The Ivy League (5 page)

“
Please,” the man said, his friendly smile returning as he gestured to the empty chair across the table, “sit.  It would be a shame to waste the food.”

The
food smelled amazing.  Her stomach groaned loudly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.  She tried to find a reason to walk away, but she came up short.

“You can leave anytime you like,” he said
, trying to persuade her with a smile as he sat back down. There were two types of members in Madame Gwen’s club. 

There were those who only wanted to play out their fantasies with no strings attached.  Then there were member
s like himself.  Madame Gwen offered a special service for a member like himself. He maintained a certain lifestyle and that required a carefully crafted image.  He would need a wife that could fit perfectly into that.  He had heard Madame Gwen was fantastic at training her girls to be the perfect little trophy wife.  This girl had intrigued him since the moment he saw her picture.  She was classically beautiful, with strawberry blonde hair and deep blue eyes.  She had the perfect look that he was after.  Her size and color would complement his looks perfectly.

“I am pretty hungry,” Sara
said, letting the hunger get the better of her.  She settled into her chair and flashed the man a sweet smile.  He seemed nice enough.

“My name is Daniel,” he said, “What is yours?”

Sarah took a
seat in the front of the classroom.  She was so excited, she had arrived at her class a good fifteen minutes early.  Maybe it was just her excitement to start learning at such a prestigious university, but she always liked to be punctual.  She smiled and nodded as some of her classmates began to trail in, some singly, some in pairs, taking their seats throughout the classroom.  Sarah glanced at her watch, counting down the seconds before the class was to begin.  A frown marred her brow as the minute hand began to tick past the hour mark.  She would have thought a professor would be as concerned about punctuality as she, but her first professor, in her very first college class was now officially late.  The other students began to get antsy as the minutes ticked by and there was still no teacher to lead the class.  She had heard that most teachers gave some five-minute lecture on the do’s and don’ts of their class before dismissing on the first day, but she had never heard of a teacher simply not showing up. 

One of the students in the back of the room stood up and began to leave
just as a tall man in a suit and tie barged into the classroom carrying a leather brief case.  He tossed the bag carelessly on the small table at the front of the room and a loud smack echoed off the concrete walls. 

Sarah
recognized him the minute he entered.  Even if she didn’t have eyes she would have known it was him.  Simply by the way the air in the room shifted, became suddenly oppressive, when he came in.  It was him.  He said nothing to the class, had not even taken the time to look at them.  He had not seen her yet. He picked up a piece of chalk and began to write on the board.  The days, Monday and Wednesday, and the times 10:00-11:00.  Beneath that, he wrote a name.  His name.  A name she knew she wasn’t supposed to ever know.  Mr. Banks.

As he tossed the small piece of chalk down on the table and turned around to look at the class, his
eyes fell directly on her.  For a split second, Sarah could see the shock and panic on his face, but he quickly returned to an unreadable mask. The small muscle in his square jaw ticked as his eyes hardened on her.  His stare was suffocating.  After a moment of silence, his eyes shifted to the rest of the class, and Sara found the ability to breathe again. 

“These are my
office hours,” he said as he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a small stack of papers.  He handed them off to the student sitting closest to him to pass around the class.  “If you have questions, email me or seek me out at these times.  My email and office number is on the syllabus, being passed around now.”

Mr. Banks c
ontinued to speak for about twenty minutes about the particulars of his class before glancing at his watch and abruptly dismissing the students. The pressure of his presence had killed Sara’s concentration for the entire lecture.  As she tried to scoot past him, her eyes avoiding him, he stopped her. 

“Come to my off
ice,” he said, his voice low enough for only her to hear before he grabbed his briefcase.  “Immediately.”

Sara swallowed, trying in vain to clear the lump that was stuck in her throat.  She could feel the heat burning her cheeks, just at the simple act of him speaking to her.

Mr. Banks’ mind raced as he waited for the girl to show up in his office.  He certainly didn’t need this job, the income from it was paltry compared to what he made at his own company.  But he wanted this job.  It was a small feather in his cap that he wanted to keep there.  If his sexual exploits came to light, the university would quickly find a way to dismiss him, despite his pedigree.  He wondered how she had found him here.  Was she trying to blackmail him?  There was a soft knock at the door of his office.  He knew who it was and he forced himself to regain his composure. 

“Come,” he said
.  He waited, his eyes on the door, but it didn’t open.

“Come in,
” he said, a little bit louder.  Still, he got no answer. He opened the door to find empty air. He poked his head into the hall to find Sara walking away, looking at a piece of paper and scratching her head. 

“
Sara,” he said, holding back a sigh.  She whirled around at the sound of her name and he immediately knew it was a mistake to ask her to come here.  She was more beautiful than his memory had told him.

“I wasn’t sure I had the right place,
” she said, trying to keep her voice from cracking.  “I knocked.”

“What are you doing here?” he said, his voice almost a hiss as he ushered her into his office and closed the door behind her. 

“
I’m a student,” she said, emphasizing the small stack of books and papers she was clutching.  He was so calm and composed it made his presence even harder to bear. 

“Are you trying to blackmail me?”
he said, his eyes narrowing as he hovered above her. 

“Bla
ckmail?” Sara said, her eyes wide at the silliness of the accusation.  She couldn’t help the small bubble of laughter that choked up.  The idea was absurd.

“Why are you in my class?” he said, his eyes scanning her face.  There had to be a reason sh
e was here.  She had sat right in the very front of his class, as if to taunt him. 

