6

-NORTH-

THE MOONLIGHTglints off Mal's face, and I can't help but feel like I'm making a deal with the devil. My heart flips.

"What do you mean?" I breathe.

"Exactly that. You'll do what I say when I say it. No questions. I'll discipline you when you fail and reward you when you earn it. And in return, I will make you get the best fucking grades you've ever had."

"How?" I imagine him somehow getting the professors and exam boards to manipulate my grades. He doesn't have that kind of power, does he? Would he bribe them? "I don't want to get in trouble for anything illegal."

"You won't."

I study him. Do I make a deal with the devil? Everything inside me is telling me it's a very bad idea. Which is kinda funny considering I just hunted him down for a rough fuck like a starving addict.

But what was I planning to happen next? That he'd fuck me once, cure me with the power of his dick, and I'd magically be able to concentrate for the rest of the year? Now that I can think clearly again, that's kinda embarrassing. Or maybe I thought I could make this a regular thing, pick a fight with him and push him into fucking me once every few days. Yeah, maybe not.

He's watching me closely; he's got that predator look back in his eyes again.

Maybe I do need him to control me, I obviously have no clue how to run my own life. And what other choice do I have? I can't get kicked out.

Shit. I gulp and close my eyes briefly.

"Ok."

He studies my face, looking for the lie. Then the corner of his lip curls up on one side. It makes me shudder, and not entirely in a bad way.

He holds his hand out for me to shake and I snort.

"Really?" I say. "We're gonna shake on it?"

"We're going to do it properly this time. Do we have an agreement?"

He keeps holding it out, so I take it and shake, like we're businessmen finishing an acquisition, and not a failing college student agreeing to become the devil's fucktoy. Why is that so thrilling?

The grip is tight on my hand.

"Let's get started."

***

"Are the chains really necessary?" I flex my wrist and the metal clinks. The padded leather cuffs are loose enough to be comfortable, but tight enough so I can't slip my hands out. And of course, they're locked with a key that Mal tucks into his pocket.

"Yes," he says behind me.

I feel utterly ridiculous chained completely butt naked to the desk in his plush living room, with my books spread out in front of me. The cock cage is back on but thankfully he hasn't made me put the butt plug in; that definitely would have been too distracting. I shift again, but it's impossible to hide the full-body blush I have going on like this.

I have to admit this isn't what I was expecting.

He comes up behind me, takes my jaw in his hand, and directs me to the book open in front of me.

"Read this page, and then summarize it. I'll check it over to make sure it's good enough. If it is, I'll reward you. If it isn't." He runs the slim leather paddle up my back, making my skin tingle. "You get punished. So, you better do a good job."

My cock swells valiantly inside the cage, pushing against the bars. Fuck, how did he manage to make studying hot?

He sets a timer on the desk next to me. "You have fifteen minutes. Start now."

My heart skips. This is so surreal, how the hell am I supposed to study like this? I'm fidgety and aroused and feel vulnerable as hell. But the timer ticks down, and I need to try. I read, attempting to take in as much info as I can, but I feel stupid—too self-conscious to concentrate. I shouldn't be doing this, it's not the kind of thing popular football stars do. The timer goes off before I've even finished reading the page.

Mal looks over my shoulder. "That's disappointing. I'm going to have to punish you now."

"But—"

"Bend over."

He pulls me up by the scruff of my neck and pushes me so I'm bent over the desk with my ass in the air. The bare skin of my chest sticks to the pages of my textbook, and the metal cage clinks against the desk as the edge cuts into my thighs.

CRACK

The paddle slaps across the meat of my ass. I hiss and jerk against the desk as the short sharp shock of pain flares across my cheeks. As the sting fades the pain edges into pleasure, and I bite my lip.

He lets me up, sits me back on the stool, and resets the timer.

"Start again."

God, this pushy strict teacher vibe he's giving off is sexy as hell. My dick lifts its head in the cage hopefully. The chains clink as I rub my eyes and try again. The words filter in a little more this time, but I can't get over the embarrassment. I'm extremely aware of my naked butt on his expensive chair.

When the timer goes off, I still haven't finished the page. He tuts, bends me over the desk, and spanks me again. I let out a slight whimper as the pain flares through my ass and I flush hot all over. My cock twitches, again, unable to do much about it.

"Start again."

Again and again, I fail, each time getting a slap on the ass. And each time I get more turned on and humiliated by my own stupidity. Finally, I sit back in the chair and clench my hands on the desk.

"Dammit, I can't do this. I'm never going to catch up," I say. "I'm an idiot. I don't know why I'm even taking this class—"

Suddenly, his fingers clamp around my jaw and jerk my head so I'm looking up into his furious face.

"Shut the fuck up, North, you're not an idiot. You're fucking smart if you'd just take the time and effort to let yourself realize it."

I stare at him. His deep-brown eyes are heated. I always thought they were almost black, but now I can see that they're warm with flashes of amber radiating out from the center. I've been staring at him a whole lot in the past week, how did I never notice that before?

"Thanks," I say.

He straightens and drops my face. His jaw tightens and he looks away slightly like he just said something embarrassing. Again, I wonder if he actually likes me or not. Why is he so hard to figure out?

I expect him to shrug it off and get back to what we were doing, but instead, he drags his eyes back to me and looks at me for a long moment. It feels like the air is being drawn out of the room.

"You have no idea how frustrating it is seeing you waste your natural skills. You can do this, there's no question. But you need to learn self-discipline," he says, still looking awkward. "Stop worrying about everything else, clear your mind, and just do it. Because I know that you can."

