by Joey W. Hill
Shale extended a hand and Madison met it with a firm grip. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you . . . for agreeing to do this."
She wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say, but apparently she didn't commit any faux pas, because Shale smiled. Her gaze swept Madison, a quick assessment. "He was a little too eager to do this, which earned him a healthy punishment. I expect that's my reward for agreeing to it."
She flicked Troy's ear with her long nails, and he tilted his head in deference to her, a faint smile on his face. He kept his head bowed, obviously ordered not to speak.
"Any particular setup you need, Madison?" This from Logan, all warm and neutral courtesy. "We're here to observe and help you with props. We'll intervene if you go into unhealthy territory, but don't take that as a slap down. I know you don't want to hurt Troy from a misstep."
"Definitely." While all the equipment was rather exciting, what she wanted was fairly simple. "Those old timey wooden chairs you have in the store. The ones for children? Can they take a man's weight?"
"They're built to double as footstools, so yeah. You need one?"
"Two, please."
"All right." He strode from the room, leaving her there with Shale. She needn't have worried about an empty silence.
"What should Troy call you tonight?" the woman asked.
"Miss Fine."
Shale glanced over her outfit, taking in the bag when Madison lifted it for her inspection. She grinned, a conspiratorial gesture that made Madison feel less anxious. Somewhat. "Very appropriate."
"Troy, I'm dropping you off at school." The woman's tone changed. Charged with authority, it made Madison wonder if Shale was a cop, because she had an immediate vision of her asking a tipsy motorist to walk a straight line. "You'll behave for Miss Fine. I don't want to get any more bad reports. Answer me."
"Yes, ma'am." When Troy swallowed, Madison enjoyed a prick of pure anticipation. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her bag.
Slipping her hand off Troy's shoulder, Shale drew Madison a few steps away, dropping her tone to a whisper. "Logan said you know Troy's safe word. He's got a fairly high tolerance for pain, if you warm him up enough first. He strained his right shoulder the other day, helping Logan unload a truck, so if you're going to cuff him, no extreme angles or stress."
Madison nodded. "I really don't want to hurt him," she said. "So please don't hesitate to interrupt if I do anything wrong."
Shale's eyes warmed in approval, even as she gave Madison a look she knew all too well from Logan. "Don't worry. I won't."
The Mistress moved back to her sub. Her fingers slipped over Troy's ear, to his neck, and then down to rest on the right shoulder, testing the tautness there. "Too bad we went ahead and took your cage home," Shale said. "I could have put you in it until Miss Fine was ready to play with you."
Though Troy kept his eyes down, Madison saw his fingers press into his knees, the restless shift of his body. She imagined Shale commanding him to bring his naked body flush up against the bars, push his cock between them so she could grip it, perhaps even bind it there while she tormented it in various ways. Madison took a steadying breath, wondering if Shale might consider sharing webcam footage. Not likely.
She thought of herself in that cage, Logan stroking her body through the bars, sliding her forward and then putting clamps and a connecting chain on her nipples on the outside to hold her there in a similar way. She imagined waiting on him to release her, let her out to play . . .
"Here you go." Logan had returned, holding the two small wooden chairs in his large hands. "Where do you want them?"
"Center of the floor, please. Thank you." Madison looked toward Shale. "Are you okay with us getting started?"
"Yes. No need for excess chitchat before a scene, especially when your mind's already getting into it." Shale glanced toward Logan. "Can we spotlight the chairs, put everything else in shadows, including you and me? It's hard to concentrate the first time, when there are a lot of distractions. I think she'll do better if it feels like it's just the two of them, right?"
Wow. She was really starting to like this woman. Shale had made it clear that Troy was hers with that I won't hesitate remark, but she was facilitating, helping Madison to be more comfortable. Which was sensible because, with fewer distractions, Madison was more likely to focus on doing the right thing, building the rapport with Troy. She wouldn't be as self-conscious and awkward, a less-than-optimal situation for everyone. Veronica's Master had proven that all Doms weren't so professional and intuitive, but Logan wouldn't expose her to someone he didn't trust just as much as himself in such a scenario.
"I think it's time to let Troy have a look at you," Shale said. "To help him center as well. What do you think, Miss Fine?"
"It's only a minute until the bell rings," Madison nodded, warming up to it. "It's time for him to get to class."
