Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Dean Aavik

Kingsley and I waited by the door as Gael, Tate, Corey, and Cam entered the room and walked toward their desks. If I was going to “pretend” to be a professor, I’d do it by bringing back all the things I wish we had at GW and other universities. As in, proper desks and a big, nice oak teacher’s desk at the front. Naturally with a green banker’s lamp and a chesterfield chair.

It was possible I’d taken everything except for the students’ study desk from my own home. It was also possible I was hoping to move it to Joshua’s house after tonight.

Kingsley was on the same page as me; it was why he’d requested Room 8. On a normal day, it was the bondage crowd’s dojo, but when stripped of screens and rope racks, it was a gorgeous room meant for entertaining. River and Reese had preserved and restored it, rather than paint it black like they had with most other rooms in the house. With its high ceilings, paneled walls, velvet curtains, crown molding, balcony facing the front yard, and chandelier, it was my favorite area of the house.

I checked my pocket watch, and Kingsley closed the door a bit as the last, I presumed, of the members enjoying the show had entered. Half a dozen took their places along the back wall.

Kingsley picked up his riding crop from where he’d left it leaning against a wall earlier, and he began making his way up the room, between the two rows of desks.

“Welcome to your history class,” he said quietly. “I’m Professor Madden. Up-up—” He smacked the crop lightly against Tate’s back. “Shoulders squared, back straight, chin up, face forward. We demand perfect posture in here. Gael—no crooked ties.”

I nodded once to myself and watched the brats straighten in their seats, and then I joined Kingsley at the front.

“Good afternoon, you unruly little libertines.” I turned around and faced them. “I’m Professor Aavik, and we’ll start today’s class with a test. But since we’re short on time, we hope you can multitask. Professor Madden and I will provide you with answers as we give you a lecture during the test.” I gestured for Kingsley to get started, and he handed out the questionnaire along with four pens. “As fine little BDSM members, we trust you know your kink history.”

I soaked up the expressions of nervousness and distaste from the brats.

A test was always an easy route to upset them.

“During our lecture, we’ll also assist you with helpful advice on how to sit and behave properly,” I added.

“Aren’t you kind,” Corey mumbled under his breath.

“For instance! When you wish to speak, you raise your hand first,” I declared. “Then when we allow you to run your mouth, you stand up beside your desk and say what you have to say.”

Gael raised his hand, and I inclined my head.

He rose from his seat, positioned himself next to the desk, and simply said, “Yikes.” Then he sat down again.

Don’t laugh.

Tate and Corey couldn’t help it—they laughed and hurriedly stifled their sounds, and I was thankful Kingsley stepped in because I was too happy Gael was settling in with his goofball behavior as much as he was with his new friends.

“Think twice before you brat off again, little Gael,” Kingsley told him. “Next time, we will deduct five points from your final score. Same warning to the rest of you. Choose your words wisely.”

This time, the “Yikes” was only visible in Gael’s expression.

“The test begins now,” I stated. The boys instantly turned the questionnaire around and picked up their pens. “It should be fairly easy, considering it’s only sixty questions and we’re serving you the answers on a silver platter.”

“Exactly—so with that said,” Kingsley continued, “let’s begin our class. For instance, as with so many other fields, BDSM has its roots across the board, and of course, we don’t call it kink until we add consent. But there’s no denying that many of our beloved fetishes stem from actual torture methods and or are inspired by people who’d be banned from any kink club today—rightly so.”

I grabbed four of the five dictionaries we kept on the desk, and I arrived at Tate first. While he wrote as quickly as possible, jumping between questions on the paper, I placed one of the books on his head.

“Do not drop it,” I said.

He swallowed hard and slowed down his movements.

“Two of those people are sometimes called the fathers of libertinism,” Kingsley went on. “Most of you have heard of Marquis de Sade, but John Wilmot is deserving of his mention as well. Men without scruples and morals, men who were imprisoned or exiled for their repeated abuse of prostitutes and mistresses. The marquis narrowly escaped death for his offenses of flogging women he kept imprisoned.”

Once all the boys had books balanced on their heads, I returned to half sit on the desk, and I clasped my hands in front of me.

“Flogging brings us to many of those toys we utilize in kink today,” I said. “I believe the first English mention of a pillory was from the 1200s—now we have one on the front lawn—and you can go back another hundred years to find mentions of it in French. Stocks go back even further, to Ancient Greece, as a popular form of public humiliation.”

Kingsley traced his crop alongside Corey’s leg. “Knees together—all of you.”

