Her Dirty Professor Series (21+)

“I feel sick and you’re cooking dead pig in front of me, it’s you who has bad manners.”

“It’s called making breakfast. A totally normal occurrence in a kitchen last time I checked. Clear off if you don’t like it.”

She made no attempt to move while I dished up my food, granting me just a cursory glance as I took a seat opposite. Angry fingers jabbed at her mobile phone as it buzzed and flashed in her hand.

“Have you made up with your friends?” I asked her.

“They’re not my friends. I don’t give a shit about them.”Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

“That’s not how it appeared last night.”

“Yeah, well, I was drunk,” she groaned. “Fuck those losers, anyway. I need some cash, please. Fifty should do.”

“What for?”

“None of your business.”

“Fine, then it’s not my business to give you any.”

She didn’t even look up. “You’re supposed to be taking care of me, aren’t you? Dads give their daughters money. Mum isn’t around right now to give me an allowance, so I guess it’s up to you to cough up the cash.”

That pushed me too far. My voice was low and loud when I answered her.

“Dads give their daughters whatever they deserve. All you deserve is a sore backside, sweetheart. Maybe I should cough one of those up instead.” The fact she was still in her nightdress made that idea even more appealing. “Call your mother if you want cash. If you ask me for a handout like that again, I’ll give your ass a decent fucking slapping for your cheek.”

Blue eyes finally met mine. There was long moment of silence as she stared across at me. Her mouth was still set in an angry little pout, but her demeanour had shifted. Her words from the night before echoed around my brain. Maybe I hope that one day someone will care enough to stop me… to put me in my place and make me behave.

“You wouldn’t dare spank my ass,” she said. “I’m twenty years old.”

“Try me,” I goaded. “You’re never too old for the belt, princess. It made a fine man out of me.”

“Yeah, sure it did. A real fine man, Daddy.”

“Watch your mouth, Aimee.”

She laughed, a bitchy little cackle, and I swear it was on purpose to goad me. I felt my hackles rise, the urge to put the little bitch over my knee threatening to boil over.

“I don’t need your money anyway.” She shrugged, like it meant shit to her. “I’ll get some from Mikey. He’s picking me up this afternoon.”

“The same Mikey who’s dating someone else? Some other darling instead of you?” I said. “Oh, I forgot, you don’t give a fuck about him, do you?”

She folded her arms, eyes like thunder. “I don’t actually. I’m using him for sex, and the sex will be a lot better now that he owes me. He wouldn’t want his precious girlfriend to find out he’s been fucking my tight little ass, would he? He works for her father in some posh gig down Piccadilly Circus. My silence will be worth even more to him than my pussy.”

“You’re a classy girl, Aimee, you know that?”

“It’s not a crime to enjoy sex, Kyle. And I’ve seen your internet browsing history. You’re not all that classy yourself.”

My blood turned to stone. “You’ve been on my laptop, have you? You sneaky little bitch.”

A sly grin lit up her face. “It was enlightening. What a big, bad boy you are, Kyle Priestley. Not quite so Priestley, are you?”

“What the fuck were you looking at?”

“Aww, did I make you angry? Shame.” She turned her attention back to her phone, still grinning. My mind whirred, speeding through the contents of my laptop, the scanned paperwork in my documents folder. Embarrassment burned like a motherfucker, burned me up with the thought of what she’d found in there. The thought of her laughing. Laughing at me, laughing at my misfortune. Did she laugh with her friends? Laugh at what a stinking loser Kyle Priestley really was. Laugh about my dirty little secret.

I overloaded without warning, striking like a cobra to wrench her from her seat. Her phone clattered to the floor, and her eyes flew wide and wild, mouth open. I didn’t give her time to fight me, twisting her wrist behind her back and slamming her chest down on the tabletop.

“You’ve pushed it too far this time, Aimee, too fucking far. You think I was joking about the belt? Think I’m a fucking joke, do you? Is that it? It’s time you learned some fucking manners, little girl.”

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Kyle, what the hell are you doing?!”

I pinned her hard, my chest against her back. Her body was so small, crushed under my weight so tight I could feel her breathing.

“You asked for this, sweetheart, you’ve been asking for this every fucking day I’ve known you.” I straightened up, pressing hard between her shoulder blades to keep her in position. “Don’t you dare move, Aimee, don’t you fucking dare.”

