Page 28 of Dean's Delinquent

Another tinge of light pink graces her cheeks as she looks down to the floor. “I don’t look like a fish.”

“If that’s your only objection, the desk, if you please.”

This time, when she looks back up, there’s something else in her expression, something dangerous. For a moment, it seems as if she bats her eyes, but that’s insane. Surely if she was trying to seduce me, she’d do something else. Then again, it might be that she doesn’t have as much practice in seducing others.

Fuck. That was the absolute worst thing to think about. I don’t need to be standing here picturing myself as her instructor, her tutor in the ways of eroticism. These thoughts and ideas do nothing to quell the erection tenting my pants so much that I’m surprised she hasn’t noticed.

“Are you sure you have to cane me? I mean, can’t we work something else out?” For a moment, her fingers trail down the front of her shirt, drawing my gaze to the bit of flesh exposed when she inhales.

Dear God. It sounds like she’s reciting a bad porno.

“You’re not trying to seduce me, Miss Hartwell. Are you?”

“I... No. Of course not. That would be very, very bad. Wouldn’t it? Naughty, even.”

An unexpected chuckle rumbles through my chest as I look at her face and body posturing. Innocent for sure. She’s all awkward angles and clumsy mumblings. Unfortunately, it simply makes her all the more endearing.

“It would be inappropriate, is what it would be.”

“Oh?” she snorts, all pretense of seducing me gone from her face. “And caning me isn’t?”

“Ahh. But I’m not trying to give you pleasure from this.” As her cheeks turn a deeper crimson, I lean in closer. “You’re not actually enjoying this. Are you? It’s supposed to be discipline. Not for your gratification.”

“O- of course not. I- No. How could anyone find anything pleasurable about our interactions?” she sputters as her face continues to get redder by the moment.

“How indeed. Now then, pull down your pants.”

This time, all the red leeches from her, leaving her face a sickly shade of pale. “W- why do you need my pants down?”

“Seems as if my punishment yesterday made no difference to you. I aim to rectify that. You may, of course, leave your panties on. Propriety. You know.”

“Right... Propriety.”

Her fingers tremble as she turns to face my desk and fiddles with the front of her pants. While she’s unable to see me, I reach down and cup myself again as I study the alluring curve of her ass. Propriety indeed. If anyone saw, if anyone knew, I’d be fucked, and not in the way I find enjoyable.

All too soon, her pants slip down to her ankles, showing off yet another thong. The dark maroon bisects her cheeks, as if she’s giving me the palette from which to paint her skin. Honestly, it will be a miracle if she can stand the cane for long enough for it to get to that color.

But then, it’s not as if this will be our last interaction. Knowing her, she’ll be right back in here soon, awaiting my firm, disciplining hand. Each time she makes a trip over my desk, I’ll be sure to increase her punishment until she can accept more, crave more, molding her into the pain slut I need, I desire.

I may not be able to take her sexually, but I will plan and plot. In the meantime, she’s agreed to my terms. She’s the one demanding I take action. All I can do is give her exactly what she’s asking for.

“My suggestion would be to hold on to the other side as tightly as you can. This is going to hurt.”

With her body stretched out over the dark wood, I can’t help but lust after the sight of her in such a submissive pose. Every inch of her cries out for my punishing touch. Soon. Somehow, someway... soon.

“Spread your legs for me like a good girl,” I growl, unable to keep my desires fully in check.

For a moment, I worry I’ve shown my hand, but if she took any notice of my words, she makes no show of it. In fact, for once, she doesn’t fight me. Not only does she widen her stance, but she also turns in her toes. “Ahhh. You remembered.”

I’m just supposed to cane her, then let her go. Nothing more. Nothing less. But she’s whittled her way into my brain, bored herself into my soul in a way that no one else has.

It’s just a warmup. That’s it. It isn’t a way for me to cop a feel in a way that has plausible deniability. But then, nothing about this has actual fucking plausible deniability. If she wanted to make a fuss, she could, and I’d be held liable.

This is stupid. It’s not just about me. It’s about everyone else I look over as both dean and head of The Society. The fact that I’m willing to put all of this in jeopardy over some student is just asinine. Only, the thing is, I now have a better understanding for those who find the ones they want and move heaven and earth to have them.

What am I willing to give up for her? Anything? As I run my hand down the cool skin of her ass cheek, I realize I would give everything. Not just because she’s some obsession I can’t seem to get out of my brain, but because I’ve craved her from the moment she stood toe-to-toe with me and demanded I allow a school paper.

She’s the first to be willing and able to stand up to me for what she wants. As such, she’s a refreshing change, a breath of fresh air, all wrapped in the most alluring of packages. Who thought I would end up wanting a brat? Certainly not me.

---