Shea shook her head decisively. “No, nothing like that. Never. I guess my involvement to this point is more academic. I did some research online and I’ve read some books.”
“But it goes deeper than that, surely, or you wouldn’t be here,” Steve said.
“Yes,” Shea whispered.
Now they were getting somewhere. “Say you’re masturbating,” Zach said. “Tell us about your favorite sexual fantasies—the ones that make you come the hardest?”
The earlier blush had faded, but now returned with a vengeance. The girl would have made a terrible poker player. “My sexual fantasies when I masturbate?” she squeaked.
“Yes. That’s what I said. It’s okay, Shea. You’re among friends here. You can trust us, I promise. We just want—we need to understand what makes you tick, you see? What moves you, what excites you, what frightens you. It’s important underlying information to help us tailor a training package for you. All we want from you is honesty. There is no set script or right answer. Don’t try to censor yourself or make it sound pretty. Just tell us the real, dark, gut-honest truth. What gets you going, Shea? What makes you come?”
She related an almost vanilla scenario of a fantastically handsome guy ordering her to strip in front of him so he could give her a slow, sensual spanking. Zach, who knew women, especially submissive women, doubted such a tame fantasy was all it took to get Shea off.
Steve, apparently on the same page, interrupted Shea as she was getting to the happily-ever-after part. “That’s fine,” he said. “Now tell us the real fantasy. The dark, dirty, gritty story that roars through your head like a freight train when you’re alone at night in the dark, with no one around to judge or criticize. What is it that makes your heart pound and your cunt pulse?”
Shea’s right hand appeared from behind her back and fluttered up to cover her mouth.
“Back in position,” Steve snapped.
Shea obeyed, dropping her hand and reaching once more behind her back.
“Come on, Shea,” Zach encouraged. “You know he’s right. If you want to get anything out of this training, rigorous honesty is absolutely essential. Remember, we don’t judge you. We’re the same as you. We have the same buttons, just in reverse.”
“Okay,” she said at last. “Okay. I’ll tell you.” She drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Looking down at the ground, she began to speak, her voice so low Steve and Zach both leaned forward to hear her better.
“I get home from work, and when I open the door, there’s this stranger inside my apartment. It’s dark and I can’t see his face. He slams me against the wall, and when I start to scream, he slaps me across the face and then clamps his hand hard over my mouth. He brings his other hand up to my throat and he grips hard, so hard that I can’t even take a breath. I’m terrified and my heart is pounding out of my chest.
“‘I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth.’ he says. ‘You better not make a sound.’ I nod”—she looks up at them—”I mean, what else can I do? He’s big and strong and in control.”
“Go on,” Zach urged softly, his cock responding to her words.
“He throws me down to the floor and rips off all my clothes,” Shea continued. “While I lie there naked and terrified, he pulls off his shirt and jeans. He’s got big muscles and his cock is huge.” Shea began to blush again, but her eyes were bright, her nipples poking against her silky top.
Ducking her head, she continued, “Sometimes he makes me suck his cock. He straddles my chest and rams his shaft down my throat, gagging me with it. Or sometimes he just forces himself between my legs and he-he—” She was suddenly breathless, apparently unable to continue. She looked up at them again, her expression beseeching.
“He claims you,” Steve supplied in what Zach thought of as his calm sadist’s voice. “Without mercy or concern for your pleasure.”
“Yes,” Shea breathed, her eyes shining. “Yes.”
“Take off your clothing, Shea,” Steve said, still in calm sadist mode. “Start with your top, and then your bra.”
“What?” Shea squeaked.
“You didn’t hear me?”
She didn’t answer. She had come out of position again, her arms now wrapped around her torso.
“Come on, Shea,” Zach soothed. “Surely you understood you would be asked to take off your clothes?”
“Yes, I know. But, if it’s okay, I’d rather take off my skirt first.”
