I scored a sixty-eight.
Alexander didn’t even wait for the room to empty. He marked the quiz, looked up once, and said, “Office. Door locked. Now.” A few people glanced over. I kept my face blank and walked out with my cunt already aching, the low throb of knowing I’d earned the belt and three loads.
He was waiting behind the desk when I locked the door. Sleeves rolled. Expression flat.
“Sixty-eight. You wanted the belt. Bend over the chair. Not the desk. Skirt up. Count every strike. You don’t come until the third load is in you. Clear?”
“Clear.”
I bent over the arm of the visitor’s chair, ass up, no panties. He folded his belt. The first strike landed sharp across both cheeks. I jolted.
“One.”
He laid twelve, steady and mean, each one kissing skin that still remembered yesterday.
