Spring Training

by Roz Lee

  Tomorrow, he probably wouldn’t be able to stand, but at the rate he was dying inside, it wouldn’t matter.

  His beautiful Brooke. So strong. So trusting.

  He didn’t deserve her, and he intended to tell her so—if they both lived through the night.

  “She’ll understand by night’s end,” Mistress Lola had promised, “or she’ll walk for good. Either way, you will both move forward.”

  Why did he listen to her? Frank and his methods had been a mistake, but this sadistic punishment was even beyond his mentor’s depravity.

  I’m sorry, Brooke, baby. Forgive me.

  Mistress Lola finally gathered the length of her whip in a loose loop, stepping away from her victim. Todd sighed with relief. Brooke’s back looked like she’d rolled in stinging nettles. Angry red lines crisscrossed her from shoulders to just above her ankles. As best as he could tell, there didn’t appear to be any broken skin, but it was a near thing. It would take weeks for the bruising to go away.

  He sniffed back tears nearly blinding him. Mistress Lola strode toward him, blocking his view of the woman he loved with every fiber of his being. The woman stopped inches in front of him.

  “Shh,” she said, cradling his head in her hands. Another step brought her leather-clad breasts up against his face. “She’s a fine slave, Sir.” Her voice was low, he was certain only he could hear her. She stroked his hair back from his forehead in a gesture so tender it seemed impossible it came from the same hand that had, moments before, inflicted such vicious punishment on another human being. “Her strength comes from you. Your submission only magnifies the love you have for her.”

  Another stroke along his brow, then she bent so her face was level with his. “Show her how much you love her, and I promise she’ll find what she’s looking for.”

  The woman spoke in riddles. He had no idea what the fuck she meant. Hadn’t he been showing Brooke how much he loved her all along? How could her strength come from him when he knew for certain he drew strength from her? And the only thing his submission magnified was his stupidity—his incompetence as a Dom. There was no other explanation for Brooke’s pain.

  “I know you want to stop this, but you trusted me enough to enter into tonight’s scene without a safe-word. Only Brooke can stop this, and if she hasn’t by now, she isn’t going to. That’s how much she loves you, Todd. She’ll do anything for you, even let a stranger tear her apart, literally and figuratively.” She cradled his confused head to her bosom once more before releasing him. “Remember that.”

  The beautiful woman he loved so much raised to her hands and knees without a sound. He couldn’t imagine how much that cost her when the pain must be eating her alive. Mistress Lola had reduced Brooke to the level of a household pet, but his slave bore the indignity with surprising strength.

  Pride surged through him, hot and wild like his Brooke. She had a spirit that couldn’t be broken. Isn’t that what he’d admired about her from the beginning?

  One painful step at a time, the two women disappeared behind him. He stared at the sweat and tears staining the floor where Brooke had lain. She needs water. Give her fluids before she becomes dehydrated. He screamed the thought, praying Mistress could read his mind, but he had his doubts as to whether she would listen to him at this point. The woman had her own agenda, and, in his stupidity, he’d given her free rein.

  When she commanded Brooke to drink, he thanked God the woman at least knew her stuff enough to read her sub’s needs and that she was humane enough to provide for them. She was a monster but one with a heart.

  The thought was somewhat comforting until she issued her next command. What. The. Fuck? The woman knew how to push his buttons. Anal play was way past his hard limits, but that hadn’t stopped her before. After the last time, he was sure the woman had received enough fun at the expense of his ass.

  You’re an asshole, Stevens.

  He sensed Brooke’s hesitation only to have it confirmed by a threat of more lashes with the whip if she didn’t comply.

  Then came Mistress’s command to wiggle his ass, to invite something that went against everything he was. Mistress Lola’s words came back to him. “Her strength comes from you. Your submission only magnifies the love you have for her.”

  He wiggled his ass, bent his knees so Brooke wouldn’t have to stretch to reach him. God, help me.

  It took more threats, but then Brooke did it. The touch of her tongue on his ass might as well have been a hot poker for the way it singed his insides. He shook, absorbing the unexpected pleasure.

