The next morning, Preeta rose early, filled with a sense of purpose. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, admiring the wealthy and powerful woman she had become. Her life was one of luxury and privilege, but now she had discovered a new source of satisfaction—her dominance over Karan. She had always been rich and arrogant, but lately, her arrogance had taken on a new edge, one that thrilled her to the core.
As she dressed, she carefully selected a pair of heavy, ornate rings. These rings, she thought, would add a new level of severity to her punishments. The very idea made her smile with anticipation. Preeta wanted Karan to fulfill her every whim at the snap of her fingers, to be her puppet, her plaything.
At school, Preeta went about her usual routine. She walked through the corridors, her heels clicking against the floor, her presence commanding respect and fear. As she entered Karan’s classroom during her scheduled period, a hush fell over the students. They knew what was coming.
“Good morning, class,” Preeta said, her voice laced with authority.
“Good morning, Ms. Preeta,” the students chorused, their voices trembling slightly.
Preeta began her usual inspection of the students’ homework. She was ruthless, as always. She sent one student out of the class for incomplete work, made another stand and hold their ears as punishment, and berated a few others for minor mistakes. All the while, Karan sat at his desk, his heart pounding. He was eagerly waiting for his turn, his mind racing with anticipation. The memory of the last slap Preeta had given him still lingered in his mind, and he found himself craving that painful, humiliating sensation once more.
Finally, Preeta reached Karan’s desk. He silently presented his notebook, trying to suppress the excitement that was bubbling up inside him. Preeta flipped through the pages, her expression unreadable. As she did, Karan noticed something different—her hands were adorned with beautiful, heavy rings. The rings gleamed in the light, adding a new level of intimidation to her already commanding presence.
Karan couldn’t take his eyes off her hands. They looked so elegant, so powerful. His thoughts began to spiral into a fantasy. He imagined himself on his knees, licking her fingers, worshipping those hands that held so much power over him. He was lost in his daydream when, suddenly, a harsh slap landed on his face, snapping him back to reality.
The impact was far more painful than before. The heavy rings cut into his skin, leaving deep red marks. Karan winced, holding his face as tears welled up in his eyes. The shock of the slap, combined with the sting of the rings, sent waves of pain coursing through him. But beneath the pain, there was something else—a twisted sense of satisfaction.
Preeta’s voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. “How many times do I need to tell you to do your work on time, Karan?” she demanded, her tone dripping with contempt.
Karan didn’t respond. He could barely think through the pain and humiliation. But Preeta wasn’t finished. She reached out and grabbed his left ear, twisting and pulling it with intense force. Karan cried out in pain, but Preeta didn’t relent.
“I’m tired of your excuses,” Preeta continued, her voice cold and merciless. “You think you can just get by without putting in any effort? You think you can waste my time?”
Karan whimpered, tears streaming down his face, but he didn’t resist. He didn’t want to resist. Somewhere deep inside, he wanted this—wanted her to punish him, to dominate him, to make him feel utterly powerless.
For what felt like an eternity, Preeta held him in place, pulling on his ear as she berated him in front of the entire class. “Look at you, Karan,” she sneered. “Pathetic. You’re a disgrace. You’re not even worth the effort it takes to teach you.”
