeks flushed from embarrassment. “I understand.”
“Good girl.”
Warmth exploded between my thighs, my nipples aching from two words. Two freaking words, and he already had me a wet, sopping mess. We weren’t even alone, and he … he had no problem with calling me a … a good girl.
Fuck.
“This is a contract,” he said, handing a stack of papers to each person in the front row.
I took a sheet from the stack and passed it back to the student behind me. Grabbing my pen, I glanced down at the sheet labeled Sex Education Class Agreement, along with an attached syllabus with classes named Throat Fucking 101, Obedience 101, Degradation 101, and … much more.
“You don’t need a contract for every type of relationship that you find yourself in, but we’ll be going through some basic BDSM in this class, so I’m required to introduce you to the contractual side of a sexual relationship.”
The contractual side?
My gaze drifted down the page as I briefly scanned it. According to this, we’d get a textbook that explained different types of sexual intercourse and the basics of BDSM, like relationships and partnerships, toys, and more.
“If you continue down the page,” he said, as if he had been talking and I had completely zoned out while staring at the glaring words of dominance and submission, master and slave, sadist and masochist.
“Will there be demonstrations?” someone asked to my left.
“Yes.”
Snapping my gaze to him, I sucked in a sharp breath and pressed my thighs together.
Did he say demonstrations? How is he going to demonstrate? What will he demonstrate? The sex positions? How to be a dom? On a student?
On … me?
“Sierra, you’ll learn how to properly masturbate during this class, so you won’t have to grind those thighs together,” he said, peering up from the master contract he held and smirking at me. “I doubt that makes you feel any good, does it?”
I sucked in another sharp breath, heat exploding through my core and cheeks reddening. I opened and shut my mouth three times in a row, attempting to find the words to respond. But everyone was staring at me, and I couldn’t get anything out but, “Sorry, sir,” as I stopped rubbing my legs together.
“I didn’t say to stop,” Professor Patton said, returning to his paper. “Continue.”
Cheeks flaming hot, I dropped my gaze to the desk in front of me and tried to ignore all the other students’ stares. Why did he call me out like that? I hadn’t even realized that I had been so … uncomfortable.
My nipples poked against my shirt, and I pressed them against the desk so nobody could see them. My body felt like it was on fire, like the flames were overtaking every inch of my skin, my thighs, my pussy.
Fifteen minutes later, once I finally calmed down, Professor Patton walked behind his desk. “That’s all for tonight. I’ll see you all next week.” He glanced up at me. “Sierra Monroe. Please, stay after. We need to chat.”
So, as all the students cleared out of the room, I quietly gathered my belongings and hoped that everyone would completely forget that I even existed. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die after tonight.
Once I slung my backpack over my shoulder, I walked to the front.
He handed me a book. “Please read the first three chapters by the next class.”
“What is this?”
“A book on sex. Chapters one through three detail consent as well as the basics.”
“Okay,” I whispered, holding it to my chest. “I’ll read them by the next class.”
“And,” he said before I could leave, “we need to talk about your disobedience.”
“My disobedience?”
“Your tardiness.”
“One of my classes ran over,” I said, nipples taut. “She usually lets us out five minutes early so I have time to catch the bus. But I had to”—I laughed nervously—“grab a later bus, then run here tonight. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
“We need to make sure of that, especially for the demonstrations.” He shook his head. “But either way, I ordered you not to be late.” He moved closer to me and lifted my chin. “And you disobeyed me.”
“I-I didn’t mean to,” I whispered.
“Disobedience is punished in my class.”
“Punished?” I repeated, pressing my thighs together. “H-how will you do that?”
His lips curled into a small smirk. “Follow me.”