Zach shook his head. If he’d misread her, and she was just a wannabe, it was better to find out now. “No, Shea. In this dungeon, you will obey our commands. You don’t negotiate. Do as Steve says. Now.”
Shea swallowed visibly, a war of emotions moving over her face. Tears actually sprang to her eyes and Zach felt sorry for her, though he didn’t understand what exactly was wrong.
Finally, slowly, she reached for the hem of her top with trembling fingers.
~*~
Shea silently cursed both herself and the two men staring up at her with those complacent, smug expressions. Why had she worn this stupid skirt? It made her look fat. No—strike that—she was fat. She was a roly-poly fat piglet and now they were going to see the truth and then they would send her away.
If only she could have taken off the skirt first so there would be no bunching at the waist. Then she would have removed her bra, executing that particularly feminine maneuver of unhooking and pulling the bra through an armhole. If she had been the one in control, she could have distracted them.
Even as these tortured thoughts skittered through her mind on little rats’ feet, she knew they were ridiculous. These guys were pros. Many of the women she’d seen at the BDSM club had been overweight, even more than she was. None of them had appeared the slightest bit self-conscious, dressed in tight-fitting leather or nothing at all.
Grabbing onto the strength of those women, Shea hauled herself back to a more rational place. It was exciting, even thrilling to be in a BDSM dungeon. She was no longer simply reading about it in books or watching it on the Internet or fantasizing about it alone in her bed.
She was with two bona fide Doms, both of whom were actually interested in training her. Instead of worrying about superficial things like her appearance, she would focus on behaving with as much poise as she could muster, even if it was just an act.
Shea pulled her top over her torso and head, sucking in her stomach as much as she could in the process. She couldn’t quite meet the eyes of the two men watching her, but she could feel the burn of their intense gazes.
She dropped the shirt to the floor and reached back to unclasp the pretty pink lace bra she had worn “just in case.” At least she looked good in that.
“Sweet,” Zach said, drawing out the word with apparently sincere appreciation as Shea’s large breasts bounced free of their confines.
“Beautiful,” breathed Steve. “You have lovely breasts, Shea.”
In spite of her nervousness, Shea smiled, warmth moving through her at their reactions.
“Now the skirt,” said Zach. “And your panties.”
Shea’s mouth was dry. She licked her lips, her eyes flickering over the two men. They were both leaning back against the sofa, their legs spread in a relaxed pose, each sporting the bulge of an erection. The evidence of their arousal made her at once anxious and excited. At least they weren’t bored or turned off.
Zach was smiling at her, his eyes hooded. Steve was staring at her with a disconcerting intensity that made her look away.
Keeping her eyes on Zach, Shea hooked her fingers into the elastic waist of her skirt and drew it down her legs. Kicking it away, she reached for her panties, her heart pounding a mile a minute. She pulled the lacey spandex fabric from her hips and let it slither down her legs.
Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, I’m naked. I’m naked in front of two men. Oh my god. What if I did it wrong? What if I look stupid?
She had done something in preparation for going to the club that she had never done in
her life. It wasn’t that she had planned for anyone to see—it was more that she thought, based on her research, it would put her in a better mindset, a submissive mindset, whatever that was.
She had bought a special emollient shaving cream made just for the bikini area and, first using scissors to remove the curls, and then a fresh razor, she had carefully denuded herself in the bathtub.
As she had examined herself in the mirror afterward, she had found the results startling. The cleft of her pussy was small, the outer labia framing it like a little pouch on either side. She had stroked her fingers along the smooth skin and then slipped them in between, surprised to find how wet and ready she was.
Still damp from her bath, she had lain on her bed and masturbated without even turning off the light. Without the overlay of pubic hair, the orgasm had been more intense, her fantasies fueled by her flying fingers, which became the fingers of her lover, her captor, her owner.
“Drop your hands to your sides and stand tall,” Steve said, jerking her from her brief reverie.
