Professor's Pet

Three*

Warnings: sub!Kate; dark!Dom!Owner!Reader; dark!widow; standing cnc; collaring; leash-training; dumbification; physical punishments; degrading; oral; training; voyeurism/exhibitionism; dom/sub-master/pet dynamics in public; sharing; flirting; power imbalance professor/students; public sexual acts; orgasm control; strap-on use; fingering; presence of weapons; brat!Wanda

Kate made it back to the classroom just in time, with 30 seconds to spare, out of breath, flushed and slightly sweaty. You smirked as she skidded into the room, an instant flush on her face as she caught your eyes before staring at the ground and maneuvering back to her seat. You walked up behind her, inhaling sharply. You could smell her. She was successful. "Good puppy," you cooed in her ear, lifting her hand from the desk and biting her fingertips. She yelped slightly in surprise but almost immediately started squirming in her seat. Desperate again already. You tangled you fingers in her hair, tugging her hair back slightly as you smiled at her. You could see the pulse in her throat, her eyes wide and her breath ragged. It took every ounce of control you had to not throw all of your control out of the window, pin her to the desk and fuck her senseless. But there would be time for that. You released her suddenly at the sound of approaching feet, moving back to your desk and smirking as you glanced down at your schedule. This class was going to be fun.

Halfway into the lecture, you had already covered early civilization through the Roman Colosseum and the crime and punishment plays it produced. Now it was time to have some fun. "Ms. Bishop, if you could come to the front of the class and assist in a demonstration, please." It wasn't a request, and no one took it for one. Kate only hesitated for a moment before she was on her feet, attempting to tug her skirt down slightly from all the running she had done. It wasn't successful.

"Yes Professor?" Kate's eyes were wide, clearly unprepared for this particular seminar on punishment as public entertainment.

"Across all time periods, in all areas of the world, treason has been one of the most serious of offenses, who can tell me why?" You ignored Kate entirely, stepping to her side as your eyes swept the classroom. "Yes, Ms. Maximoff?"

"Because humanity is trash?" Wanda answered your question with a sarcasm you saw coming, and a smirk crossed your face.

"As eloquent an answer as that was, Ms. Maximoff, had you done the assigned reading – or written the correct assignment – it is incorrect." You caught the faintest blush on Wanda's face, and the faintest, corresponding smirk on Kate's at your response. Kate remained standing at the front of her class facing the whiteboard, her hands clasped loosely behind her back as she moved nervously on her feet. She had no idea what was in store for her. She tensed as you approached behind her, your fingertips lightly tracing her shoulders.

"Vikings believed treason to be punishable by their most notorious of executions, the Blood Eagle. While this method has been refuted a few times, it does have significant descriptive evidence. Understanding the visual, however, is a bit difficult, which is why I've asked our lovely TA to help me demonstrate." The class gasped collectively when you pulled a large, wickedly sharp knife out of your top desk drawer.

"The point of the blood eagle was, as is most public punishment, to send a message to anyone else who may have harbored thoughts of committing similar misdeeds." You leaned closer to Kate, whispering in her ear, out of hearing of the rest of the class. "Relax, princess." Kate squared her shoulders determinedly. The tip of the knife rested on her upper back, directly between the blades of her shoulders.

"The cuts would begin here, deep enough to expose the bone underneath." You traced the blade along Kate's spine, down to the middle of her back. "The entire time, the 'traitor' would be conscious, awake, and – most importantly – silent. To scream or show weakness during this process was to have the gates of Valhalla closed to you forever, the worst possible outcome for a Viking warrior." You glanced around the room again, catching a strange glimmer in Wanda's eyes as her vision fixated on the blade you were wheeling. Kate, on the other hand, sighed in relief when the knife slid back into the drawer, earning a low chuckle. It was going to get so much worse. You stalked to the cabinet in the corner, pulling out a curved, ornately handled axe. You loved this part. The reaction was audible from across the room.