by Joey W. Hill
"Float around in a boat on the pond, read. Bushhog about twice a year. Mow the lawn right around the house. Do basic maintenance when needed. Watch cable. I have a berm I've created so I can practice my shooting, stay up with that. Chase deer away from the bird feeders."
"You shoot at the deer?"
"No. I shoot at the berm. I chase the deer."
She laughed outright as he made motions with his fingers like running. "You have bird feeders?"
"Of course. I like watching them. And the squirrels. It's a very manly pursuit. I have a shirt from the Humane Society that says Real Men Love Animals, so there's your proof. Besides, animals are the ultimate example of purely dominant/submissive relationships. I learn a lot, watching them."
It sounded like a nice existence, a complex man with simple tastes. And she realized she'd asked him more about himself, outside of being a Dom, something she'd been reluctant to do in the past. More progress. As she was mulling that over, he nudged her. "So, Ms. Librarian, what do you want to do to Troy? I talked to Shale on the way back, and she's game. No sex."
"Of course." Madison started. "I hadn't even considered it."
"Good." His obvious emphasis made her glance up at him through her lashes. He gave her a disparaging look. "Don't look smug. We'll have the session in my back room, since I have all the tools and equipment you'll need. If that suits you."
"Yes. Hmm." She noticed Logan was waiting her out, not guiding her as he usually seemed to do. Maybe he was patiently respecting her need to gather her thoughts. Waiting for her to voice what she needed. She'd said she wanted to try the other side of things, and that meant taking charge.
"I'd like to restrain him. Something simple, since I don't really have any rope tying skills. I may also want to use a blindfold, so I can touch him without him looking at me. Is it about what I want, or about what he wants? Do I need to talk to him first about limits, safe words?"
"Usually, yes, but I know him so well, he'll rely on me to keep you guided so you don't have to get bogged down in all that. His safe word is goddess."
Amusement surged through her. "How clever of him. To gasp out an appeal to a goddess when he needs relief."
"Yeah. One of many reasons Shale's as besotted with him as he is with her. They're both young."
"Versus you." She swept her gaze over his powerful torso. "Positively doddering and feeble."
"Keep it up. You still have that pain session coming."
"Unless I choose not to do it."
"Yep," he said, unruffled. She eyed him.
"You don't seem worried."
"It's not that." His gaze became more serious. "It is your choice, Madison. Always. But yes, I think you want the session, so no, I'm not too worried about you backing out. Though you may get some stage fright right before. That's normal. And I reserve the right to use all methods at my disposal to bully or seduce you onto the stage."
"Not coax, plead or beg?"
"I'm not the begging type."
No, he certainly wasn't. She settled back against his arm, still wanting to rile him a little. "So how about using a strap-on with Troy? Does that count as sex?"
"It's a gray area." She bit back a smile at the clipped tone. "I can ask Shale."
"So how big a . . . thing . . . could he could take comfortably?"
"Maybe you should stick to the basics the first time out. Restraints, mild flogging, psychological domination. He can also perform oral sex on you, bring you to climax, that kind of thing."
"You'd prefer that to the strap-on."
"This isn't about me."
"Isn't it?"
He straightened then, putting the coffee aside. "Don't play games with me, Madison."
"I'm not." She slid off the tailgate, suddenly uncomfortable. He caught her arm, standing up as well.
"I get your desire to explore this from all sides," he said firmly, "but that doesn't alter what's developing between us. You know where a session ends and a relationship begins. I don't have an on/off switch. My expertise in this area doesn't replace my emotions. You push me, I will push back. No, I don't like the idea of you doing this with Troy. That first time, when you were watching me conduct a session with Troy, how would you have felt if I'd been working with a woman instead? Tying her up, touching her, bringing her to orgasm?"
"I . . . well, you hardly knew me then, and . . ."
"How would you feel about it now?"
