Semua Bab Submissive Academy: Bab 21 - Bab 30

“And then all the doms started fighting. As soon as Aiden broke Henry’s hand, all hell broke loose,” Isla explains, her voice slightly rasped with a feverish edge. “So that’s why they weren’t at lunch,” I huff, shaking my head. “Lucas jumped in to defend Henry, saying no sub should ever come between them,” she continues, clutching her books tightly to her chest. Her brown hair is tied in a high braid today, swinging elegantly across her back with each step. “Daniel defended Aiden, saying no dom should ever touch another man’s sub.” “And then Noah hit Daniel—hence the black eye. But Daniel hit him back. Knocked Noah out with one punch.” My eyes widen. That part is genuinely shocking. More shocking still is how casually Isla uses her dom’s first name. “Aiden then hit Henry again, almost broke his jaw. Lucas tried to kick Aiden, but David swiped his legs out from underneath him,” Isla adds breathlessly. “Well, it was about time,” Rose mutters beside me, rolling her eyes. “Emma’s d

“Remember, ladies—only your current dominant. No other male should ever touch your body. No other man should ever lay a hand on you,” Ms. Lovelace says, her tone stern and absolute. She pauses for effect before lifting a finger in the air, commanding the room’s full attention. “However,” she calls out suddenly, her voice bright with false enthusiasm, “the Headmaster has come up with a fantastic idea.” My eyebrow arches. I seriously doubt that. My eyes flicker toward the massive figure of Mr. Miller, looming at the back of the room. A smug smirk twists his lips, and his cold, calculating eyes lock on mine for a lingering, unsettling moment. “For the girls to get used to the idea of working with a different male, we’re going to switch things up today.” My fucking heart drops. “You will do this lesson with your own dom, but you’ll also practice on another dom,” she continues, her words slicing through me like ice. “After all, the dom you have now will not be your husband. They’ll c

When the music picks up pace, a ripple of motion flows through the room—every girl turns, synchronized like we’ve rehearsed it. My leg shifts just enough to pivot my stance without leaving my spot. In one elegant move, I spin, my back now facing Aiden. My ass presses against him firmly, teasing, claiming space that isn’t mine to own. My hair, long and loose, tumbles like silk down my spine, a curtain of temptation. All around me, I see girls working their men, undulating bodies and sly smiles, the air thick with arousal. But I feel it—eyes on me. Watching. Wanting. Some of the doms are focused on me while they feel their own subs working them. I know what I look like when I move like this. I can feel the sensuality dripping from my every motion. It’s in the way my hips circle, in the flex of my thighs, in how I stretch and twist with deliberate, luscious grace. Like a snake poised to devour. Like a woman who owns every inch of her power. I sit up slowly, a feline rise, and roll my

My high crashes over me like a tidal wave. That fuzzy, familiar feeling floods my body—it feels so good it almost hurts. The intrusive thoughts that haunted me moments ago begin to drift away, dissolving one by one until they scatter, leaving my mind in quiet disarray.A single tear escapes the corner of my eye.Another slice carves into my collarbone, just beneath the first.Emotions surge through me, raw and unstoppable. Another tear falls, followed by a rare, broken sob.I never show my pain. Never.But right now, I can't stop it.The pain is too much. I can't control it anymore—it's controlling me.And gods, it feels good. It feels so good to let go.I surrender to the tears, letting them come, letting them wrap me in their hollow comfort. By the time they dry—after two more careful slices—my mind feels strangely empty. Light. Like there's fresh air inside me for the first time in ages.Like I can breathe again.What’s happening to me?Slowly, I open my eyes. And there he is.Aide

And we are gone. In a flash, the motorbike shoots forward with so much violent force, it feels like something out of a dream—or a nightmare. It's almost inhuman, the way it launches us out of the parking lot. My body jerks from the acceleration, and my heart slams against my ribs. Ahead of us, a whole line of luxury cars creeps forward, all obnoxiously shiny and over-the-top. Ridiculous colors—hot pink, chrome gold, electric blue—turn the road into a gaudy rainbow of wealth. Every vehicle here screams excess. One glance at this street and you’d think world hunger could be solved by selling just two of these cars. I can’t wipe the grin off my face as we wind through the crowd like we own the road. I spot Daniel’s blue Ferrari, and right in front of him, Noah’s white and gold Lamborghini. The cars blur together—Bentleys, Aston Martins, one ostentatious beast after another—until the countryside roads fade behind us, and the main road stretches out like an open vein waiting to be bled