Free Shut Up and Model for Me by Iris Blaire

expression unwavering.
    I have to hop onto the desk, my feet dangling before him. Andrea remains silent, letting Dallas have the reigns.
    “I don’t think that you should pass the class without some sort of punishment for failing in the first place.”
    Oh. God.
    My eyes widen. “What kind of punishment?”
    His eyes never leave mine as he places his hand on his belt buckle and begins to unfasten it.
    Britain giggles.
    “I hate you, Britain,” I breathe.
    “Stay in character,” she barks, continuing to snap photos.
    When Dallas slides his belt off, he orders, “Raise your arms over your head.”
    “What are you going to do?” I whisper.
    He only responds with darkening eyes that send a shiver through my whole body. Biting my bottom lip, I raise my arms over my head.
    Gripping the bottom hem of my cami, he peels it upward and over my head, revealing my lace, pushup bra. For a second, his eyes flicker to my chest to drink in the sight of me.
    Warmth races to the inside of my thighs, and I squeeze them together.
    I make to lower my arms. His hand shoots out and grabs my wrist, gripping me tightly.
    “Did I say that you could put your hands down?”
    “No, sir.”
    Dammit, I wish this was real. I wish Britain and Andrea weren’t here and Dallas was role-playing this scenario with me solely for the sake of turning me on.
    Because I am oh so turned on.
    “Keep your wrists pressed together.”
    I comply as he takes his belt and wraps it around my wrists, looping and fastening it so I am all tied up.
    “Lie back,” he instructs.
    As soon as I do so, keeping my arms raised above my head, he places his index finger on the center of my lower lip, pushing forward slightly until I taste him. Then, he drags his finger down my chin, my neck, and between the valley of my breasts. When he reaches my navel I buck my hips up, and he flattens my palm against my belly and pushes me back down. “You don’t move until I say you can move. Understand?”
    “Yes, sir.” I try to speak clearly but end up more in character than I mean to be when my words escape me in a whimper.
    Dallas notices. I can tell by the way his lip twitches. Hooking his fingers beneath the hem of my jeans, he leans forward until his lips brush against my ear. “Are you as turned on as I am?”
    A small gasp escapes me, but I don’t have time to respond before Andrea instructs Dallas to take off my pants.

Dallas
     
    I order Evan to lift her hips so I can tug her jeans off. They land on the floor. My hands find her upper thighs and I squeeze. “Don’t move unless I move you.”
    She squeezes her eyes shut and nods furiously. My dick is growing harder with every passing second.
    I ease her legs apart and bite back my groan. I can tell how wet she is from here. If we were alone—if I was single—I wouldn’t be able to contain myself. I’d rip those lace panties right off of her and lick right up her center.
    Fuck .
    Her perfect tits rise and fall as she breathes shallowly.
    I realize Britain’s trying to instruct me.
    “Jesus, Dallas. Yes, we all know Rylan’s hot, now shut your jaw and stay in control.”
    I yank my mouth shut and take a deep breath through my nose. Remain in control. Remain in control .
    “Tie up her feet,” says Andrea.
    Tie up her feet? “With what?”
    I look over at Andrea, and she nods toward my chest.
    Of course, idiot.
    I push Evan’s knees together and reach up, undoing the knot of my tie as quickly as possible. Evan whimpers again, a noise I wish she’s stop making because I’m starting to lose my mind. When the tie is free from my neck, I wrap the fabric into a knot around her ankles. Her toes curl, and I pinch the big one on her left foot. She gasps.
    “Don’t move,” I growl, more so out of my sexual frustration than anything else, “or this punishment will be much worse for you.”
    When I meet her eyes, she’s giving me a strange look, as though she’s thinking hard about something.
    And then she curls her