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HOT LESSONS
An Ellora’s Cave Publication, June 2005
Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
1337 Commerce Drive, #13
Stow,OH 44224
ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-4199-0278-4
Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):
Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML
HOT LESSONS Copyright © 2005 ANNIE WINDSOR
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or
locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Edited by Heather Osborn.
Cover art by Syneca .
Warning:
The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers.Hot Lessons has been
rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E
(E-rotic), and X (X-treme).
S- ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.
 
E- rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall
word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find
objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth.
E-ratedtitles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words
such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.
X- treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storylineexecution. Unlike E-rated titles,
stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.
Dungeon Heat:
Hot Lessons
Annie Windsor
Author’s Note
Dungeon Heat: Hot Lessonshas a contemporary setting, but the story is just that—a story, a tale, an
erotic fantasy.
Relationships in this book have a strong BDSM flavor, and show Master/slave relationships. However,
none of the books in the Dungeon Heat series are intended to portray true BDSM or Dom/sub
relationships as they actually occur.
In the spirit of erotic fantasy, the Dungeon Heat books are also total fantasy when it comes to
responsible sex. In that complicated real world we all so love to escape with books like these, keep it
safe, sane, and con sensual , and always practice safe sex.
Yours in delicious naughtiness,
Annie Windsor
Dedication
This book owes debts of gratitude to Patti Duplantis, Crystal Scott and Master Nage. Huge debts of
gratitude are owed to Violet Wanda of Eclectic Electric atwww.violetwands.net and Sire Don
ofwww.sdleather-lace.com , who helped make sure I didn’t do anything too—er—shocking. After
Violet Wanda’s wonderful literature and Sire Don’s brilliant and intriguing description, I truly believe
several hundred dollars might be cheap for the glowing toy depicted in this book!
Chapter One
Blackmoor Downs.
 
Just the name of the castle gave her delicious shivers, even though she was sitting in an office miles away,
at quiet little John’s River College.
Celia Lambert wanted to see the fancy manor, not just visit it—she wanted to explore the mystery, dig
around every stone until she uncovered its hidden rooms. Well, one hidden room in particular.
If the whispered stories were true, Blackmoor Downs, an actual English castle transplanted to John’s
River,Tennessee, had one hell of a secret.
A dungeon. A very special kind of modern, kinky dungeon, if the rumors could be believed.
Reginald Blackmoor was the most eccentric man Celia Lambert had ever met. He was older, very
British and incredibly sophisticated. He also happened to be her boss in the history department at
John’sRiverCollege, which made Celia wonder if she had absolutely lost her mind.
All of a sudden, Reggie’s academic office felt too small. The shelves of books seemed to close in around
her, and the remnant scent of cherry pipe tobacco overwhelmed her.
“Steady.” Alan Sparks shifted in the chair beside her and took her hand. The feel of his powerful grip,
the smoldering look in his bright blue eyes and the thought of what they might accomplish today helped
Celia buck up enough to stay in her seat. For the moment.
“What if it’s all speculation?” she murmured. “What if he just throws us out and tries to get me fired?”
“You know him better than that.” Alan let go of her fingers and put his hand on her leg, just below her
tight power skirt. The black fabric slid up as he pushed, revealing her bare thigh.
“Stop. What if he comes in?” Celia tried to nudge Alan, but he only grinned and slid his hand under the
skirt’s firm hem.
Always pushing limits. Always taking it to the edge. That was Alan. She had sensed that about him the
day he took his position at John’s River. They had been dating for a few months now, and there was a lot
more to the big blond hunk of mathematician than quadratic equations and matrices, thank God. Still, he
made her a little nervous. That’s why she hadn’t let him take her too far with their bondage play. She
trusted him in so many ways, but…
But total trust wasn’t Celia’s strong suit. Neither was throwing caution out the window, even when she
was fairly sure she was safe. Just once, she wanted to turn loose sexually, to really let go and experience
total submission, total pleasure, freedom from all her worries—from every last thing that held her back.
She’d let Alan push her further than any lover, and she knew he wanted take the next step. Hell, she
wanted to take the next step, too, whatever it was, but in the end she always panicked.
She felt like they needed help. Maybe some training.
They had looked through internet ads, checked out some clubs inNashville, even read books. Each
experience taught them something, but Celia just couldn’t bring herself to plunge ahead under the
direction of strangers or printed words. She knew Alan was frustrated with her hesitance, but she still felt
like they—he—needed a little guidance.
His hand, however, needed no guidance at all as it slid higher, higher, inching toward her
 
