Naughty Bits Part II: The Training Session (3 page)

“This is called a boxed arm position.” He wrapped her forearms in the rope. Troy was keeping his eyes down, but she detected tiny flickers as he fought his own desire to look. It was a heady combination, being bound by one man and compressed between the heat of desire from both. Logan shifted to work the ends of the rope into the lines between the knots in front. It opened up the parallel lines of knotted rope, creating a diamond pattern down her front. He used another line to create a similar pattern over her breasts, two diamonds framing them, and then cinched the lines snug by working the ends into the wrapping of her boxed arms. His fingers brushed her breasts, her collarbone, her upper body, in dozens of small functional ways.

When Logan moved behind her, tightened the ropes, it lifted her breasts and her posture, displaying her more provocatively. Desire speared straight to her core.

Should she tell him to stop? That this was more than she’d anticipated? She couldn’t find words to speak, too lost in this. When he’d said “harness,” she’d expected something like a halter top made of rope. Instead, he’d bound her arms, ensnared her in a net. A net she had no desire to escape.

Troy’s breath got shorter; so did hers. She’d never been tied up like this in her life, and the way Logan did it, so efficient, no hesitation but no hurry either, made it all feel like it should. Everywhere he touched her to test the hold of the ropes, the way the knots lay against her skin, kept her nerves sizzling. Yet she was also paralyzed. She thought of how Troy had looked, somewhat hypnotized as he was restrained, and knew the same feeling. Everything sensitive, hyperalert, but caught in a sensual haze.

Just as she’d been mesmerized in the clubs where Alice had taken her. She felt like she’d stepped into a world that had merely been waiting to welcome her back, knowing she was finally ready to embrace what it had to offer. How was that possible?

Earlier she’d torn her gaze away from Logan. She’d been evading that direct look because the answer to the question was in his brown eyes. Eyes that had embers in their depths, capable of immolating her and her fragile, false reality with their flame. She swayed.

“Master—” Troy spoke.

“Got it.” Logan’s hands were on her shoulders, holding her steady. “Breathe, Madison. Don’t forget to breathe.”

She took a shaky breath, then another. He stroked her hair, waiting for her to settle. It took some time, but a blink after she realized she was okay again, so did he, and it was reinforced by Troy’s quick nod, showing how closely aligned the two men were, even with Troy in his own restrained state. For a brief moment, the young man held her gaze, a lifeline between them, both of them tied up at Logan’s behest.

Then his lashes fanned his cheeks again. Was she imagining that he’d lowered his gaze at a more leisurely pace this time? Her breasts constricted by the harness made them highly provocative, especially in the thin T-shirt. When Troy did the lip-wetting thing, she was pretty sure her nipples hardened further. A reaction that only increased when Logan adjusted the ropes once more. She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a quiet moan.

“Keep an eye on her, Troy,” he ordered. “Her breathing and balance, not just her breasts.”

“Yes, Master.” The strained note of amusement in Troy’s voice was matched by the wryness of Logan’s.

Picking up another rope off the bench, Logan moved behind Troy. “What are you supposed to be doing, Madison?”

“Breathing,” she said, a little breathlessly.

“Good. Talk to me, prove you’re doing it. A customer comes in. She wants to get the fires going again with her husband. What would you recommend? What’s in your inventory that will do the trick?”

She’d been that route personally, and had had a recent reminder of it, in her first disastrous interaction with her customers. With failures number one and four in the relationship track, she’d tried lingerie to generate excitement again. Jonas had smirked and Henry had given her a resigned, indulgent look, like she was a child he had to entertain before going to do more preferable, adult things.

Her nails dug into her forearms. Even when she’d donned the lingerie alone, she hadn’t felt comfortable in it, as if she already knew it was a pathetic attempt to save a relationship going south. She couldn’t blame Henry. She’d probably come off like a kid putting on her mom’s work clothes and pearls. The clothes had been no different than they’d be on a mannequin. She hadn’t worn them; they’d worn her.

“I’m not the best one to suggest that,” she said. The bonds were restrictive in the wrong way now. She should tell him to take them off.

