8

Blaine

I clench my jaw, shaking my head in an effort to clear the haze from my mind. This is no different from any other punishment I dole out, even if it is Azira Sidorov. A means to discipline and teach, not a way for me to get my rocks off or feed some sick fantasy.

I reach for the handle of my whip and pull it down from the wall, shutting my eyes and drawing a deep breath. Flexing my fingers, I get used to the familiar and calming feel of the leather bound handle in my hand. It brings me the calm I need as the sadistic thoughts had taken control.

I open my eyes. "Brace your hands against the wall and don't move them. Otherwise, I'll have to bind you."

She steps forward, placing her hands in front of her.

And then I bring the whip down in a heavy arc across the center of Azira's back.

She cries out at the pain and impact, her legs trembling beneath her as she claws at the wall. It's not a scream, but there's pain in the sound. Anticipation coils through me as I wonder if I'm right about Azira and her preferences, or whether I was mistaken three years ago.

My grip turns unnaturally tight as I whip her again. This time the sound is more of a mix between a cry and a moan, which makes my cock harder. The third time I do it, I groan as she presses her thighs together in reaction and there's no doubting the pleasure in her cry as she takes my punishment.

"This is supposed to hurt, Miss Sidorov. Why does it sound like it's pleasurable to you?" I growl, lost in my sick fantasies.

I never speak to the students when I punish them, and yet I broke that rule with the one girl I certainly shouldn't.

"What do you mean, sir?" she asks, her voice sweeter than honey.

I bring the whip down again, and her thighs rub together as she moans.

"You sound like you're getting fucked rather than whipped."

She gasps at that, glancing at me over her shoulder. Those honey-brown eyes are dilated so much so there's barely a rim of brown. Dilated from the mix of pain and pleasure.

"Face forward," I snap, not saying another word as I repeatedly bring the whip down over her perfect skin, leaving angry welts over it.

The sadist inside of me is lost to this, painting a picture over her unmarked, blemish free skin. Pain can be an art form, or at least, it's always felt that way to me. Skin is my canvas and blood is my paint.

"Oh God," Azira grumbles as her thighs seem to shudder. And that's when I realize she's climaxed from the pain, as I see the wetness of her arousal dripping down the inside of her thigh.

The sight drives me insane and I use too much force this time; the whip comes down and slices through her beautiful skin, enticing a sharp whimper from her.

The sight of blood drives something wild and primal in me as I drop the whip, the need to touch her, smear the blood on me utterly intoxicating and impossible to ignore. And yet I have to remind myself she's a student. Forbidden, off-limits and too damn innocent for me.

Azira keeps rubbing her thighs together like the dirty little masochist she is, even after I've cut her open. Even after she's had her climax.

I walk over to her, despite knowing it's a bad idea. "You're bleeding," I say, my voice rough as I touch the wound.

She straightens suddenly, a tension in her body as she didn't realize I was so close. "Sir?"

"I think I went too far." My finger traces the cut and I smear the blood over her tanned skin, my nostrils flaring as I want to lick it up and devour her. The sadist inside of me is desperate to break free and ruin this innocent girl.

She glances over her shoulder at me, eyes dilated from pleasure. "I'm not so sure," she murmurs, biting on her bottom lip.

I growl, a sound so animalistic it ignites fear in her eyes. She should be scared of me, because she does not know the sadistic, sinful things I want to do to her. "You enjoyed your punishment a little too much, didn't you, Azira?"

Her nostrils flare and that fear remains as she drags her tongue over her bottom lip. "I don't know what you mean."

I grab her hip then, making her tense. "You know exactly what I mean, rubbing your thighs together at the exquisite pain. Don't think I didn't see." I'm so aware that she's half-naked and the desire to squeeze her breasts and pinch her nipples is tempting, but I resist. "I saw everything," I murmur, suggesting that I'm well aware she climaxed from the pain.

Azira shudders and her cheeks turn a deep red as she breaks my gaze. "There's something wrong with me."

My fingers move up and down the slice in her skin, smearing her blood over the beautiful canvas. I bring my bloodstained fingers to my lips and lick them, groaning. "Delicious, Azira."

She glances back at me, eyes wide when she sees I'm licking her blood.

"There's nothing wrong with you at all."

Her nostrils flare and that fear and desire seem to go to war in her eyes. Each emotion battling the other for dominance, but it's that fear that snaps me back to reality. This girl is a student, for fuck's sake.

I drop my hand from her skin and take a step back, picking up her bra and shirt. "Your punishment is over, Azira." I thrust the shirt and bra into her hand and turn away. "I trust you can find your way out."

"Yes, sir," she says, her voice small and breakable from behind me.

I don't look back as I walk out of the basement and back toward my study, knowing that I let that encounter get out of hand. If she comes to me again, I can't punish her, not like that. Otherwise, I fear I won't be able to stop myself from having my way with her.