Naughty Bits Part III: Bound to Please (7 page)

“Your hair needs cutting. I’m afraid only military school will help you, Troy. You need a drill sergeant to hammer you with discipline.”

“I prefer a woman’s discipline, Miss Fine.”

“I expect you do. It makes you hard, doesn’t it, these little taps with my ruler?” She gave him another, and it wasn’t a tap. She was following Shale’s direction, ramping up the pain as she went. His fingers dug into the posts, one wrist held by a paper cuff, the other held by her will. Though an erratic breath escaped him, she could see his cock was hard and high. “Look at that disgusting erection. You’re having all sorts of nasty thoughts about your teacher. We’ll wash your mouth out with soap and maybe it will clean your mind.”

“Yes, Miss Fine.”

She cut another circle around him. As she did, her gaze lifted and inadvertently locked with Logan’s. That was either a mistake, or the absolute right thing to do. Those brown depths captured her, steadied her, guided her. She cleared her throat. “I see Superintendent Scott is here to observe my class today. What would you suggest to handle such an unruly pupil, sir?”

“You have an excellent technique, Miss Fine.” His gaze glittered in the shadows, making her heart stutter. “But someone that headstrong, so determined to go his own way, needs the plastic ruler.”

She nodded. On quivering legs she moved to her bag and swapped out the rulers. Coming back to Troy, she noticed he’d tensed, perhaps anticipating the greater pain the more flexible ruler would deliver. It hadn’t diminished the stiffness of his cock in the least.

Shale caught her eye then. The woman had a condom packet in thumb and forefinger, and waggled it at her with an amused look. Of course. There was no plastic tarp on the floor tonight. When Madison stepped over to her, Shale helpfully ripped the packet open. Madison took it with a nod, and sidled back up to Troy. Enjoying the moment, she pressed herself up against his backside, savoring his indrawn breath as she brought the ruler in front of his face. “Hold this while I make sure you don’t mess up my classroom. Dirty boy.”

Opening his mouth, he closed his teeth on the plastic shaft. Since her finger was in the way, his bite was gentle—but not too gentle. When she made a noise of mock reproof, he eased up enough so she could remove her finger, then he bit back down on the ruler. She took her time rolling the condom over him, caressing him and delighting at the twitch of his body, the muffled groan.

Everything she was making him do was arousing him further, and she knew just how he felt. God, she knew. She was supposed to be Miss Fine, but part of her wanted to lay her cheek on his back, wrap her arms around his body and melt inside him, become him so she could be as at home in her own submission as he was in his. The longing was suddenly as sharp and needy as his arousal.

She made herself step back, take the ruler from his mouth, but cut another circle around him, trying to refocus. Despite being so aware of Logan, of the way he watched her, she was going to do this. She’d said she was going to see it through. Stopping behind Troy, she eyed that delicious backside. Yeah, she could do this.

Even though she’d already warmed him up as Shale directed, since it was a new weapon she made the first slap light, gauging his reaction. When he seemed to handle that well enough, she gathered up her confidence, gave him a more determined strike. That earned a jump, his breath whistling in between his teeth. A muttered “Fuck.”

“Excuse me? Cursing? That will just earn you more punishment.”

After several more blows, she’d left a pattern of faint red impressions. She never struck his Mistress’s brand, following some intuitive etiquette in that regard, but she ran her nails over it, making him quiver harder.

Every blow Madison gave him resonated in her own nerve endings, in the sensations strumming up her inner thighs. Every move she made, every time she touched him, she was cognizant of the two Doms behind her, tracking all she was doing, how Troy was reacting. But her own awareness was narrowing, zeroing in on the man standing in the shadows behind her.

When she touched Troy’s nape, she imagined Logan’s fingers trailing along her own. As she marked Troy’s ass, the heated regard behind her made her buttocks tense, as if she could feel Logan contemplating doing the same to her, punishing her in all sorts of dark, memorable ways for putting him through this.

It made her hunger grow . . . but not for more of this. She wanted Logan. Her Master.

