In Training (4 page)

She pinched and rolled her tightened nipples, purring her delight in counterpoint to his plunging fingers and swirling thumb.

The sound him easing in and out of her filled the room, the wet slide of flesh against flesh, spinning Abby's mind. She could do nothing but pant and whimper and urge him on and on--until he pulled free.

She cried out, her body protesting with a twist of her hips and a desperate attempt to recapture the bliss. Seth's hand pressed down on her abdomen, pushing her back to the floor, then he moved one of her hands from a breast to the lush folds between her legs. She didn't protest and did what came naturally, setting her fingers to work against the pleasure point on her inner labia.

Desire sizzled along her nerves. The familiar scent of arousal filled her mind, as did the landscape of her vulva, mapped those many nights spent masturbating on dreams of a dominant male in her bed. The impending orgasm tightened her muscles and wrapped her spine in warm waves of tension.

A hand cupped her jaw, easing her head to one side. The head of a very aroused penis bobbed beside her. Mouthwateringly flushed and rampant, it had a satisfying size that she noted before the cocktip brushed her mouth.
No confusion there!

She opened her mouth. Seth slid in, his silk-covered cock hot and throbbing in her mouth. The musky, wild scent of sex was an entrancing spice to the weight and feel of him against her lips and tongue.

"Good girl," Seth murmured, hunger rippling through his voice.

He pushed forward, one easy and continuous thrust, until finding the back of her throat. She choked at the contact, her throat closing around his cock, eliciting a grunt from him. He started a slow rhythm, shuttling in and out of her mouth.

She sucked when he pulled back and stroked him with her tongue when he returned. Time slowed; consciousness drifted. For her, there was nothing but the taste and texture of Seth as he moved with the timeless dance of conquest and retreat. Thick as her wrist, well veined and longer than her two fists stacked, he lay on her tongue and pulsed with a delicious taste and tempo.

He leaned close and began to play with and pinch her nipples, teasing them with equal parts pleasure and pain.

She traced every ridge and vein with her tongue, licking along the impressive girth. He swelled in her mouth, pushing deep. She reached and found his testicles, taking a moment to caress the sacs. He gave a low growl of pleasure. Salty drops of pre-cum filled her mouth with each caress of her throat muscles along his shaft. She swallowed without hesitation, shivering at the sound of raw male hunger, his balls drawing up against his shaft.

She prepared for his climax. Instead, he pulled free and stood.

Dazed, she could do nothing but gaze at him, watching him watch her. His spit-moistened cock reared from his groin to brush his navel, his heavy sacs hanging beneath. Legs and groin and broad chest were dusted with dark hair--dark like the hair on his head. A tattoo of the Wicca pentacle marked his left deltoid; his right was decorated with the U.S. Marine Corps's bulldog.

His icy-blue gaze traced her skin. Shadows seemed to fill his expression, even as the living room lights gleamed with a warm glow. Outside, shadows danced back and forth across the curtains as the wind tossed the trees. His head tilted to one side, as if thinking something through.

He contemplated her for long moments, his gaze raking across her body once, twice, the third time bringing hunger to his features. He knelt between her knees and took himself in hand. He pulled a foil packet from his jeans and put it to his mouth, using his teeth to tear it open.

He bent his head to the business of donning the protection. The crackle of packaging joined the sound of rain.

No playing on the first date.
Abby gasped as the distant echo of Liz's voice shivered in her memory.

"Almost done, li'l one," he murmured, probably misunderstanding her gasp.

Should she bother telling him "no" when what she really wanted was to scream, Yes, yes, yes! Should she let Liz's idea of right and wrong guide her life? The brush of his cocktip against her slick entrance was the decision maker. She rocked upward with an eager sound.

He penetrated her slick folds in one smooth, unrelenting thrust.

She moaned, "Ah, God--yes!"

Ecstasy surged, causing Abby to lift toward him, cradle him with her thighs and clench tight around him as he set a forceful pace.

"Take me." She moaned the plea, wanting more, needing more, desperate for more.

Seth didn't disappoint.

