Divine Milking System

Chapter 418: 418 | That All You Got?

I looked down at her. The classroom’s fluorescent lighting cast harsh shadows across her features, highlighting the mascara tracks running down her cheeks and the smeared black lipstick that made her look like she’d been doing exactly what she’d been doing. Her violet eyes held mine with an intensity that would have intimidated anyone who didn’t know what she really wanted.

"On your knees."

The words came out quieter than I intended. More intimate. Not a command barked across a training field but an invitation whispered between conspirators.

Addison’s breath hitched. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, spreading the ruined lipstick further across her mouth. For a moment I thought she might refuse. Might reassert the aggressive persona she’d worn into my hospital room like armor. Might remind me that Addison Baxter didn’t kneel for anyone, ever, period, full stop.

Instead she slid off the desk.

Her knees hit the classroom floor with a soft thump. The cold tile had to be uncomfortable against her bare skin, but she didn’t flinch. Didn’t complain. Just looked up at me with those violet eyes gone dark with something that made my chest tight.

"Like this?" Her voice came out husky. Lower than normal. "Is this what you wanted, Professor?"

God she was beautiful like this. On her knees in nothing but black lace panties, garter belt, and thigh-high stockings. Her breasts hung heavy and full, still glistening from my mouth. Her hair had completely escaped its bun and fell in messy waves around her shoulders, black strands shot through with purple highlights catching the artificial light.

I reached down and cupped her cheek.

The gesture made her freeze. Not with fear. With something closer to wonder. Like she’d expected roughness and received gentleness instead, and the contradiction had short-circuited whatever response she’d prepared.

My thumb traced the line of her cheekbone. Brushed away a smear of mascara. Traveled down to the corner of her mouth where her ruined lipstick had bled into the surrounding skin.

"You’re gorgeous." I said it simply. Stated it as fact rather than compliment. "You know that? Actually gorgeous. Not hot. Not sexy. Gorgeous. The kind of beautiful that makes people forget how to breathe."

Her lower lip trembled.

My thumb found the center of her mouth. Pressed gently against the soft flesh. Her lips parted automatically, instinctively, and I slipped my thumb between them.

The wet heat of her mouth closed around my digit. Her tongue swirled against the pad, tasting whatever residue of her own essence remained on my skin. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked, pulling my thumb deeper, and those violet eyes never left mine for a second.

She looked up at me with an expression that belonged in a shrine rather than a classroom. Worshipful. Devoted. Like I was something sacred rather than a lottery student with too many secrets and not enough lifespan.

Then she bit me.

Not hard enough to break skin. Just hard enough to send a jolt of sensation racing up my arm. Just hard enough to remind me that Addison Baxter was still in there beneath the submission, still dangerous, still capable of drawing blood if she chose to.

She released my thumb with a pop and grinned. Sharp teeth visible behind smeared lipstick. Eyes dancing with mischief that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

"Oops." She didn’t sound sorry at all. "Guess I’m a bad student. What are you going to do about it?"

I grabbed her hair.

Not gently this time. I fisted my hand in those black and purple strands and pulled her head back, forcing her to look up at me from an angle that had to strain her neck. Her gasp was pure surprise, pure pleasure, pure Addison finally getting what she actually wanted.

"Stand up."

She scrambled to obey. The speed of her compliance would have been impressive if it hadn’t also been completely adorable. Six inches of lethal goth girl trying to appear nonchalant while practically vibrating with anticipation.

"Turn around. Hands on the desk."

She turned. Placed her palms flat on the surface of the nearest student desk, the same one she’d pushed me onto earlier. Her back created a long pale line from shoulder to hip, interrupted only by the black strap of her garter belt crossing her spine.

"Bend over."

She bent. The motion pushed her ass toward me, round and full and barely contained by the black lace of her panties. The garter straps framed each cheek like gift wrapping, drawing the eye to the curves they were supposed to be covering.

I stepped closer. Let her feel my presence behind her without touching. Let the anticipation build until her breathing went ragged and her fingers curled against the desk’s wooden surface.

"You bit me."

"You deserved it."

My hand connected with her ass.

The sound cracked through the classroom like a gunshot. Addison yelped, her whole body jerking forward, and the desk scraped against the floor from the impact. A pink handprint bloomed across her pale skin, visible even through the lace.

"What the fuck was that for?"

I spanked her again. Same cheek. Same force. Her yelp turned into something closer to a moan this time, and her hips pushed back toward my hand rather than away from it.

"That’s for biting me."

"Worth it." She wiggled her ass. Actually wiggled it. Like a challenge. Like an invitation. "That all you got, lottery boy? I’ve had harder spankings from my freshman roommate."

My palm connected with her other cheek.

She groaned. Low and long and nothing like the profanity-laced threats she usually delivered. Her back arched, pushing her ass higher, presenting herself for another strike like a cat demanding attention.

"Fuck." The word came out breathy. "Okay. Maybe you’ve got something."

I spanked her again.

And again.

And again.

Each impact drew a different sound from her throat. Gasps and moans and the occasional curse word that dissolved into incoherence halfway through. Her pale skin flushed progressively darker shades of pink, the heat of repeated impact radiating against my palm every time I made contact.

"Come on." She pushed back into my hand. Her voice had gone rough around the edges. "Is that. Is that supposed to hurt? My grandmother hits harder than that. You call yourself a fucking professor?"

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