Page 26 of Teach Me
‘There’s nothing to know.’
He rose and put the vibrator in my hand. ‘Your next assignment is to go clubbing.’
‘Huh?’
He pulled out his phone and swiped across the screen. The small vibrator responded with a low buzz. ‘New Year’s Eve. You’ll wear that the whole time. I’ll be nearby, controlling it.’
‘What?’ I squeaked, horrified at what he was suggesting. ‘You want me to wear this in public?’
‘Yes.’
‘But—’
‘No one will know you’re wearing it unless you want them to. If you behave well, I may spank you while it’s in you.’ He met my wide-eyed stare and smiled weakly. ‘I’ll see you then.’
‘Wait. You’re not going to…’ I pushed upright.
‘You failed your assignment, Ophelia. You’re withholding information from me. I want you to go home and think about the damage I could unwittingly cause you.’
But I couldn’t tell him. He wouldn’t understand.
He gripped my chin. ‘And I wouldn’t use a ruler if I were to spank you. I prefer to be more tactile. I want to feel every strike. Your jolt at the first impact. Your tremors as the endorphins kick in. The tightening of your muscles as you orgasm.’
I stared, unblinking. Unthinking. I’d always loved his voice. Its deep tones often guided me to new academic accomplishments and profound personal realisations, but now I ached – fucking ached – with a need to hear him groan ‘you’re taking it so well, Ophelia’ as he delivered the promised spanking.
His lips curled into a knowing smile. ‘An instrument would deny me the pleasure of giving you pain. Do you understand?’
I nodded, still mute.
‘Do you understand that everything I do and say is to enhance your pleasure? How important it is for me to understand what’s causing you this shame?’
I lowered my gaze. ‘I do.’
‘But you don’t want to tell me.’
‘No.’
‘Okay. I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve.’ He sat behind his desk and picked up a paper, dismissing me.
My mind was blank as I rose on trembling legs and flattened my skirt. I hoped it was a trick, but he uncapped his pen, eyes glued to the paper. The disappointment ripping through me was as bewildering as my acceptance of this experiment.
Chemicals, I reminded myself as I walked to the door, cradling the vibrator in my sweaty palm. They were the reason I’d started this journey with him. But he was the reason I stopped with my hand on the door handle and closed my eyes.
‘I wasn’t loud enough for him.’
His chair creaked. Dr Braithwaite’s footsteps came halfway across the room, then stopped when I raised my hand.
‘I wasn’t loud like the women he watched online. I didn’t look like them… down there. I didn’t respond like—’ A sudden burst of emotions broke my voice.
‘Ophelia.’ He closed the space between us and wrapped his arms around me. ‘I’m sorry you were mistreated like that.’
‘It’s silly.’
‘It’s not.’ Lips pressed against my hair, he whispered, ‘And he was wrong. You’re stunning. A truly beautiful woman. I love the sounds you make. I love how you taste and look. I could spend hours with you naked in my bed.’
But he wouldn’t. This was an experiment – a game he had played with countless other women. Seconds crawled by while I searched for a clue in his past actions to prove me wrong, but there was nothing to find. He was my lecturer. My supervisor.
Not my lover.
