The Training tst-6 Page 4

  “You sleep on Friday and Saturday nights when it is convenient for me.” I slipped my pants down over my hips and stepped out of them. “And right now, your sleeping is not convenient.”

  Her eyes fell on my erection. Yes. She knew exactly what I was talking about now.

  “I’m feeling cordial tonight, though, so I’ll let you decide how you want it,” I said.

  She blinked a few times. “However it pleases you, Master.”

  “I believe, Abigail”—I ambled over to her bed—“I just told you what would please me.” I leaned over her. “I want you to decide how you’ll take my cock.”

  Her eyes dropped again. Was she embarrassed? Was that it? She needed to get over any embarrassment. Embarrassment had no place in our relationship.

  I hooked my fingers under the straps of her gown and slipped it over her head. “Whatever you decide,” I told her, “I want this off.”

  When the gown was off and she was naked, I raised an eyebrow at her. She still hadn’t said anything.

  “Time’s up,” I said. “You didn’t tell me quickly enough, so I’ll choose for you.” I turned her on the bed and pushed on her shoulders so she lay down on her back with her head hanging over the edge. “Since you chose not to talk when I asked you a question, I’ll put that mouth to a better use.”

  I had to bend slightly, but I put my hands on either side of her hips and pressed forward so my cock brushed her lips. “Do a good job and I might let you go back to sleep.”

  I closed my eyes as she enveloped me. Her warmth felt so good, my erection grew even harder as I worked my way into her mouth. I brought a hand to her belly to check on her breathing and started thrusting, pushing myself deeper.

  She took all of me, relaxing her throat and sucking as I slowly fucked her mouth. Her tongue wrapped around and stroked me when I pulled out, only to run back down my length as I reentered.

  I knew that, once more, she had disobeyed. I had asked a question, asked for an answer, and she had not given me one. I needed to address it.

  “I’m getting ready to come,” I warned when my release grew imminent. I thrust harder into her mouth. “You are not to swallow. Hold my come in your mouth until I command otherwise.”

  I held motionless as my release shot through me, digging my fingers into the soft skin of her waist.

  Fuck.

  She lay still as I stepped away to retrieve my pants, and she hadn’t moved when I turned to face her once more.

  “Sit up.”

  She sat up, breathing through her nose, cheeks slightly puffed. I walked over and took her jaw in my hand.

  “When I tell you I want an answer, I want an answer,” I said. “Swallowing my come is an honor I do not bestow upon you lightly. Do you understand?” She nodded and I squeezed her cheeks. “Savor the taste of me in your mouth, because you’re the only person in the world able to do so. The only submissive allowed to serve me.” I jerked her chin up. “The one I selected to wear my collar.”

  Her eyes teared up, and I felt a slight tinge of discomfort but pushed it away. I needed to make a strong impression this weekend—to remind her I had not been lying when I told her the last time was easy.

  I ran my free thumb under her eyelashes and gathered the wetness there. My point had been made and was understood. “I see the disappointment in your eyes. Swallow, Abigail.” I kept my hand on her jaw and watched her throat as she obeyed.

  While I had known this weekend would not be easy, it had not struck me just how hard it would be for both of us.

  I wanted to reestablish my connection with her somehow, to let her know we were okay, but felt at a complete loss as to how to go about doing it. I had never struggled with anything like this before.

  She sat before me with her eyes downcast, disappointment still etched on her features. I searched for the right words to say. Anything that would reassure her we were okay. That this was a tiny blip on our journey and she should not feel overly upset. Yet I felt uneasy whispering accolades of love after the reprimand I gave her.

  Then inspiration seized me. I leaned over and whispered:

  “‘For I must love because I live.

  And life in me is what you give.’”

  Surely she would remember those were the last two lines of “Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her” by Christopher Brennan, one of the last poems recited as part of the poetry reading series held by the library where she worked.

  She gasped in recognition, and I smiled. Yes. She remembered.

  I pulled back, my lips brushing her cheek as I did so. “Good night, my lovely.”

