Chapter 115 My Submissive Wife (Final)
Will’s P.O.V.
I enter the classroom, a room we’ve frequented once or twice a month for the last six years. Even after all this time, I’m still considering building a replica of this space in our home. It’s special to us. It’s a living memory of our initial days, the place where I first taught her the beauty of obedience.
I find her exactly where she belongs. My Professor is standing at the chalkboard and writing, ‘Routine Discipline’ on the board.
Even in this setting, her Professor mode is always on. It’s as if she were born for the role, an academic elite who only knows how to surrender her intellect to me. She turns around, and the sight of her drives me crazy.
She is dressed exactly as I instructed for this room. Beneath her tight white shirt, her nipples are clamped, the metal peaks straining against the fabric with no bra to shield them. A chain attached to clamps is connecting to her special collar, the one reserved only for these sessions. She’s wearing an impossibly short skirt and leather high-heeled shoes with locking straps.
I get hard instantly. I feel an urge to fuck her right there, endlessly, but the lesson comes first.
“Your Professor is ready for her routine punishment, Master.” She stands in front of me and pulls her chest out, thrusting those clamped nipples forward, and locks her hands behind her back.
I slide my hand up her inner thigh to caress her pussy. She’s already so fucking wet.
Her breath becomes heavy as she closes her eyes, losing herself in my touch. I can feel her body trembling, her urge to grind against my hand is breaking her composure. But she doesn’t move a muscle, because she knows the rules. If she takes what isn't offered, she loses her right to an orgasm for the rest of the day.
I rub her deliberately in agonisingly slow motion for a moment before I pull my hand away.
"Taste," I command, holding my wet fingers to her lips. She obeys without a second thought, sucking her own sweetness from my skin.
"Strip," I order.
While she sheds her clothing, I walk to the board. I pick up the chalk and write: 1. THE LESSON OF BALANCE.
“So, let’s begin your first lesson, Professor,” I declare, turning around.
It satisfies my soul today just as much as it did on day one that the woman who lectures rooms full of students is the only one I have the right to teach.
“Stand in front of the board. Legs spread, hands behind your head, eyes focused on the words,” I instruct her.
She walks towards the board in her locked heels. As she takes the position, I pull a textbook from the desk drawer. I walk over and balance the book perfectly on top of her head.
I grab the heavy leather flogger from the wall. “You will balance this book while I deliver fifteen strokes to your body. If the book drops, we start the count from zero. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” she responds, her eyes locked on the word Discipline.
I take a moment to just look at her. Naked, clamped, collared, and standing tall in those heels. This lesson is brutal, but I know my Professor craves the hard lessons.
“Let’s begin.” I give the first snap of leather against her buttocks. The sting is sharp, and the book wobbles, but she bites her lip and steadies herself.
“A good beginning, Professor.”
“Thank you, Master,” she says with a small smile.
I land the next few strokes on her stomach and back. She endures them very well until I shift my aim. I let the leather tails land right between her thighs, snapping against her sensitive core.
The book hits the floor with a heavy thud.
“Tsh, tsh... we have to begin again. Pick it up.”
She immediately obeys, her face flushed with a mix of shame and arousal. She replaces the book, and I start the count again. It happens again and again, every time the flogger bites into her pussy, her focus shatters and the book falls.
“You really need to learn the lesson of balance, Professor,” I chide in a low voice.
“I’m trying, Master. It’s... " It’s getting hard,” she gasps.
“It’s supposed to be hard. Focus on the weight on your head, not the fire between your legs.”
I watch her go deep inside herself, finding that place of total stillness I taught her years ago. Finally, she takes all fifteen wipes without the book moving an inch, even when I strike her pussy four times in a row in the end.
“Excellent work.” I slide the glasses off her face and toss them onto the desk before pulling her into a deep kiss, gripping her hair.
Then I move to the chair and sit, spreading my legs and placing a silver stopwatch on the table. “Lesson Two: The Oral Examination. You have exactly five minutes to make me cum. Your hands stay locked behind your back. If the timer hits zero and I'm still standing, you spend the night in total frustration. Begin."
Iva drops to her knees instantly. The sight of her, naked, collared, and desperate, reaching for my fly with her hands is a vision of perfection.
