by Brandi Evans
He puffed his chest out with masculine pride. Genny Malek thought he was, not just hot, but seriously hot. There were indeed worse things for a man’s ego.
“And, just so ya know,” he said, “the teacher’s aide was pretty fine, too.”
“Aw shucks.” She drew the words out and batted her eyelashes in a cartoonish over exaggeration, and it was fucking adorable.
“Quite possibly too hot for my own good,” he said before taking her mouth in a kiss which went critical in no-time flat.
Desperate for more contact, he pressed her against the locker. Genny locked her arms around his neck and practically climbed his body until he was in the worst place in the world for maintaining any form of rational thought.
Between her legs.
She locked her legs around his waist and worked her pussy against his rapidly hardening cock. The desperation in her frantic movements reflected his own, intensifying their grinding movements. They were practically fucking with their clothes on.
The lockers rumbled and shook under their assault. It sounded as if a thunderstorm raged within the walls, which, unfortunately, had drawn someone’s attention.
The locker room door flew open, and with Genny in his arms, Carter ducked out of sight seconds before Brock stepped inside. The man looked downright panicked.
“Hello?” Brock called.
“I got this,” Genny whispered barely loud enough for Carter to hear.
He nodded, but as he lowered her to her feet, he whispered, “This isn’t over.”
A half-smile tugging at her kiss-swollen lips, she stepped from their hidey-hole. “Hey, Boss.”
“Hey, Boss? Is that all you’ve got to say? It sounded like an entire row of lockers fell. I was praying no one was pinned underneath them.”
“No, no. Nothing like that.” She looked at her hands and then held them up for Brock to see. “I got some bad news via text and may or may not have taken out my frustration on the lockers. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Not so much now.”
Concern played over the other man’s face, and he dropped a hand onto Genny’s shoulder. Jealousy stabbed through Carter at the sight of another man touching her, even as he knew how misplaced his jealousy was. He had nothing to worry about where Brock was concerned. Brock was head-over-heels for Vivian; he’d never, in a million years, make the moves on Genny. Yet there it was anyway—fucking jealousy.
This was a new one for Carter; he was getting in too deep here.
“Locker punching equals seriously bad news,” Brock said. “You gonna be okay?”
She nodded. “I’ll deal, Boss. You know me.”
“Yeah, I do, which is what has me worried. It’s not good to hold all that negative inside you.”
Carter bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Vivian had learned how to throw her voice. Deepen it, too.
“Is that Viv talkin’?” she asked, humor playing through her voice.
Brock laughed and started backing toward the door. “She may have mentioned you a time or twelve.”
“I hope that’s not a bad thing.”
“Not at all. She likes you and wanted me to remind you she’s here if you need to talk.”
“I know. And I promise I’ll call her if I ever need her.”
“You’d better.” Brock gave one last smile and disappeared out the door.
Genny turned to Carter. He had to force himself to only take one step toward her, which was a gargantuan task considering he wanted to run to her, strip her down, and fuck her against the lockers right here and now.
Christ.
Getting his emotions under control when he was around her was paramount, not just for him as a man, but for him as a Dom.
“Did you really get some bad news?” he asked. “Is that what had you punching lockers.”
She looked at the ground, not answering, which was a clear answer.
He took two more steps toward her, close enough to touch while keeping distance between their bodies, and touched her face. “I know Vivian’s already offered, but would you like to talk about it? With me, in case that wasn’t clear.”
She rolled her eyes, a smile toying with the edges of her lips. “Class starts in less than an hour, and I still need to get dressed. Besides, I’d need about four days if you wanted to know every fucked-up detail.”
“Four days. Got it. I’ll clear my schedule.”
She laughed, but the sound immediately died. “Holy crap. You were serious, weren’t you?”
“Like a loaded Glock.”
She stared him down, her right hand coming to rest at her suprasternal notch—the hollow area between the breastbone and the Adam’s apple—a sure sign she was experiencing emotional discomfort of some sort. He was pushing more than her sexual limits.
Cracking her exterior might be the hardest challenge he’d ever undertaken.
“We’ll talk more after class, okay?” He dropped his hand. Pushing further would only show diminishing returns. He’d let time and his offer soften her, but after class, she would be his.
One way or the other, he was claiming Genny tonight; he just hoped she didn’t claim him in return.
Raven had seen Carter in his leathers hundreds of times, and yes, she’d thought him hot every time. What warm-blooded, straight gal wouldn’t be seriously sporting a female hard-on in the presence of all his muscled perfection? Tonight, however, seeing him decked out in full Dom gear—
Fuck.
Carter stood with his back to her, setting out the same assortment of sex toys, whips, floggers, and such he’d laid out last week. The way his tank played over his shoulder blades as he moved was hypnotic. He drew her in until, finally, she stood at arm’s length.
Softly at first, she traced her index finger along the trapezius muscle, where it flexed over his scapula. The feel of the tissue as it flexed made her shiver, and fuck sanity, she wanted more.