already-drenched bikini underwear. Her nipples hardened and she gripped the arms of one of Reggie’s
heavy oak office chairs.
“Alan, cut it out. I’m serious.”
“No, you’re not serious. You’re wet.” He flashed her one of his devastating grins. “You should be more
honest about what you want. Less reserved.”
Almost casually, without shifting in his chair or looking at her, he pulled the soaked strip of silk and
cotton to the side, baring her pussy. Celia gasped. She knew her face had to be turning redder than her
hair. Damn, she needed to smack him, make him stop before Reggie caught them fondling each other in
his office—but it felt so naughty.
So good.
“I bet I could surprise you, Celia. I could teach you a few things.” Still casual, without changing his
position, Alan thrust two fingers down, parting her swollen lips and trapping her clit.
Celia rocked backward from the shock. Her nipples pressed harder against the white silk of her bra and
blouse and she shoved herself up into the pain of his tight squeeze on her clit before she could think.
Grinning wider, Alan rolled her clit between his fingers, half-pinching, half-stroking. “I could lock the
door and fuck you on his desk.”
“Stop it. We’re at work, for God’s sake!”
“Or bend you over that leather couch and ram my cock as deep as you can take it.”
“Alan—” Her eyes were closed, seeing the fantasies. This man, what he did to her. What he was doing
to her! Shit, that office door wasn’t locked and Alan had her skirt up, had the red curls of her pussy
exposed, and he was rubbing her clit hard. And fast. And faster. Making her moan. Making her need
more.
She realized she was bucking against his strokes.
Sweat beaded across her forehead.
Each noise in the hallway outside made her jump, doubling the sensation. Fear. Need. Shame.
Excitement. The tides broke across her all at once, making her squirm even more forcefully.
Alan was looking straight ahead, that little grin plastered on his face. From behind, it would look like he
was holding her hand—if she weren’t hunching and groaning so obviously.
God, she was hot. The room was a friggin’ inferno.
“You like this, don’t you?” Alan whispered. At least the bastard’s voice was hoarse. “You like being a
slut in your boss’s office.”
Celia’s mind started to turn loose. She tried to keep hold of herself, but Alan’s dirty talk made her twice
as crazy.
 
“Should I let you come, naughty girl?”
“Please,” she whispered, shoving her pussy into his hand, forcing her clit against his moving fingers.
He teased, slowing down and speeding up until she wanted to scream.
Were those footsteps in the hallway? Were they getting closer?
Help me…
“I should stop and make you wait.” Alan slowed his strokes to nothing, making her grind her teeth so
hard her jaws ached.
“Don’t you dare,” she snarled.
“Feisty today. Hmm.” He faked a yawn and she wanted to hit him.
“Damn it, you’d better finish what you started.”
“Whatever you say.” He stroked her fast again, pitching her off the cliff without any warning.
Celia had to bite her lip to keep from screaming as the orgasm hit. Her body twisted under Alan’s
fingers. Electric heat flowed up, up, through her aching nipples, down her arms, making her shake,
bending her forward, making her moan low and long.
He kept rubbing, kept rubbing, drawing it out, letting her twitch, knowing she needed to blow the roof
off with a good, gut-level screech. But she couldn’t. Dear God. She was in her boss’s office.
She’d let Alan make her come in Reggie’s office chair.
Son of a bitch. She needed medication. Or counseling. Or something.
“We need to leave,” she gasped, forcing Alan’s hand away, standing up so fast she almost overbalanced
on her high heels. As she yanked down her business skirt, she realized Alan was laughing.
Oooooh. No.
Not Alan.
Someone else. Someone behind her. As in, where the door was.
Please, tell me no. Tell me that’s not—
“I don’t think you need to leave,” Reggie’s proper British response cut off all hope of salvaging her
dignity. “In fact, I think you very much need to stay, Celia.”
In a totally new tone, a forceful, powerful bass she had never heard from the gentleman historian, Reggie
added, “Sit.”
Celia’s knees gave like he’d struck them from behind. It was reflex. Her damp ass hit the office chair so
fast her breath left in a rush. Chills rippled all across the back of her neck.
 

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