Lahat ng Kabanata ng Classroom Punishment (BDSM Series) : Kabanata 111 - Kabanata 115

Will’s P.O.V.I don’t remember the last time I felt… this light.We’re sitting in the car, the engine still off, yet neither of us makes a move to leave. It’s like stepping out of this moment would make it disappear.Like this is all a dream.Beside me, she’s glowing, and actually glowing. She hasn’t left her belly for even a second, her fingers gently caressing it like she’s afraid the moment she stops… it’ll all vanish.“I still can’t believe it. Our baby… is still there.” As she says, I turn my head and just… watch her.That shine in her eyes. That life.I can’t stop looking at her. I thought the light in my Professor’s eyes had been snuffed out forever, but here she is, shining brighter than ever. I’ve never been more thankful to God in my entire life.“Oh God…” she laughs, placing her hand more firmly on her belly. “I still can’t believe. You’re still in me, mini me. You came back to Mommy. Now she’ll protect you at any cost.”I place my hand over hers, covering it completely. “D

Iva’s P.O.V.Three Months LaterI still find it hard to believe that I’m five months pregnant. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night and press my hand to my stomach just to make sure the heartbeat is still there, that our miracle really did survive against all odds. It feels like a beautiful dream that I never want to wake up from.I’m sitting on the couch in the nursery, my hand resting on my growing baby bump. Will stands behind me, gently massaging my shoulders. His touch is so comforting like always. I melt into him, closing my eyes for a moment.We have waited so long for this peace.My gaze drifts around the nursery with a smile on my face. We’ve decorated it together, every little detail filled with love. It is exactly how I envisioned it. Every book is alphabetised on the white shelves. Tiny fairy lights are draped along one corner. A white crib sits near the window, decorated with cushions and a small hanging mobile with stars and clouds.There’s a rug beneath my fe

Will’s P.O.V.I enter the classroom, a room we’ve frequented once or twice a month for the last six years. Even after all this time, I’m still considering building a replica of this space in our home. It’s special to us. It’s a living memory of our initial days, the place where I first taught her the beauty of obedience.I find her exactly where she belongs. My Professor is standing at the chalkboard and writing, ‘Routine Discipline’ on the board. Even in this setting, her Professor mode is always on. It’s as if she were born for the role, an academic elite who only knows how to surrender her intellect to me. She turns around, and the sight of her drives me crazy. She is dressed exactly as I instructed for this room. Beneath her tight white shirt, her nipples are clamped, the metal peaks straining against the fabric with no bra to shield them. A chain attached to clamps is connecting to her special collar, the one reserved only for these sessions. She’s wearing an impossibly short s