“In the 1700s, we start seeing more consensual forms of flagellation and D/s,” I continued. “The famous Berkley Horse was invented by a brothel madam in London. You may have heard of Theresa Berkley. She wasn’t the first, but she is one of our most famous Dominatrixes in kink history.”

“It was actually a popular hobby among the wealthy of that time in England,” Kingsley said. “Both male and female aristocrats went to visit brothels around that time, to be spanked, flogged, whipped, and restrained.”

I walked slowly toward Gael’s desk, the floorboards creaking a little along the way.

Cam dropped his book on the desk and hurriedly returned it to its position on his head. “My deepest apologies, Professors!”

“Politeness goes a long way—no points deducted,” I said.

The boy exhaled.

I came to a stop behind Gael as Kingsley shifted the lecture to American kink history—what we brought over from Europe and Asia, and when. Then I dipped down and dropped a soft kiss to Gael’s neck.

“I’m tempted to ask you to stay behind after class,” I whispered in his ear. “So you can suck your Professor’s cock.”

He sucked in a breath, and the book thumped down on the desk.

“I’m s-sorry, Professor,” he croaked, returning the book to his head.

I rubbed my hands down his arms and smiled to myself. “I wonder if it could be done,” I mused quietly. “Do you think you can get me off in two minutes?”

“Y-yes, Professor.” He rushed out the whisper.

Well. As his Owner, I was allowed to grant myself that relief, wasn’t I?

I thought so.

I trailed back to my desk and leaned close to Kingsley, letting him know Gael would stay behind, and I gestured at Tate, in case Kingsley needed something as well.

He did.

* * *

“Last but not least—what I lovingly refer to as the solution,” Kingsley said. “The ball gag. The ultimate brat silencer. Works every time. Much like the bit gag, it’s been around for hundreds of years, both in animal control and medical practices.”

Tate and Corey did a semi-all right job of not glaring at Kingsley.

I smirked and checked my watch. “One minute left!”

Walker and Penelope chose that moment to check in on the class.

I adjusted my cock and leaned back against the desk, and Kingsley took a lap to collect the dictionaries. The boys breathed a sigh of relief to get rid of the books on their heads—but they should be proud. Only three drops throughout the class was an improvement over the fourth group we’d had before. Little Camden had dropped his book twice, Lane once, and Nora once too.

“Are you behaving, boys?” Penelope asked.

The boys turned toward the door.

“Yes, Headmistress,” Tate answered.

“They try,” Kingsley drawled.

Penelope and my brother smirked a little and left again.

Cam bit his lip and turned his questionnaire upside down, then placed his pen on top of it, indicating he was done.

Corey followed shortly, then Gael and Tate.

Tate rubbed his temples.

Corey raised his hand.

“Yes, Corey.” I nodded.

He stood up. “I hope you like doodles, Professors.”

I lifted a brow and stifled my amusement. “We prefer correct answers.”

“Well, I prefer fried chicken and questions about frogs, of which I got neither, sooo…I guess we’re even. But thank you for a great class!”

Kingsley and I exchanged a look.

He turned to the boy. “I’ll be having a chat with your Owners about your attitude. You’re dismissed—but Tate and Gael will stay behind.”

Corey made a face and scratched his forehead. “If I’m gonna carpe friggin’ diem, I can’t worry about the regrets I’ll have tomorrow.”

Oh Christ, I hoped Greer and Sloan opted for a public display—and not tomorrow.

“Make us proud, guys,” Cam said slyly to Tate and Gael. “Maybe score us some extra points.”

I chuckled under my breath, and my boy flushed. Judging by the furtive glances he threw at the audience, he was probably wondering if we were going to send them off for the next part, but I saw no reason to. Kingsley didn’t either. Side by side, leaning back against the desk, we summoned our boys to come forward.

“On your knees,” I murmured.

Gael immediately dropped right in front of me, and I undid my belt, then my pants.

Kingsley touched Tate’s cheek. “I hope you scored high today, boy.”

“I think I did, Professor. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you,” Tate replied.

I hummed and pulled out my cock for Gael, and he wasted no time. He closed the distance between us and sucked me into his mouth, and I let out a long breath and gripped the edge of the desk.

My favorite little student. He was such a wonderful cocksucker. So good at pleasing me.

“That’s it,” Kingsley exhaled.

Exactly what we needed.

Fuck.

I took a deep breath and wove my fingers through Gael’s hair, and I began moving him over my cock faster. A bit deeper. And once I was rock hard, I let go of the desk so I could fuck his pretty little mouth properly.

I caught a glint of something shiny in the corner of my eye and spotted a bracelet—or a cuff, rather—on Tate’s wrist. Actually, he had one on each wrist, and I remembered seeing a photo of them online. Kingsley’s collar.

