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3rd Person

His hand traveled up her thighs, carefully caressing her, causing her to scream and groan at his touch. She adored the sensation of being on cloud 9. He sucked on her neck and breasts, leaving purple scars that she avoided covering. He stroked her clit firmly, prompting her to scream. Dixie was in a state of euphoria and was swimming in it. The more he caressed her, the wetter she became—almost dripping.

Her alarm went off, but it was all a dream, much to her dismay. Dixie was irritated, annoyed, and enraged. Frustration at her inability to climax for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, as well as her worst cravings for a forbidden man. She knew he'd never want to be in a relationship with her, but at the very least she'd have a well deserved climax. That same scene has been playing out in her dreams for the past week, and she can't help but wish it was true.

"You whore, no."

Since she met this man, her mind has been playing good cop/bad cop. Parts of her longed for this, but was it or would it be worth everything she had worked for over the years at school?

She followed the same routine as before, only she didn't wear any makeup and dressed casually. Her spirit didn't feel compelled to dress up, nor did she think she needed to. Everything was very uninteresting. She desperately wanted to skip today's psych class, but she knew he'd find her, and she couldn't hide forever; she wouldn't. The excitement of meeting him again was both alluring and terrifying.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Assembly. The most tedious part of Mondays. Every Monday, the students would spend about an hour in the auditorium listening to the principal speak about the school and other uninteresting topics. Dixie didn't give a damn about it because it was the least of her issues.

"I'm very sorry- oh um hello sir," she murmured hesitantly as she bumped into him.

Dixie felt suffocated and helpless. She mentally punished herself for running into him.

'Ms. D'Amelio, you're so sensitive," he whispered with a low growl, "I'll see you in class." He walked away with a smirk, leaving his poor student perplexed. At its most effective, intimidation. Given that he was the source of her agitation, he understood why she was so sensitive. But now wasn't the moment to fall in love or to lust. Dixie put her worries to the back of her mind and sat down.

"Dix, Dix!" she heard as she noticed Kate motioning her to have a seat.

They shared a brief hug before shifting their attention to the principal. He was such a mysterious person. Never seen in public and always kept a low profile at all times. His intimidating demeanor was not only repulsive, but also unsettling. Dixie may have had a few encounters with him, but nothing worth remembering.

He addressed the cohort on the subject of academic dishonesty and conduct. She thought he was either reading her mind, or this had to be a coincidence. His comments were threatening, almost as though he was addressing her. Mr. Williams' words found their way into both of their hearts; the only difference was that Noah knew that man much too well. He knew him enough to not trust or listen or a word he's eating. He'd talk to the students about this topic now and, then sneak about with the school's younger students and women.

Was there a presentation today? After the assembly, it was time for psychology class, and to her astonishment, he was already sitting in class with a projector set up.

"Good morning, students," Dr. Beck said "The class today will be a little different. A qualitative study of 73 people in the Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, and Sado-Masochism subcultures is shown on the screen. This subculture has a lot of stigma linked to it, and while academics are becoming more acceptable, the general public isn't as accepting or knowledgeable. Because they are afraid of unfavorable consequences, many people use secrecy and concealment tactics to protect themselves. Despite the abundance of literature on the potential implications and causes for hiding, there are still gaps. Our findings demonstrate how many people conceal unethical or otherwise inappropriate behavior in order to cover up or hide it from outsiders. Others keep their identities hidden in order to distinguish themselves as members of a secret subculture. Whatever their motivations, members of this subculture employ a number of tactics to control their identity and limit their vulnerability," he said, without taking his gaze away from her. She had a sense of importance. As she recorded everything he did, his intentions with her became increasingly evident, and she didn't have an issue with it.

This was a topic in which she was an expert. She understood practically everything there was to know about BDSM; the only thing she lacked was experience, which she would have soon enough. As if they were in a rapid fire match, he began bombarding the pupils with questions.

"Is it just about sex and being shackled, sir? What's the point of that?" a student from the back of the class asked.

"Well, no, it's ab-" she cut him off abruptly. He wanted to grab her and fuck her on the spot for being so rude.

"It's not only about the sex or being tied; it's about the love and trust that develops between the participants. The boundaries you're willing to accept and respect, as well as those you're willing to break. BDSM relies heavily on trust and honesty. To establish trust, partners should speak openly about their desires and limits, as well as choose a safeword or signal to signal when it's time to stop. Following that, couples should talk about what worked and what didn't. Aftercare—affectionate, care-taking conduct after sex—can assist both parties decompress and deepen closeness, according to BDSM devotees."

Noah, as well as the rest of the class, were mesmerized by her response. This was a well-structured thought from her. It piqued his interest even further. She was not only sexually appealing, but also intellectually appealing.

"That was an excellent response, Ms. D'Amelio," he added softly. Too soft. She got worried.

Despite his gentle response, he still had dark intentions for her. He locked his gaze on her like no other. There were probably a hundred students in the room, but it was just her to him. She was seemingly become the only person his eyes fell to. The only person he saw himself falling to. And it's only been day two.

The rest of class was spent taking notes and asking and answering questions. It was without a doubt the best Psychology class she'd had since starting school.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class. She had two free periods after that, which she planned to spend reading books at the library and catching up with her family. Dr. Beck, on the other hand, had other ideas.

"Ms. D'Amelio," he called out "Please stay after class for a few minutes," he said. Looking up at him, she could see the passion in his eyes. She knew she was physically and mentally fucked up.