Naughty Bits Part II: The Training Session (11 page)

But the handsome lines on his face and far-too-shrewd eyes told her he’d faced his own obstacles in life. He had a kindness as well as an inflexible strength on which she desperately wanted to rely. She just didn’t want Logan to be yet another failed expectation, a memory of cruel apathy.

Well, she was way too far down that path tonight to turn back, right? Hell, she’d dressed up for him in this provocative outfit, had stripped for him, and was letting him tie her up. If she backed away now, it would be rude. Foolish. Yet she was flooded by utter panic, like someone with a paralyzing fear of heights stepping into the elevator of the Space Needle. The door had closed, the button for the top floor pushed, taking her beyond the point of no return.

“Madison, focus on me.”

She saw him studying her with that intent look that saw so many things. “Call me Master again. Not for me. Call me that for you. See how it makes you feel.”

“Master,” she said, and repeated it. “Master.”

It did steady her, so much it was ironically a little disturbing. It didn’t stop her palms from sweating, but she was able to tune back in to what he was doing.

He squeezed her knee, showing approval, and used two more cuffs to bind her arms behind her, at the small of her back. Another strap bound them to the slats. With her waist bound, the position thrust her breasts out and he sat back on his heels, obviously enjoying that look. She moistened her lips, and his gaze flickered up to her mouth.

“My schoolgirl, all trussed up, hot and bothered, wanting to come. How wet are you, Madison?”

“P-pretty wet. Very.”

He retrieved a blindfold from the tote, sitting it next to him. “I’m eventually going to put this on you, to increase your focus on the sensations. This next part will feel good, but it’s not much to look at. They haven’t figured out a way to make electrodes look sexy.”

The word
electrode
caused her to tense up. His hands cupped her knees, then slid up her thighs, thumbs trailing the inner road, drawing her attention to how much more nerve-rich it was than the outsides of her legs. Tiny tadpoles of energy quivered ahead of his touch. When he reached the top of her thighs, he stopped. The skirt didn’t cover anything, really, so short her splayed leg position pushed it up to her hip bones. She let out a shaky breath as this thumbs explored that pocket between inner thigh and outer labia. When he allowed one to slide over the crotch of the panties, she made a needy noise.

“Christ, you’re soaked. How long has it been since . . .”

She flushed, mortified. It wasn’t that. It wasn’t. It was him. But if he thought she was some pathetic and horny charity case . . .

“Hey.” He touched her chin, but she ducked her face away.

“Let me go. I don’t want to do this.”

“Yeah, you do. You’re just embarrassed because of the way I put it. You’re a beautiful, interesting woman, Madison. If you’ve chosen not to have a man in your bed, it’s because you’ve dealt with too many assholes, not because they wouldn’t want to be there. Men. Not assholes.”

She shifted, uncertain. “I’m not sure about the electrode thing.”

“Don’t be afraid. It’s not going to hurt, not that way.” He returned his touch to her thighs, sliding a finger over the wet crotch panel, then under it. When he met her gaze, slowly pushing a knuckle into her, rotating it, she bit down on a moan.

“I think the panties are going to have to go. I can uncuff your legs, but I’d prefer to cut them off of you.”

“You bought the outfit,” she managed. “It’s yours to do what you want with.”

“Just the outfit?” Those brown eyes got darker when he demanded more control, his lips firm in a way that made every part of her shudder.

She’d set herself up for that one, she knew. Even anticipated it. “Maybe not just the outfit.”

He nodded. Removing and unzipping a small canvas case from the tote, she saw surgical scissors and a scalpel.

“In case of emergency, this is so I can quickly cut someone out of ropes, fabric, whatever might be restricting them. But they come in handy for other things. Like watching a pretty girl’s eyes get wide as saucers when she sees the surgical tools.”

“Sadist.”

“Part of the job description, more or less.” Logan winked. “The same way most subs have more or less of a masochist in them.”

“Are you more . . . or less?”

“Depends on what the submissive needs. Whatever you need, Madison, I’ll make it happen.”

That brought her attention away from the shiny objects, back to his face. “That’s pretty ambitious. That could be a million things.”

