How Does 'No Hitting Please' Teach Kids Not To Hit?

PAIN AND PLEASURE: The BDSM SERIES Book 1: Classroom Punishment Will No one knows that the professor who commands the entire class is the same woman I control completely. The same classroom where she teaches, becomes the place where I punish her after everyone’s gone. Iva I’ve always known about my dark desires, to be controlled, to be punished, but I never imagined one of my own students would be the one to fulfill them. As he tests my limits and takes control, we both find ourselves falling deeper… every single day. *** “Professor, you know I don’t repeat myself. Open your legs now, or I’ll put you over my lap and spank you. Is that what you want, your students discovering that their strict professor is a submissive?” Fuck! Why do his warnings always turn me on instead of pissing me off? This time, I splay my legs, trying not to provoke him further. I quickly glance around. Thankfully, everyone is too busy working on their test to notice anything. My breath catches as his hand slips between my thighs, under the desk. *** She was never supposed to want him. He was never supposed to touch her. Behind closed doors, the woman who controls the classroom becomes the one who surrenders. The student who obeys the rules becomes the one who makes them. But love is far more dangerous than desire. If they are discovered, she will lose her career. If they walk away, they will lose each other.

During an argument with my fiancé, he lost his temper and slapped me across the face in front of the entire family and guests. That same day, I called off the engagement and blocked him on every last platform so that he could not reach me. No one could believe it. After all, we grew up together. Everyone knew I had been in love with him since we were kids, and we were supposed to get married right after college. He just stood there, looking lost. "Why, Gia? Over a slap?" I held his gaze. "Sì. Over a slap."

Ever since we brought our six-year-old daughter, Elise, home, she's been keeping her distance. My husband, Patrick Sheeter, chalked it up to "adjustment issues." Told me to bring her more gifts when I got back from my overseas trip. I was halfway out the door when I heard her voice in my head. 'Should I tell Mom that Della always hits me? 'Dad says Mom hates tattletales. Especially me. 'But if I keep quiet, I might not make it till Mom gets back.' My stomach flipped. I turned around. Elise was curled up in the corner, eyes glassy with tears. Silent. But I still heard her. 'Maybe I lived again just to see Mom one more time.' Patrick, noticing I was frozen, casually reminded me I was gonna miss my flight. Right. Like that mattered. I turned and slapped him so hard. Screw the business trip. I was staying. Let's see who's got the guts to mess with my kid now.

Michael spent five years dealing with his disorder: haphephobia. Afraid to be touch. Afraid of stepping out of his home to enjoy a normal life. After moving to a new school, Michael has to challenge himself again from the beginning, but now with help from his new friend Elliot. Update: Monday Disclaimer: trigger warning. The novel goes through disorders that can be triggering and sensitive for viewers.

I am in such a rush to pick up my daughter, Ava Pennington, from school that I don't have time to change out of my work attire. At the kindergarten gates, I run into the mother of one of her classmates, Candice Austin. She sizes me up from head to toe and says, "You must be Ava Pennington's mom." I politely nod. Just as I am about to say hello, her expression suddenly sours. "It's no wonder your daughter dresses so skimpily at school. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?" I am so mad that I nearly forgot to respond. "What nonsense are you talking about?" Candice clicks her tongue and grows even more aggressive. "Nonsense? Your daughter wears skirts to school every day. She's distracting my son so much that his grades have slipped." Her words leave me utterly speechless. How is her son's failing grades somehow Ava's fault? When I don't respond, she gets bolder. "Look at you dressed from head to toe in cheap junk; how can you afford to send your daughter to this elite kindergarten? You must have pulled some shady strings to sneak her in through the back door, didn't you?" Has she lost her mind? Since when does Ava need strings to attend the school I built?

I was born with an intellectual disability and congenital analgesia, the inability to feel pain. Since I was a child, I had been the human punching bag who took beatings meant for my younger sister. Whenever my sister was caught sneaking snacks, Mom would grab me by the hair and slam my head against the wall. Blood would run down my face from my head, yet I never made a sound. When my sister was caught cheating in an exam, Mom whipped me with a belt the entire afternoon. My skin split and my flesh torn, yet I could still manage a smile. Every time she saw me covered in injuries, my sister would throw her arms around me tightly and cry her eyes out. She would say she was wrong and promise never to misbehave again. Mom would be pleased at that, convinced she had disciplined us well. And so, for sixteen years, I had endured every punishment meant for my sister. Until the latest monthly exam, when my sister dropped a place in the rankings. Mom called her over as usual and, out of habit, she raised her hand toward me. The slap sent the back of my head crashing into the corner of a cabinet, and blood spilled across the floor. Through my fading consciousness, I saw Mom nodding in satisfaction and pulling my sister, who was wailing her heart out, to her feet. “There, there. Stop crying. You’ve had your punishment. Let’s go eat something nice and calm yourself.” Watching their retreating figures, my eyelids grew heavier by the second. It seemed to hurt a little this time. I’d better get well soon… After all, they’d need me again the next time my sister made another mistake.