Page 42 of Teach Me
‘Utterly fuckable.’
‘This little clit is begging for attention.’
‘She smells heavenly.’
‘Perfection.’
By the time they reached the last woman, I wanted to be next. I wanted the compliments. I wanted to pass his inspection.
It annoyed me because this was a game. He had got inside my head. He’d found a scab to pick on, and now he wanted me to acknowledge the wound and allow him to heal it.
It wasn’t a wound.
It was a mistake.
Tears burned my eyes. I wiped at them, annoyed with myself.
My relationship with Luke only lasted a couple of months. I’d dumped him when he’d shown me a picture of his favourite porn actress and claimed, “This is what you’re supposed to look like.”
His behaviour and crass comments had put me off sex – and men – for months. Festered inside me until my only option was to purge it by writing my dissertation about the harmful effects of pornography, intending to prove its correlation to sexual deviancy.
None of the women in front of me looked like that actress. They were all unique, with subtle differences that drew themen’s attention. They discussed and caressed, lavishing so much praise that my arm shot into the air.
Dr Braithwaite straightened. ‘Yes, Ophelia?’
I opened and closed my mouth, my courage burning to ashes under his intense gaze. ‘Sir…’ I sniffed and tried again. ‘Sir, may I join?’
The corner of his mouth twitched. He glanced at Dan. ‘What do you think? Do we have space for another contestant?’
Dan pointed to the end of the row. ‘Make it quick.’
I hurried across the floor, positioned myself like the other women, and prayed this was the right decision.
A curtain of my hair blocked my view of the other women, but their laboured breathing and the coiled tension in the room seeped into my pores. It seemed so ridiculous waiting for a man’s approval like this, but I wanted it regardless.
My shoulders tensed when one of them crossed the room. Water trickled into a bowl. Dr Braithwaite was getting the flannel. He got what he wanted. I glared at the floor when he returned.
It didn’t matter that he’d won this fight. I wanted his compliments.
The promised praise.
The balm for my wound.
But he said nothing when he returned. Neither of them did. They stood behind me and looked, judging in silence, letting the fear take root. The lump in my throat grew bigger and bigger until a sob rushed past my lips.
‘Shh.’ A warm hand pressed against my back, deepening its arch. Another patted my inner thigh, widening the gap between my legs. The moist flannel pressed against my sex. He held it there for a few seconds before gently cleaning off his come. I winced.
‘Hmm,’ was his only response.
‘What a shame,’ Dan murmured.
What was he talking about? What did they see? More tears flooded my eyes. I wept in silence, my fingers curling against the cold floor as I fought the urge to run out the door. I was a mere breath away from using my safeword when a firm hand gripped my hip, stilling the worst of my tremors.
‘We need to work on your posture,’ Dr Braithwaite said with a low tut. ‘And no more anal for you this week.’
‘Aww,’ Dan teased. ‘Guess I’ll have to make do with her pretty pussy.’
I startled when a finger feathered across my clit. He rubbed small circles until the tension eased from my shoulders, and I pressed back against his hand.