She recoiled, and his eyes flickered. "At some point you have to decide which side of the line you're on," he said. "You have to close the door behind you and stay awhile, settle in and see where this takes us. We're still close enough to the beginning stages we can have fun with it, but I don't think there's any question we're headed down a more serious path. So this thing with Troy, is it a true desire, a desire to explore more about yourself, or is it a way to hold me at arm's length, keep me as the ringmaster of your personal circus?"
She didn't care to have a mirror shined so fully on her internal machinations, but that was part and parcel with Logan. He'd dropped his grip on her arm so she stood before him of her own volition. She wasn't backing away, but she didn't really know where to go, either.
"I've stepped wrong so many times, Logan," she said at last. "I've known what it is to feel a man lose interest, to realize he'd never loved me as much as I thought he did. Not once, but seven times, as if I'm some kind of dysfunctional half-wit who can't get a clue."
He made a noise of protest, because he never let her get away with self-deprecation, but this time she pressed on, needing to make the point. "It's really hard to take that leap again. Particularly because of how you are. With time, I could see the weaknesses in the guys I was involved with, weaknesses you don't have. You're a decent, amazing man, and you affect me in a way no one else has. We've only known each other for a short time, but if I saw that loss of interest in your eyes, it would break me in a way none of the others did. I'd be done, finished. This time for good, because I don't think another miracle like you would show up to help convince me otherwise."
When he stepped forward, this time she did back away, shaking her head. He stopped, extended a hand. "Come here, Madison."
She did. He clasped her hand but didn't close the distance, letting her breathe. "I'm sorry," he said. "I let my temper get the best of me. I wasn't as impartial about this as I'd intended to be. The day took kind of a shitty turn."
"I know. I'm sorry," she said, meaning it. "I came out to offer support and friendship, not give you something else to be angry about. I really hate that my baggage fucks things up so often, makes things about me, especially when it's not supposed to be about me at all."
He tightened his hand on hers. "I'll accept your apology if you'll accept mine."
"Done." She swung their hands back and forth, making his lips quirk. "Actually, it's kind of nice to see you lose your cool now and then. You're scary calm sometimes."
"You should see me when a vendor screws up an order." He smiled, but then considered her thoughtfully. "Did you ever choose the men you were with, Madison? Or did they choose you?"
She thought about that, about the mutual flirtation that heralded the beginning of a relationship. She'd never approached a man; he'd always approached her. Sometimes she'd have an interest in someone else, perhaps the man's friend or someone else in the same department or club where they met, but once a man showed interest in her, she would abandon any thought of pursuing another.
"They chose me."
That muscle flexed in Logan's jaw. "So your desires and wants never really entered into it. You're the type of person who takes the ingredients you're given and turns it into a cake. But you never put yourself into the ingredients, your choice or will. I am a choice for you, Madison. A submissive has power. She makes the choice of whom to hand her leash. Look at what you want for yourself. Whether or not we end up finding something worth keeping or we have to part ways when all's said and done, make sure your will and desires are part of it. Then n
either one of us will have regrets."
Madison's surprised gaze lifted to his face, but he wasn't finished. "On top of that, you are an amazing, special miracle in your own right. If you see good qualities in me, I appreciate that, but you have to give credit where it's due. I'd like to think we're bringing out the best in each other, because that's what a good relationship does."
Giving her fingers a final caress, he let her go. "Think about that, and I'll see you Friday. It might be good to think about what you want there as well. As far as whether this is about what he wants or what you want, the answer is both. Troy will be yours for the night. You're responsible for his pleasure, as much as seeking your own."
He returned the coffee cup to her, took the cake. As he moved to the back entrance of his storeroom, she turned the cup over in her hand. "Logan? Will you help me? Help me make sure I do that for him?"
He turned at the door, gave her a tired look that twisted her heart. "I'll do anything you need, Madison. Except be something you settle for."
"Before you asked . . . you seemed like you knew that they chose me," she said slowly. "In my other relationships. Why is that?"