“No. The underlying needs are usually a few simple things. Which you can fulfill in a multitude of marvelous ways.” He touched her face again, though this time he stroked her temple, her cheek, slid his hand under her hair to run a fingertip along the point of bone on the back of her skull. He stroked the valley beneath that ran between her neck bones. The entire caress sent a charge through her that made her toes curl as if he’d already turned on the electrodes.

“What . . .”

“Occipital bone. That, and the area all around it, are extremely erogenous. Focusing only on a woman’s nipples and pussy is like visiting two cities and ignoring the rest of the country.” He dropped his touch back between her legs, ran a finger along the crotch panel once more, the friction making her hips twitch up toward him, pulling against the belt around her waist. “This area is a whole country in itself, not merely a clit and an orifice for a man to shove his dick into.”

She blinked as he picked up the scissors. He snipped the straps of the thong over her hip bones, pulled them loose so the air touched the folds between her legs. “Lift your hips as much as you can.”

She did, and he leaned forward, bringing his heat and scent close as he slid his hand down her back to pluck the back thong strap free from the crevice between her buttocks. As a result, it didn’t chafe when he pulled it free from the front and untangled it from the garters.

He brought the thong to his nose, inhaled her, touched his lips to the moisture. “Did you get the wettest when I was suckling your breast?”

She nodded, unable to speak at the sight of him doing something so intimate. Setting the garment aside, he trailed that magical finger down her belly, teasing her navel, then traversing the plaid skirt until he was beneath the pleats, tracing her smooth mound to her clit. He routed around that, moving down. She bit her lip as he found her moist folds, stroked.

“As I was saying,” he continued in a conversational manner, “Most men focus only on the clit, but the labia have so many nerves, as does the perineum, the anal rim. A woman’s cunt is endlessly responsive, the way she answers to mouth, cock, hand, vibrator . . . My ultimate fantasy is to find a submissive I can give pleasure, over and over and over, until she’s my slave in every way.”

“You selfish bastard,” she said faintly.

She startled a laugh out of him, one that was full of dark, delicious intent. He retrieved the blindfold and slid it over her head, securing it so the world became his voice and touch. She parted her lips to protest, but he anticipated her worry.

“I’m right here, Madison. Even if I’m not touching you, or talking, I won’t leave you alone. Not even for a moment. While you’re dependent on me like this, nothing in this world has a higher priority to me than your care. Do you understand?”

Understanding and believing were two different things. She was helpless, the blindfold underscoring it. No man had ever been so trustworthy that she’d completely rely on him for her care. But she called on what he’d said would help reassure her. “Yes, Master.”

“Good girl.” He teased her lips with his thumb, stroked it down her throat. “Say it again.”

“Master.”

She wasn’t sure why it was so calming to say it, but he was right; it was. Maybe the word was a trigger, reminding her of the things she’d filed in her subconscious about him. She’d watched him with Troy, seen Troy’s absolute faith when submitting to him. She’d probably been able to come as far as the blindfold without freaking out specifically because of seeing that, proof that he knew what he was doing.

Then there was Alice’s letter.
Trust Logan.
She trusted Alice’s love for her.

“All right. I’m attaching clips to your labia.” He made sure they clamped over the inner and outer area. To do that, he had to grip her securely, and having her legs held open while he handled her with such possessive familiarity resulted in a fluid response he stopped to collect on his fingers.

“You taste like the best kind of sin, Madison.”

She went hot all over, thinking of him putting his fingers in his mouth. The wires attached to the clips were light lines of pressure on her thighs. The clips held her firmly, but not in an uncomfortable way. Her fingers curled in her bonds, her palms beginning to moisten again. “You’re sure it doesn’t hurt?”

“I’ve done it to myself. On some of my most sensitive parts.” His voice held humor. “To be sure. The initial static startles you, but it’s because you’re anticipating shock. Another day I’ll use a violet wand on you. You’ll enjoy the way the color plays over your skin.”

