School Ties (26 page)

“I know.” I do. It's not always easy. She needs a lot of reassurance, a lot of affection, care, control. But what I get in return? That adoring look like I'm the only man on earth, how she loves me and cares for me in her own way, her sweet and willing submission? I absolutely get the better end of the deal. “She deserves someone who wants to be that for her, and I do. She needs me and I . . . I need to be needed.”

“Well, Mr. Shepherd—”

“Oh, hush, Rett,” Mrs. Wilson scolds before she turns her elfin gaze on me. “I think you're going to make Erin very happy. If you don't, you know who you'll be answering to.”

Tilly Wilson is very shrewd and far more intimidating than her much taller husband. I don't doubt for a second that she could make me very sorry if I hurt Erin. “Yes, ma'am.”

On my way back to Meyer, I start planning out the details. I want to ask her on graduation, but in private. Neither of us would want to overshadow the guys' day. They deserve all the applause and attention and I'm not going to step on that. I'll do it after, maybe in her classroom, because that's where I kissed her for the first time. I got down on my knees then, too, and this time I hope her tears will be happy ones.

Chapter Twenty-two

Erin

When I get home on Good Friday, Shep is sitting on the couch, his arms crossed over his chest. He's supposed to be down at the gym, overseeing movie night for the boys who haven't left campus for the holiday weekend. He hadn't been able to find someone to trade, but something must've changed. I suspect I know what that something is.

I didn't send in my application for the Chair and he must've found out. Maybe Uncle Rett mentioned it? They've seemed unusually chummy this week.

I ease the door shut behind me and lock it before getting on my knees and crawling to him like I do whenever we're alone and off-duty. When I reach him, I kneel between his feet, looking down at the ground. I am in so much trouble.

He sits up and takes my chin in his hand, tipping my head back until I could meet his eyes if I looked straight ahead. But I don't. I keep my eyes as low as I can. My breastbone caves into my chest, and my chin quivers under his fingertips.

“Look at me, lamb.”

I close my eyes for a second and open them to his. He doesn't look angry. Good. I'm expecting consequences, but I don't want him to be angry. I don't think I could stand it. Punishment I can handle.

“Here's what we're going to do. We're going to go into the bedroom and you'll get your punishment. When we're done, you're going to sit at the kitchen table until your application is finished. Headmaster Wilson has given you an extension until midnight, and you're going to turn it in, understood?”

“Shep, I . . .”

“I know you're afraid. But that's not a good reason not to do this. You're going to apply, you're going to get the position and then we'll work it out.”

“But—”

“No. You promised me you would do this, knowing there would be consequences if you didn't follow through. If that's not something you want, we need to have a conversation about it. But unless you're prepared to safe out, and that's always your prerogative, that's what's going to happen. I care about you too much to allow you to let this opportunity slip through your fingers. I want to see you thrive. If it takes a beating, then that's what I'm going to do. You've got a choice. The next words out of your mouth are either going to be ‘Yes, Zach' or your safeword. Your call.”

The tears slip from the corners of my eyes where they've been pooling, making my lashes stick together and my sinuses get stuffy. I sniff and swallow while his eyes stay steady on mine.

I want to be the head of the department. I love teaching here and I want to make the school the best it can be. I've already got ideas of how to make it better. But it's going to be awkward. So awkward. I'll do my best to be fair but I'll get accused of favoritism. If I don't, it'll be because I've been too hard on Shep. I don't want to do that, either. He's a fine teacher and a better man. I hate the idea that decisions I'll have to make could make him feel any different. But he's said we'll work it out. He won't let me down again. I don't know how he's going to pull it off, but that's not my problem. The only thing up to me is the next two words out of my mouth.

“Yes, Zach.”

Shep

I let go of Erin's chin and stroke her cheek, wiping some of the tears away. I like the way the salty tracks look, glossy and wet on her soft skin, but there's going to be plenty more tears tonight. When she's done, I'll make her forget.

I pull her collar from my pocket, a simple black one I gave her after the disaster at my parents' house, wrap the leather around her throat and fix the buckle. She's taken to it like a fish to water and I love how she softens as soon as it's on. I take off the silver lock on the simple chain she wears around her neck during the day and put it on the table before I take up her leash. Clipping it through the silver D-ring that hangs at the base of her throat, my fingers brush against her collarbone and she shivers.