He held her gaze, a clasp as intimate as his hand curled around hers. "Because of what I told you earlier. I knew you were that type of submissive from the beginning. There are a lot of people who enjoy the role, who even have the orientation, but they aren't that way down to heart and soul. You are. Which means I'm going to make damn sure you choose me. I don't want you any other way."
She wasn't sure how to interpret that statement, but she did know being classified and tagged wasn't something she necessarily accepted. Maybe with the thing with Troy, she'd show him a different side. She'd show herself a different side.
Or make herself see what he was saying . . . in a different way.
*
She was having a lot of wardrobe issues lately. Deciding what to wear to help a Dom train a sub, now how to dress like a Domme. But she wasn't really one, was she? She had the full regalia at her store; stilettos, corset, lots of leather, but it felt wrong. Ironically, in this instance, it felt like too much of a costume.
Fortunately, UPS came to her rescue on Friday. She was starting to think of Clarence as a fairy godmother in brown shorts and a roaring, gold-and-brown coach. Or her fairy godmother's shipping service. She snickered at the thought of Logan in a fairy costume.
Clarence offered his serious smile and asked after her day. He took a cup of coffee and a cookie from her and left her with a box on her counter. As she studied it, she admitted she particularly liked the suspense right before she opened these packages and saw what magical thing Logan had sent her to make her feel better about whatever challenge she was facing. A fairy godmother in truth.
Using her scissors to slit open the box, she folded back the top and took a breath, closing her eyes briefly in quiet anticipation before she opened them to take a look.
The first time he'd given her a gift, it had been an eye-opening card game and a set of cuffs. Another time it had been a sexy Catholic school girl costume. This time he'd sent her . . . school supplies.
The box held several rulers, an eraser, a box of colored chalk, and two books. One was a hardback, Charles Dickens' Oliver Twist, and the other was a large, flexible book. Discipline for Dummies, a primer to help obtuse parents. She choked on a snort that became a full-throated laugh when she reached the item at the bottom. It was a quilted tote bag, the type of thing teachers carried, complete with felt appliques of an apple, the 2+2 equation, and a colorful stack of books next to the declaration "World's Best Teacher." Logan was reminding her this could be playful as well as serious.
While there was no obvious sexual purpose to the items, she recognized their potential after only a moment's reflection. Logan didn't miss details, and it was obvious he'd noticed the way Troy's eyes lit up at her librarian outfit. Maybe he'd asked Troy why that intrigued him, and the answer had resulted in this. Apparently, Troy had teacher fantasies. That could explain why Logan did so well as his training Master, given she herself had imagined him as a stern schoolmaster more than once. Mentor, friend . . . lover. Master.
"I think I'm falling in love with you."
She'd said it aloud, the words echoing in the quiet of the store. Her heart leaped into her throat, her brain telling her it was way too soon to feel that way. Way, way, way too soon. But it was okay. It was her secret. It didn't mean anything if she just said it to herself. Or to the store. Though it seemed to have a life of its own, it tended to keep secrets well.
Shaking her head at herself, Madison brought her mind back to the matter at hand. Wardrobe and props. She had plenty of blindfolds here and, as far as a teacher outfit, she had a plethora of options. He hadn't addressed her strap-on question, but she knew she wasn't going to do that. He probably knew it, too. She could let it rankle her, but remembering their near-argument, she decided to let it go. It was time to close up the store, go home and get dressed.
*
She prepared herself in Wonderland, the upstairs bedroom where Alice had kept her vast personal collection of role playing outfits and dress-up options. Sexy teacher was merely a modification of librarian, only Madison decided to make the skirt a little tighter and shorter, the blouse open an extra button to show more cleavage. After all, it was important to tempt her student into bad behavior. Inappropriate staring at the teacher's ass or down her blouse would certainly be grounds for punishment. She added the thick glasses, pulled her hair back up in a bun and slipped into the same sensible pumps.