Flattening her palm, she swallowed the groan trying to break free.
A shiver played through his words. “Keep touching me like that, and class will be starting late today.”
“I don’t care.” The feel of the soft T-shirt over the hard muscle mesmerized her. “Stopping isn’t in my wheelhouse at the moment, Sir.”
Like last time, music played in the background. The beat worked its way into her very being, and she rolled her hips to match the driving rhythm. The move was instinctual, without conscious thought.
And the sexy vixen sang about a place in the middle of nowhere, big black horses, and cherry trees. Raven wished she was in the middle of nowhere with Carter.
Stepping closer still, she replaced her fingertips with her lips. Without warning, Carter spun around, grabbed her by the wrists, and pinned her against the wall before she realized they’d moved.
“Do you want me to cancel tonight’s class?” he asked. “Is that what this is about?”
She shook her head. “No, Sir. I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you did. I just wanted to touch you.”
A cat-that-ate-the-canary grin curled his lips, and she waded back through her last comment, trying to figure out what she’d said to elicit such a pleasure-rich response, because, damn, she wanted to do it again. The bit about wanting to touch him? Possibly. He may be a big, strapping Dom, but—
Sir.
She’d fucking called him Sir. No thought. No instruction. The word had merely slipped out.
“You just figured it out,” he said, amusement in his words. “What you said? Twice actually, in about a two-minute span.”
“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “Sir.”
He practically growled as he took her lips in a hard, libido-ramping kiss, never releasing her hands, but he pulled back all too soon.
Carter looked a question at her. “Is Maddox covering your shift tonight? Or do you have to work after this? Fuck it. It doesn’t matter. Maddox will cover your shift. I’ll make the call right now. Because, Genny…” Another quick kiss. “The
things I’m going to do to you when class is over will make your head spin.”
Without giving her even half a second to process his words, he spun her around, trapped her hands behind her back like she was some common criminal, and walked her back to the table. Her heart beat an irregular rhythm against her ribcage, but she wasn’t sure whether it was his actions or the table of toys which produced the adrenaline-effect on her body.
He was so forceful without crossing into violent. And his breath on her neck—she shivered. Her body was one fucking goose bump, so when he grabbed the handcuffs, with their black lining, she was ready to jump out of her skin.
Oh fuck.
This was happening.
Last class, terror had been her predominant emotion, but tonight, fear was an aphrodisiac to her lust. She wasn’t sure how to handle such contrasting feelings—or what it meant. She was a bundle of raw nerves.
This class would be different, and they both knew it.
He turned her to him and slipped the cuffs on her, her hands in front. He’d moved so quickly his lips had barely left her neck before he was kissing her again, in the calming, enraging way he excelled at.
More strategic kisses?
Last time, he’d linked kisses with pleasure and rewards. Now, they felt more like simple distractions, a way of keeping her anxiety level low.
She turned her palms toward him as best she could and palmed his cock. Thanks to the cuffs, the angle was awkward, but she didn’t let it stop her. She pushed forward on her tiptoes to increase the contact. The repositioning didn’t help much, but if the groan sliding from his mouth to hers was any indication, he appreciated her effort.
Fingers digging into her hips, he pulled her harder into him. “I’m going to fuck you so hard later. Just so ya know.” His words were a whispered temptation against her lips, an underlying tenderness in his voice which should be impossible considering the bluntness of the words themselves.
“Thanks for the warning, Sir.”
A knock sounded against the door, and he rested his forehead against hers. “Looks like our time’s up.”
“For now.”
Grinning, he retook her mouth, and when he pulled back, she was breathless and needy. He’d done that on purpose. No doubt about it. Damn him. She already wanted him. Kissing her stupid was just overkill.
Carter’s heart wasn’t in the class; he was too distracted by the need to drive his dick deep into Raven and never look back.
No, not Raven.
Genny.
He tugged on the line he’d hooked to the central chain of her handcuffs and raised her arms above her head. He stopped when her elbows were locked almost straight above her. He wanted her able to move her feet freely—but within limits.
“The cuffs’re lined,” he said, “so don’t feel like you need to hold your arms up the entire time. Let your arms go slack, and if it starts to hurt, simply let me know.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Her use of Sir was still a jolt straight to his cock. Would he ever stop getting turned on by the word rolling off her tongue?
“Do you remember your safeword?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir. Red.”
“Very good.”
Smoothing her hair before cupping her cheeks, he brushed the softest of kisses across her lips before stepping back. Her outfit was similar to last week’s, only the color of her corset had changed. This one was a deep, shimmering purple which made him think of deep telemetry space photos; it was such a striking contrast to her orange-brown eyes and damn near came close to matching her violet highlights. Of course, he’d rather she be bound and completely naked, but this was a start.
He turned to his class. Brock, Steel, and Ewan had returned, as well as the six new Doms. Two more regulars had joined the ranks, Master Kyle and Master Stephen.
Master Stephen Phillips was Restrained Fantasies’ other co-owner. Wow, both club owners had come to watch? No pressure.