Her tongue was dry from repeated swallowing. She rubbed her lips together, found no moisture there. A moment later, when he put a wet, folded paper towel to them, a hard twist happened below her breastbone. He’d said he’d pay attention, that her care was the most important thing to her. But those were words. This wasn’t.

“Part your lips,” he ordered, and when she did, he dripped some cool water onto her tongue, ran the towel over her lips, dampening them. “There you go.”

He returned to what he was doing and she listened to him shift, felt him make adjustments to the clips, doing other things she could only imagine.

“When you were talking about your ultimate fantasy . . .” she ventured, “what is it you really want? From . . . a submissive. The one you want to keep. The only one you’ll let in your bed.”

She shouldn’t have put it that way, because it suggested that she was paying way too much attention to everything he
said and did. He didn’t respond right away, though. She waited, wondering if he would. She also wondered at how she waited on him, what her docility said about her, her acceptance of his total control over her, even this conversation. Before she walked into Logan’s store, she’d rejected giving up control of anything. Even now, she was uncomfortably aware that if anyone other than Logan were trying this with her, she’d zap them with one of those wands he mentioned on full voltage. Just sitting here, she’d run this scenario through her mind with every one of her past relationships, even a few fantasy men, acquaintances she’d seen at a distance, as well as some popular actors. Nope, none of them worked.

It was him. Only him. She was smart enough to know that was the scariest thing about all of this, no matter her body’s reaction to electrodes or being hung by her heels from the ceiling light. She had no confidence in her judgment. Just because he was living up to everything she wanted from a man, things she hadn’t even known she wanted—or yes, maybe she had, deep down, she’d admit that—didn’t mean that was what Logan was.

“I’m not going to tell you what I want from a submissive, Madison. All you need to know is that I’m doing exactly what I want to do to you. Your only concern is what I order you to do. You have no other expectations, nothing you need to anticipate. Only the here and now and what I tell you. Understand?”

It could be taken in an offensive way, kind of a
shut up bitch and do what I tell you
response, except everything he’d done so far tonight had brought her pleasure. But she still wanted to know what she could do for him that no other sub could do. Or did she? What if she couldn’t do it? Or worse, if she found out any sub compliant enough could fulfill what he wanted?

One minute she was shying away from the idea of this being more than a training session; the next she was wishing she had concrete proof it was. Maybe she needed to say it to herself.
Shut up bitch and let it be what it is.
But her mind didn’t obey her the way it did Logan.

“I’m turning on the electrodes now,” he interrupted her thoughts. “While I watch the movie, I’m going to enjoy looking at you, all tied up, every part accessible for me to touch, however, whenever I want. You’re helpless and all mine right now. Anything I want to do, I can. Your only job is to let me know if anything hurts the wrong kind of way. All right?”

She bobbed her head, a quick jerk. She didn’t have the bravery to call him Master this time, her mind fragmented over her internal worries. She was also kind of stressing about what that electric current was going to be like. Maybe he had a much higher tolerance for pain than she did. Yes, he’d stop if she said it was hurting, but that might be after a hell of a shock.

She heard him go put in his movie choice; then he settled with a creak into the chair facing hers. His calves pressed against her ankles as he stretched out his legs on either side of her chair. The movie company theme music started, the vibration of the volume coming through the thin stockings over the soles of her feet.

She jumped at the first jolt of the electrical current, but he was right; her reaction was caused by anticipation, not discomfort. The low-level sensation sort of stung, but as the pattern built, it also sent tiny squiggles of sensation up the inside of her cunt and into the base of her clit.

“Ohh . . .” She flexed against her bonds, and her movement enhanced the crosscurrent. It was a flowing sensation, across the network of nerves in all those slick tissues.

“Yeah, we’ll keep it on this program. It goes through a whole routine of patterns. I want to see the ones that get you worked up the most.”

Her legs were spread wide enough they brushed his jeans on either side. He shifted, and she lost that contact, but she didn’t have time to be unhappy about it. He bent forward, put gentle, moist lips over her right nipple, the barrier of cloth heated by his breath. As he turned his head to rub his jaw over her other breast, his hair brushed the generously exposed cleavage.