Shea hadn’t realized she had clasped her hands together in front of her torso, just below her breasts. She forced her fingers to release each other and let her arms fall to her sides. She pulled back her shoulders, aware this caused her breasts to thrust forward.
Zach rose from the couch. “A beautiful picture,” he said with what sounded like genuine sincerity. “There’s only one thing missing.” He approached her, towering over her. He reached toward her throat.
Certain he was about to grip her below the jawline with thumb and forefinger, just like the secret rapist in her darkest fantasy, she emitted a small gasp and nearly took a step back. But his hand did not stop at her throat. Instead, he reached behind her neck and released the wide barrette that held back her hair.
At once, her unruly hair sprang around her face like a dozen of those toy coil-spring snakes hidden as a gag joke in pretend peanut jars. It took all Shea’s self-control not to grab her hair up into a ponytail with both hands.
Speaking to Zach, Steve said enthusiastically, “Great hair. She should always leave it down. I bet we could braid it and use it as rope to tether her to the suspension rack. Wouldn’t that be hot?”
As the vivid image he’d created whipped through her mind, Shea’s hands lifted in spite of herself to at least tuck a few of the wild tendrils behind her ears, but Steve stopped her.
“No,” he said sternly. “Leave your hands at your sides as you were directed.”
Shea forced herself to obey him, clenching her hands into fists to keep them in place. She did surreptitiously try to blow an errant strand that had fallen over her eyes, but only succeeded in moving it further across her face.
Zach was still standing near her. “In this part of the interview,” he said, “we will need to get a sense of your comfort level with nudity and with being handled and examined. If you decide to work with us for your submissive training, you need to be comfortable with our touching you in intimate and sexual ways. You will be required to perform various exercises and undergo training and discipline that you might find uncomfortable or embarrassing.”
I already do find this uncomfortable and embarrassing, Shea thought but didn’t say.
Zach continued, “It’s obvious that you’re not used to or comfortable with being naked in front of other people. Believe it or not, that particular issue will fall away pretty quickly once we really start training.”
Easy for you to say, Shea wanted to reply, but did not. Instead, she tried to channel the submissives from the videos she liked to watch online. “Yes, Master Zach.”
Zach grinned. “Master Zach, huh? It’s a little soon for that, but if it makes you feel more comfortable, then by all means, you may call me Master Zach.”
“And Sir Stephen,” Shea blurted, shifting her gaze to the man still seated on the couch. Steve lifted one eyebrow, a sardonic expression on his face, as if to say, “What, I don’t rate Master?”
Flustered, Shea explained, “Sir Stephen just sounds correct, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely, S,” Steve replied with a knowing smile.
Holy shit. He got the reference to O.
“The first physical exercise is easy,” Zach said, pulling Shea’s attention back to him. “I want you to place your hands behind your neck, fingers laced together, and spread your feet shoulder-width apart. I’m going to touch your body. I’m going to test your reaction to certain stimuli. Your job is very simple: remain still and in position with your hands behind your head. When I tell you to move or turn in a certain way, do exactly as I say and no more. Can you handle that, Shea?”
Shea tried to draw a breath to reply and found that her lungs had collapsed. She gave a small nod instead of answering as she reached beneath her heavy hair and entwined her fingers against the back of her head.
“Oh, and another thing,” Zach continued as he stepped closer to her. “Now that you’ve introduced the concept of titles, going forward, when we are in this dungeon together, you will address me as Master Zach and you will call him”—he waved a hand back toward Steve—“Sir Stephen. When I ask you a question that requires an answer, you will answer the question using our titles, or Sir. Is that understood, Shea?”
Her lungs seemed to be functioning again. “Yes, Master Zach,” she replied. “I understand.”
“Good. Now turn around slowly until your back is facing the couch. You will not move again until you are directed to do so. You will not respond to anything we say unless you are expressly addressed. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Master Zach.”
“Okay. Turn around.”