“Look at Troy, Madison. He’s worked up over you, wants like hell to disobey and take a good long look, not just steal those quick glimpses I’m going to take out of his hide. He wants to stare at your breasts, how gorgeous and swollen they are, tied up in the rope, your nipples stiff and wanting to be sucked. Imagine you’re going to pick something out to wear for him in your bedroom later tonight, when he’s not tied up, when he has the chance to seduce you. He wants to put his mouth on you, his cock inside you. What would you wear to make him even crazier? You’re driving what’s already there, not coaxing it out. Any man you have to talk into getting hard for you is the wrong guy. Plus he’s fucking blind and too stupid to live.”

She choked on a laugh, but she had a crazy quiver happening, too, the husky timbre of his voice emphasizing the male power he could unleash. It wasn’t Troy she was seeing in her bedroom. When she lifted her gaze to Logan, she wondered if he saw the hunger, what she couldn’t voice. Then she didn’t have to wonder.

His jaw relaxed, those fathomless eyes flickering. “All right then,” he murmured. “What would you wear for me? For yourself, to make yourself feel beautiful, seductive, capable of bringing even a Master to his knees? Bringing this Master to his knees.”

That did steal her breath. But she responded. “Nothing but a T-shirt like this and a thong. All cotton. I think you’d like that best.”

When she saw the curve of Troy’s lips, pleasure surged through her. She must have guessed correctly. She also learned that Logan’s brown eyes transformed to a tawny hue, the more aroused he became. Obeying some instinct of her own—and the unspoken message of his intense regard—she swept her own gaze down.

“You’re doing a hell of a job distracting me from training Troy.”

“You were the one who asked the question,” she pointed out.

He snorted. “Keep that up, and Troy won’t be the only one who gets his ass blistered tonight.”

He slid between them, giving her hair a tug. She imagined him bending her over one of his beautiful carved benches, blistering her ass with hand or paddle and then ramming into her, holding on to her hair as he thrusted.

It was a full-blown, no-holds-barred domination fantasy. She closed her eyes, scrambling for some type of sanity, some type of anchor. But her mind refused. It wanted her to stay right here, and it made her open her eyes.

He’d turned toward Troy. There was enough space for him between their bodies, but with one more step she’d be up against him. She wanted to put her cheek against his back, see if his heart was thundering the way hers was. Only his display of a Master’s authority and her own fear kept her in place, though the former ironically made her long to do it even more. As if she was seeking that punishment.

He did the same upper-body harness on Troy, only he took it lower. When Logan moved behind Troy, no longer obscuring her view of his front, her eyes widened. The rope wrapped around the base of his cock and looped his testicles, the two ends passing between his thighs and disappearing around back, loose enough there was a small space between his balls and the slack. Troy adjusted at his Master’s grunt, spreading his thighs wider. When that slack disappeared, Troy’s jaw snapped closed and his cock jumped. Every muscle in his body stiffened, as if he battled an irresistible need to move.

“I’m putting knots in the rope and running the line of them along the crack of his ass,” Logan explained to her absently, his head down as he focused on what he was doing. “One right up against the rim. Put the proper pressure there . . .” Troy grunted, body tautening further. “And the results make it impossible for him to think of anything but wanting to come. But you’re not going to do that, or I’ll ream your ass with a jackhammer. Got it?”

He gave the young man a slap on the buttock, hard enough Troy jumped. “Yes sir.”

Constricted like her breasts, Troy’s cock and testicles were an eye-catching display. His fingers flexed against the chains, the metal making tiny clinks. Semen dripped from his slit, creating a small pool on the floor. The fluid that clung to his cock head made it glisten.

“You’ll be scrubbing that tarp with a toothbrush, boy.”

She heard Troy’s muttered oath, a groan as Logan did something else behind him. Though she couldn’t see, she suspected Logan had pushed that knot deeper against his rim, was massaging it. He caught Troy’s throat and shoulder in one big hand as he kept up the manipulation.

“You want to push it with me? I tie a sexy woman up in front of you and your dick gets hard, makes you think you can be a badass. I’ll rip you a new one, you don’t get in line right now.”

Logan sounded as menacing as she’d ever heard a man be. And instead of being terrified, she was caught in that erotic stasis. His eyes were pinned on Troy and she had no doubt Troy could feel them like a blade at his throat.

