Sweltings Academy

CHAPTER 14

***Mr. Ash***

At first I thought my window was being pelted by hummingbirds. That's the kind of dream I was having, although I don't like to brag about that. Then I opened my eyes to find myself staring groggily into the tear-stained face of Harmony Adair. Evidently, I had walked to the door and opened it in my sleep. If I thought she looked like hell last time she visited me, it was nothing to what she looked like now. Even with her bedraggled appearance, I was happy to see her. Happy, but confused.

"Miss Adair? What are you doing knocking on my bedroom door at... what time is it?" I stifled a yawn in an attempt to appear like a principal.

She grabbed my wrist and studied my watch a moment before answering in a haggard voice. "3:15 AM, sir."

There were just too many questions, so I opted to ignore them all. By some miracle, I was also able to ignore the chills her fingers raised on my arms. "Come in, Miss Adair. I apologize for the unkempt appearance of my humble abode, but you have chosen a rather unusual time for a social visit."

I don't think she heard a word I said. She was focused on the floor, and her words came out with an unnatural evenness. "Sir, I need to be punished."

I swallowed. I can't deny that I've been thinking about maneuvering her into another situation requiring punishment, but she has lately seemed so overwhelmed that it didn't seem right. Was she maneuvering herself here since I didn't do it for her? My eyes were drawn magnetically to her luscious curves, and my heartbeat began to sluggishly quicken. She looked up at me furtively, and the tortured expression on her face convinced me that this was not simply an attempt at seduction. Still, it seemed best to play the disciplinarian. Why else would she come to me?

"I see," I said, attempting to adopt a professional demeanor. It was quite difficult under the circumstances. "What infraction have you committed, Miss Adair?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Then she said, "I would rather not say."

"I'm afraid you must say," I said apologetically. "It must be a terribly severe infraction to prompt you to seek me out in my bedroom at this hour of the night. I must be certain to punish you appropriately."

A deep flush crawled across her downturned face. Then she raised her eyes and defiantly locked them on mine. I had never known the fiery indigo of her eyes to be so frigid. "I had sex with Coach Marshal," she said. "I had sex with Coach Marshal, several times, and I liked it."

I bit back the irrational anger that welled inside me. Harmony Adair was mine, and I wanted to throttle her for telling me so calmly that she was fucking another man. The impulse died immediately when I realized with a start that tears were leaking in silvery streams down her face.

I managed to reign in my emotions, and I asked sharply, "Why did you do this?"

And she told me in halting, ashamed sentences how Coach Marshal pushed her into this position. She finished with passion, "I am a whore now, and I hate myself for it. I need you to punish me, please Mr. Ash!"

I have never felt less like punishing someone in my entire life. Instead, I found myself pulling her into my arms. Her damp face was pressed against my bare chest, the silky strands of her hair brushing against my skin. I said, "Harmony, you are not a whore. He used you, and even if you liked it, that doesn't make you a whore. You told him you wanted to stop, and he forced your body to respond. It doesn't make you a slut that your body felt pleasure. Maybe not everyone would have, but you have always responded to rough sex. He knows that, and he used it against you. This is his fault, not yours."

"But what about Ty?" she sniffled.

I resisted the impulse to roll my eyes. Ty was one of the last people I wanted to think about right now. "From what you've told me about him just now, I feel quite certain that he understands the nature of your relationship with Coach Marshal. Forgive me for saying so, but I am sure he already suspects what you and Coach Marshal have done tonight."

"I don't deserve forgiveness," she said adamantly.

"Fine," I said, losing patience. "If you insist on punishment for something so completely ludicrous, I will administer it. Follow me."

I turned and glided into the bathroom and began filling the tub. When I glanced at her, she looked as confused as I'd ever seen her. I tapped my fingers impatiently on the cool surface of the tub and said, "Well? Why aren't you disrobing, Miss Adair?"

"Sir? A nice relaxing bubble bath is hardly what I would consider a punishment."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you questioning my methods, Miss Adair?" My voice was sharp, full of the authority she was longing for, and she quickly shook her head. "Very good. Now once you have removed your clothing, I expect you to get in and stay there until I return for you. I have a few urgent business matters to attend to."