  He recognized her hesitance and pushed into her moist caress. She grew bolder, much to his pride and humiliation. He liked it more than he would ever say. Seems there was nothing he wouldn’t find pleasurable if it was with Brooke.

  When she hesitated again, Mistress Lola intervened, playing each of them off the other’s weaknesses. His failure to understand submission—her shame at disappointing her Master. They were all his weaknesses. She’d only disappointed him because, in his stupidity, he’d put her in an impossible situation. All the failures in their relationship were his.

  “If you quit now, he’ll have no choice but to set you free.”

  Don’t quit, Brooke. Please, please, don’t quit. I don’t think I can live without you.

  Brooke’s hands stroked his ass cheeks—a caress he felt all the way to his heart as she contemplated her options. “Only Brooke can stop this, and if she hasn’t by now, she isn’t going to. That’s how much she loves you, Todd. She’ll do anything for you, even let a stranger tear her apart, literally and figuratively.”

  She was tearing Brooke apart.

  “Show her how much you love her, and she’ll find what’s she’s looking for.”

  It took every bit of courage he could muster to let his muscles relax, but as soon as she spread him again, he knew he’d done the right thing. He could feel her gaze centered on his most guarded gate.

  Kiss me, Brooke. Please, babe. Kiss me. I’m yours. Everything I am is yours.

  “Kiss him, slave. Show him how strong his love makes you.”

  Her tongue flicked over the tight bud once, twice. Then she pushed past the barrier, her lips closing around the puckered opening in a kiss so erotic, so carnal, so loving, her tongue stroked his heart.

  He’d been hard since the first touch of her tongue. As she loved him, he grew perilously close to the edge. If she didn’t stop soon, he would come, and God, he didn’t want to come that way. He never wanted to come again unless he was inside Brooke. He ached to sink his cock in her heated strength, to lose himself in her love for him.

  Stop, babe. Please stop.

  An angel heard his prayer. He let out a strangled growl as frustration mixed with relief sent blood rushing back to his brain. Then Mistress Lola was there, stroking his brow again, offering solace that would never be sufficient. There was only one thing that would quiet the turmoil inside him. Brooke.

  “Shh,” the woman said. “You’ll have her soon, sub. I promise.”

  Todd struggled against his restraints.

  “Save your strength, Sir.” She pointed at the floor. Todd looked down into the most serene face he’d ever seen. “Yes, she looks happy, doesn’t she?”

  How? What happened to her in the last few minutes? Lord, if kissing my ass makes her that happy, she can do it every day. Twice.

  “Tell him how much you love him.”

  Brooke looked at him, her eyes luminous. He’d seen that look before. She was high from the pain and the scene. “I love you, Master. More than anything.”

  I love you, too, Brooke. More than my own life.

  “Tell your Master what you will do for him, slave.”

  “Anything, Master. Serving you is the greatest pleasure of my life.”

  She meant it. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. I’ll do anything for you, too.

  “Come, slave.”

  Brooke followed Mistress Lola to a padded table across the
sparsely furnished room. After raising the back to a sitting position, she told Brooke to stand. “Undress me.”

  Oh, God. His heart slammed into his throat as Brooke worked the lacings on the other woman’s corset free. His slave was lovely, and if he was honest, the stripes still bright on her back made her even more beautiful because he knew the kind of strength it took to endure something so brutal. That she had, and came out on the other side looking happy, euphoric, amazed him.

  Stripped bare, Mistress Lola raised the stirrups on the end of the table. She settled herself on the edge then lifted her feet to the perches, exposing her pussy. Her pink petals glistened with arousal—arousal won at the expense of himself and Brooke. A flash of anger shot through him. With the whip still wrapped around his slave’s neck, the madam led Brooke to stand between her legs.

  No! Oh, God, no!

  Sex with women was a hard limit for Brooke. He’d attempted to convince her on numerous occasions to do it for him, but she’d always refused. As she stepped between Mistress Lola’s splayed thighs and lowered her head, he knew she’d truly turned a corner tonight.

