The Training tst-6 Page 15

  I know, I wanted to shout. I know. Please.

  Then something was inside me, and I let out a squeak when I realized it was one of his vibrators.

  “Just a taste,” he said. “Not too much. Bratty submissives don’t get to release.”

  He slid the vibrator in and out of me a few times, and it took all my strength not to give in to the need to orgasm.

  “Please, Master?” I finally begged when it became too much.

  “No,” he said, sliding it from my body. I knew then why he’d bound my wrists: I was so overwhelmed by sensation, I’d probably collapse if he hadn’t.

  But he wasn’t finished.

  He started back with the suede flogger, and my skin was even more sensitive for this second round. It felt as though all my nerve endings were in overdrive, standing at attention, waiting for the thud to hit again. I moaned when it did.

  “Are you still okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master,” I said. The flogger hit right where my legs met. “Oh, yes.” I groaned as the pain struck and subsided into pleasure over and over.

  I wasn’t sure how much time passed. I turned my reflection inward, wanting only him, focusing only on him and what he was doing to me. Only he knew how to do this to me. Only he could play me the way he did. Could create such a dichotomy of feelings in me.

  “You’re being punished,” I heard from what seemed far away. The blows landed slower, softer.

  I breathed in and out.

  Slower.

  Softer.

  “But I haven’t done anything wrong,” he said. “So I get my release.”

  The flogger stopped and a new sound replaced it. Friction. Somewhere.

  “Where do you want it?” he asked.

  I knew what I wanted. It was dirty and primal, but I wanted it. “On me, Master,” I said. “I want you to come on me.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Please.”

  “Hold still,” he said, but I wasn’t sure where I’d be going. “Fuck,” he said again.

  A warm wetness landed on my back. I swore as he came, feeling his release hit and then drip off.

  “Yes,” one of us said. I wasn’t sure who.

  Then he was closer to me and breathing heavily in my ear. “You did well, my lovely.” He undid one wrist and then the other. “I am so very pleased.”

  I nearly fell into his arms. He helped me gently to the floor, where he held me. His lips were on my face, my hair, my lips, and he whispered words of praise, telling me again and again how much I’d pleased him.

  Afterward, when he’d cleaned us both up and removed my collar, he carried me outdoors to his hot tub. We sat for a time, relaxing. The coming down after play always left me feeling soft, pliable, and tired. But today, there was something more, and it bothered me.

  He must have picked up on my mood. “Abby?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

  It was the Abby that did it. I almost shook my head, but my eyes filled and I knew I couldn’t lie to him.

  “Your disappointment,” I said, watching the water bubble around me. “I feel as if it’s a weight I carry.”

  “Come here,” he said. I moved into his lap, and his arms came around me. “Is this because I won’t let you climax?”

  It sounded silly to my ears. How could such a thing even make me sad? But it did, so I had to tell him. “I think it’s because it’s still lingering between us. When you spank me, it’s over and done with and we move on, but this is still there. I remember it every time I look at you, and it reminds me of how I messed up.”

  “Look at me,” he said, and I looked up to see his eyes. There was a sadness there, but a firm resolve as well. “It’s supposed to be there. That’s why it’s a punishment. How effective would it have been if I allowed you to release tonight?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer, but slipped a hand between us and one of his fingers slipped, just for a second, into me. “Don’t you know there’s a part of me that wants nothing more than to take you here and now? A part that longs to drive into you over and over and feel you climax around me?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to pull that ‘This is harder for me than it is for you’ crap,” I said.

  He smiled. “No. I’m very much aware that it’s harder for you than it is for me. If it had just been one offense, I might have allowed you to come sometime today. But when you added the petulance on top of—”

  “I was not petulant.”

  “When you wear my collar, my word is law,” he said. “We agreed you would be punished if I decided you neglected your waxing, not that we’d call a conference in the middle of the playroom to discuss it. I decided you should have waxed before the wedding and that’s it. Bottom line. You continually tried to argue with me.”

