Weak for Him by Lyra Parish

curfew.
    Not paying attention, Mr. Felton
walked into a lamp that sat in the corner of the sunroom. It
shattered into a million pieces.
    "Damn it," he said,
whispering.
    I barely made out his form by the
faint moonlight that shone through the windows. He bent down and
picked up all the little pieces of glass.
    "Why in the world would anyone put
that there?" I asked.
    I wasn't familiar with every
aspect in the house yet and had no clue where the switch would be.
My luck, there would be a remote, just like every other damned
light here. I pulled my phone from my clutch to give him some
light. He laughed.
    "Really?"
    "What?"
    "Your wallpaper, it's
silly."
    "What's silly about kittens?
They're cute and make me smile."
    "Right."
    After unplugging the lamp from the
wall, I bent down and helped.
    "Careful. Picking up broken pieces
can be dangerous," he said.
    I whispered "Yes, sir" with sweet
seduction in my voice. He stopped, but I continued picking up
shards of glass with great care, but not carefully
enough.
    Pain pierced my finger and warm
liquid dripped. Blood. The cut, although deep enough to hurt
and bleed, was not deep enough to need stitches. Mr. Felton grabbed
my hand and shined the kitty wallpaper on my finger. He immediately
took his tie from around his neck and placed it on the
wound.
    "Come on. Before you bleed out on
the wood floor," he said, leading me to the bathroom around the
corner. Cold water washed the pain away.
    Mr. Felton opened the cabinet
under the sink and pulled out a small first aid kit. With great
care, he doctored the nick. Neosporin and a Band-Aid and the small
cut was sealed to heal.
    "And I'm the softie?" I
sarcastically asked.
    He slightly puckered his lips and
gave a laugh.
    "What?" I asked.
    "I want you to tell me about your
sexual fantasies."
    My mouth dropped open. I closed it
and swallowed.
    "Okay," I said, trying not to
stutter.
    My nerves tugged and pulled inside
of my stomach. I had never spoken about my fantasies openly before.
Not even to Lori or Abbie, and they were my best friends. Mr.
Felton leaned against the sink, waiting.
    "I don't know."
    "You're bound to have some sort of
fantasy. If you could have anything in the world, sexually, what
would it be?"
    He lifted an eyebrow at me. I
cleared my throat.
    "I might like being
tied."
    "Kinky little virgin." Mr. Felton
chuckled.
    "Maybe spanked, if it wasn't too
hard. I don't want to bleed or anything. Oh, I always imagined
having sex in water would be interesting."
    "I want to know your dark
fantasies."
    He straightened, and moved closer
to me.
    "The ones that you keep secret
from everyone. The ones you've never spoken out loud."
    My throat went dry. Thoughts of
being spanked, bound, and blindfolded floated in my mind. I would
be willing to try anything, be willing to explore the dark side at
least once.
    "I want to be taken," I
whispered.
    "Taken. Mmm. Tell me
how."
    A piece of hair fell in front of
my face, and Mr. Felton tucked it behind my ear. His touch was so
gentle and slight as if I was a glass doll and would break. I
blushed, and my face went warm. The conversation wouldn't end until
I told him what I wanted. I had learned that in his
office.
    "Trust, Jennifer. Rule number
one."
    "Trust isn't the issue. I just
don't know what I want, and it's kind of embarrassing," I said. We
spoke low enough that our words could have been lost in a cool
autumn breeze.
    "Don't be embarrassed if you don't
know what you want. It's not allowed," he said, his voice smooth
like honey. I nodded my head.
    "I'd like my arms to be held down
or tied where I can't move them. Or even a scenario with
blindfolds, and ice. My best friend told me about one of her exes.
How he would spank her, bind her, and speak dirty to her while he
was fucking her hard. Then he teased her with ice around her
nipples and up her legs. It sounded hot. Hot enough for me to want
to do it."
    "My little experimental
virgin."
    His touch trailed down the outside
of my arms, leaving