Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
I leaned closer to Greer this time. “We should add a couple pinwheels to the Easter eggs next month.”
“Fuck yeah,” he whispered back. “It’s an underrated tool.”
It definitely was.
“We hope you paid attention because this will be on the test,” Sloan finished. “Now, here’s Ty to discuss asphyxiation.”
Well, hey. I was listening. Breath play was hot, and it was a kink I enjoyed being on the receiving end of as well. As Dean could attest.
Ty had already brought out the snake for this bit, a black-and-white—what was it Corey had called it?—California something. The snake was fairly long, about twenty inches or so, though it wasn’t easy to tell when it coiled up around Ty’s hand and wrist.
“Ironically, this little constrictor is a biter,” he started by saying. “The California kingsnake is one of our most popular snakes to keep as pets, but they’re equally famous for being docile as they are for biting when irritated. Where most snakes might try to escape and hide, this one has the attitude of a brat.”
“Just great,” Tate sighed.
Ty walked between the desks so all the brats could get a close-up. “But as I indicated, the kingsnake chokes their prey to death, despite not actually being part of the constrictor family. In fact, it’s a colubrid snake—and it’s still the strongest constrictor of them all. This guy will take out a Burmese of the same size.”
“Pardon me, Professor…?” Gael raised his hand. “May we write notes?”
“That would be useful—but no.” Ty smiled and returned to his lecture. “The California kingsnake’s ability to choke out their prey so expertly, even though it’s a slender fella, is useful because it’s one of those snakes that enjoys snacking on rattlesnakes. For which Californians are ever thankful. And this is where scientists theorize that maybe the kingsnake has evolved over thousands of years—to become this strong—because it’s required in order to kill another snake that doesn’t need as much oxygen as most mammals do.” He returned to the front, where he eased Ziggy back into his enclosure. “I remember when I went to a kink party about twelve years ago and witnessed my first asphyxiation scene.” He glanced back at the boys. “One might’ve thought that guy was a constrictor. The douchebag went straight for his girlfriend’s windpipe.”
Excellent class. What he said couldn’t fucking be stressed enough.
KC cleared his throat. “Even though we call it breath control, we know it’s not primarily about cutting off a bottom’s air supply. Can someone tell me what we regulate during an asphyxiation scene?”
I was relieved to see four hands in the hair.
“Gael.” KC nodded.
“The oxygen going to the brain, Professor,” Gael responded politely.
That’s my boy.
“Correct—good job,” KC said. “We’re gonna do a quick demo on a volunteer—”
“I volunteer!” Corey shot right up from his seat, causing Greer to shake with silent laughs.
Sloan too.
“Okay, that’s a lot of excitement—I’m just pointin’ it out,” Ty drawled. “After the demo, we’re gonna discuss ovoviviparity before we give you a fun quiz with forty-five questions from today’s class.”
All of a sudden, you could hear a pin drop, and Corey slumped down in his seat again.
“Forty-five?” Cam whispered.
Ty was happier now.
Greer nudged me. “We should probably get ready for our next brat surge.”
Yeah, sadly. Damn.
CHAPTER 15
Dean Aavik
Kingsley and I waited by the door as Gael, Tate, Corey, and Cam entered the room and walked toward their desks. If I was going to “pretend” to be a professor, I’d do it by bringing back all the things I wish we had at GW and other universities. As in, proper desks and a big, nice oak teacher’s desk at the front. Naturally with a green banker’s lamp and a chesterfield chair.
It was possible I’d taken everything except for the students’ study desk from my own home. It was also possible I was hoping to move it to Joshua’s house after tonight.
Kingsley was on the same page as me; it was why he’d requested Room 8. On a normal day, it was the bondage crowd’s dojo, but when stripped of screens and rope racks, it was a gorgeous room meant for entertaining. River and Reese had preserved and restored it, rather than paint it black like they had with most other rooms in the house. With its high ceilings, paneled walls, velvet curtains, crown molding, balcony facing the front yard, and chandelier, it was my favorite area of the house.
I checked my pocket watch, and Kingsley closed the door a bit as the last, I presumed, of the members enjoying the show had entered. Half a dozen took their places along the back wall.
Kingsley picked up his riding crop from where he’d left it leaning against a wall earlier, and he began making his way up the room, between the two rows of desks.
“Welcome to your history class,” he said quietly. “I’m Professor Madden. Up-up—” He smacked the crop lightly against Tate’s back. “Shoulders squared, back straight, chin up, face forward. We demand perfect posture in here. Gael—no crooked ties.”