Page 9 of Hard Discipline

“I know.” He makes no move to release me. “I don’t care.”

I take another panicked breath. “B-but I won’t be able to come.”

“Yes, you will.” He says it as if it’s a foregone conclusion. “You will because I told you to.”

Yet I’m consumed by the fear that I won’t, no matter what he says. That what he’s doing is too frightening, too painful and not sexy, and I just won’t be able to. I realize that I can’t bear the thought. I can’t bear the thought that what I’m doing now has just been an awful, terrible mistake. I’m so stupid, so naive. Thinking I could do this, deal with him, and I can’t. I’m not brave enough.

My tears overflow and I feel them running down my cheeks, and I don’t know why I’m crying. I don’t know why this matters so much to me, but it does, and now I can’t stop.

Mr. Fairfax watches impassively. “Cry all you want,” he says. “It won’t make any difference.”

I give a little sob. “I…c-can’t.”

“What did I say about trust?” His gaze doesn’t waver from my face. “If I say that you’ll come, then you will. Don’t second guess and don’t think. All you need to do is what I told you.”

Say the word. Sayred.

That would be so easy, but he told me submission would be hard. I just didn’t realize exactly how hard. He told me to trust him, yet that’s so difficult to do. My tears mean nothing to him, I can see that, and the fact that his grip hurts means nothing too. Lucas would have comforted me, would have instantly stopped doing anything that would have hurt me.

You didn’t want him to be careful with you though. You were tired of that.

It’s true. I was. But I wasn’t prepared for the harsh reality.

“Give up then,” Mr. Fairfax says, his voice dripping with disdain. “I told you that you weren’t ready.”

I swallow, doing my best to hold his gaze, and that’s when I see it. Beyond the impassive wall of his blue stare, a spark of challenge glitters.Do this,he is saying.Do this,I dare you. And I shiver as something in me rises, punching through my fear, wanting to meet that challenge. A thread of anger, of determination.

So despite my fear and my doubts, I lower my shaking hands to the waistband of my silky, purple panties and I shove them down to my thighs, holding his stare all the while.

I expect him to look down at my pussy, but he doesn’t, and somehow that makes it even more difficult. Yet also inexplicably, intensely erotic. He’s looking atme, not my body, and something in me likes that a lot. It wants to show him that Icando this, that I’mnota coward, so even though tears are still rolling down my face, I slide my hand down between my thighs. I’m surprised by how wet I am, despite my roiling emotions, and quite frankly it’s embarrassing how much my body has disagreed with my head.

Again though, he doesn’t look down. “Eyes on me, sub,” he orders. “Donotlook away.”

I’m shaking as I stroke my reluctant fingers over my clit, and a gasp escapes me. I’m shocked by how sharp the pleasure is and how it seems to be intensified by his fierce blue stare.

He doesn’t speak, noting every little change in my expression, every little flicker of helpless pleasure, studying me with intensity and deliberateness. I can’t hide anything from him, not a single thing, and I can’t stop trembling as my fingers move over my clit, stroking harder, faster. And I know he’s right all of a sudden. Iwillcome and I’m going to come hard and I’m almost there?—

He reaches out and jerks my hand away.

“No!” I cry out before I can think because fuck, I was so nearlythere. My orgasms sometimes take ages, but I was about to come so fast, and I can’t believe he stopped me. I try to pull my hand from his grip, but it’s like trying to get rid of an iron shackle. “Don’t,” I gasp, promptly forgetting everything he told me about obedience. “Please don’t. You told me to make myself come, you told?—”

“And now I’ve changed my mind.” His voice is flat, his gaze unwavering.

I’m so turned on I’m in literal pain and I still can’t believe he stopped me. “Why?” I demand. “Why did you?—”

He doesn’t let go of my wrist. “Because I did.”

“But I?—”

“I don’t explain myself to subs,” he interrupts, steel in his voice.

I start crying again, I can’t help it, silent tears rolling down my face, the pain of thwarted desire throbbing between my legs.

He continues to ignore my tears. “Pull you panties up. You may stand.”

I don’t want to. I’m so angry that I don’t want to do a thing he says. And yet clumsily and with shaking hands, I yank my panties up—shoving my stupid dress down, then getting to my feet. My knees are weak, I’m still so close to orgasm I want to scream, and I don’t know why I’m still crying.

He gazes at me without any discernible expression, his blue eyes enigmatic, and lets the silence sit there for far longer than I want it to. Then he says, “That was fifteen minutes. Time for you to leave.”

---