She stared at Troy’s naked back, marked with the ruler, the way his head was bowed. The whipping post faced Shale’s direction. Troy’s bowed head acknowledged that. He did this all under his Mistress’s command. And while Madison had no doubt he had a man’s reaction to Miss Fine’s provocative behavior and outfit, she was suddenly certain that submitting to Madison at the direction of his Mistress was the strongest source of his arousal.

She was as sure of that as she was that her earlier conversation with Logan about this hadn’t been so much about asserting her own will as seeking his permission to do it. He’d granted it, helped her reach this point, but he sure as hell hadn’t ordered her to do this. On top of all the other things that were starting to be quite clear, the fire radiating from him told her in no uncertain terms he preferred her
not
to be handling another man intimately front of him. Submissive or otherwise.

She stopped, turned to meet his gaze again. Logan tended to be honest in expression and communication, but his face right now was dispassionate, neutral. He was there to protect and guide her. Yet what had he said earlier?
A submissive has power. She makes the choice of whom to hand her leash. Look at what you want for yourself.

Glancing toward Shale, Madison registered the avid way the woman was gazing at her submissive. Madison had enjoyed the surge of power, a temporary roller coaster ride, a change of pace. Yet for Shale, the ride never lost its pleasure. Maybe at a certain level, BDSM was a fun, healthy way to achieve extra spice in a relationship, the way she’d indicated to Helen earlier in the day. Playacting to get that zing like when she first took command of Troy. But then there were those who had a deep, abiding desire to serve a Master.

Like herself.

For so long, she’d avoided her fascination with BDSM, period, denying that her craving might be an actual sexual orientation. Probably because of her past relationships’ negative reaction to that, when she dared to reveal it. Probably even more because of her own fear of losing control of herself. But Logan had taken her hand, walked her into those waters, and while she’d sometimes stalled at different depths, she’d ultimately kept going forward, because she trusted his lead. And the more she trusted his lead, the more she trusted and let herself face the truth of her own desires.

What she’d done that first night when he tied her to Troy, how quickly she’d gotten caught up in it, yes, at one level it was play, but there was a reality to it at the emotional level she couldn’t shake. She’d come closer to admitting it when Logan had come to her house to watch a movie. She wanted to take a closer step toward what it was she was craving, what had lacked definition, but was quickly taking undeniable shape and form.

In short, she’d wanted to try this, and wasn’t sorry she had. But it was time to change gears. After she had just a little more fun with it.

Shifting out of Troy’s view, she withdrew the heavy wooden paddle she’d bought out of her own stock. She’d sketched and colored in three red shiny apples across the expanse to make it more teacherly. Catching Shale’s grin at the design, she smiled back. The Mistress pantomimed a swing, a reminder to come up from a lower position. Pivoting, she ran her knuckles and glossy nails along the small of her own back, the rise of her buttocks, and shook her head, a silent instruction.

Right. Not a good thing to hit higher, where pelvic bones, spine and kidneys could get affected if her swing was too strong. Grateful for the guidance, Madison acknowledged it with a nod, and turned her attention to the unsuspecting Troy, likely braced for another swat with the plastic ruler.

It worked as beautifully as it had last time. Once again, not expecting it, especially with her being an unknown quantity to him in the Mistress role, he jumped . . . and ripped the other cuff. Truth, she’d bound them so close to the post, made them small enough, it was almost impossible for him not to rip them with the least little pull.

His muttered curse, the irritated jerk of his shoulders, were a pure pleasure. She had to quell the desire to plant a kiss on the nape of his sweaty neck. She sighed heavily. “Tsk, tsk. Troy, I’m afraid you’re far beyond what I can appropriately address in my classroom. Principal Shale is going to take you personally in hand. She has far more effective methods.”

Shale’s lips curved with a feral pleasure that told Madison she’d made the right decision, not just for herself, but for Troy. In her wildest dreams, she didn’t think she could summon a countenance so full of diabolical promise. As Shale moved forward, the Mistress extended her hand. “Sometimes the most effective tools to handle a stubborn boy are the simplest ones,” she said. “If you don’t mind sharing your paddle, Ms. Fine, I’ll start with that. If that doesn’t penetrate his hard head, a baseball bat shoved up his ass should do it.”