Logan had dimmed the lights as Shale suggested, and was in the shadows by the workbench, though Madison felt his attentive gaze. She didn't look toward him, not sure what expression she would see, but feeling it might unsettle her, whatever it was, right before she reached out to interact sexually with another male. As it was, she had to swallow a couple times, take a steadying breath.
Shale stepped behind Troy, loosened the blindfold. "You're now Miss Fine's, Troy. You obey her as you would obey me." With a mischievous twinkle to her eye, blended with a great deal of terrifying Mistress, she brushed her mouth on the back of his neck. "Play nice."
She stepped back to join Logan in the shadows.
Now Madison was in a world of her own creation, with a male waiting to do her bidding. Troy lifted his head.
As he raised his gaze all the way to her face, he covered the terrain starting from her feet. The look in his eyes was different from what she'd seen, even with Logan. It was vibrant, strong. She knew intuitively he wanted to stand up, move toward her, and only a thin veneer of self-restraint held him back. He'd test her, she realized with surprise, make his submission a challenge. Not bratting, not like Logan had described. Troy was just underscoring he was an individual, a male individual, and she'd have to earn his submission.
Anyone who thought a male submissive turned in his man card had never been on the receiving end of such a look. Wow. She suspected this was a taste of what Shale felt every time she met those absorbing cerulean eyes, full of power and strength, life. In turn, she experienced a flood of her own power, fueled by how much he wanted her to meet the challenge, how much he wanted the fantasy she could give him, where he'd be held back by her slightest desire or command. The fact this was definitely Troy's choice, not some sick manipulation like what was between Veronica and her Master, made it even more potent.
"Troy, the bell has rung. Why aren't you in your seat?" She pointed to one of the two chairs Logan had left.
Troy moved to it obediently, even as he gave her a sidelong second look, lingering on the curve of her hips in the tight skirt, the deep plunge the button-down blouse revealed. She could tell he was straining his eyes to see the lace edge of her push-up bra. His gaze also hitched over the wooden ruler she'd withdrawn from her bag and held in one hand. When he took a seat in the small chair, his knees came up to his chest, and he had to balance himself carefully on the seat meant for a six-year-old.
Now it was her turn to take pleasure in his choice of outfit. Likely selected by his Mistress, his incredibly snug black T-shirt defined the lean strength of his gorgeous upper body, including the bare curves of biceps. The dark blue jeans he wore rode low on his hips, but they weren't baggy. The shirt was tucked in so she could follow the trim musculature of his waist to the belted waistband. Until he sat down, she could slide her gaze over the impressive imprint of an aroused cock beneath the denim, but his bent knee position compensated her for the loss of that view with the curve of his buttocks flattened into the chair, the long lengths of his thighs folded up to accommodate the awkward seating.
His full attention still rested on
her, and when she met that look this time, she knew the course she'd take.
Before this moment, Madison had had some vague ideas of what she might do, but Shale had been right. Setting the stage helped. She and Alice had done all sorts of skits growing up, impromptu things just for the two of them, and now that flair for drama kicked in.
Crossing her arms over her breasts, she gave him a critical perusal, sweeping her gaze over him from head to toe. Making a tsking noise, she stalked around him, viewing him from every delicious angle. "That shirt is far too tight, Troy," she said abruptly. "It's against school regulations, and you know it. Take it off."
The soft female chuckle from the shadows was a bolstering vote of confidence. "Keep your eyes on the floor," Madison snapped at him. "You're not allowed to ogle the teacher."
"Your skirt isn't regulation, either, Miss Fine," Troy said in a smug drawl. Those blue eyes sparkled at her beneath the fall of hair over his brow. "Just sayin'. Not complaining. Ma'am."
Madison sighed, her lips thinning. "You have impulse control problems, like all naughty boys. We'll have to take care of that. Shirt off," she repeated sternly.
He rose to comply, pulling it over his head and treating her to a gorgeous display of muscles rippling, though she did notice a slight hesitation on the right side, just as Shale had mentioned.
"Over there, at the whipping bench. Bend over it, put your hands on the posts, and don't let go of them."
It was the piece of equipment with the simplest setup, meaning she was least likely to misuse it. As he rose to comply, she returned to her teacher bag.
