Wicked Lessons

by Siggy Shade

To everyone who loves the kind of morally gray hero who would burn down the world for you

“A brat should never have to supply the implements of her own taming,”

Because on Saturday, I’ll bend her over my knee and teach her never to hide her beauty. Then as I’m fucking her raw, she’ll spill her entire life story.

“Give me one of every toy you have in stock.” He stares back at me with his mouth agape. “So, you’re not a dom, then?” I glower at the counterfeit switch until his posture curls in on itself. He doesn’t need to know that I never reuse a single set of toys with different submissives. My lip curls. “Do you want my money or do you want to continue gaping at me like I’ve confiscated your prick?”

breasts. “Good girl,” he says. “We’ll enjoy our time better when you’re obedient.” My lips curl into a smirk. “And if I’m not?” “You really don’t want to know what I do to bratty girls.” A thrill of excitement zips down my insides and nestles straight between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together and swallow back a groan. “Maybe I like being bad. Maybe I like to be scared.” “I’ll bear that in mind when I have you kneeling before me on Saturday,” he says, his voice laced with dark amusement.

“What kind of fucktoy displays her bare cunt to a man she’s only just met?”

It’s not the words that arouse me, it’s the way he says them. Like he approves wholeheartedly of what I’m doing.

She looks too innocent for someone who just blackmailed me to be her… fuck toy? Sugar daddy? Dom? Heat rushes to my groin, and my jaw tightens. Why the fuck is the traitor in my pants swelling at extortion?

When will women learn that a man will never change his ways unless he has a gun to his balls?

“Good girl,” I growl. “Such a pretty girl. You look perfect with your lips around my cock.”

“Look at you, sucking your professor like a well-practiced pro. Are you trying to get an A?”

“Look at me,” I hiss. When she raises her gaze, her pretty eyes glisten. “Good girl,” I mutter. “You’re taking my cock so well.”

“The only time you speak is when spoken to or if you need to exercise your safe word. One more unauthorized uttering from you, and I’ll use the gag.”

“What’s the knife for?” “Knife play, mostly,”

He’s training me to enjoy his touch—maybe it’s time I trained him to enjoy giving me pleasure.

I pant hard through parted lips, my gaze fixed on his cruel smile. “How is it now, Miss Stahl?” There’s a bite to the way he says my name, a threat that if I continue acting unaffected by the tickler, he’ll escalate. I can’t fucking wait. “Yeah,” I say, trying not to hyperventilate. “But it’s a bit subtle.” His eyes flash, and the tickler reaches the apex of my clit.

He gets off on torture, only it’s the sexual kind. He’s determined to make me beg. “How is it, now?” he asks, his voice wavering with mirth. “Maybe try it again?” My voice trembles.

“You’re taking it like a good girl,” he muses. “Yes, a wonderful little pain slut.”

It’s like having my own personal horror movie, and I’m the heroine at the mercy of the bad guy. And he wants to make me scream.

He isn’t. He wouldn’t. He bloody well is.

“You have the most delightful responses,” he says without a trace of amusement, even though the corners of his eyes crinkle. “I’m glad to provide you with such scintillating entertainment,” I snarl.

“Have you satisfied your dark passenger? Mine wants you to eat my pussy.” Slap. The palm strike on my inner thigh sends reverberations traveling down to my throbbing clit. My face goes perfectly still. I’ll be damned if I admit that I found it hot. “Fascinating.” He runs the wheel up to the other side of my areola and back down.

need…” “Yes?” He leans down toward me, his breath warming my neck. “You know.” “One should never presume,” he says. “Unless you enunciate precisely what you need.” “Fuck me,” I say from between clenched teeth.

“You’re so wet.” “Yes,” I say from between ragged breaths. “Things like that happen when you make a girl wait.” “Is that so?” His voice hardens, and I can already hear him making me wait longer, just to teach me a lesson for being sarcastic.

Suddenly, his orders to remain silent make perfect sense. Professor Segul withholds touch like a weapon of mass frustration.