Madison surveyed herself in the full length mirror with satisfaction. Maybe it was because she'd had to wear the same neutral business clothes every day at her former job as an investment manager in Boston. Now that she was letting herself play dress-up again, she was finding she really liked it, maybe even more than she had as a little girl, and she'd liked it a lot then. Logan apparently liked it when she played dress-up, too. When she thought about how he might like this outfit, she realized she was dressing for him as much as for Troy. Maybe more.
Alice's picture was stuck in the corner of the mirror's frame. It was one Madison had taken when they were at a Western bar out in Arizona. Her sister was grinning, her eyes dancing as she raised her beer in salute. Madison took it as a blessing on her night and smiled back.
"Here goes nothing. I bet you're laughing, thinking of me playing Mistress to some young, hot guy. And wishing you could be there to see it. I wish you could, too."
She switched off the light, then stopped. Pressing a kiss to her palm, she put it against the picture in the semidarkness, closing her eyes. "Love you, sis."
If she believed in some of the fantasy stories she'd read as a child, heaven was perhaps only on the other side of that mirror, and Alice was pressing her palm to hers there. She held an extra minute, just in case, and then she left the room, closing the door behind her.
On the way to the store, she listened to some of her favorite upbeat music selections, refusing to let herself get bogged down in anxieties or doubts. Logan had sent her a good message. She was going to have fun with this, damn it. She wasn't going to overthink it.
Letting herself in through the back, she headed toward Logan's special room. As she went through his furniture workshop and approached the open door, she saw he'd moved some of his finished pieces in there, arranged them in an inviting display so they were available to her, or adding to the ambiance, even if she didn't actually use them.
Three people waited for her. She'd kind of hoped Shale would change her mind about coming. Knowing that hadn't happened, her nervousness returned, showing just how close beneath the surface it rode. The Mistress would witness her missteps, have to intervene to keep her from causing Troy permanent harm.
No. She wasn't going to chicken out now. As an asset manager, she'd met her share of intimidating clients, proving within the first ten minutes she could handle their assets with care and beyond their expectations. She did it by not being afrai
d to ask questions and by showing sensible initiative. Troy's care was the priority. She'd want the Mistress to step in if necessary. Everyone understood she was new to this.
Bolstered by that thought, she stepped into the room. Troy was sitting on a stool, Shale resting comfortably between his spread knees, her backside propped against his thigh, her hand on his shoulder as she spoke to Logan. Troy had his hands on his own knees. It was clear he'd been commanded to keep his hands to himself. He was already blindfolded, a solid black eye mask probably intended for BDSM play, not a convenient scrap of cloth like a scarf. He wore jeans and shirt, but his feet were intriguingly bare, one curved around the bottom rung of the stool, the other braced between his Mistress's booted feet.
Shale was an attractive late-twenty-something with streaked blond hair and a good manicure. She wore snug jeans with the heeled boots and a V-neck rock band T-shirt, AC/DC. It wasn't the look Madison would have expected from a woman who wanted a customized cage built for her submissive. But when her gaze turned to Madison, she changed her mind. Logan had said he could tell Madison was a submissive. Seeing Shale and Logan standing so close together, Madison identified a similar sharp attentiveness to their expressions and a self-assured body language hard to ignore. She didn't expect they were all the same like that, but given the level of submissive Troy was, and the type of Master that Logan seemed to be, it made sense that such a close, trusted associate would share his stamp of interest or drive in the Dominant side of things.
Her attention was also caught by the body language between Troy and Shale. Their reunion early in the week had obviously been welcome and intense. Even now, blindfolded, the way Troy tilted his head and canted his body toward his Mistress, and how her hands barely left him for even a second before they were drawn back as if magnetized to the heat of his skin, told Madison how closely bonded they were. Despite her attempt to play dress-up and fun rock music to set a light mood, seeing that one significant thing, evidence of a Dom/sub relationship that was hitting all the right notes, set off an ache inside her.
"There she is." Logan straightened from where he'd been leaning against the workbench in a relaxed, conversational pose. "Right on time. Shale, this is Madison. Madison, Shale."