  “I didn’t see it as arguing,” I said. “I saw it as explaining.”

  “If I ever want an explanation, I’ll ask for one. Understood?”

  “Yes,” I said, still a little pissed.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, Nathaniel,” I said, emphasizing his name. The collar was off and it was a Sunday afternoon. “Now look who’s being petulant.”

  “FYI,” he said, working his hand back between us. “A bit of petulance on weekends every now and again can be fun.” He pinched my ass. “I like you feisty.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  —ABBY—

  Sunday night we went to bed relatively early and spent time talking. My back rested against his chest and his arms wrapped around me. I still felt just the slightest bit peeved he wouldn’t let me bring myself to orgasm, but my more rational mind understood his reasoning.

  “I know you had concerns about feet kissing,” he said. “How do you feel about it now?”

  I thought back to our time in the playroom. “It surprised me how much I enjoyed doing it. I thought I wouldn’t, but I did. It felt so . . .” I searched for the right word. “Humbling? Not sure that’s right, but I felt even more under your control when I did it.” Although, I supposed, not so much under his control that I’d been able to hold my tongue about the waxing.

  “How about you?” I asked. “What did you think of it?”

  “I didn’t like it as much. But I wouldn’t have known beforehand.”

  That surprised me. “You didn’t know if you’d like it and you still had me do it?”

  “Yes. How else would I find out what I liked?”

  “I don’t know. I just assumed you’d had enough experience that you’d know what you liked and wanted.”

  “But I’ve never had anyone nibble on my ankles while she made love to me,” he said, stroking my arm. “Only you’ve ever done that, remember? The weekend I asked you to move in? I wasn’t sure how I’d feel asking you to do something like that in the playroom.”

  I kept forgetting the dynamics of our relationship were new to him. “Since you didn’t like it and I did, will you be asking me to do it again?” I asked.

  He laughed. “You expect me to tell you all my plans?”

  I pushed my butt against his groin. “Yes.”

  “Well, it won’t happen,” he said, then whispered in my ear, “Wait and see.”

  I shivered at his words. Mmm. He was right—waiting and seeing was so much better than knowing in advance.

  “I have a concern,” he said, voice growing serious. “You seemed to have trouble focusing today.”

  “You picked up on that?”

  “Yes, and I’m wondering if it would help if you started yoga again.”

  I hadn’t kept the yoga up after he recollared me. I worked out three times a week of my own prerogative and planned to use his gym during the weekends as time allowed, but I had not restarted yoga. Though, now that he mentioned it . . .

  “I think it would help with your focus, and as we progress, would aid in your breathing as well,” he said.

  “I’ll think about it. See when and how to fit it into my schedule.”

  “Maybe it’s something we can do together.�
��

  “Really?” It would be a lot more fun if he joined me.

  “I need to keep my mind sharp, too, you know.”

  I told him I’d definitely think about it, and the conversation switched to the upcoming week. The movers would be at my apartment on Wednesday to get my boxes, and I’d requested only that day off of work. I didn’t think it would take much to get me settled into Nathaniel’s house.

  As we talked, I began to notice him shifting slightly behind me. Pushing away, so he wasn’t as close to me anymore.

  “You okay?” I asked. It wasn’t like him to withdraw from me. Especially before falling asleep.

  “Fine.”

  “Then why are you . . .” I scooted back in to him, bumping his erection as I did. “Oh.”

  He moved away again and sighed. “It’s just, holding you like this? I can now say, with great certainty, that your punishment is literally harder for me than it is for you.”

  I groaned. “Tell me you didn’t just make a dirty joke.”

  “I did.”

  I snuggled against him. “Sorry about your little problem there, but you’ll excuse me if I’m not inclined to help out at the moment.” Let him experience a bit of his own medicine.