No doubt. Madison blinked, placed the paddle in Shale’s palm. As her fingers closed over it, she met the woman’s eyes and mouthed
thank you
. Shale nodded absently, already moving into that zone Logan did, her eyes all for her sub. Troy’s shoulders had given an anticipatory twitch when Madison declared her intent to turn him over to “the principal.” Now his skin shuddered when Shale ran her nails down his back, following the same track as Madison, only with a little more pressure, the furrows deeper.

His body language shifted. It was subtle but significant, the contrast between visiting a different place, something new and interesting, and coming home. Despite the fact Shale was undoubtedly going to inflict far greater pain on him than Madison could conceive of doing, Troy relaxed even further under his Mistress’s touch. He trusted Shale to use pain to take him somewhere beyond every doubt or insecurity he had. In return he would embrace the pain to the point it became intense pleasure for them both.

Wow.
Madison was using that word a lot lately, but she was also starting to understand the Marcel Proust quote Alice had kept in her kitchen window.
“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”

Speaking of which . . . She faced Logan. Now that she’d officially turned over responsibility for her charge, she had one goal. As she covered the few steps between them, she removed the glasses and unclipped her hair, so it fell to her shoulders. She also stepped out of the pumps so she was barefoot.

When she reached Logan, leaning against his workbench, arms crossed over his chest, she didn’t consider any other options. She sank to her knees.

The movement brought an uncanny sense of what she’d seen in Troy when he was turned over to his Mistress. Relief, comfort. A feeling that only increased when Logan put his hand on her head, stroked her hair, as if her kneeling before him was as natural to him as it had felt to her. She didn’t want to wait for that pain session. She craved it now. She didn’t want to wait for tomorrow when all her ridiculous doubts and insecurities might return, her baggage. Though Logan might be right, that the baggage was what had brought her to him, it was still a pain in the ass.

She wanted to let him know all that in a language he understood, a language she wanted to understand more fully.

“I’ve misbehaved, sir,” she murmured.

His russet eyes kindled in that way that made her want to sigh happily. He understood and agreed. He wasn’t going to deny her. She savored the reaction, since she had a feeling it might turn to terror in short order.

“You sure as hell have. The consequences will be severe.”

Pulling a cushion from the bottom shelf of the workbench, he dropped it on the floor next to him. “Sit there. Watch Troy’s punishment, while I think of the best kind for you.”

She shifted to comply, putting her knees on the cushion and sitting back on her heels. As she did so, he caught her loose hair in his fist and jerked her back up onto her knees. She had no time to gasp at the rough movement before he’d claimed her mouth, his tongue tangled with hers, the heat telling her all he’d been hiding behind that façade. When she started to grab hold of his thighs for balance, he growled in her mouth, forcing her to lower her hands, rely on that pull on her scalp for balance. His act of pure possession wrapped like invisible bonds around her body, making the dampness between her thighs become gushing wetness. It was her body’s primal response, readying herself for him and him alone.

When he at last released her, he lowered her inch by inch back to the cushion so she was sitting on her heels again. Once there, his burning eyes lingered on her face, his mouth hard. She knew she was trembling. “Watch the Mistress work,” he said softly.

It was difficult to watch Shale when all she wanted to do was look at Logan. Especially when she saw he was sporting a sizeable, mouthwatering erection under his jeans. She didn’t know if it had been provoked by the kiss, her decision to abandon her Mistress experiment, or because she’d been touching Troy and it was some kind of primitive, chest-beating, testosterone reaction that shouldn’t thrill her modern female mind but absolutely did. Whatever the reason for his impressive response, she appreciated the results to the point it was hard to tear her gaze away.

But he’d commanded her to watch Shale and Troy, so she did. She curled her hand around his calf, though, hoping he wouldn’t tell her she couldn’t touch him. He didn’t.

During the kiss, she’d been vaguely aware of the harsh clap of the paddle, Troy’s grunts of pain. When she turned her attention back to them now, Shale had set the weapon aside and reclaimed the plastic ruler. Picking up the other children’s chair and giving it an artful twirl in one hand, she pointed to the floor with the other. “Lie down, face up.”