“No sir. I’m sorry. Please . . .” Troy’s lips stretched back, teeth baring as he fought the climax she could tell Logan was building. “I don’t want to disappoint my Mistress. Or you.”

“Yeah. That’s better.”

Logan stepped back, and Troy let out a relieved breath, swaying in his bonds. As Logan came back around Troy, she knew her pussy was as drenched as Troy’s cock head. When he shifted to stand behind her, put his hands at her waist, she shivered. “You want to help me really torture him?” he said against her ear.

Pretending that she was still somehow his assistant instead of his willing victim, she nodded.

He eased her forward, as if knowing she might startle like a deer if he moved too fast. Her breasts mashed against Troy’s chest. With her heeled boots giving her some extra height, that constrained cock pushed against her lower abdomen, above her mound. If she lifted onto her toes, she could rub the crotch of her jeans against it. Logan did say she could help, right?

When Logan was retrieving something else, probably more rope, she couldn’t resist testing the theory. Leaning against Troy for balance, she rose on her toes to grind herself against him. Mischievous pleasure surged at the answering flash in Troy’s gaze, the further constriction of his jaw. The quiver of a man’s restrained lust—while his body was likewise restrained—was a heady combination. Add her own restraint to it, and it was indescribable.

Troy shifted enough to rub himself against her, a skillful stroke against her clit. She gasped as his lips firmed. Logan had warned her when he warned Troy, hadn’t he? Tie a woman up in front of him, get his dick hard, and the need to re-assert himself was there. Being a submissive didn’t obliterate Troy’s innate male desire to conquer female flesh.

Then she gasped for another reason. The heavy leather slapper caught Troy squarely across his hindquarters. If the noise didn’t tell her the impact it delivered, Troy’s snarl, the flare of pain in his gaze, certainly did. Logan’s hand holding the slapper clamped over Troy’s shoulder, fingers digging in as he gripped Troy’s hair with the other hand. He yanked his head back while the young man was still quivering from the strike. As scary as he’d been a moment ago, the words he spoke against Troy’s ear were nothing less than a sure promise of violence. “She’s mine, the way you’re mine right now. So you don’t have the fucking right to look at her, to touch her, to even have a wet dream about her, without my say-so. I’ll come into your dreams and rip your dick right off, you so much as consider it. Got it?”

“Yes sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

Logan kept his eyes on hers, an even more captivating lock than the chains holding Troy. “You’re not sorry enough. But you will be.”

“I’m sorry,” Madison stammered. “Logan, it was me. I misunderstood what you told me. I—”

He moved behind her again, his hand on her shoulder. The grip was firm, but not punitive. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Madison. I didn’t put any limits on your behavior. Only his. He’s the one being trained to restrain himself at his Mistress’s behest.”

The easy shift to a calm tone, the squeeze of his hand, told her this was all part of it. The anger wasn’t true anger, only a response calculated to have an impact on Troy. Even so, the way Logan had looked at her as he spoke to Troy, it was as if he meant every word.
She’s mine.

She sensed Logan waiting, wanting to be sure she was all right before they continued. She could end it here, say she’d had enough, was in over her head, but pride held her back. He’d made it clear her role was helping him create the atmosphere for Troy. He wasn’t intending to make her submit like Troy, no matter where her imagination was trying to take her.

So she nodded, and then Logan threw her further off her axis. He proceeded to bind the two of them together. She tried to remember how many lengths of rope were on that workbench, how many he’d used thus far, but her brain was far too clouded with lust to figure it out.

Chest to breast, waists, then a wrap beneath the curve of her buttocks in the jeans, cinching her up against Troy, pressing her clit against his rigid muscles and aroused reaction, making her moan again. Did all assistants act like this?

At the beginning of the evening, she’d assumed a training Master’s assistant would be an arm’s-length thing, where she was standing shoulder to shoulder with Logan, a partnership. Could he possibly use her like this, compartmentalize it, and still see it that way? There was no way in hell she could. She’d anticipated a little voyeurism, some nervous speculation, but in no way had she anticipated this full immersion. She was being swept along in an irresistible current. If he was intending to take her deeper, it was a diabolically clever way to do it, disarming her with Troy, seducing her with the possibilities, so nothing felt too frightening. Logan knew how to mix the emotional with the physical, keeping a woman compliant.