One day, I was going to find something similar for Gael.

I peered down at him and stared hungrily as I pushed my cock in and out of his mouth, and the pleasure built up rapidly. Even more so when he kept trying to snake his soft, wet, greedy little tongue around me every time I pulled out.

He never broke eye contact, and with his big, blue, almost natural puppy-dog eyes, he lured out all my possessiveness in one wild rush. It filled every fiber of my being and tightened my grip on his head. Christ, I was going to own this boy for as long as I lived.

When his eyes welled up at the same time as he grabbed on to the backs of my thighs, I groaned and felt the head of me rub up against the back of his throat. Right there. My breathing became labored within a few thrusts, and I wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Daddy’s perfect little cocksucker. Almost there—” I clenched my jaw, and it almost became too much. I wasn’t ready yet. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Not fucking helpful to hear Kingsley give in to his orgasm less than two feet away.

Goddamn, I couldn’t resist.

I let go and started coming down Gael’s throat, and my climax was only prolonged by his choking sounds. Not to mention his deep-rooted desire to please me. He didn’t release his grip on me; he pushed himself forward, and I absently brushed away a stray tear rolling down his cheek. Perfect, perfect little love. My darling peach—fuck, he could suck cock. I shuddered violently, my energy draining out of me, and he gulped and swallowed and gagged and swallowed some more.

In the end, I collapsed against the desk again, and Gael panted, sniffled, and sucked me clean.

“Jesus fuck.” I scrubbed a hand over my face.

“Thank you for letting me give you relief, Professor,” he said hoarsely.

I shivered once more, and I tucked myself back into my pants before I pulled him to his feet. “My amazing boy.” I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him hard.

And there it was, his adorable grin.

I kissed him again, tasting myself on his tongue, and hummed. Now I couldn’t wait for the evening to be over.

* * *

“Class dismissed!” Kingsley said.

“Three times—three freaking times!” Shay was still pissed he’d dropped the book. Three times.

“On the bright side, your Owners will have fun with your training,” I offered.

The boy huffed and rose to his feet. “I should be an expert at this shit, considering how many times River tells me to hold books and other heavy crap when we do predicament bondage.”

I chuckled.

Out in the hall, we heard Gretchen and Franklin summon all the students to the Great Hall for our last assembly, and Kingsley and I made sure we were the last to leave the room.

Since we had no results to share right away, I was mostly looking forward to the ultimate school cafeteria buffet of sandwiches, apples, mac and cheese cups, pizza slices, and carrot sticks. Perhaps not the latter.

Ivy and Archie had been in charge of the upcoming snack meal, so I felt confident that it would be delicious. I’d heard a rumor about pie too, but I hadn’t confirmed it.

We caught up to Franklin on the way down the stairs.

“Franklin,” I said, and he glanced back at me. “Will there be pie? I heard something about that.”

“Yes, Sir,” he responded. “Archie made apple pie for everyone.”

Oh, wonderful. Now I was really excited.

“Excellent, thank you.”

Members gathered in the club area, where all the chairs had been returned to neat rows in front of the stage. I excused myself briefly to go to the bathroom so I could take my insulin, and by the time I was done, all the brats were seated once more. I took my seat between Lucian and Ty on the platform, and I checked my watch.

I had a feeling my monitor would go off any moment now, though I’d muted the sound.

When two hands clamped down on my shoulders, I glanced up to see Joshua had made it back too.

“Do you have everything you need, sweetheart?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, and there will be pie shortly,” I said, satisfied.

He grinned and shook his head. “You’re too cute sometimes.”

I wasn’t going to argue.

Walker and Penelope took the stage and did a swift job at silencing the brats. The sight of flushed faces, bratty excitement, and exhaustion was a lovely combination to behold, so I’d consider it a successful event.

Walker and Penelope took turns giving their two cents about the day and the brats’ behavior, with Penelope offering the generous praise, “In fact, we only had to dole out punishments to four students.”

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Greer spoke up from behind me. “I just found out I have to carpe both a diem and a brat, so I thought I’d do that out on the lawn after we’ve eaten.”

“Oh, Corey,” Kit snickered from the crowd.

“Crap,” Corey sighed. “Sometimes, regret comes faster than I do.”

I couldn’t help but laugh—and I wasn’t the only one.

“A show to look forward to,” Penelope replied with a nod. “There you have it, students. Your grades will be available on the online forum tomorrow, along with your Professors’ and Coaches’ notes. Dinner will be served in the kitchen in ten minutes, which gives you enough time to clean up, grab a Mclean House Academy T-shirt, and presumably gossip about next month’s Game.”