  I heard her rustling around the house after I went back to my room and crawled into bed. She was cleaning the playroom, probably unable to get back to sleep after I’d woken her.

  I rolled over and glanced at the clock. It was two a.m. Fuck, it was late. I wondered idly how Paul and Christine’s first weekend had gone years ago, when they’d first set up their arrangement. He was probably still awake. The last time we talked, he mentioned their son, Sam, was going through a nasty bout of colic. Still, even if he was, I doubted he’d be pleased to hear from me. I’d call him sometime after breakfast. Or lunch.

  I rolled away from the alarm clock and waited until I heard her go back to her room before I allowed sleep to overtake me.

  She waited for me in the playroom shortly after breakfast. She sat on her knees, hands folded in her lap, head down. Exactly the way I had instructed her to wait for me in the playroom. The sight of her, in position and wearing only my collar, caused my cock to jump to life.

  “Perfection,” I said. “I expected nothing less.” I felt pride radiate from her body. “Stand up, Abigail,” I said. “Let me see what belongs to me.”

  Fucking beautiful, I thought when she stood.

  Her eyes were downcast, but I could feel her anticipation and excitement. The room nearly buzzed with it.

  I stood behind her and ran a hand down her side, noting the increased rate of her breathing. I bent slightly to whisper in her ear, “I’m going to push you a bit today.” She shivered under me. I continued. “Remember, I can push because I trust you to use your safe words if you need.” I cupped a breast. “I’m going to allow you to vocalize and climax as needed. I still require your complete honesty when I ask how you’re doing.”

  I walked to the cabinets and took out two nipple clamps connected with a chain. Her eyes followed me as I returned to stand in front of her. “I’m also leaving your eyes uncovered. I want you to see what I’m doing.”

  I bent my head down and sucked a nipple into my mouth. I ran my tongue around its tip, making her moan in the process. I took her deeper and reached out my hand to stroke her other nipple. When she started shivering under my touch, I switched places and paid the same amount of attention to her other breast.

  Finally, I straightened up and took her left breast in my hands. I fondled her—rolling and pinching, watching as her skin broke out in gooseflesh. This next part would hurt a bit; I needed to make sure she was ready.

  “Take a deep breath, my lovely,” I said, pinching her nipple with one hand as I opened the clamp with the other. Once she inhaled, I gently slipped the clamp onto her.

  She let out her breath in a short gasp.

  I slipped my hand down her body and stroked between her legs. “Very good.”

  I repeated the procedure with her other nipple—going slowly, gauging her reaction. I watched her carefully. She closed her eyes briefly and shivered, but she was fine.

  “Are you okay?” I asked when I had finished.

  She smiled. “Yes, Master.”

  I returned her smile with one of my own. “Look down, Abigail,” I said. “Look and see just what a naughty girl you are.”

  My eyes followed hers, and I took in the sight of her perky nipples—decorated with my clamps, the chain hanging slightly.

  “We’re going to play a little game,” I said. “I want you to undress me.” She was still looking at her
breasts. “Look at me.” When she looked up, I continued. “The catch is, each time you touch my cock, I earn the right to pull that chain.” I took a step back. “Start now.”

  I closed my eyes and waited for her to start. I wore only pants. It would be difficult, but not impossible, for her to undress me without touching my cock. The clamps were new to her. If she hated them, feared them, or was in too much pain, I knew my cock would go untouched during the next few minutes.

  By the time my pants were on the floor, I’d counted four touches of her hand. The last was a brazen upward stroke of my cock as she moved to her feet.

  Four.

  I hid my smile.

  “How many pulls do I get?” I asked.

  “Four, Master.”

  “Mmmmmm. Four.” I took the chain and gave a slow tug. She let out a guttural moan that shot straight to my cock.

  Fucking love this woman.

  “You owe me three more,” I said. “I’ll collect later.”