“Knife play is fine, as long as it’s to tear off my underwear.” “Thank you for your unnecessary words of approval,” he says with a snort and cuts the side of my knickers with a snick.

“This isn’t why I came here,” she says through clenched teeth. “I was under the impression you already did.” My gaze drops to her pussy. “Or was I mistaken when you clamped around the bottle.”

“You’re the type of woman who is too ashamed to admit your fascination with depravity.”

“This scene can end with one word, yet you cry and whine and fail to exercise it. Why? Because you want this just as much as I do but want to absolve yourself of responsibility with a display of resistance.”

The bottle’s neck is wet from her secretions, and I have to brace it against my chest to prevent slippage. It takes every effort not to lick it clean, but one has to keep appearances, at least on the first date.

Apparently degrading young women as feisty as Phoenix does wonders for my refractory period.

“My, what a tight pussy you have,” I growl. “All the better for fucking you with,” she says through clenched teeth. The Little Red Riding Hood reference eases the sexual tension, enough for me to snort a laugh. Phoenix is a delight, and I look forward to exploring more.

“You’ll be a good girl and give me one more,” he mumbles from around my clit. “But this time, I want you to squirt.”

“That’s it,” I say through panting breaths. “Don’t spill a drop.” When I release her hair, she reels backward, panting, gasping, and clutching at her throat. She mutters something about how this isn’t anything like a book she’s read.

“C minus.” Her gaze snaps up to meet mine. “What?” “The fellatio was passable.”

This is worse than summoning a demon, worse than opening Pandora’s box. Because those are all fictional and you can close the book when it gets too intense. I’ve stirred something hungry and dark within Professor Segul and now he wants more.

Professor Segul drums his fingers on his thigh. This is the universal sign for If you keep me waiting a moment longer, I’ll paddle your ass until your bruises get bruises.

His scowl deepens, and a ripple of terror travels straight to my clit. I have never in my miserable fucking existence felt so turned on. Shit.

“Shhhh…” he places a finger over my lips. If I wasn’t so fucking horny right now, I would bite it, but I can’t let him pull back that foot. “Look at you, rutting my shoe like a bitch,” he says as though reading my thoughts. “No,” I whisper. “What a little slut you are, taking pleasure wherever you can, even if it’s from your lecturer’s shoe.”

This time, it’s powered by humiliation that he didn’t do this to me—I did it to myself. Bloody hell. I have a humiliation kink.

I’m halfway down the hallway when I realize that: a) I have no idea how this pump works b) my next class is Macroeconomics c) which Professor Segul is now teaching d) he technically hasn’t punished me for the stunt with the banana Shit.

Those books made me crave all that kinky stuff, but you came along and made my fantasies come true.”

Her sexual history is none of my business, so why do I feel a sudden urge to kill?

My veneer of calm shatters, letting through my protective instincts. I snarl, “Who do I need to castrate?” She huffs a laugh. “Would you really cut off his dick?” “And watch him bleed to death.”

“Murder is okay if it’s in self-defense. It’s noble if you do it to protect someone else.”

“When I was little, I used to fantasize about murdering my dad,” she murmurs, her tone wistful.

“You’re my perfect little match,” I press a kiss on her bare shoulder. “And I’ll never let you go.”

“Also a dick?” My eyes snap back to his. “Huh?” “Last night, you called me a dickhead.” “That doesn’t sound like me.” “Do you doubt my word?” He raises a brow. “No,” I blurt.

“You think I like all kinds of crazy things,” she mutters. “I’m just going by your reactions,” I say, my voice light. “We both know you’re a kinky little slut beneath the innocent facade. You’re just in denial.” “What?” she splutters. “I’m not— Oh.”

“The difference between you and me is that I’m not in denial about my kinks,” I whisper in her ear. “You might whine and complain about worshiping my shoes or feet, but the more degrading I make things for you, the wetter you become.” “No.” “Says the brat who has never once exercised her safe word.”