That sure had every brat’s attention.

Walker delivered the news. “Happy early Easter. We’re going to have an Easter egg hunt in a few weeks.”

“Fuck yeah!” Noa shouted.

“Oh my God, that’s so exciting!”

“Is it, though? The Sadists are gonna find a way to ruin it.”

“They don’t call me a maso for nothin’!”

“Holy crap, can you imagine an Easter egg full of sprinkles and ice cream toppings?”

Lucian and I clearly had the same idea; we wanted to beat the brats to the cafeteria line, so we left the stage—and the buzzing brats—behind and headed for the exit. I didn’t dare haul Gael away from his friends right now. He should be having fun with them.

“Have you tried Archie’s mac and cheese before?” Lucian asked. “It’s divine. Cam got the recipe the other day, and I foresee a new staple at home.”

“I haven’t. I am looking forward to the pie, though,” I replied. Then I slowed down when I noticed traces of distress in Lucian’s expression. He was pale too. “Are you all right, Lucian?”

“Yes, I—” He waved it off and released a heavy breath. “It’s been a long week. I just need to rest for a bit.”

I frowned, wondering if a “bit” of rest was all he needed. He had high blood pressure, if I remembered correctly. Gael had mentioned it after the cooking class when he’d made plans with Cameron.

I decided to speak with KC later. In the meantime, I’d keep an eye on Lucian.

* * *

We successfully beat the cafeteria rush, and I brought a tray filled with snacks and beverages to the patio—and I was satisfied to see Lucian do the same, with help from Cam and KC. Along with Noa, they sat down at one of the tables outside, and Cam angled one of the heaters closer to them before turning his full attention to his Master. Lucian looked relieved to be sitting down and having his boy close, so I felt I could relax a bit more.

Joshua and I sat down with Gael between us at another table, where Colt, Ty, and Lane soon joined us.

“Do you need a blanket, baby?” Joshua rubbed Gael’s arms. We were seated fairly close to the edge of the awning, and it was raining a few feet away.

“No, Sir, I’m good,” Gael replied happily. The boy was distracted, seemingly intent on keeping track of where everyone sat down. “Kit! Over here!”

Kit and Lucas trailed over with their own trays.

“Can you believe it? An Easter egg hunt!” Kit was definitely excited about the next event, and so was my peach.

“I can’t wait!” Gael replied.

Colt was quick to dig in, whereas Ty and Lane had disappeared into an invisible bubble where only they existed. I existed for my two—and the food. And before Joshua could utter a word, I nodded and gave him a pointed look. Yes, I’d taken my insulin.

An ounce of sheepishness seeped into his expression, and he leaned behind Gael, so I did the same.

“I’m sorry. I’ll dial it back,” he said quietly.

I shook my head and kissed him. “Don’t.”

I was getting used to having someone fuss over me. It wasn’t a bad feeling.

“Goddamn, this mac and cheese is somethin’ else,” Colt said with his mouth full.

I gave Joshua one more kiss, and then I had to put food first. I was practically starving. Joshua dove into Daddy mode and fixed Gael a plate from the tray, and I went straight for the pie. The brats were busy chatting—suddenly, so were Joshua and Lucas—so I could indulge. The pie was incredible, rich in flavor, both sweet and tart, with a perfectly crumbly crust. Two bites, I allowed myself. Then I switched to the actual food, because otherwise, I’d have Gael pointing out that he, too, wanted to eat dessert before his meal, and Joshua would give a spiel.

Lucian had been right. Archie’s mac and cheese was amazing, and—

“Ohhh, but you said after, Dominus!”

One brat’s whining rose above the post-event din of kinksters talking about the classes, and I glanced up as Greer came outside with a Corey thrown over his shoulder.

Wonderful. Mealtime entertainment.

“Should we do something?” Kit whispered.

Colt barked out a laugh. “The fuck you should, li’l darlin’. Eat your supper and enjoy the show.”

“Daddy, save me!” Corey called out.

“Sorry, sweetheart, you made your bed,” Sloan replied with a sympathetic smile.

Greer didn’t care it was raining. He stepped off the deck and away from the heaters’ reach, and he lowered Corey to the ground just in front of the covered pool. “Stay.”

Corey huffed and scowled up at him. “I’m not a dog!”

“Clearly not, ’cause they obey,” Greer retorted.

“I can’t watch this.” Kit covered his face with his hands, and Gael’s approach wasn’t entirely different. I noticed he was hiding his face behind me.

Meanwhile, most others were enjoying themselves, including many brats. Lane was smirking at his cousin, Shay was filming on his phone, and Noa went, “Take it like a champ, Corey!”