  I walked back to my cabinets and took out a silken rope. Once I returned behind her, I took both her arms and pulled them to her back. Taking my time and tying the rope with the utmost care, I gently but securely bound her arms.

  “I like you in this position,” I said, moving to stand in front of her again. “Your breasts pushed out in silent offering to me.” I slid a finger under the chain, caught her eyes, and gave a slow, upward tug on the chain.

  Her eyes fluttered. “Oh, God.”

  “Like that, do you?”

  She let out another moan. “Yes, Master.”

  I lifted the corner of my mouth in a smile, pleased she had taken to the clamps so well.

  “Spread your legs.” I slipped a hand between them; she was slick and ready.

  Almost.

  I needed her more heightened. More sensitive.

  I knelt between her legs and placed a kiss on her clit, then leaned back and blew gently. I stuck my tongue out and licked her slit from bottom to top, still focusing my attention on her clit. I placed soft kisses on her inner thighs and trailed a line to end between them, where I nibbled on her clit more. Sucked it into my mouth. I reached up, grabbed the chain, and pulled. She yelped, and I worked her clit even harder, bringing the pleasure and pain closer together in her mind. I grazed her with my teeth and gave the chain another hard tug. She jerked against me.

  I dropped the chain then and slid two fingers into her, reaching to the place—right there—I knew would make her totally unhinged. I swirled my tongue around her clit and pushed my fingers into her again.

  She gasped and climaxed around me.

  Fuck.

  I heard her heavy breaths as I stood and noted the faint flush coloring her skin. Her breasts looked fine, but she’d had the clamps on long enough for the first time.

  “Deep breath, my lovely,” I said, taking a clamp in one hand and gently cupping her breasts with the other. Her warm breath floated across my shoulders and chest. “Another one,” I said. “Exhale slowly.”

  This time when she exhaled, I released the clamp as slowly as possible. She gave a sharp intake of breath as the blood returned.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  Her voice was tight. “Yes, Master.”

  “Very good.”

  I reached between her legs again and stroked her still sensitive flesh. She jerked her hips toward me.

  “Another deep breath,” I said when I felt her relax. “Exhale slowly.” Again, I removed the clamp, dropping them both to the floor. I slipped a finger into her, lightly brushing her clit with my thumb, hoping to alleviate some of the pain. Her hair tickled my cheek as I murmured how pleased I was with her. How proud. She sighed.

  “Spread your legs wide,” I said, backing away.

  I left her there for a few minutes, knowing she felt the warm air between her legs. Knowing her every nerve stood on end. She looked beautiful.

  Fucking lucky-ass bastard.

  I took the warming lubricant from the top of the table and returned to stand behind her. I reached around and swept my fingertips lightly across her delicate nipples. She groaned in reply, backing her hips toward me.

  I merely chuckled. Within minutes I’d spread the lube onto my cock and fingers.

  “You told me recently that having my cock in your ass made you feel completely consumed,” I said.

  She jumped when I applied the lube to her backside.

  “Ready to be consumed again, Abigail?”

  Chapter Five

  —NATHANIEL—

  She mumbled something under her breath I couldn’t make out.

  “Either stay quiet or speak so I can hear,” I said, giving her ass a sharp smack. “Understand?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Very good.” I took hold of her bound hands. “Now bend over.”

  She moved slowly, getting her bearings. I kept a firm grasp on her hands with my left hand, wanting her to realize she could let go and trust me. Her legs were spread wide, giving her a steady stance and giving me an incredible view.

  “Very nice, Abigail,” I said. “I love how open your ass is in this position.” The lubed finger of my right hand circled her. “Let’s see if you were telling the truth about using your plug.” I pushed into her a little. “I can’t wait to take you here.”

  She groaned and pushed herself back against me. My finger slipped deeper.

  Fuck.

  I slowly fucked her with my finger, making sure I kept a firm grasp on her hands to ensure she wouldn’t fall. Her head fell between her knees, hair trailing over the floor and sweeping against the hardwood with each thrust of my finger.

