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As the rest of the submissives file in, their masks and robes in place, I let my gaze touch on them, reciting their names as they kneel on a pillow. All of them have a face in my mind. All but one.

A slim, slip of a girl follows in behind, her movements erratic as opposed to gentle and smooth like the practiced submissives. Odd. The only new initiate, other than the one coming tonight, was Misty. And she’s not here. Squinting my eyes, I watch her movements, studying her as she makes her way behind the others.

There’s something very familiar about her, something I can’t quite put my finger on. With the cloak concealing her hair and body, I only have her eyes to go by. Ice blue flickers in the low candlelight, making them appear almost silver. Where have I seen those eyes before?

She looks up at me, locking our gaze together. For a moment, my brain struggles as I try to place her, but then she fidgets with the cowl of her robe, revealing a mass of curly blonde hair. Ashleigh. I’ll bet both of my nuts on it.

What the fuck is she doing here?

I do my best to remain calm, to not alert the others that an intruder is in our midst. Meddlesome little brat. It’s bad enough that I’ve allowed her to start a damned newspaper at this school, but seeing as its number one reporter, well, only reporter since Marnie’s ‘emergency absence,’ is here to lay witness to everything going on in The Society, I might as well put a fucking ad out for others to find us.

This ends now. After tonight, I will have to make her one of us officially. The secrecy of our society depends on it. Glancing over at the others, I catch Doctor Andrew’s gaze. With his half mask, I can see the frown turning down his lips as he looks about the room.

Observant bastard. Clearing my throat, I divert everyone’s attention back where it needs to be. Ashleigh finally kneels on a pillow, blending in a bit better with the others. To me, however, she still sticks out like a sore thumb. Probably because I know she doesn’t belong. Not yet.

“Lia Harris has been brought forth for initiation.”

At my words, the double doors open, revealing the girl in question. She hangs between the two football players dragging her in, her feet sliding on the floor as if she’s changing her mind. It’s too late now.

“She was caught cheating on her exams and chose to join us and take whatever punishment I see fit.”

A smile teases at my lips as I look down at Melody. She squirms on her pillow, no doubt remembering her own punishment for the very same crimes. Professor Richards places his hand on her shoulder and squeezes as his cock presses against pants under his parted robe. We all remember, it seems.

The players take her over to the St. Andrew’s Cross and tug at her robe, making it fall to the floor in a puddle at her feet. Ashleigh has the audacity to crane her neck, showing far more interest than any other submissive here. Then again, they’re used to it by now. This is all new to her.

“As this is her first offense,” I continue, “she will be flogged no less than twenty times, which she will count out loud and thank her punisher. Who will take the honor?”

Am I seeing things or is this girl scribbling away in a goddamn notebook? Where the hell did she even keep it? Must have been her underwear. Dammit. This is not good.

Of all the fucking… For the first time since I can recall, all rational words leave as I do my best to stay rooted to the spot and not draw any extra attention. But she will pay. Oh, but she will pay.

ChapterSeventeen

Dean Anderson

“I’ll see to her punishment.” Professor Matthew steps forward, his brown eyes glittering from behind his mask.

Normally, I’d be the first who steps up when it comes to punishing a wayward submissive, but right now, I want to keep as much of my attention as I can on Ashleigh. My cock twitches as her eyes widen, taking in the scene as Lia is strapped down to the cross, her body on display to The Society.

The first crack of the flogger against Lia’s body echoes through the room, sending a nearly audible hum through those watching the affair. Those used to these punishments flinch at the first one but settle as he continues to lay stroke after punishing stroke onto her back and ass. Ashleigh, however, jumps with each pound, each slap of leather against flesh.

Is she remembering the times I punished her in my office? One can only hope. I plan to do that and so much more to her once I am free from my obligations. She obviously wanted this, wanted me. It’s my turn to oblige.

Should I strap her to the cross and beat her ass with a flogger? Should I grab a paddle and wear her ass out? She didn’t seem fond of the cane, so that can always make another appearance.

Shaking my head, I force my attention back to the actual punishment happening and not the theoretical punishment playing out in my head. Ten lashes down and ten more to go. With each strike, Lia’s mournful count pours into the air as tears stream down her cheeks.

It should stir me.

It should make me as hard as a goddamn rock.

But it doesn’t.

Only the thought of Ashleigh bent over my desk, her schoolgirl skirt riding up as she takes my punishing hand, makes me so aroused I’m unable to think straight. God, what she does to me. Before now, my sense of duty and responsibility made it easy for me to stay away. Now that she’s in my lair, in my domain, this innocent little fae doesn’t stand a fucking chance.

“It is finished,” Professor Mathew cries out, pulling my head away from the thorn in my side, kneeling like a wolf in submissive clothing. “Is The Society satisfied?”

At least that was quick. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can claim my own prize.