  He balled his hands into fists, digging his fingernails into his palms in an effort to stave off the climax thwarted earlier. The need was back, raging with the force of tectonic plates shifting.

  He closed his eyes, shutting out the erotic scene. Think of something else. Anything. Alaska. Alabama. Arizona. No. Alabama. Alaska. Arizona. Naming the states in alphabetical order helped, but he could still hear the sounds coming from the other side of the room. Moans of pleasure, slurping, and, God help him, those little sounds like a sucker popping past puckered lips. He knew what those meant. He didn’t need sight in order to imagine Brooke’s luscious lips clamped around a clit, her smooth cheeks hollowed out as she applied suction to the tender nub.

  Mmmm, mmmmm. The vibration of his humming wasn’t much, but it dulled the incoming sounds just enough.

  This was his punishment for not calling Mistress Lola when he arrived home. He hadn’t touched Brooke in weeks, hadn’t allowed her to touch him the night before even though she’d offered to ease his suffering. He was paying for both decisions now.

  He ached. Every muscle in his body coiled tight, ready to launch him into the fiercest orgasm he’d ever experienced. He’d be damned if he experienced it alone. He was damned well going to be inside Brooke when he went off—even if he couldn’t last past the first thrust.

  Resolved, he tamped down his need, banked it. Colorado. No. Not right. California. That’s it. California. Colorado. Connecticut.

  No amount of humming, no amount of geography lessons could drown out Mistress Lola’s orgasm. The woman raised the rafters with her scream. No one was more grateful than he that it was over. Opening his eyes, he caught sight of Brooke placing soft kisses along the inside of Mistress Lola’s thigh. His slave stroked the other woman’s body, then one hand dipped low to cover the pussy she’d just pleasured. The gesture was both tender and loving. Brooke’s eyes were hooded, but her lips told the story. Pride. He’d seen that same smile when she gazed at one of her elaborate baked creations.

  He’d never been jealous of a cake, but if the sick feeling in his stomach was any indication, the green monster was alive and well.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Recovered from her orgasm, Mistress Lola tugged on the whip handle. Brooke leaned in. Their lips met. The monster roared inside him. There wasn’t a chance in hell he could break free from his restraints, but he tried anyway.

  “Cease!”

  Todd stilled in his frantic attempt to escape. He stared at the ruby-tipped breasts at his eye level.

  “I’m feeling generous, sub. I think you’ve learned your lesson, so I’m going to release you. However, you are still mine, and I’m not through with you or your little slave. Do you understand?”

  As soon as she released the gag, he growled through gritted teeth, “Yes.”

  “Very well.” She reached for the key hanging on the end of the stocks, well out of his reach, but close enough he’d dreamed of ways he might reach it.

  Free, he straightened, his gaze finding Brooke across the room. Her back was to him, hands clasped behind her bowed head. Her legs were spread wide—a stance he recognized. He often required her to stand thus when she was overly aroused to keep her from rubbing her legs together in an attempt to find satisfaction.

  “She needs me.”

  “Yes, she does.” His Mistress knelt to unlock the shackles around his ankles. When she was done, she stood to face him. “She’s wet and ready. When we talked earlier, she assured me no protection was necessary between the two of you. Is that true?”

  “Yes.” He would never believe Brooke had been with someone else during their time apart. “We’re both clean. She’s on the pill. She wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

  He caught her nod in his peripheral. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Brooke.

  “You both need a good fuck, but she isn’t going to be on her back for a while yet.” Days. Weeks, perhaps. “Give me a minute to get her into position. I’ll let you know when you can have her.” She took a few steps then stopped. Over her shoulder, she admonished, “Make it good for her, or you’ll answer to me.”

  She left him standing there, rubbing feeling back into his wrists to keep from grabbing the only part of his anatomy that wasn’t numb. He would have laughed had his need not been what it was. He probably wouldn’t last more than a few seconds. He hadn’t experienced an involuntary ejaculation since his adolescent days when he’d awakened often to wet sheets and soiled underwear.