  “I wasn’t going to ask you to help,” he said. “But if you don’t mind, would you stop wiggling your ass against me?”

  “You mean like this?” I asked, treating him to another ass wiggle.

  He groaned. “Yes, damn it.”

  “I’ll try to stop, but you know I have a tendency to move while I sleep.”

  “Good night, Abby,” he said in a tight voice, kissing the back of my neck.

  I wiggled again. “Good night, Nathaniel.”

  I’d called my old yoga instructor Tuesday and reenrolled us both for yoga. Nathaniel had been right. It would help both my concentration and breathing. I was glad he’d left the final decision up to me, though. I was even gladder he would attend with me.

  With him not allowing me to orgasm, we hadn’t had sex of any kind since he came on me in the playroom Sunday. I wondered just how long he planned on dragging this out. In all honestly, I thought maybe he’d have initiated something Tuesday. Especially since I’d been waxed earlier in the day.

  So, Friday night at six found me in the foyer once again with Nathaniel repeating the words that would make me his for the weekend. He vowed to push me while respecting and guarding my limits, all the while keeping me the focus of his attention. In return, I gave myself completely to him.

  After I was collared and he’d released in my mouth, he put a finger under my chin and tipped my head up. “Dinner in the dining room in one hour.”

  His kitchen was familiar to me, and I’d moved most of my belongings in on Wednesday. It still didn’t feel completely like home, but I felt more comfortable than I had before. I was glad he wanted to eat in the dining room, as it would help keep me in the proper role.

  I stood at his side while he ate the salmon I’d grilled for him. My own dinner waited for me in the kitchen, and I assumed he’d have me eat when he finished.

  My mind wandered as he ate. I watched his arms and how his fingers wrapped around his glass. My eyes moved to his mouth as he ate a bite of the meal I’d prepared for him. There was no feeling in the world that compared to serving him. My trust in him grew stronger with every minute we were together, and my desire for him increased each time I looked at him.

  Knowing how intently he focused on me turned me on further. There was no doubt in my mind that he was thinking of me while he ate. Maybe he was deciding how he would work me. Or maybe he was planning how many orgasms he’d let me have.

  Fuck. He will let me orgasm, won’t he?

  My need for him hadn’t vanished during the week. Instead, it had bloomed. He would probably need only to touch me and I’d be putty in his hands.

  I knew my punishment had not been easy on him either. After the craziness of the week before the wedding, I knew we had both looked forward to a more restful week.

  Although, come to think of it, we’d rested a lot.

  Deep in my thoughts, it took me a few seconds to realize he’ d spoken and commanded me to kneel at his side. When I’d done so, he placed a hand under my chin and tipped my head up. “For the rest of the weekend, you are to keep your head below mine,” he said.

  What?

  “Anytime you enter a room I’m in, your head is to be lower than mine.” He stopped briefly and then continued. “I’ll leave it to you to decide how to comply with my request.”

  I looked into his eyes and saw a hint of playfulness.

  I like you feisty, he’d said last weekend.

  Mmm . . . Maybe this would be fun.

  As he finished eating, my mind raced. If I left the dining room before he did, how would I clear the table? Would I have to crawl to the kitchen? How would I carry his plate? Maybe I’d have to walk on my knees.

  Ugh. That wouldn’t be fun at all.

  Fortunately, after eating, he placed his hand on my head one more time, instructed me to eat in the kitchen and to meet him in the playroom afterward. Then he stood and left, letting me clear the table.

  Finally.

  Half an hour later, he waited for me when I stepped naked into the playroom. Unprepared to find him waiting, I hurried to stand in front of him and knelt down at his feet.

  Am I late?

  No, I decided. He hadn’t given me a time to meet him.

  “Move to your inspection position, Abigail. Let me see if you’re better prepared today.”

  I moved into the position he’d shown me the weekend before, and he knelt between my knees.

  “Excellent,” he said, stroking my bare flesh. “This is what I expected.” He stood up and instructed me back into my waiting position.