“Welcome back to Reading Your Sub. Last week, we began with the Ten Commandments for observing and decoding nonverbal communications. Tonight, however, we’re going to dig deeper, into the hows and whys of nonverbal communication. What, for example, makes the eyes widen when we’re shocked? Simple, the brain.” He took a step forward. “I want you to imagine your brain divided into three different subbrains, and for simplicity, let’s refer to those subbrains simply as the reptilian brain, the limbic brain, and the neocortex. For this class, however, we’re going to focus mainly on the limbic system.”
He went to the toy table and looked over his options for this demonstration. Ah, the riding crop. Perfect! Playful but not too terribly intimidating for a newbie. And, if he played this right, everyone would learn a little something.
The class would learn the role the limbic system played in their reactions and how to recognize those responses in their subs. He’d learn how Genny felt about the use of the riding crop. And she’d get a glimpse of the burgeoning submissive inside her. Hopefully, anyway.
Good times.
“The limbic brain,” he continued, “unlike the neocortex, can’t tell lies. We use our neocortex for analyzing situations, for art, for decoding body language, and concocting lies, which is why it’s known as the lying brain. The limbic brain, however, is entirely reflexive, and as such, shows only honest responses to stimuli. It’s our emotional center. Observe…”
He rubbed the soft, flat end of the crop along Genny’s cheek. Her eyes instantly widened, her eyebrows arched, and her pupils dilated, all responses which worked to create what was known as flashbulb eyes.
Flashbulb eyes relayed surprise, fear, or anger, but in this context, he was leaning more toward surprise. None of the other telltale anger expressions were there, and neither was fear. Her bottom lip was stone steady.
As much as he’d like to linger here and explore Raven’s sudden interest, he had a demonstration he needed to make. “Tell me you want me to beat you with this until you’re bloody,” he said to Genny. “Tell me you don’t want me to stop even if you beg me to. Tell me now.”
Quick as lightning streaking across the sky, her expression darkened. She sucked in a deep breath and turned toward the door, her toes turning to point the direction he could tell she suddenly wanted to run. Oh, and there went her lower lip trembling.
Her fingers tightened around the chains holding her in place until her knuckles went white, but like the good little sub she was turning out to be, she repeated his words back. Every syllable trembled, so much so it should be evident to anyone with half a functioning brain she was, at the very least, uncomfortable with the words she was forced to utter. At worst, she was fucking terrified.
Laughter fluttered around the room. Good to know his assumption had been right on.
Carter turned his head and smiled at his class. “I’m guessing the laughter’s over the fact my lovely sub was obviously lying her lovely ass off.”
“Only a whole lot,” Master Stephen called.
Carter lowered the crop and turned to the audience. “As a species, we and our limbic system have developed and retained three visceral, physical reactions from our animal heritage: freeze, fight, and flight, and my beautiful sub displayed two of these three in response to my demand. And given the way she turned and pointed her feet to the nearest exit, I’m pretty sure flight was on her mind. Isn’t that right, sub?”
“Yes, Sir.” A smile played on her sexy lips.
“Freeze, flight, and fight, they’re instinctual reactions which have helped our species survive. Freezing in the presence of a predator so as not to draw attention is a prime example of freeze in action. Just ask any soldier on the battlefield. When your point man freezes, you freeze. Boom. Instinct. We can’t control that shit. We freeze while our brain preps the body for what’s about to happen next. This same instinct bleeds over into our everyday lives, too. It’s just a bit subtler. When my sub was lying about wanting to be whipped, did you notice how utterly still she’d become?”
“When the brain determines freeze isn’t adequate, it’s next course of action is often flight. In other words, getting the hell outta there and putting distance between them and the threat. Sometimes, putting distance between yourself and the threat isn’t as obvious as running. Often, you’ll see others employ what are known as blocking behaviors. Turning away from whatever has made them uncomfortable, closing their eyes, rubbing their eyes, placing their hands in front of their face, leaning away. These are all blocking behaviors. Always be on the lookout for blocking behaviors.”
He returned the crop to the table and took the whip. His whip was made from kangaroo hide, and he’d fashioned it himself. Every painstaking step, every braid was created by his hand. The leather and lethal-looking metalwork on the handle was a point of personal pride. Although he didn’t often use it in a club setting, preferring floggers and riding crops and instruments packing less lethality, he knew the emotional reaction it caused in experienced subs. But in a new, inexperienced sub like Genny, it should be magnified, which would give him plenty of tells to point out.
She didn’t disappoint. Without him having to lift the whip, let alone crack it, she sprang into action. She leaped back as far as her restraints would allow and turned her body to the side, making herself a smaller target. But almost as suddenly, freeze and flight behaviors turned to fight.
Her pupils dilated, and her shoulders steadied, as if preparing for a fight. She puffed out her chest. She was readying herself for a confrontation.
Shit. He’d pushed too far.
He dropped the whip and held his hands up in surrender. He didn’t move toward her. He didn’t want her to think he was invading her personal space or attacking back.