Page 64 of Dean's Delinquent

I actually want to submit to this man. I’ve never cared what my father thought, and that’s probably because he made it very clear from the beginning where he thought my place was. With Dean Anderson, it’s always been different. I’m the one who brought us here. Not him.

I’m the one who made these consequences, and now I have to deal with them. Pretty sure the only way my gender factored in is because Dean Anderson so very obviously wants to fuck me where I’ve never seen evidence that he’d also indulge in a guy.

But that’s the fundamental shift right there. I’m not here because I’m a woman. I’m here because I’mhiswoman. My world spins about my head as they converse in front of me, as if I’m not even here. But now, it doesn’t bother me.

Slave.

Submissive.

Freedom.

Choice.

Only, now that my actions have tipped their hand, I don’t have all that much choice. Thankfully, being his is what I would have wanted from the start, anyway.

“She’s a liability,” Doctor Andrew’s voice seeps into my brain like a maggot burrowing its way in.

“Yes,” my dean responds. “But she’s my liability. Now then, if you’d be so kind as to bind her, you can go back to your slave. I know she panics when you’re not there.”

I watch the two square up for a moment. It’s as if fire and ice collide in front of me, but in a way that’s so quiet, so silent, I almost can’t tell if I’m imagining it or not. Doctor Andrew’s eyes narrow as he glares at Dean Anderson, but the man is always so pissy looking that it could just be indigestion.

Dean Anderson’s lips, however, quirk up into a smug grin, as if my lack of fear and nervousness makes me somehow better than Chastity. If I had enough wits about me, I’d deny that, telling them both that I wish I had more sense than spine. I wouldn’t be here if I were meek like her.

I wouldn’t be hoisted up on my own petard in the most literal sense I could have ever imagined if I owned even an ounce of rational fear. In some ways, I almost envy her. However, the throbbing in my pussy and core do not. It’s getting me exactly what I want and then some.

“You know what you’re doing?” the doctor finally asks, breaking the silence.

“I may not be able to sadistically truss up a girl like you do, Andrew, but I’m not some inept newbie. I know what to look for. I know how to get her out of this if I need to. If you would be so kind as to proceed, you can get back home. But first, allow me to prepare her for you.”

Fuck. He’s still going to let the wackadoo quack do whatever it is he has planned. Somehow, in all that tenderness, I thought he’d forgotten. Or, at the very least, decided he wanted me all to himself from then on. Is this going to be my new normal? Is he going to share me now?

I think I can bear almost anything other than that.

ChapterTwenty-Five

Dean Anderson

There’s something in her gaze that gives me pause. Until now, she’s been drifting in and out, her eyes glazing over as subspace flits about her brain and body. Now, as Andrew prepares for this final step, she seems a bit leery and almost disheartened.

It can’t be the threat of punishment. Not when I know how much she likes it. Holding my hand up, I stop Doctor Andrew as he begins to unwind a hank of rough hemp. “Talk to me, Ashleigh. What’s going on right now? I don’t like how you feel at the moment.”

Doctor Andrew groans as he lifts his hands up in the air, as if me coddling her is going to undo something fundamental. She’s still going to get punished. She’s still going to understand her actions. But right now, I need to know where her head is.

Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip as she glances back over to Doctor Andrew, then to me. “S- sorry, Master,” she murmurs, causing my balls to clench at the soft honorific dripping from her mouth. “I was hoping... That is... If I apologize the way you want, can you please not share me with him?”

After the words slip out, her eyes widen as she shakes her head and winces toward Doctor Andrew before continuing. “Not that you’re not a great guy,” she babbles as her nervousness takes over. “I’m sure you’re just fine. And it’s not just you. It’s anyone. I would rather... Fuck. I’m just making a mess of this.”

“My dear,” I chuckle as I run my thumbs over the wetness coating her cheeks. “I’m not sharing you with him. I’m never fucking sharing you with anyone. You’re mine and no one else’s. He’s merely here to drive home a lesson. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“Please,” Doctor Andrew snorts as he continues with his rope. “As if I’d want a brass girl like you when I have my perfect submissive at home. Perhaps our next session should be us exploring this burgeoning Narcissistic Personality Disorder.”

“Or,” I butt in. “And hear me out. She has absolutely no idea what you’re about to do to her, and it has nothing to do with how highly she thinks of herself?”

“Since when did you become the psychiatrist?” he counters with a slight tilt to his lips.

The muscles in my shoulders loosen as I realize the good doctor is just trying to joke around with me. With that bastard, it’s hard to tell. “When did you become the brains of this operation?”

“Touché. Can I get back to it? Time is racing away from us.”

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