Classroom Punishment (BDSM Series)

Will’s P.O.V.

It’s been years since the love of my life walked into my world, and since then, my life has only gotten better with each passing day.

With her support, I was able to achieve everything I ever dreamed of, especially building the place I’m sitting in right now, alongside my club partners, or rather, my closest friends who turned this dream into a reality.

But this isn’t just any club.

It’s one of the most renowned and impeccably maintained BDSM clubs in New York. A place where judgment doesn't exist, and desire rules. Where people shed their layers of clothing, yes, but more importantly, they shed their layers of shame, fear, and pretending. Here, people come to explore and live out their deepest and most intimate fantasies.

I glance through the glass wall of the meeting room on the top floor and my gaze sweeps across the entire club visible from up here. The view is nothing short of breathtaking.

This was once my dream, but today it’s the reality I’m living. Damn! I feel so satisfied seeing it.

On the first floor, there’s a large open hall, where members gather to drink, flirt, and attend our exclusive auctions and themed parties.

The second and third floors are where the real fantasies take shape. These floors are split into multiple rooms, designed for a specific experience.

There are Dungeon rooms and punishment rooms, lined with padded walls and cross restraints, perfect for spanking, flogging, paddling, caning, and whipping. Every tool is carefully maintained to ensure both safety and sensation.

Sex Toy Rooms, fully stocked with everything from the playful to the extreme, vibrators, dildos, plugs, wands, machines. You name it, it's there.

Bondage rooms, stacked with ropes, cuffs, cages, and suspension frames. Voyeur Rooms, one of our most requested experiences, where couples or groups can play openly, while others watch through one-way mirrors or sit in hidden view.

Electro play rooms, role-play rooms like a schoolroom, office, interrogation chamber, or even a domestic living space. Mirror rooms for those who enjoy watching themselves or others from every angle. Wet rooms for wax or oil scenes.

And of course, the Aftercare rooms where partners can reconnect, hold each other, and come down from the high.

The fourth floor is more exclusive, customised private rooms for our most elite members. Each room is built to specification, no matter how extravagant or niche the request. Here, our motto is simple: if you can imagine it, we can create it.

And then there’s the fifth floor, where things happen out in the open. Reserved for our VIP parties, it’s where Doms punish their submissives in open. No walls. No masks. Just power and pleasure.

And finally, up here on the top floor, we—the creators of this world—have our private offices and this meeting room. From here, we watch our vision unfold. We manage, we plan, and occasionally, like now, we just sit back and admire the empire we’ve built.

As I sit in my chair with a glass of whiskey, I turn my head slowly to my friends seated beside me.

“Cheers to us!” I raise my glass for a toast, my voice filled with pride.

“Cheers to two years of successfully running our first BDSM club,” Sebastian adds, clinking his glass against mine. He’s the workaholic in our group, the one who never stops until everything is perfect. Honestly, this club wouldn’t exist without him.

Then again, it couldn’t exist without any of us.

“And cheers to many more years of our unbreakable friendship,” Dominic says with a small smile. His lips curve, but there’s pain hidden deep in his eyes. Still, I’m glad he’s here, smiling with us, even if it’s just for now.

“I still can’t believe we all laughed at Will’s idea of building this club years ago,” Isabel says with a grin. The only female partner among us. She’s the kind of woman who can make any man drop to his knees with a single look. Her presence alone carries a power you don’t dare challenge.

“Thank God you all laughed at me.” I chuckle. “My ego got bruised, and that only made me more determined. But seriously, thank you, for believing in me and for helping me build this dream.” I look at each of them with a satisfied smile. My heart is full in a way that’s hard to explain.

I still can’t believe how far we’ve come. These people, they’re not just my partners. They’re my family. We met in college, and what started as a casual friendship turned into something real. Solid. Lifelong.

“You don’t have to thank us, Will,” Sebastian says, meeting my eyes with a look of genuine gratitude. “You gave us the idea. You had the vision. We just followed your lead. If anyone deserves the thanks, it’s you.”

“Yeah! This club gave me a whole new life—” Isabel begins.

“You mean Roman, right?” I cut in with a smirk.

Roman, her husband, the billionaire who stole her heart right here in this club. He’s the only man who’s ever had the power to bring our dominant, iron-willed Isabel to her knees, and she gladly let him.

She laughs softly. “Yeah… Roman.”

As she says his name, a smile spreads across her face, soft, genuine, almost dreamy.

Love.

Love really does have the power to change a person. Isabel used to be all tough and focused. But Roman brought colour to her world. He made her bloom.

And me?

I was lucky that love walked into my life early, back in college. I still remember the day I met her.

Iva.

The woman who filled my life with light, who supported me in every way imaginable, who stood by me through every high and low. The woman who helped me become the man I am today.

Flashback (A Few Years Ago)

I sit in the classroom with Isabel and Sebastian. Today, we’re told that a new English professor is joining us. I expect just another lecture. Just another day.

But then she walks in. Our new professor.

And everything around me stops.

She isn’t just beautiful, she’s magnetic. The kind of woman who doesn’t ask for attention but takes it without trying.

She’s dressed in a fitted black blazer over a deep-cut white crop top, paired with formal black pants that hug her curves like it was made for her. The high black heels are adding to her confidence. Her blonde hair is styled sleek, and a pair of thin, black-rimmed glasses rests perfectly on her nose, which somehow makes her even sexier.

Fuck.

She’s our new professor?

My body burns with desire. I want to dominate her. Own her. Command her. I don’t just want her body. I want her surrender.

She moves to the front of the class and faces us. “Good morning. I’m Professor Iva Bennett.”

God, her voice.

It’s addictive and soft. The kind of voice that wraps around you and stays in your mind long after it’s gone. It makes my pulse throb, and my grip on the desk tightens.

She smiles faintly, eyes scanning the room. “Before you ask, yes, I’m probably younger than most professors you’ve had. But I’ve been in this field for a while.”

Yeah! She looks so young to be a professor. Whatever her age is, it doesn’t matter, I can already imagine her submitting to me.

Damn! I’m getting hard.

She starts calling on students, asking us to introduce ourselves one by one. And while the others introduce themselves, I don’t look away from her for a second. I study her. Every small gesture. The way her fingers roll the pen she’s holding. The flick of her lashes when she smiles. The way her teeth graze her lower lip when she’s deep in thought.

Then it’s my turn.

I rise, and finally—finally—her eyes meet mine, and I can feel her breath becoming heavy.

She feels it. The tension. The heat. The unspoken pull between us.

“I’m Will Wilson,” I begin.

Her lips part just slightly. Her eyes fix on mine, then drop quickly to my mouth. She says nothing.

“I passed out from St. George’s,” I continue, never looking away. “I’ve always had one goal. Power. I like holding it over others.”

Her grip on her pen tightens and her jaw drops. A smirk curves on my lips.

I know she gets the meaning behind my words.

“Interesting, now sit down, Will.” She says after composing herself.

The rest of the lecture drifts by while we both pretend to be unaffected.

My focus is on her. Her hands, her movements, the way her heels click to the floor, and the way she adjusts her glasses.

She doesn’t look at me again.

But I know she’s thinking about it. Just like I am.

She’s my professor. I’m her student. But the strong, invisible pulls between us tell me, we’re destined to break every rule together.