She wrenched her head around to face me, a picture postcard of shock. Her face had turned white, eyebrows high on her head in frozen animation. She didn’t make a sound as I loosened my belt, not a single fucking sound. I looped the leather in two, tested it hard against my hand. Aimee flinched at the thwack, and underneath my rage the lust uncoiled, stretching a path right the way along my spine. I hitched the soft white cotton of her nightdress, sucking in breath at the beauty of her ass. She was perfectly formed, milk-white flesh goose-pimpling before my eyes. She flinched again as I hooked my fingers inside her lacy pink thong, gasping as I slid the scrap of fabric all the way down her thighs. She clenched her legs together, but not in time to hide her modesty. Her pretty little pussy had bared its lips, promising me the tightest of wet kisses. Fuck. I was hard. Fucking hard and fucking angry. I stood in no man’s land, fighting for composure, struggling to back the fuck down and get out of there, out of the fucking craziness. I took a step back, letting the belt hang limp against my thigh.

Aimee didn’t move.

She didn’t move a muscle.

Finally her voice peeped up, thin and wispy in the quiet. “Kyle…”

“Shut up,” I barked. “For once in your life, just shut the fuck up.” My dick pulsed in my jeans, thrumming with the need for brutality, the need to punish.

She arched her back, shimmering blonde curls under the kitchen spotlights. “Kyle… Daddy…”

“SHUT UP!” I could feel my pulse in my temples, rushing with adrenaline. “You’ll shut up if you know what’s good for you.”

She turned her head again, slowly this time. I saw her lips move without sound, the quietest utterance. I moved closer, straining to hear her fucking apology.

But there was no apology.

“Please…” she whispered, so softly it was like a breath. “Do it.”

I nearly buckled on the spot, nearly shot my hot fucking load in my jeans. Her big, wide eyes, her tight little mouth. “Apologise,” I barked. “Final chance.”

She shook her head, then turned away, pressing her face to the tabletop. She moved her arms out of the way, her hands flat to the wood. I saw the muscles in her legs tense, the soft globes of her ass bracing themselves for punishment.

“You’re a very, very bad girl, Aimee. Apologise now or I’ll show you what happens to bad girls.”

Her breath was shallow and frantic, but she didn’t move a muscle.

“Last chance, Aimee.” I pressed my hand onto the small of her back, and she gasped, shifting from foot to foot, but still she stayed quiet.

“Fine, then,” I told her. “Let’s teach you some manners, shall we?”

“Yes, Kyle…” she murmured.

My dick jerked in my jeans, swollen enough to fucking burst, and I gave in, gave in to the whole fucking lot of it. Every dirty thought, every wet fucking dream, every single time I’d jerked off over her.

“Daddy,” I said. “You’ll call me Daddy from here on in.”

I felt her shiver, her breath catching in her throat. I waited, soaking in the silence, waited until she choked out the words.

“Yes… Daddy…” she whimpered. “Please…”

I started slowly, but made sure it hurt. I gave her ass a decent slapping with my palm until she was murmuring, but that wasn’t enough of a punishment.

She needed more.

I groaned as I swung the belt, bringing it down hard against virgin flesh. She wriggled like a fish, squealing in shock and pain.

“This is what happens to sneaky, dirty girls in this house,” I grunted. “You’ll be good from now on, Aimee. Really fucking good.”

“Ow!” she wailed. “Ow, Daddy, Ow!”

I hit her so fucking hard, over and over, lashing her with vicious bites of leather until she tried to scramble away. I pulled her back into position calmly. “Take your punishment like a good girl,” I hissed. “Take it all.”

Her knees locked together, her breathing ragged. “Yes, Daddy!” she cried. Her pain-filled sob was the sweetest fucking sound I’d ever heard.

I stroked her hair, teasing her curls in my fingers. “Let Daddy teach you, like a good girl.”

I landed a vicious stroke across her thighs, and her soft whimper was music to my filthy ears. It spurred me on all the more, savaging her soft flesh with hard, loud thwacks. I beat her ass red raw, raw enough that she was shaking with adrenaline, yelping and twitching at every blow. I stopped only when breathless, surveying the damage. The girl was broken, sobbing against the table, and yet she hadn’t made any attempt to move away.

“Have you learnt your lesson now, Aimee?”

She nodded, gulping in air. I dropped the belt on the floor and ran my fingers over the rosy welts on her ass.