“Because it’s required for my major,” Sara gulped the words out, forcing herself to ignore the way he made her knees tremble
. 

Mr. Banks had wanted to see her again so badly.  H
ad been prepared to pay a hefty sum to lure her back for just one more night of work.  But this was the last place he wanted her to show up. 

“You can take it from someone else,” he argued.

“No,” Sara said.  Her soft blonde hair swayed as she shook her head and Mr. Banks found it harder to concentrate on the current conversation.  “You’re the only one teaching it this semester.  We both know that.”

“You’ll have to take
it another semester,” he said.  There were so many things wrong with him being her teacher.  He didn’t even want to think about the consequences if any one were to find out. “There will be other teachers.”

“Look,” she said with a sigh, still unable to hold his ste
ady glare, “I need this course, and it’s too late for me to change it now.  I can be adult about this if you can.”

“If anyone ever finds out…” he said,
his eyes narrowing threateningly at her.

“You think I want anyo
ne to know?” Sara said, throwing her hands in the air. 

He didn’t like it.  He knew it was a recipe for disaster.  But there was
nothing he could do about it.  If she refused to leave his class he couldn’t tell his superiors about their relationship without raising some serious eyebrows.  He would just have to do his best to remain professional, and hope the semester passed quickly.

Krista bit through the pain.  She couldn’t handle it much longer.  She wanted so badly to please this client, so she would hold on as long as she could.  If he enjoyed her company, she would move up a tier in the rankings, part of Madame Gwen’s system for assigning the girl’s work.  The higher the ranking, the higher profile client a girl had access to. 

Dan
pulled on the ropes that bound Krista, enjoying with twisted satisfaction the pained look on her pretty face.  There were places where the rope had already rubbed her skin raw, and yet, this girl had still not spoken the safe word.  He’d only intended to gauge her boundaries, but it would appear she didn’t have any.  Even as he poked at the tiny welts that had been left on her skin by the hot wax, she did not cry out. 

“Are you getting tired
, my pet?” he asked as he grabbed her chin and pulled her face up.

“No, master,” Krista said,
with a broken voice.  But she was.  She was getting very tired, and she needed relief from the onslaught of torturous pleasure.

“Good,” he said, dro
pping her chin to wrap his hand in her hair.  He yanked her head back.  “Because I’m just getting started.”

He had both of her hands and feet tied individually to a
pulley system that was attached to the walls on either side of them.  With the slightest pull he could spread her as far apart as he wanted, leaving her completely at his mercy.  He adjusted the ropes so that her arms were pulled away from her body, but her legs were free enough for her to stand on her own.  She made a valiant effort to stand, but her knees wobbled.

His eyes
stared relentlessly into hers as his hands callously explored her body.  Krista had heard from some of the other girls about this client’s preferences.  She hadn’t really done a lot of BDSM work before, just some simple handcuff play.  But she had somewhat enjoyed those experiences, so she figured she would go a bit more intense.  The immensity with which she was liking it both scared and excited her.

The skin of his hands was soft, but his touch was
so forceful.  His fingers grasped at the swell of her breasts and he squeezed until the pain shot through her.  His thumb and forefinger clamped down on her nipple and he crushed it between the well-groomed points of his fingernails, all with a sickly smile on his face.

Krista couldn’t stop the
gasping squeal from coming out.  She also couldn’t stop the hot desire that settled in her belly.  He pulled away from her, and an open palm caught her hard across the cheek. Krista looked back at him with confusion and fear in her eyes.

It was that split second of
sickening emotions in a girl’s eyes that he liked to see.  It was causing that look that made him hard.  He would need to reign in his temptations to tear this little treat apart long enough to break her down first. 

His lips
crushed hers, and he forced his tongue into her mouth, exploring at his own discretion.  His fingers, still clenching her tender nipple, twisted sharply and he enjoyed the little moan of pain that filled his mouth. 

“You little whore,”
Dan said, his voice cold.  “You are enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I…” Krista didn’t know how to answer.  She wasn’t sure what he wanted, but
she knew he was right.  She had to admit that he was stirring something in her that she hadn’t ever felt before.  The intensity of it shocked her.  All she could do was look helplessly up at him with wide eyes, wondering what he would do to her next.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his eyes na
rrowing on her as a smirk curled on his thin lips.  His hand slid up her thigh, and his fingers took no ceremony in entering her. 

“Your body tells the truth,” he said, the smirk widening.  His fingers
played inside her, forceful and relentless.  “You’re dripping wet.  With such little attention.”

He
suddenly stepped away from her, leaving nothing but a cool brush of air on her over-stimulated naked flesh.  Krista whimpered at the loss of his touch. 

“I think you are
a little too excited,” he said with a sinister twinkle in his eye as he turned his back to her.  “I have you for the entire evening, and I intend to get my money’s worth.  Cool down, then we’ll continue.”

It had been a very hard day for Mr. Banks.  A big client that had been with the company for years was considering going to a rival at the end of their current contract.  He had tried everything, and short of offering him a losing deal, it looked as though this would be the end of their business together.  But this meant much more than losing an important client for the business.  This was a sign.  A sign that the Board of Directors was right.  He wasn’t his father.  He couldn’t handle a company like this.  He was a teacher and he should just stick with his books and papers.  The thought of them being right, and this proving them right, churned in his gut like a ball of barbed wire.  He needed something to get his mind off work.