“Come on, love.” I tug at the leash to move her to the side so I can stand and start down the hallway. I'm glad her bedroom's at the end of the hall, away from the guys' rooms. No one should be around tonight, but she still worries. She follows a couple of paces behind me on her hands and knees and I pace myself so she won't have to scramble on the runner.

When we reach the bedroom, I have her stand up and leave the leash dangling between her breasts. The leash has been a struggle for her—more than anything else I've asked—but in the end she'd accepted it. I think it hits a perfect sweet spot of embarrassment and pleasure.

I strip off her clothes, leaving her naked except for her leash and collar. The sight of her, pretty curves wrapped in smooth skin that will turn a nice red under my belt in a few minutes, is enough to drive me crazy. But I can't give in. I have to do what's best for her, what's best for us.

I put on her cuffs, too: ankles and wrists. This is going to be hard for her to take. The more I remind her she's mine, the easier it will be. Which is why I'm going to gag her, too, though she'll think it's for the noise.

I hand her one of the clean bandanas that's also kept in the drawer and loop her leash around her neck so it won't make her stumble. “You know what to do. On your knees, go.”

“Yes, Zach.”

She sinks prettily to the floor and takes the folded square of cloth between her teeth, returning a minute later with the damp cloth in her mouth.

“Kneel down.”

She sits back on her heels, hands resting on her knees. This is familiar and she's settled into the routine, the expectations. I reach for the cloth and she lets it go, tonguing a drop that had settled by her mouth. From that tiny act, I'm hard as hell for her. Not that I haven't been throbbing with want for her since she came in, but goddamn, her
mouth
. I hadn't been sure how I was going to have her after this, but her lips wrapped around my cock is going to be a good start.

I shake out the damp cloth and then roll it into a ball, telling her to open up. When she does, I press it between her teeth.

“Okay?”

She nods and her fingers flex on her knees. I take another bandana and knot it in the middle, laying it over her mouth and tying it snug behind her head. She leans into my hand as I stroke her cheek when it's in place.

Show time. Her shoulders have settled down and though her fingers are curled on her knees, she's not panicky. Until I reach for my belt.

It's like I've turned headlights on a deer in a driveway. Her eyes go big, her chest collapses and her fingers dig into her thighs. I've unclasped the buckle and as I slide the leather through the loops, her eyes follow every inch, getting wider until the end slips through the last loop. But she hasn't cried out, there aren't any tears, and she hasn't moved an inch to make her safe signal. Such a sweet little obedient thing.

I unwrap the leash from around her neck and tug her toward the bed.

“Bend over.”

She stands and drapes herself over the side, toes grazing the floor, arms framing her head as she's been taught. I direct her to lift her head and place a pillow under it. She hugs it gratefully. Someday she'll be able to take a strapping without it, her palms and fingers resting flat on the duvet, the chair arm, the dining room table, wherever she's being punished. For now I'll give her this comfort. I drape the leash so she can see it and she squirms, earning a slap to her flank I don't have to explain.

When she's settled I run my fingers over her back, making my strokes firmer until she's calm, supple under my hands.

“You're going to get half a dozen strokes, Erin. You were supposed to apply to be the Chair. We decided together and you broke that promise. I take the commitments I make to you very seriously and I expect you to do the same. When you don't keep your word, it tells me you disrespect me, that I can't trust you. I'm disappointed in you.”

Tears are leaking from her eyes. She's had enough. I want to make a point; I don't want to crush her.

“You'll take your punishment, you'll finish your application and send it in. Then this will be over. Are you ready?”

A nod shakes a tear off the track running down her cheek and the first blow falls. I warm her up with a light spanking and she settles while her skin pinks up and my palm starts to tingle. The tears have stopped and her eyes are glossy. The tears aren't far away, but this is soothing, not scary. When I've got her ass a nice, even shade, I run the leather of the belt over her cheeks and she shivers, clutching the pillow tight under her head.

“Hold on, lamb.”

I press a hand into the small of her back before I step away, wrap the clasp end of the belt into my palm and lay into her. The first crack of the leather makes her jump and shriek behind the gag, but she doesn't let go and she doesn't use her signal. Another stripe with the same result and she closes her eyes. By the time I'm done, her rib cage is heaving. If that pillow were alive when I started, she would've crushed the life out of it.