  He’d never seen Brooke so compliant. She’d allowed Mistress Lola to touch her intimately without so much as a flinch to indicate her discomfort. It was disconcerting to think that at his age his body could still overrule his brain, but watching the woman he loved submit willingly to another woman had driven him past the edge of sanity.

  The woman guided her to bend over the same table as before. Giving her a pillow to hug to her chest, she adjusted Brooke’s breasts beneath her until the slave indicated she had found a comfortable position.

  With tender care he’d yet to receive from the madam, the woman applied lube to Brooke’s pussy. He thought he might go mad. Forbidden to touch what was his, he watched as another prepared Brooke as if she were a virgin sacrifice.

  Perhaps she was. The woman on the makeshift altar wasn’t the same one he arrived with tonight. She’d changed. Watching her accept the gentle ministrations of the other woman was proof enough. Her face turned toward him, her expression serene as Mistress Lola swept stray strands of pale blonde hair from her face. The Mistress leaned in, whispered something that brought a small smile to Brooke’s lips.

  Mistress Lola straightened. Crooking her fingers at him, she beckoned him closer. His cock led the way, pulling him toward the heaven waiting for him. The sadistic woman stepped between him and the only goal in his life at that moment.

  He snarled at her. “Out of my way.”

  She grabbed his dick, freezing him to the spot with the cold lube in her palm. “One second, stud. She’s wet, but you’re big. I won’t take any chances with her.”

  He appreciated her concern, but need clawed at him. “I’d never hurt her.”

  “Not on purpose.” Her hand swirled around, worked up and down his length. “This is just a precaution. Remember what I said. Make it good for her, or you’ll answer to me.” With that, she stepped back.

  There was nothing between him and Brooke’s pussy. He closed the distance, taking her hips in his hands. The head of his cock found her entrance. “Brooke, baby. I need you.”

  “Please, Master. Fuck me.”

  Forgetting about their audience, he silently counted to three before pushing inside her. He watched his length disappear inside her tight sheath one slow, torturous inch at a time. Sweat broke out on his brow. As his groin pressed against her striped ass, he let out a groan. It took everything he had to hold still, to let her adjust t
o him. Nearly two weeks had passed since he’d been inside her. He vowed then and there to never let that happen again.

  A few days, maybe, but weeks? Never again.

  “You okay, babe?”

  “Yes, Master.” She pushed back against him, taking him impossibly deeper. “Fuck me hard, please.”

  Hard. He could do that. Did you hear her, Mistress? She wants it hard.

  He hated to pull out of her, but prior experience told him the effort would be rewarded. His memory didn’t disappoint. She felt almost as good when he retreated as she did when he drove back into her hard enough his balls slapped her clit. He saw stars, but her voice proclaiming him a god was enough for him.

  She met him, thrust for thrust. Rising to brace herself on her forearms, she was everything he’d ever wanted—fearless, brave, sexy, submissive, but not without a sense of self. She gave herself completely to him, but there was more to their coupling. While she gave, she demanded he give to her in return. Her body spoke to his. “Give. Give me all you’ve got. Make me yours.”

  He answered her demands with unspoken ones of his own. Take me. Take all I am. You’re mine. I’m yours.

  Every stroke inside her was a homecoming. He knew the feel of her, knew the familiar scent of her that made his nostrils flare. He’d wear that scent on him forever if he could as a reminder she was his. He would mark her with his scent, so every male who came near her would know she was taken.

  “Fill me,” she begged, her soft lips imploring him over her slim shoulder. “Flood me, Master.”

  Fuck. He was going to flood her all right, but only if she milked it out of him. She would come first—he’d have it no other way. “Touch yourself, babe. Come for me.”

  The moment her fingers made contact with her clit, her body quaked. Pressing one palm into the small of her back, he held her hip steady with his other hand. He ground his pelvis against her ass and let her body take what it wanted from him.

  He bent over her, felled by the spasms wrenching cum from his dick. She gave everything. She took everything.