She'd added a few other things, including a pack of colored construction paper and scissors. As he put his hands on the posts, turning his back to her, she cut off a few inch-wide strips. She could feel Shale's interested attention, and somewhere close to her, a dense energy field that was Logan. Moving to Troy, Madison wrapped a strip around each of his wrists and the adjacent posts, holding him to them with the type of paper cuffs they made in school to decorate Christmas trees.
He still had his eyes down, but he moved a finger, a small caress of her wrist. If she were Shale, he'd be doing it to earn more punishment, but since her hands had trembled a little as she affixed the strips, she had a feeling he was sending her a reassuring message. It helped settle the butterflies--her underlying anxiety that she might truly misstep and harm a friend--a little further.
Acknowledging the message, she let her hand slide over his shoulder and down the curve of his bare back. The jeans were low enough they showed the brand his Mistress had put upon him, the S initial in the small of his back. Madison traced a heart around it, a silent message and accord, one that she saw made Troy's lips curve in a wistful smile, even as his skin shivered under her touch.
She stepped back, returned to her role. "Now, if you flinch during your punishment and break the paper cuffs, you'll double the punishment. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Miss Fine."
Once behind him again, she let out another sigh. "I see your jeans are a violation of regulation as well. Below your hip bones. I can practically see the crack of your ass. What are you wearing under these, Troy? Absolutely nothing, am I correct?"
He nodded. She didn't think, just reacted, slapping him across the broadest part of his bare back with the wooden ruler. He jumped, not expecting the sting, and one of the cuffs ripped. He froze.
At the look in Troy's eyes, Madison felt a surge of something . . . she couldn't really describe it. Triumph, pleasure. He was genuinely dismayed at messing up so early, when he expected so much from himself, but right on the heels of that, she saw an anticipatory spark in his gaze, anticipating what she might do as a result. It was a heady duality. She wondered what she might do in his place, what punishment she would earn from Logan.
She pushed that away. "You don't nod or shake your head to me. Use your words."
"Yes, Miss Fine."
"Open your jeans with your one free hand, push them down. In fact, take them off. You better not break the other cuff while you're doing it."
Though he was already barefoot, it didn't make the task much easier, requiring a lot of careful movement, which she enjoyed thoroughly. The first time Logan had invited her to a session with Troy, Madison had seen him naked--hell, she'd been tied fully clothed against him--but with his Mistress present, Madison was surprised at how she hadn't hesitated to demand he strip. But it wasn't the first time she'd been startled by how easy it was for her to become a part of this world.
Seeing Troy strip was a gift that never lost its luster. Aware of the gleam of Shale's eyes in the darkness, she had a feeling she wasn't alone in that, and Shale had had the privilege of seeing him naked far more often. The shift of those muscular haunches, the pale marble smoothness that made the fingers itch to touch, the ripple of musculature pretty much everywhere as he stretched with unconscious male grace, held Madison rapt until he was done.
Pulling herself out of that, she stepped forward. She trailed her hand down his back again, over that red mark she'd made. Then lower, to the upper rise of his buttocks. Touching him intimately like this, when he was bound by her words and will, not able to interfere or reciprocate until she commanded it, was yet another exotic land. She let her knuckles glide over one cheek, smiling when he shivered, proving he was ticklish. It also made him flex those superior gluteus maximus muscles. She thought of him pushing into Shale, her legs locked over him as she ordered him to fuck her deeper, harder . . .
During their movie night, she'd begged to go down on Logan, seeking the deep contentment that had come from that. How she'd wanted him to press her into her mattress, spread her legs and claim her fully, tangling his hands in her hair, eyes pinning her to the bed as much as his body . . .
She brought herself back to the present again, realizing her hand had stilled. "What am I going to do with you?" She wasn't sure if she was talking to herself or Troy.
Returning to the tote bag, she withdrew the two books, the rigid Oliver Twist, the flexible Discipline for Dummies. As she stepped back up behind him, she tried a couple experimental smacks with the hardback. If she came up at an angle, it gave even Troy's tight ass a nice recoil wobble. But she found the ruler easier to handle, so she set the books aside and gave him another whack with it, this time across the point of his buttocks. Though he twitched from the blow, he held still, working so hard to obey. His head was bent, exposing the tender nape. She flicked the ruler over it, teasing his hair.
"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.
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.