Her ass is the nicest shade of red. I hope I've hit her hard enough to leave an unpleasant sting on her cheeks while she's finishing her application but not so hard there'll be much bruising. I've got a good measure for these things but I haven't used a belt on her before and her skin is so sensitive.

“That's six, love. You're done.” I run my hands over the wide welts and then up her back, soothing her. I untie her gag and pull the wadding from between her teeth. When it's out, I can feel and hear her sobbing. I climb up onto the bed, lean against some pillows, and tug at her leash. She double-times it into my lap, straddling me, throwing her arms around my neck. Then she buries her face between my neck and shoulder, the wetness of her tears hot on my skin, which is flushed with a small amount of effort but mostly desire.

I talk to her while she cries. I don't tell her to hush—she needs to get it out, that catharsis she's never been allowed—but I comfort her, let her know I'm here, tell her how well she did while I massage her jaw that must be sore from having been gagged. When the storm raging inside her has blown itself out, her sobs turn to sniffles, and I pet her hair.

“Better?”

There's a beat of silence and she stiffens under my hands before she holds me tighter. “Yes, Zach.”

“I know.”

That's when she rocks against me. The motion is like the striking of a match and my blood is gasoline. My body goes up in flames for her. The second press of her pussy spread wide against my cock, even through two layers of fabric, is hot. I can't take it anymore.

I disentangle her from around me and order her to the floor. She hasn't wiped her tears away and her face is flushed and wet when she settles back on her heels and looks up. “What do you want, lamb?”

“I want . . . I want . . .”

“Speak up, love.” I toy with her leash while she works up the nerve to say it out loud, every passing second making me harder for her.
She's going to say it. She's going to say it for me.

Erin

“I want . . . your cock. In my mouth. Please, Zach.”

The approval that lights up his face is reward enough, but when he tugs on that damn leash and says, “Then take it,” I almost die. The shame of the words leaving my lips and the pull at my neck is smothered by the hot satisfaction of having pleased him. It's all rolled up together into one incredibly heady sensation. My fingers are clumsy with the torrent of emotion I've been experiencing since I stepped in the door, but I manage to get the button free and the zipper down so I can reach into his boxers and draw him out. He's hot, hard, and stiff in my hands and pleasure pulses through me. I did that. He wants me that much. All the control he has, and it's been leveled by
me
.

I let the soft skin slip through my fist, grasping harder and pumping him a few times before clasping my hands behind my back and taking him between my lips, humming from the high I get from the taste of him. Human, manly, rich on my tongue, silky and hard under my strokes. He lets me play, tasting him, teasing him, enjoying him until there's a thrust of his hips I'd like to believe is involuntary.

“Stop.”

His tight command is proof and I try to hide my smug smile by bowing my head when I let him go. He reaches past me and into the drawer again. I have a guess about what toy he's taking out. His next order—“Open”—confirms and I obediently open my mouth wide enough for him to slip the ring between my teeth. It's not comfortable having my jaw stretched open so far, but it doesn't hurt. His hands slide into my hair to fasten the buckle of the strap, and I forget any discomfort.

When he's done, he places my hand on his leg above his knee. I'm to pinch him if I need him to stop. He directs his cock through the ring and I taste him again. I sigh before he gets too far and lap at him while I have the chance. A tug at my hair tells me to be still, to relax, and to take what he's giving me, what's being fed through the metal ring propping my mouth open for him to use. I concentrate on my breathing, being open for him, available and soft. Little by little, he presses into the tight channel of my throat.

My eyes water and I gag, but he backs off until I can breathe and cradles my head in his hands. “Again.”

Then he's in my throat again, withdrawing when I choke, but forcing himself inside over and over again with a warning each time, until the tears are streaming down my face but I'm not gagging anymore. His thumbs wipe away the hot salt of my tears, and drool leaks around the gag. Then the hot thickness of his release is in my throat, his hands tight in my hair.

“Fuck, Erin. Oh, Jesus fuck.”

He withdraws quickly, taking the gag from my mouth so I can swallow properly before he drops to his knees and kisses me. The taste of him is still on my tongue. He doesn't seem to mind the vague tang of his own release as he plunders my mouth, and his hands roam all over me, grippy and demanding. I squeak when he squeezes a handful of my still-stinging behind and he lets go to slap the same spot before soothing it with a rub. The combination of sensations tweaks my desire for him and my pussy that's been wet and wanting is flooded.