  When I had, he spoke again. “You’ve borne your punishment well. Remind me again why you were punished and look into my eyes as you do so.”

  I met his gaze. “I was unprepared for you, Master, even though I asked to play. Then I was insolent and argumentative while I wore your collar.”

  “And should I allow you to come tonight?”

  Yes! Damn it, yes!

  But I knew that wasn’t supposed to be my answer. “If it pleases you, Master, and if you think I deserve it.”

  “Is that how you really feel?”

  The temptation to look down was strong, but I forced my eyes to remain on his. “No, Master,” I said honestly. “I want to come badly, and it’s hard to push aside my wants for yours.”

  It shamed me to admit I wasn’t yet where I needed to be in my service to him.

  “Your honesty pleases me.” He stroked my cheek. “Don’t feel guilty over your feelings. I know it’s still early in your journey. I know you aren’t yet able to completely put aside your wants. You’ll get there eventually.”

  He understands. Relief replaced the guilt immediately. “Thank you, Master,” I said, smiling.

  “I know you, my lovely,” he said. “I know your thoughts and your mind. I know every line of your body. And I know the desires you have hidden deep within.” He bent slightly, and his voice dropped. “They echo my own.”

  Gah.

  Putty. I knew it.

  He hadn’t yet told me to drop my eyes, so I watched him as he commanded me again. “Crawl to the padded table, Abigail,” he said.

  Crawl?

  I’d known it was coming. I’d known he’d want me to try it at least once. To be honest, I’d expected to like it once I tried it, much like the feet kissing. Therefore, I was surprised when I made it to the table and found I hated every second I moved on my hands and knees. I didn’t hate it so much that I’d safe word over it, but I hated it so much I was certain my displeasure showed when he looked at me.

  It’s all about him, I told myself. Trusting him. Letting him decide.

  And I’d liked the feet kissing. I wouldn’t have known that unless he made me try.

  I really hoped he didn’t like th
e crawling.

  I moved carefully onto the table, making sure my head stayed below his. Once on top, I stilled myself and waited.

  “On your back,” he said.

  His footsteps echoed in the room as he made his way to where I was. I noted he had four ropes in his hand.

  He held them up. “I’m going to tie you to my table,” he said. “Before I bind a limb, I’ll press a rope to your lips and you’ll kiss it.”

  His expectations really shouldn’t have turned me on the way they did.

  A soft rope touched my lips. “This is for your right leg,” he said.

  I kissed the rope. “Tie my right leg, Master.”

  He pulled my right leg and tied the rope around it. Another rope touched my mouth. “Left leg,” he said.

  I pressed my lips against it. “Please bind my left leg, Master.”

  Like before, he used the rope to bind my leg. He repeated the action two more times—first with my right arm and then with my left. Each time, he put the rope to my lips for me to kiss. Each time, I asked him to tie me.

  When he was finished, I lay spread-eagle on the table.

  His hands ran from my shoulders, down my breasts, across my belly, and came to rest between my legs.

  A long finger slipped inside. He added a second. I forced my hips to remain still.

  “Your body recognizes me,” he said, feeling the evidence of my need. “It knows its master.”

  I was nearly panting for him; there was no point in arguing.

  Besides, I learned that lesson the hard way.

  “Close your eyes, Abigail. We’re going to try something again.”

  I had a good idea of what he was going to do.

  “No vocalizing until I say,” he said.

  I sucked in a breath at the first pass of the Wartenberg wheel. Like before, he used one to start with—running it lightly across my chest, avoiding my nipples entirely. Then he added a second and worked them in unison, running opposite each other. They crossed my body, each a perfect mirror of the other, each coming close to a nipple and then rolling away again. I realized immediately when I’d moaned, and after a week of punishment, I wasn’t about to mess up again. My body shook as the wheels rolled over my nipples, but I remained silent.