Before the fifth and final set, he stops to take a deep breath, and my arms quake on the table, hands burning from his abuse. My soul brims with rage, but underneath that, I’m hurt. I hate that my heart throbs with the traitorous emotion, throat aching from the toll of holding it back.

Because I thought he was different, believing we had a connection despite the reality of our power exchange. Did he not feel it too, back in the library with his cum still lingering on my lips?

He issues the last two strikes, making them count, and my teeth grind from the intensity of the sting. My toes curl with it, muscles stiff.

I don’t dare move my hands.

I don’t move at all.

“It’s over.” He sounds relieved, which is ludicrous because he wasn’t the one suffering a physical punishment. Setting the crop aside, he pulls me to my feet. “I’m not a sadist,” he says, sliding his hand along my cheek. “I don’t enjoy inflicting pain.”

“You get off on the control.”

The corners of his mouth twitch. A hint of a smile? A scowl? He’s so hard to read. “That’s probably true, but next time you’ll think twice before touching what’s mine.”

His words slide over me like a physical caress, and I clench my thighs in response. The hue of his gaze deepens to raw umber.

I swear he knows the effect he has on me.

“I believe you when you say you didn’t come.” His thumb traces the outline of my lips. “Your skin is flushed with the need to orgasm.” He sends a cursory glance at my chest. “And your nipples are begging for my mouth.”

A whimper escapes onto the soft pad of his thumb. I can’t resist darting my tongue out to taste him.

“Jesus, must you test my control?” He pushes his thumb into my mouth, and I suck on it, reminiscent of the way I serviced his manhood. “So innocent, but so responsive. You’re an anomaly, a vibrant orchid in the dead of winter.” He dips his thumb into my mouth three times, playing on my tongue before withdrawing. “Do you touch yourself often?”

“No.”

His nostrils flare. “Have you ever had an orgasm?”

“What do you think, Chancellor?”

“I think you’re going to end up over my lap for refusing to use my name.”

That mental image doesn’t inspire fear in me as it should. “I don’t mean to disobey you.”

“Then answer the question.”

“I’ve never had an orgasm.”

“You’re very responsive for a woman who never learned to pleasure herself.”

“I tried once.”

“Did you not enjoy yourself? Because you seemed to enjoy yourself just fine in my bathtub.”

“It felt awkward then.” I lower my gaze. “Today, it didn’t.”

Today, I had the memory of blowing him as inspiration.