I suspect Gray is open to being a submissive because it means she doesn’t have to think. By putting me in charge of her pleasure, she’s free to simply feel.
I look down at the woman on the bed, her body half-curled on herside as she waits for me to tell her what to do. She still has her clothes on, and I try to decide if I want her to take them off or if I want to fuck her with the schoolgirl uniform on.
I decide on something in between.
“Take off your shirt and bra,” I tell her, “and lay on your back.”
My little professor wants to feel, so I’ll make her feel.
Chapter 40
Gray
I sit up on the bed and start to pull my shirt off.
“Slowly,” Ash says when I work at it too quickly.
I slow down, forcing myself to make it more of a strip tease. Ash watches me intently from the side of the bed as I finish pulling the shirt off and hold it up. With a flick of my wrist, I toss it toward his head so it covers his face. He pulls it off, and for a second I’m not sure if it’s anger or passion I see in his eyes.
I yelp as he surges forward onto the bed, and I have to lean back as he hovers over me, his face serious.
“You told me you weren’t a brat,” Ash says as he continues to loom over me. “Did you lie?”
I search my memory for our conversation about brats, then shake my head. “I…I was just trying to be playful,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
Ash’s face eases. “No, I’m sorry. I just had a bad experience with a brat once.”
I nod my understanding. Or what little I can understand based on my limited knowledge of BDSM.
“Take off your bra,” he says more gently.
He still looms over me, and I manage to reach a hand behind me to pop the clasp on my bra. Ash’s eyes drop to my chest, and he watches as I pull the bra loose and toss it off the side of the bed.
He smiles. “Good girl.”
I go wet again between my legs and reach for the zipper of the plaid skirt, but Ash grabs my wrist.
“Not the skirt,” he says. “That stays on.”
I nod again, and Ash eases himself back off the bed. He goes to the head of it and picks up one of the restraints. When he just stands there, I finally get the hint and lay back on the bed. I put my hand above my head, and he wraps the cuff around my wrist. He lets go when he’s done, and I tug on the restraint to test it. It holds me firm, and I feel a jolt that’s somewhere between thrill and fear.
Ash walks to the other corners of the bed, and each time I dutifully present him with a limb that he straps down.
I have no idea why I’m submitting. Almost every fiber of my being is screaming at me that this is not what strong, smart women let men do to them.Almostevery fiber. A few remaining ones have locked the objectors in a basement and are assuring me it’s not wrong to like this.
When Ash is done and I’m lying spreadeagle across his bed, he goes to his box and pulls something out. He turns and looks down at me, taking me in, before he holds up what’s in his hand. A blindfold.
My heart skips, and I tug unconsciously at the restraints.
“You’re going to blindfold me?” I ask warily.
“I want you to focus on what you feel,” Ash says. “This will help.”
Ash kneels on the bed and slips the blindfold, a fancy sleep mask, over my head.
I feel him get off the bed, and my ears instantly sharpen to listen for what he’s doing. I can’t hear anything for several seconds, and my imagination runs wild. Is he taking pictures of me strapped naked to his bed? Will he send them to his teammates? I would die of mortification if my students ever saw me like this.
I begin to thrash. “No pictures!” I yell. “Ash, what are you doing?”