"Yes, sir," she responded demurely as she let the torn shirt she was wearing slide from her fingertips and to the floor. Truthfully, as it was 3:00 in the morning, the only pressing business matters I had involved sleep. But Harmony needed to relax, and I needed to figure out what the hell to do with her. I made a hasty exit, not quite prepared for the effect that her newly exposed golden skin had on me.

***Harmony***

Suspicion curled around me like the tendrils of steam rising from the deliciously warm water that was slowly siphoning all of the soreness from my body. The things Mr. Ash had said and done tonight were so completely unexpected. I wasn't sure what I had expected from him when I told him I had been fucking Coach Marshal, but it definitely was not understanding. A bubble bath was just below understanding on the list of things I would never have expected.

My thoughts were interrupted by the breathtaking emergence of Mr. Ash into the bathroom. His hair was tousled from sleep, and his scent of sandalwood was stronger than usual. A wave of guilt poured over me as I thought of Ty again, but my knee-jerk reaction to Mr. Ash was nothing compared to what I had done with Coach Marshal. I resigned myself to being innately whorish.

Mr. Ash knelt beside the tub and studied me for a moment. Maybe it was silly, but I felt acutely aware of my nakedness for the first time around him. Not just aware, but embarrassed. There was a soft heat in his eyes. The heat that told me he was thinking about sex, but the softness told me that he wasn't thinking only about sex. It was a look I didn't deserve.

He said, "Have you given up this ridiculous notion that you should be punished for being victimized by a sadistic bastard?"

I wish it were that simple. "No. I betrayed Ty. I betrayed YOU. Why aren't you furious?" I asked, desperation filling my voice. He should be furious. This didn't make sense.

"Miss Adair, I AM furious. However, I am directing my fury at Coach Marshal, the person who deserves it." I was silent. Some of the softness drained from Mr. Ash's eyes as he said, "Now, if you are certain that you want me to discipline you, stand up."

The water streamed down my body, caressing my skin as Mr. Ash flicked his eyes over me. I shivered as the tub began to drain.

"You get more beautiful every time I see you," he said. I couldn't meet his eyes. He shook himself and resumed his disciplinary tone. "My apologies. I forgot myself for a moment." I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe in other circumstances, I would have enjoyed his obvious infatuation, but all I felt now was guilty and undeserving.

"Miss Adair, I believe it is my duty to ensure that you are properly cleansed before I punish you. I believe showers are infinitely more cleansing than baths, so I will have to supervise while you shower."

I was overcome with a sudden rush of heat that I didn't expect to feel. Showering with Mr. Ash was hardly what I would consider a punishment. "Sir, please don't be lenient."

"You are beginning to test my patience, Miss Adair. Now kindly step into the shower and do as I have instructed you."

I took a deep breath and stepped into the shower, turning on the water and letting the pounding jets ease the tension from my back. I chanced a glance at Mr. Ash, who was lounging against the wall and calmly moving his eyes over my skin. As always, his eyes stroked the center of my desire, and I felt it spread through my body. I blushed and looked away, wanting to fix my eyes on anything else in the room.

"No doubt you are wondering where the soap is," he said. With a start, I realized that I hadn't even considered it because I'd been so busy feeling conflicted about everything. I blushed deeper. Then I lied.

"Yes, sir."

"I have it here." I looked at him. He was holding a bottle of body wash and a pink shower poof. In a million years, I would never have expected him to be holding a pink shower poof. I couldn't help it. I giggled.

He raised an eyebrow and said, "Is there something comical, Miss Adair?"

"It's the pink shower poof, sir. I didn't think you would own anything pink. I mean, I don't even own anything pink. At least not on purpose."

"Really? I find that pink can be quite a stimulating, refreshing color if applied correctly. I think you will agree with me before we are finished here."

Then he shed his pajama pants and joined me in the shower, pulling the burgundy curtain closed behind him. I flinched at the nearness of him. In the smallness of the shower, his nakedness seemed huge.

"Don't worry, Miss Adair," he said. "My skin won't touch yours until you want it to. Probably not even then. Now kindly turn around."