He filled her and filled her, sliding his length nearly free, hilting himself with each forward thrust. She clutched his biceps, holding tightly as the muscles bunched. His skin heated. Pearls of sweat gleamed. His darkened gaze pinned her in place as he possessed her body, her mind, and her soul.

"Yes." She panted. "Yes."

The tempo of his breathing increased, grunts of exertion in time to the tempo of his hips. The musky spice of sex filled the air. The sound of her hunger-wet cunt cupping his plunging cock sang an accompaniment to the rush of blood in her ears. The slap of his body against hers came in counterpoint to the thunder booming above the house.

He stared down into her face, watching, absorbing, and demanding more of her with each penetration. Breath and lips, tongue and teeth teased and tempted her mind and body as his whispered directives and praise lifted her to another plane.

He told her how to please him, urged her to please him, and fucked her like she'd never been fucked before. Abby's hands swept his sweat-dampened shoulders and his broad back. She clenched around him.

He grunted and shuddered, his muscles tightening as he drove himself deeper, powering into her body like the onrushing storm battering at her windows, her doors, and her world. He watched as she sank into ecstasy, crying out from the force of her orgasm.

And his.

There's nothing about your body that I don't like."

Seth's whispered words into her ear caused sudden tears to sting her eyes. She blinked hard and caressed his sweat-dappled back and shoulders. She brushed kisses along his jaw and snuggled into his embrace. A feeling of peace settled over her like a soft, warm blanket as bodies cooled, rushing blood soothed, and passion settled into a warm glow.

Her cell phone's ringer shattered the moment.

Seth looked up from his position of resting comfortably on her, then levered himself away. He found a seat on the couch, reaching for his shirt and jeans. He paused, noting she did nothing but lay frozen on the floor. Shrugging, he rose to his feet and paced across the carpet to the phone jingling on the hallway table, appearing oblivious to his nudity. "I'll get it."

It went to voicemail the instant he picked it up.

In the awkward silence, Abby found mobility again and grabbed for her clothing.

A sudden fit of modesty arrived, causing her to turn her back to Seth as she pulled on her clothing. She heard soft footsteps approach and looked over her shoulder, then up. Seth stood beside her, the phone in his hand and humor in his eyes.

"Liz. Your safe call, I assume?"

Omigod, he knew. She tried to play it off. "Safe call?"

Seth snorted. She cringed from the too-knowing, amused expression.

The phone resumed ringing, and he dropped into her lap. "It's for you."

Liz's number gleamed on the display like an evil eye, condemning her for her cowardice. No avoiding the situation, she told herself. She thumbed the button and managed what she thought was a marginally confident tone of voice. "Hello?"

"Abby? Are you okay?"

The absurdity of the question struck like a fist. She struggled against the sudden urge to laugh, remembering how safe she'd felt moments before, her body laid out before him like a pagan offering and moaning out, "Take me."

No playing on the first date? Could what they'd done possibly be called playing? Beneath his hands, she'd felt totally real with her partner. Playing had been her years before Seth.

"Hi, Liz. Of course I am. What's up?"

"You sound weird. What's going on over there? And why didn't you answer the phone when I called a second ago? Is everything alright?" Liz fired the questions like a machine gun.

Really, was it any of Liz's business? "I ran for the phone, but didn't catch it in time."

"Hum." Liz's skepticism was obvious. "Look, if there's something wrong, then don't say the safe word and Mike will be right over."

"Seth better not be fucking around." Mike's roar was distant but audible in the background.

Abby winced.
Fucking around?
Not now, but he had been only moments before, much to their mutual enjoyment. "You're being silly."

"Abby? What's your answer?"

She felt her cheeks warm and a sense of restlessness creep over her. She shifted her position, her butt rubbing across the carpet.
Bare-assed from fucking on the floor, dear God!
Behind her, the rattle of Seth's belt and the rustle of fabric told its story as he dressed.

"Goddamn him!" Mike shouted, as the silence lengthened. "I've got my keys. Tell her to hang on. I'll be right over."

On the other end of the phone, a door opened and closed.

Abby rushed her answer. "Peanut butter snarf-a-lot."