Keeping her hands behind her neck, Shea turned in a half circle until her back was to the two men. She could feel their eyes raking over her body, lingering on her large ass and too-ample hips.
“That ass is perfect for spanking,” Zach remarked from behind her.
“Oh, yeah,” Steve agreed emphatically. “Her skin is so smooth and creamy. It will mark beautifully. I can’t wait to whip her.”
As if his words had ignited a pilot light deep in her belly, heat suddenly whooshed through Shea’s body, perking her nipples into hard points and making her clit throb.
“I can’t wait to whip her.”
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.
She jumped when large, masculine hands cupped her ass cheeks. She recognized by his scent—soap and bay rum—that it was Zach behind her. He kneaded her cheeks and then drew his finger along the crack. It took every ounce of her self-will to remain still as he touched her in this intimate and unfamiliar way.
Finally Zach’s hand fell away and he took a step back. “You’re doing very well,” he said from behind her. “I can sense this is hard for you.”
You have no idea.
“Turn back around to face us,” he continued. “Keep your hands behind your head.”
Shea obeyed. As she turned to face them, Steve stood and approached her. He moved around her until he was standing just behind her. She could feel his body lightly pressed against her back and ass, barely touching her. She could smell his scent, different from Zach’s, more spice and citrus and a certain male musk that made her nipples tingle.
She forgot about him as Zach reached for her breasts. He grasped her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, rolling them until they were as hard as marbles. In spite of herself, Shea moaned softly at the pleasurable sensation and the thrill of her situation.
Then he twisted them suddenly, and a burst of pain hurtled through her nerve endings, making her cry out. Instinctively she took a step back, but Steve was behind her, blocking her movement. “Stay in position,” he murmured in her ear, his voice deep and commanding.
Zach continued to twist her nipples, the pain nearly unbearable. Shea began to pant in her effort not to cry. Then Steve reached around her body and pressed his palm against her mons. He cupped the smooth skin, his fingers hooking between her legs and sliding into the slippery wet cleft.
&n
bsp; Shea began to tremble, fear, pain and desire warring in the battlefield of her mind. The pain at Zach’s hands and pleasure at Steve’s tossed her like a Ping-Pong ball between them. This was both far better and far more terrible than her most intense masturbatory fantasy. Most importantly—it was real. These men were real, and not just figments of her dirty mind.
Then—all at once—as if they had planned it, both men stepped back, their hands falling away from her breasts and sex. Shea, who hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes, opened them in surprise. Her mouth, too, was hanging agape.
“Very nice,” Zach said, something unreadable in his expression. “You’re very responsive. That’s an excellent trait in a submissive.”
Steve appeared in front of her, his intense gaze on her as he lifted his fingers, the fingers that had been buried in her pussy just a moment before, to his nose. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, a strange smile moving over his lips.
The blood pulsated into Shea’s face as she whipped her head away.
“I agree with your assessment, Zach,” she heard Steve say, though she couldn’t bring herself to look at him again. “She’s very responsive, but she’s also uncomfortable with her body and her own reactions. Those are issues we would definitely need to work on if we decide to train this sub girl.”
Shea couldn’t deny the truth of his words. But it was the last phrase that really caught her attention: if we decide to train this sub girl. Until then she had thought it was all up to her. She had believed the interview, if that was what the hell this was, was being conducted so she could gain an understanding of what was being offered. Now she understood this was also a test. They might decide she wasn’t proper sub material, not worthy of training.
The realization both stunned and galvanized her. If this was an audition, well then, she was going to get the part.
“Now it’s time to assess your masochistic tendencies and tolerance levels,” Steve said.
Finally Shea lifted her head. She saw that Zach had taken a seat on the couch.
“I already got a little sense of this during the brief spanking at the club,” Steve said. “I’d like to take this opportunity to do a proper workup. Let’s use the St. Andrew’s cross. We’ll start with a nice, sensual flogging.” He held out his hand.
BDSM Connections - The Complete 4 Novel Series Page 44