I did as he asked, preferring not to look at him. I felt him move closer to me, and then I felt the silky scratch of soap and mesh netting graze my shoulders. I never stopped to consider how soft soap can feel on my skin. My eyes drifted closed as Mr. Ash continued spreading the foamy lather over my back and then covering my arms. He moved in teasing circles along my sides, and then he began brushing my stomach with the suds. He was still behind me, and his warmth surrounded me like a blanket. I sighed with contentment and finally turned my head to look at him. His face was inches from mine, his eyes fixed on his hands. I don't think I have ever fully appreciated the spark in his eyes until that moment.

He abruptly realized I was staring at him, and he grinned mischievously. "Miss Adair, it appears you are not quite the wanton harlot you believe yourself to be."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, " I breathed. "You don't know what I'm thinking right now."

He drew a line of lather between my breasts, and my eyes fluttered closed. His nearness was maddening. "And what are you thinking, Miss Adair?" His voice was thick even as he attempted to maintain control.

"The thoughts of a wanton harlot," I said. I turned in his arms and let my eyes burn into his. I traced the line of his jaw with the backs of my fingers, shivering at the sensation of his stubble. I felt a sudden impulse to pull his head down and rub my tits against the roughness.

Before I could act, he smiled and said, "Are they the thoughts of a wanton harlot who admits that pink is stimulating?"

I was so busy glaring playfully at him that I was completely unprepared for him to swipe the lathery poof over my breasts. I had meant to taunt him some more about his hideous taste in color, but what came out instead was a moan. He rubbed over and over the sensitive skin, raising chillbumps all over my body.

Finally, he began moving lower in soft, teasing circles. He said, "Your body certainly seems to enjoy pink. I think you should admit you like it." I opened my mouth to respond, but he darted the shower poof between my legs, brushing it against my pussy. What I ended up saying was a soft, "Yes." Damn it. I think I DO like pink now.

He darted the poof back and forth over my swollen labia, and my breath was coming in short pants. He stopped before I climaxed, and I whimpered in frustration.

"What is it, Miss Adair?" he asked. His own chest was heaving, and his erection was tantalizing. Water ran down his body, tracing the tanned, masculine planes that brought me pleasure over and over again. He wanted me to tell him that I didn't want him to stop, but I couldn't formulate words. I was consumed by an aching need to touch him.

A heartbeat later, I was in his arms. My arms were twined around his neck, and his cock pressed into my stomach. His hands stroked my lower back, inching lower to tease my ass. My aching tits ground into his chest, bringing soft moans from my throat. My head fell back in the pleasure of being near him, and I found myself looking into his eyes again, eyes which told me he had given up control for the moment.

And then I kissed him. He stiffened for a moment, surprised, as I moved my lips on his. I heard him breathe in sharply, and I could almost hear him struggling with whether or not he had crossed some sort of moral line. And then he kissed me back. He moved his hands up to cup my face, and then he kissed me hard and deep. His tongue darted between my lips, and I moaned, wanting him to penetrate me other places. I caressed his tongue with my own, hardly conscious that my hands were now wrapped around his rod, stroking him.

Finally, he broke the kiss with a gut-wrenching moan, and he stopped my hands. I stared at him wide-eyed, and then I said, "I really am a whore."

He said, "I don't kiss whores."

I lowered my eyes, feeling humiliated. Then I felt his lips graze mine, and I looked up in surprise.

He leaned close to my ear, and his breath came in warm gusts. "Let me show you what a goddess you are and what a whore you are not," he whispered. "Trust me."

I stared into his eyes for several heartbeats, terror pounding through my veins. He was going to show me something, something I wasn't sure I was ready to understand. I felt a mad desire to jump out of the shower and run to Coach Marshal, who at least understood that I was repulsive and not a goddess. I buried the fear and the impending revelation, going up on my tiptoes to kiss Mr. Ash softly and gently. It was a kiss that said goodbye, and I didn't want it to end. Tears fell in a silent mist down my cheeks as I pressed myself against his warmth, deathly afraid it would vanish when I let go.

But I let go. Then I said, "I'm not ready for my life to change." I turned off the water, feeling my hope shrink to the same trickle as the spray from the showerhead, and then I stepped out of the shower.