"Oh, thank God," Liz gasped out. She next tucked the phone against her shoulder, judging by the sounds, but her shout to Mike was clearly audible. "She's okay, Mike. She gave her safe word."

The call ended soon after, leaving Abby to locate her panties and jeans and pull them on. Once dressed, she felt much better, as though the clothing was a suit of emotional armor. She joined Seth at the table, where he nursed the last of his soda.

Squinting at her, he said, "Peanut butter what-the-fuck?"

She tensed against a threatening blush and strove to act as cool and composed as he appeared. "Snarf-a-lot. Liz called me that once as a joke," she explained. "She says I love peanut butter so much I must be made of it."

He put his fingers into his mouth, the ones he'd used to finger-fuck her with, and gave them a noisy suck. "No," he said, dropping his hand. "You don't taste like peanut butter."

Abby squeaked, mortified to the tips of her toes.

He laughed; a full-throated boom of humor that filled the room. It eased her embarrassment and pointless guilt enough that she could chuckle over the situation.

"Mike was threatening to come over here and kick your ass."

"He's welcome to try." Seth finished his soda and set the glass down with a snap of his wrist. "I need to know one thing before I leave. Do you want a master?"

The brutally abrupt change of topic stole her breath. Abby rose and walked to the dining room, where she gathered up the dishes and took them into the kitchen, taking the time to rinse them clean and run the garbage disposal as she pondered her answer. Seth sat in his chair, a still body amidst the tornado that was her emotions.

She turned off the water and gave Seth his answer. "I don't think I've ever met anyone who was capable of being someone I could trust that completely. Men have always disappointed me."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

Absolute accountability...he demanded nothing less. "Yes, I want a master."

He nodded. "Fine, I agree to train you. I will introduce you to the lifestyle seven more times. I will introduce you to the expectations of your role and determine your comfort level with differing kinks, but know this--some say I over-train slaves. Your future owner might be less rigorous than I, but you will not go to him or her unprepared."

Moments of silence passed before it dawned on her that he awaited an answer. "I see," she said, not really seeing at all.

"We will meet for two weeks, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. The final session will be on the last Saturday of those two weeks, the afternoon of the upcoming local munch. Do you work?"

She blinked. "Yes, I have a job."

"Email me your schedule. I need to know when you'll be available. I want to know your work schedule," he stressed, "because it is I who decides the training times and places. Do you understand my instructions?"

"Yes, I--"

"I will push your boundaries. I will push your buttons. I will do so because, frankly, it amuses me to do so. You no longer have safe calls, safe words, or any of that nonsense. You will trust me to know when to stop. You have seven days to send me an email if this arrangement isn't comfortable for you."

"But I--"

"There is no shame if you send me a withdrawal email. The slave's role is not for everyone, which is why it is so goddamned hard to find a good one."

She blinked again. "Aren't slaves a dime a dozen?"

Seth shook his head. "Role-players, yes; worthy slaves, no, and hence our continued frustration and hunt. Remember this always--a master needs you the way you need him. Without our complements, we are both never fully happy. Never underestimate your value in this lifestyle, li'l one. A good slave is priceless." He checked his watch and rose. "It's time for me to leave."

Wordless, Abby escorted him to the door.

"If you have any questions," said Seth, as he pulled on his jacket, "never hesitate to ask. I'll email you my phone number if I get your commitment email. If I don't get the email, then I won't." He shrugged. "You won't need it."

With that, he opened the door and exited her home. Abby stood on the porch watching the rain slew down from the west, a hard spring rain that rattled across the cars and her porch awning. The puddles carried flecks of starlight. The streetlights wore halos. He stopped beside this car and fished out his keys.

"Seth?" she called.

He paused, looking back at her. Water darkened his night-black hair and clothing, but he did not flinch from the wind-driven drops.

"I'm no one's doormat," she warned. "I'll test you."

"What would be the point if you didn't?"

"You fucked Seth?"

Liz's outraged squawk echoed across the bistro. Abby hunched deeper into in her seat, burying her nose in her coffee cup. She hissed a plea for privacy.