She sucks my dick, placing her hand behind her back, her eyes locked on mine as she races against the ticking clock. She knows my body better than I know it myself, using every trick I’ve taught her over the past years.
When the timer shows only thirty seconds left, she finds that rhythmic, deep pressure that breaks me. I groan, digging my fingers into her scalp as I spill into her mouth.
"Good girl.” I pat her damp hair as she swallows every drop like a perfect submissive. "Examination passed."
But I don't let her rest. I pull her up and point back to the chalkboard. “Go there.”
As she reaches there, I assert, “Now lesson number three, the Lesson of Focus. Pick up the chalk."
I grab a high-powered vibrator from the desk and press it directly against her swollen, sensitive core. "You will write 'My Master's pleasure is my only syllabus' thirty times. If your handwriting wavers, or if you stop writing because of what I’m doing to your body, we double the count."
The classroom is silent except for the buzzing of the toy and the screech of chalk. Iva’s back arches, her knees knocking together as I play with her clamped nipples and keep the vibrator pressed between her thighs. While writing, she is moaning and her legs are shaking, but she doesn't stop. She focuses on the words, on her role of being my submissive for life.
When the thirtieth line is finished, she’s a shivering mess. I grab her by the waist and spin her around, using her bare, sweating back to rub the board.
I pin her there and enter her with one hard thrust. “You are perfect. The perfect mother. The perfect professor. But in this room, you are my perfect submissive wife."
I fuck her hard against the board, the chalk dust flying around us like a storm. I can feel her clenching around me, her body humming with the aftershocks of the lessons.
Then, I drag her to the desk with her hair and tie her there, forcing her into a position of total exposure. I slide a ball gag into her mouth to muffle her beautiful screams and firmly insert a plug into her. This has become my recent favourite thing, fucking her like this, because it makes her feel impossibly tight when I’m inside her.
"I love you, Professor.” I ram into her as I give hard spanks to her breasts, watching them bounce and flush under my palm. "I love every version of you, but I worship this one the most."
I lose myself in her, giving hard, punishing shots that make her eyes roll back in her head. She’s screaming against the gag, her body bucking against the desk, and as I look at her, I realise that past years haven't dulled the fire. They’ve only turned it into an inferno.
“Mommy, why do you look so tired?” Ivy asks, giggling as she sits comfortably in Iva’s lap in the passenger seat while we drive home after picking her up from school. “Did Daddy make you run?”
My eyes flicker briefly toward Iva. Our daughter has no idea that yes… Daddy did make Mommy tired. But not by running.
And the best part? I knew this was coming. That’s why I’d warned Iva in my texts that our daughter wouldn't miss the way her energy had been drained, and I’d told her to be ready for this exact interrogation.
Iva clears her throat, trying to compose herself, but I can see the slight flush on her cheeks. “Yes, baby.” She smoothes, brushing Ivy’s hair back. “Daddy made me work a lot today.”
Her eyes meet mine for just a second, and in that single glance, everything comes rushing back. The classroom. The lessons. The stolen time. Her tight pussy. Vibrator. Spanking. Our moans.
I become hard for her again. I shift uncomfortably as I focus back on the road.
Ivy gasps dramatically. “That’s so mean, Daddy!”
I chuckle. “Is it?”
“Yes!” she nods firmly. “Mommy should rest.”
Iva smiles, pulling her closer. “See? Mini-me is on my side.”
I glance at them again.
My two girls.
One is completely innocent.
The other… anything but.
And yet—
Both are mine.
“Don’t worry.” My voice is steady but layered with something only one person in this car understands. “I’ll always take care of Mommy after making her work so much.”
Iva shifts slightly, hiding her smile as she looks out the window.
But I catch it. That knowing smile. Because no matter how normal this moment looks, there’s a secret woven into it.
A memory only we share.
And a promise that this fire between us? It’s far from fading.
The End
The first book of this BDSM erotic series ends here.
But don’t worry, if you still can’t get enough of Will and Iva, their journey continues in the next book, Surrendering to Cruel Master, along with Dominic and Hazel’s story.
Before you go, I’d love to hear from you one last time that how did you feel about their journey?
And you can also share what kind of stories you’d love to read in the future. I’d truly love to bring your desires to life.
Your reviews and thoughts mean everything to me.
Love Mehak ❤️