I blink. I don't know what to say.

He clears his throat. "Now start again."

This time I try to concentrate less on how stupid and horny I feel, how dumb I am, and more on the words on the page. I make it to the bottom of the page and manage to write out a few sentences of summary before the timer goes off.

Mal looks at it, his lips pursed. I search his face for any kind of approval.

"Good. That's better."

That small bit of praise makes me beam. But my glow of pride is interrupted when he pulls me up and bends me over the desk.

CRACK

I gasp at the pain. "Hey!" I say. What was that for?

"You can do better," he says, coolly.

I grumble to myself as he resets the timer yet again, even as the glow of his words warms my chest. It's barely anything really, but from him? It's like a standing ovation.

We do it again, and again, and each time I get better and better. Although apparently not enough. Finally, he looks at my work and simply says, "Good."

I get to my feet automatically, ready for the punishment, but instead, he pushes me back into my seat. Pressed against my back, he reaches over my shoulder. I jerk as he slides his hand down my chest and circles my nipple with a finger, the soft bud instantly standing to attention at his touch as my skin shivers. God that feels good. He slides his hand lower, over my abs, until he's skimming over the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I gasp at the exquisite feeling, wanting him to linger there, but craving more. Compared to the harsh smack of the paddle, it's pure bliss.

The touch moves, and my breath catches in my chest as it glides along the length of my caged cock, stroking my sensitive flesh between the bars. Oh fuck. It's the best thing I've ever felt. I lean back into the warmth of his body, unable to keep still as I twitch and groan, and my hungry cock tries to fill. My hands fist on the desk in front of me, my need coiling deep inside like a living thing.

Then, he takes his hand away and I whimper as he turns the paper of the textbook.

"Next page."

Shit, I'm already panting. His touch was like the best drug—I've never actually tried any, but if they make you feel anything like that, sign me up—sending sparkling lines across my skin. And now I want to do so fucking well for him, so he'll do it again. The paddle is hot, I can't lie, but that was one hundred times better. I lean back over the book, eager to consume the information.

The next few times I get the paddle. My work isn't good enough, and I push harder. I want that reward so bad. I work on clearing my head, concentrating on the page in front of me. It takes me less attempts this time to do well enough to get the reward. I close my eyes as his fingers glide over me, sending shivers to every single nerve in my body, and I groan and move my hips, trying desperately to get hard inside the cage.

Fuck. I'm addicted to that touch. I'd do anything for it at this point. It ends far too quickly, and I bend over my book.

Time passes quickly in a blur of reading and touching, alternating between the smack of the paddle and his blissful hand. It gets to the point that I'm excited to read because it means the reward is coming. I've lost all track of time when Malcolm finishes giving me my reward, and instead of resetting the timer, he removes the cuffs from my wrists.

"Oh, are we done?" I ask.

As he releases each of my hands, he rubs firmly where the cuffs have left faint red marks around my wrists. I hold very still, barely daring to breathe, and watch his fingers work over my skin. They don't hurt but the rubbing feels good, and it feels like if I move, I might scare him off like some skittish animal. It reminds me of the time I spent ages trying to befriend a stray cat, the excited tension when he finally took some food out of my hand and let me pet him. This new Mal isn't exactly caring, he carries everything out in an efficient, businesslike way, but I like him a lot more than "here's your clothes, now get out" Mal.

He stands me up and bends me over the desk again, and I comply, not wanting to break this strange new spell. Am I getting one last spank?

I'm expecting the crack of leather and the sting of the paddle. But instead, there's the pop of a bottle cap, and warm firm hands rubbing warm lotion over my ass, soothing the sting. What the hell? But fuck it feels so good.

I'm so surprised that the words come out of my mouth without thinking.

"What are you doing?"

"It's called aftercare," he says stiffly.

"Yeah, I know, but, why are you doing it?"

Shut up, shut up, you're going to scare him off. Just enjoy it.

His hands work in smooth circles across my aching muscles. "It's an important part of the practice. To prevent injury or lasting damage." He sounds like he's reading from an instruction booklet—How to Dom Your Straight(ish) Teammate Who You Might Or Might Not Hate.

"You didn't do it last time." Oh my god shut up.

His hands pause for a moment. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No! No, I'm just . . . " What? Oddly touched? "Curious."

"I didn't follow the proper procedure last time. It was a mistake. We're doing it properly this time."

Again, I frown into the desktop. Is that . . . an apology? I'm not sure, but I'm taking it as one anyway.

He finishes and gives me my clothes back, along with a bottle of water and an oat cereal bar.

"Have these. We'll continue tomorrow. Now go home and get some sleep. I'm leaving the cage on so you can't pleasure yourself. You only get that from me, and only if you work hard. Understand?" I nod dumbly, and he carries on. "Each session I'll give you longer to read more pages and write longer paragraphs in one go, and the punishments and rewards will increase in intensity accordingly."

He waits for me to acknowledge that I understand what's happening.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow."

I get dressed in a daze. Afterward, I go back to the dorm, feeling a whole lot of things whirling around in my head all the way. But what outweighs the rest is an overwhelming sense of relief. I flop down onto my bed and stare at the ceiling, trying to process it all.

My re-sit is in one week, I'm nervous, yeah, but I can't help the weirdly calm feeling that with Mal in charge, I'm gonna be ok. The crushing weight that has been pressing down on my shoulders ever since I stepped out of Professor Halloway's office has lifted. It's out of my hands now; all I have to do is follow Mal's instructions.

It's weirdly freeing.

I roll over, close my eyes, and sleep like a baby.