“But crying is encouraged.” Reese threw that out there. “We like it when y’all write checks your asses can’t cash.”

I chuckled and bit into a sandwich.

“Oh, this is brand-new information,” Corey snarked. He huffed again and wiped raindrops from his face. “Ugh, let’s get this over with. It’s cold out here—and the rain is freezing!”

Greer scratched his jaw. “I hear what you’re sayin’. It’s best you strip down. You don’t wanna get your clothes wet.”

I shook my head in amusement. Why was the boy stalling? He knew he was going to get it. The longer he waited… Then again, maso brats couldn’t help themselves.

“Maybe we shoulda put chemistry on the schedule, though,” Greer went on. “You see, when rain freezes, it becomes snow.”

“What’s your point?!” Corey barked out.

“Oh Christ.” Lane cracked up and face-palmed.

Greer bent down a bit to get to Corey’s level. “I’ll spell it out for you, brat. The rain ain’t freezin’. You’re just bitching over a little water.”

“Don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait,” Gael whispered against my arm.

I grinned.

Corey took the bait. He glared at his Owner and put his hands on his hips. “I don’t love you very much right now, Sir. In fact, you suck.”

Bingo. Greer could do this all night. He’d keep racking up Corey’s offenses until the boy—

“How much do I suck?” Greer asked.

“For the love of God, Corey!” Archie called out. “It’s the cheapest form of sadistic clickbait—don’t fall for it, love.”

Corey clammed up, as if catching himself, and Greer turned a narrowed-eyed look on his slave.

“Cheapest form? Really, baby? You’re insulting your Master in front of everyone?”

Archie turned to Sloan, subtle-like, and scrubbed a hand over his face, and he spoke quietly, just loud enough for Joshua and me to hear. “Sometimes, his Catholic upbringing shines brighter than any red ass he’s given Corey.”

I coughed around a laugh, and so did Colt—and he spoke up too.

“Hey, pet, I heard that,” Colt told him. “When did you become a brat?”

Archie looked mildly offended. “I’m not a brat, Sir. I’m only trying to protect my boyfriend.”

“Aww!” Corey grinned goofily. “I love—gah!” Those were his last words before Greer swooped him up, threw him over his shoulder again, and stalked toward the pool.

“Can someone roll back the cover?” he hollered.

“Fuck yes.” Colt hurriedly crammed half a sandwich into his mouth and left his seat, and he was joined by Reese and River.

“What—no! No!” Corey screamed. “Let me down, Master! Stop it! Don’t you dare!”

“Oh my gosh, it’s gonna be frigid,” Gael said nervously.

“Most likely,” I laughed.

Gael made a noise of protest. “You’re enjoying this, Daddy.”

I turned back to him and smiled. “Of course I am. It’s the best kind of entertainment.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “I thought you didn’t like brats.”

I took another bite of my sandwich and exchanged a brief look with Joshua. To the sweet sounds of Corey’s desperate screaming.

“There are perks,” I replied, choosing my words carefully. Because I knew my sweet boy had a brat in him, something Joshua couldn’t wait to explore further with him. And I wanted them both to know I was very much looking forward to catching a show here and there. “Delightful perks.”

Seconds later, we heard a big splash as Greer threw Corey into the cold water of the swimming pool, something that was met with cheers and applause from the Sadists, and winces and sympathy from most brats. Lane and Shay were two exceptions. They were laughing their rears off.

Corey let out a shrill scream as he resurfaced. “Motherfucking shit piss fuuuuck! Get me out of here!”

“Baby, grab our slave,” Greer told Sloan.

I glanced toward Archie just as he tensed up, his face morphing into an expression of horror, but it was too late. Sloan acted fast, and then he was dragging Archie to the pool.

“You can’t be serious!” Archie cried out. “Master, please! I beg you!”

Greer merely stepped aside so Sloan could push their pet into the water too.

Meanwhile, Reese prevented Corey from trying to leave the pool. Every time the boy attempted to push himself up on the edge, Reese was there to shove him back in.

“Oh my fucking—” Archie stifled his own scream and swam toward the edge.

“I’ve freakin’ had it!” Corey yelled. “Do you know how cold it is?!”

“It’s not freezing,” Reese supplied helpfully.

“Maybe it’s time to warm him up,” Sloan said. “I’ll go get a paddle.”

Amazing. The entertainment continued.

I ate some more mac and cheese, and I caught Kit and Gael looking at each other.

“I’m think I’m gonna be a good boy for a while,” Gael admitted.

“Yeah, met too.” Kit swallowed hard.

Well. When it came to brats, that “while” could end very swiftly.