  I slipped another finger into her. Pushing slowly. Stretching her. Preparing her. She was still so tight.

  As she grew accustomed to my fingers, I started rethinking my plan. Taking her here, in the middle of the floor, wouldn’t work. I couldn’t hold on to her, work her body, and thrust without putting unnecessary strain on her arms and shoulders.

  Glancing around the room, my eyes fell on the whipping bench.

  Perfect.

  “Have you missed this?” I asked. “Missed me preparing your ass for my cock?” I pushed deeper. My cock ached for friction, and as much as I wanted nothing more than to remove my fingers and thrust into her, I knew I couldn’t. She trusted me to make this good for her, and I treasured that trust.

  I stilled my fingers, and she stopped moving as well. When I was certain she was steady, I let go of her arms. Keeping my fingers inside, I slipped my other hand between her legs and stroked her slickness.

  “Very good, Abigail,” I said. “You have been using your plug. Missed my cock, have you?” I brushed her clit.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned. “Yes, Master.”

  I continued teasing her clit with one hand while slowly stretching her with the fingers of the other. Every so often, she’d let out a soft whimper of pleasure.

  “I’m going to remove my fingers,” I said. “When I do, I want you to move to the whipping bench.”

  I use it for chastisement, I’d told her once. But it serves other purposes as well. Would she remember? Dare I hope I’d gotten her to a place inside her head where she trusted me implicitly?

  I slipped my fingers from her, slowly removing them, and gave her clit one last swirl.

  “Stand up for me,” I said, with a tug on her hands.

  She stood slowly, her hair falling softly into place around her face.

  “To the bench, my lovely.”

  She didn’t hesitate. Knowing, hopefully, she had done nothing requiring punishment.

  “I’m so proud of you,” I told her, when she had positioned herself. “The way you trust me.”

  She was bent over the bench with her backside to me—her arms were behind her back and she’d kept a wide stance with her legs. I moved behind her and leaned over.

  “You can feel it in this position, can’t you?” I asked, slipping a prepared finger inside her again, causing her upper body to move agains
t the bench. “Your nipples.” I pulled out a bit and her body moved slightly. “How they scrape the bench with every push of my hand?”

  Again I worked to stretch her with my fingers and slid a hand between her legs to graze her pussy. I wanted her to ache for me. Wanted to get her to where she hungered for my cock. The movement of her body against the bench, the gentle stretch of my fingers, the play of my fingers against her clit—they all worked to get her there.

  She moaned.

  “What is it?” I asked. “What do you need?”

  “Oh, God,” she said as I pushed deeper.

  “What do you need?” I smacked her across the ass, and she gave another moan. “Tell me.”

  “You,” she panted. “Me.”

  “Ready for me?” I removed my fingers and placed the head of my cock against her.

  “Please,” she said.

  I had to go slowly. This was only her second time. It would still hurt.

  “Easy,” I said, more to myself than her. I pressed gently into her, gritting my teeth against the burning need to plunge forward.

  I stilled my hips and dipped two fingers into her wetness. “What you do to me,” I whispered. “Is it the same for you?”

  Her only answer was a groan as my fingers circled her clit. I pushed my hips forward and stopped suddenly at her sharp intake of breath. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yes, Master,” she said in a tight voice. “More. Please.”

  I slid farther into her. Backed out. Slid deeper. I hooked my fingers and, when I pressed inside her, felt the push and pull of my cock.

  Fucking hell.

  I thrust even deeper on my next pass, pushed her harder against the bench, and slipped all the way in. Her muscles tightened around my fingers.

  “Let it go.” My voice was strained. “Whenever you want.”

  She arched her back, and my fingers hit deep within her. I started a slow rhythm—my cock pushing in as my fingers came out and brushed her clit. Then I pulled out, with my fingers sliding inside.

  She might have thought I consumed her when I took her this way, but the opposite was true—she totally consumed me. Every breath, every heartbeat, every nerve of my body pulsed with her name. Pulsed with a need for her. She swallowed me whole. Consumed me.