Page 27 of Dean's Delinquent

“And we’re not. I actually resent how little you seem to think we’re doing to figure this out. Just because we’re not airing out half-concocted details or salacious ideology, it doesn’t mean we’re not taking this seriously. I still have police and other investigators looking into it.”

“My article wasn’t half-concocted or salacious. I presented the facts I had,” she hisses, crossing her arms as she glares at me.

“Right. Facts of a case that’s not even concluded. And how can you say it’s not salacious when it obviously had a slant?”

This time, her jaw drops fully, as if I’ve given her the most heinous insult I could have concocted. “Slant? You’re accusing me of a slant when you’re not even considering the possible ramifications of just one student being drugged? Are you really that narrow minded?”

Shaking my head, I ignore her little rant and go over to my armoire. Now that I’ve already planted the seed in her mind about a cane, I can use it on her with impunity. But which one should I use? Should I be kind and start with something a bit thicker?

It would certainly leave an impression and possibly make some pretty bruises as well. However, the thinner ones will no doubt get my point across even faster. Most of the submissives I’ve disciplined absolutely hated the skinny canes.

They seemed to prefer nearly any punishment over that one. As I trail my fingers over the rattan, I realize it doesn’t really matter at this point. All I want is to strip this girl bare and leave my marks upon her skin. Stepping further behind the door, I cup myself and stifle the groan threatening to give away my deviant desires.

Then again, she did say I was narrow-minded. Best to show her what narrow gets her. I run my fingers over the lot and choose something in the middle. It will certainly have enough heft to make a point, but enough sting to satisfy my need for her to feel pain.

ChapterEleven

Dean Anderson

Ican’t help the sadistic smile as it crosses my lips. Granted, this isn’t the most painful tool I have in my arsenal. Not by a long shot. It should, however, go a long way in imparting to Ashleigh just how much she’s mucked everything up.

Even as I pull it out of the armoire, I have to give her a modicum of credit for how her mind spun these facts into something even I haven’t considered. It’s no secret Chase made enemies. Hell, even Professor Richards is still leery of the boy.

Was. Was still leery.

As much as it hurts to lose a member of The Society, I have to accept that he’s gone. If Ashleigh is right and it was murder... But who would do something like that?

Pulling away from the safety of the armoire, I shake my head as recrimination fills my gut. Whowouldn’twant to kill him? If half of the stories I heard whispered around the dorms were true... He was going to be dealt with sooner or later.

Somehow, I hoped that serving under Mistress Nadia would have given him a better appreciation for his role as a burgeoning dominant. All it seemed to do was fill him with rage. Rage he must have been taking out on poor drunk girls on campus.

As the dean of Loftry, I should want nothing more than to find out just how his death happened. As the leader of The Society, all I can say is good riddance. Things are safer now. No matter how it happened.

Regardless, I can’t have Ashleigh thinking she can write what she wants. Her inflammatory article does nothing but fan the flames, making his death a far more public affair than it needs to be. She’s still young enough, naïve enough, and rich enough not to consider how her actions affect others, and that ends today.

Once I turn to face her, those curious eyes of hers widen until they seem to eat into her face. That doe-eyed, breathless visage shouldn’t make me hard. It shouldn’t make me want to defile her until she’s just as depraved as me. As the leader, I don’t have the luxury of making a mistake.

And that’s exactly what she would be... a mistake.

Until I can figure out exactly how to get her into The Society and ensure her silence, she’s off limits to me. An anathema, the vector of my damnation. Just one wrong look into those pretty eyes of hers... Damn. She’s far more fae like than she’ll ever know.

“You can’t be serious.” My balls tighten at her scoffing tone. “You actually bought a cane? But when? You didn’t know about the article mishap until this morning.”

“How utterly naïve of you to think I would wait until an if would happen when we both know it was always going to be an inevitable when.”

When her mouth drops open, all I can think about is sliding my cock between those pretty lips. Maybe that will be the only way I can ever shut her up. And what a pretty picture that will make. No doubt it will make for great masturbatory fodder.

“You’re a madman,” she finally spits out as her bluster seems to fade.

“Do you deny that you did wrong?”

“Well, no. But-“

“And did you not understand the terms of our interactions?”

“Well, yes. But-“

“Then I have no idea why you’re standing here gaping like a fish instead of grabbing the other side of my desk so I can punish you and be done with it.”

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