Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25686 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25686 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Students shouldn’t look like that, and she’s toying with me.
Part of me hopes she comes late to class tomorrow so she gives me a reason to punish her. Damn modern laws prohibiting me from bending her over my desk and paddling her ass.
But I don’t need to spank her to correct her. Wield my power over her. Teach her a lesson.
I’ll find a way.
I gather my things together and head to the gym. I need to burn off some of this energy, ground myself in sweat and pain. I lift until my muscles ache, bench pressing a record high, and when my body is covered in sweat and my mind able to focus on things other than the curves of the barely legal student in my classroom, I head home. I take a quick shower, down a protein shake, then make myself a quick sandwich I eat before I check my email.
There are exactly nine students in my class, and exactly eight paragraphs in my inbox. Nothing from Giada.
I read each one dutifully, as if trying to make up for the fantasies I’m playing out in my head about fucking my student up against the blackboard in our room. I’m a fucking pervert for even fantasizing about it and need to be the good professor now. I read about one student’s fascination with Shakespearean plays, and how Shakespearean tragedies influence his writing, another student’s love of the Byronic hero drawing her to explore the Brontes. I sigh in boredom scanning a paragraph about another student’s visit to Walden Pond after a thorough exploration of Thoreau.
Did none of them actually listen to the assignment? I’m not looking for them to brag about esoteric literary pursuits. This is a creative writing class, for Christ’s sake. I asked them how literature influenced their imagination.
Rolling my eyes after reading another paragraph as dry as sawdust detailing one student’s obsession with Hemingway, I shut off my laptop, frowning at the clock on my wall that tick-tocks in mockery at my frustration, and make up my mind.
I haven’t been to Club Verge since my sub broke up with me in April. Her mom, still living in a tiny village outside of Greece, was ill. Philippa quit her job and decided to move back home to take care of her siblings. She found another dom in her hometown last month, and even though I still get a little pang thinking about her, I’ve moved on.
I need to go back to Verge. Maybe part of my frustration tonight’s because I haven’t gotten laid in weeks. Hell… months? And haven’t topped anyone in even longer. I need to tie someone up, cause a little pain, see someone squirm under my authority and control. Then maybe I can banish the thought of the girl with a too-short dress, spankable ass, and legs that go on for days out of my damn mind.
I take one final glance at my email before I close my laptop, and remember she was supposed to have the assignment in my inbox by tonight. Let’s see if she does what she’s told.
Something tells me she won’t. And a part of me hopes she doesn’t.
I get ready to go, hail a cab, and head to Verge.
When I get there, the night’s darkened to ebony, the streetlights reflecting on the shiny black entrance. The last time I came to Verge I wasn’t alone. I miss coming here, where my friends are. It will be good to see them again. I have no idea who’ll be here, but suspect at least the club owner Tobias will make an appearance.
I open the door and nod to Braxton, who’s working as bouncer tonight.
“Geoff,” he says, fist-bumping me in greeting. “Man, haven’t seen you in forever. Where the hell’ve you been?”
I shrug. “Eh, haven’t been into coming for a while. Just needed a little space.”
He looks at me with sympathy and nods. “I get it. Still, dude, good to see you back.”
I give him a chin lift. “Thanks, man. What have you been up to?”
A pretty, lilting female voice comes from behind us. “Attempting to keep his submissive in check, which, I might add, is what I’d call an exercise in futility.” I turn to face the woman addressing us.
Brax has a sub? Looks like I’ve missed some action.
I look over and see a pretty, curvy woman with short black hair approaching us. She’s looking at Braxton like he hung the moon. Brax loops an arm around her shoulders and gestures to me.
“Zoe, meet my friend Geoff. Hasn’t been around in a while. Geoff, meet my girl Zoe.”
Brax was one of the floaters, a guy who never settled down with anyone and mocked those of us who did. And now he’s got a girl? The pang in my chest returns as I force a smile and shake Zoe’s hand.