Page 34 of Desperate Measures
Just like that, the weight of him is gone. I press my forehead to the bed and work up the energy to stand. By the time I turn around, he’s composed himself. As if he wasn’t just spinning out a fantasy so dirty, I’m shaking just from imagining it.
He considers me. “You want to be forced, but the flavor is wrong.”
What’s he talking about?
My heart takes up residence in my throat, each beat pressing against the sensitive skin there and leaving me dizzy. “What?”
But he’s already moving to the door. “Stay here. This will only take a minute.”
For a moment, I think he’s joking, but he leaves the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him.
I sink onto the bed and stare down at my torn dress. I was ready. I am ready. My body craves his with a strength that leaves me fighting not to chase him through the halls of this place and beg for the denied orgasm. To beg for his cock. I have nothing left but my pride at this point, so I force myself still.
It’s only when the door opens again that I realize I was really forcing myself to obey. Except it’s not Jafar who walks into the room.
I blink. “Tink?”
“The one and only.” She shuts the door and turns, which is when I get a good look at what she’s wearing. Or really what she’s not. A lace slip hugs her curves, barely covering her breasts and ass, held in place only because it has garters on the side attached to thigh-highs. It’s sexy, but that’s not what has me fighting not to stare.
She’s not wearing anything underneath.
She smirks at me. “For someone who put on a cute little show out in the main room, you’re awfully easy to shock.”
“You saw that?”
“Princess, everyone saw that.” She tosses several articles of clothing onto the bed next to me. “Jafar wants you to put these on and follow me.”
Questions bubble up to press against the inside of my lips, but I keep them inside. I have a feeling Tink won’t tell me. More than that, I either trust Jafar in this place or I don’t. I cautiously lift the plaid skirt. Oh.
“Schoolgirl is sexy. I’m not even going to lie.” Tink pauses. “Do you want me to turn around?”
“Why? You’ve seen everything.” I stand on shaking legs and strip out of the red dress. The clothing is missing a few essential items—namely a bra—but I’m surprised to find white panties included. I expect cotton, but this is a lace thong that is just as minuscule as the skirt. I pull on the panties and skirt, which barely covers my ass. The shirt, however, gives me trouble. “I don’t…”
“Here.” Tink brushes my hands to the side, undoes the buttons I’ve been struggling with, and ties it under my breasts instead. She steps back and shakes her head. “Yeah, you look hot for teacher. Wait, one more thing.” She pulls a hair tie off her wrist and moves around behind me. “This is easier if you kneel.”
I obey without thinking and wait as she pulls my hair back into a tight ponytail.
Tink squeezes my shoulder. “Check yourself out, princess.”
I stand and walk to the mirror and… “Wow.” I can see my dark nipples through the thin fabric of the white shirt, and tying it up has left a large swathe of my stomach barred. The skirt looks even tinier than it feels, and as I move experimentally, I flash white panties. I turn around and, yes, the lower curve of my ass is clearly visible. “I look indecent.”
“That’s kind of the point.” She moves to the door. “Come on. He’s waiting.”
I know what fantasy we’re playing out now. It’s not a schoolteacher like Tink thinks. It’s the one Jafar growled into my ear.
I have to fight not to clench my thighs together as I follow Tink out of the room. She leads me farther down the hall and points to a door. “This one.” She grins. “Have fun, princess.”
I carefully open the door and step into the room. Shock has my feet growing roots and my fingers going slack to release the door. The room is a gentleman’s office. Thick carpet beneath my feet, one wall lined with books and the other containing several framed landscape prints. Leather chairs sit opposite a massive mahogany desk that’s polished until it shines. A single lamp in the corner offers little in the way of illumination. It’s not an exact match to my father’s office, but it’s close enough to evoke the feeling I always got when I was called there.
Shame. Anger. Fear.
I clench my hands and press back against the cool wood of the door. It’s just a room, but Jafar choosing this one… Oh yes, he definitely did it on purpose.
Movement has me lifting my head. He’s there in the shadows of the room, leaning against the wall behind the desk. How many times did Jafar stand exactly there when my father doled out his punishments for my misbehavior? More times than I can count.
As if sensing my thoughts, he says, “You’ve been bad, baby girl.” He pushes off the wall but doesn’t move from his spot. “Willfully disobedient. Mouthy.”
My body can’t tell if I’m turned on or terrified. I clench my hands at my sides and try not to shake. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I won’t do it again.”
