Training Sasha (Club Zodiac Book 1)

by Becca Jameson

  “I will spank you. I will also introduce you to a variety of toys for both your pleasure and your punishment. I will tell you what to wear and what to eat and when to sleep. Your job will be to learn to give up control to another person and submit obediently to a Dom’s will.

  “If you can accomplish that to my satisfaction, I will consent to your insistence that you’re submissive and let you join Zodiac or another club. I’ll even go to bat for you with your brother and get him off your back. After we’re finished, I’ll make sure you’re free to live your life as you please without interference. I’ll even help you find a permanent Dom if you desire.

  “However, in exchange for you submitting to my training, you have to agree to accept my decision in the end. If I think you’re not suited for the lifestyle, I want you to back off gracefully and stop giving Rowen a heart attack. Are we clear?”

  She wasn’t sure she was capable of speech, but she managed to get her lips to move to utter a soft, “Yes, Sir.”

  “If you have reservations, voice them. If you have questions, ask them. I’m sure you’re overwhelmed right now. Make a list. Do some research. Email me or text me throughout the week.”

  Did he not realize she had been researching BDSM for years? She didn’t comment. “Yes, Sir.” He’d thrust so much information on her at once, she wasn’t sure she fully heard it all. Her ears were ringing.

  “I’ll type all this in an email for you, Sasha. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us.”

  “Will you be taking me to Zodiac, Sir?”

  He shook his head. “No. Not during your training period.” He didn’t elaborate.

  “How long will my training last?” She stared at him. Was he talking days? Weeks?

  He stared back, one brow lifted.

  “Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

  “Perhaps a few weeks. Maybe a month.”

  She nodded slowly. A month? In his home? Doing his bidding twenty-four seven? It was nearly impossible to keep from squirming at the idea.

  “I don’t want to put a time limit on it because it will give you a false sense of finality. It depends on how you respond.”

  Depends on what? She didn’t ask that question. Instead, she nodded. Maybe she could figure that out online. See what other Doms required.

  Lincoln suddenly stood. He stepped toward the door and set his hand on the knob. His departure was so abrupt she couldn’t even get her legs unfolded to see him out.

  He turned around to face her again. “Lock the door behind me, Sasha. And for God’s sake, don’t open it without seeing who’s out there from now on.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She uncurled herself and got up, heading toward him in order to do as he’d instructed.

  “You have my number and my email?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She stopped two feet from him.

  “I’ll expect to hear from you this week. Text. Email. Several times. Don’t hold back. No question is too stupid.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He started to turn back around, and then he paused again and faced her, cocking his head. His voice was calm. “There are many types of submissives, Sasha. Some like restraints. Some like pain. Some like to be marked. Some submissives are service-oriented and get pleasure from doing for their Doms. Some are bratty and derive pleasure from being punished.

  “And some…” he hesitated again, taking one large step toward her and grabbing both her wrists at her sides, “…are sexual submissives. Their focus is on reaching orgasm. They turn themselves over to the Doms to decide when and where and how they’re permitted to achieve that goal.” He squeezed her wrists with his fingers to emphasize his point.

  He stood so close to her she could lean forward if she wanted and set her cheek on his chest. Feel the warmth. She could smell his clean scent and whatever shaving cream he used from this proximity.

  He penetrated her with his gaze, waiting.

  She shuddered. Her entire body shook with the force of his words. Was she a sexual submissive? Is that what he was implying? If the reaction of her body at his pronouncement was any indication, he was probably onto something. She’d never been hornier than she was right at that moment. Every inch of her was on fire, begging for release. The itch to touch herself was intense. Her sex throbbed. Her clit swelled. Her breasts were heavy. A ball in the pit of her stomach curled tighter, threatening to spring loose and leave her flying all over the room in a thousand pieces.

  Half of her couldn’t wait for him to leave so she could flee back to her room and masturbate. She needed the relief. At this rate it would take her about two minutes to get off.

  He spoke again. “I can’t be sure if you’re even submissive at all yet. I have my suspicions. But I do have one demand I’d like you to adhere to this week. I have no way of ensuring you obeyed me since I won’t be seeing you, but I’d like you to give me your word.”

  “What…” She licked her lips, her mouth so dry now she might need to drink the cold coffee. “What would you like me to do, Sir?”

  “Keep your hands off your pussy and your tits.”

  Her face flamed at his words.

  “You heard me. Don’t masturbate this week. If you have toys, leave them in your drawer. Do not touch yourself any more than what’s required for hygiene purposes. Understood?”

  Holy shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. “Yes, Sir.”

  He chuckled, startling her with his mood change. “I can practically hear you cussing inside your head. And that’s fine. Can’t stop you from thinking every four-letter word in the book. But don’t utter them out loud. And don’t masturbate.” He lifted his brows as he released her wrists, and then he turned around and exited the apartment without glancing back again.

  Sasha stared at the door for so long her legs cramped. She wasn’t sure she could even process what he’d said, and she sincerely hoped he did send her an email detailing the conversation. If not, she would be toast.

  One thing she was clear on was that she was so aroused it was a wonder the room didn’t self-combust. Was she a sexual submissive? Perhaps. But how was she ever going to find out if he didn’t intend to have sex with her? She shuddered at the thought that she might spend weeks or an entire month horny and unfulfilled.

  Wait. What did he mean exactly when he said he wouldn’t have sex with her? Sex was a broad term. Was he talking about penetration? Because she could think of a lot of creative ways to enjoy her time with him that didn’t necessarily involve intercourse.

  More importantly, how was she going to go an entire week without masturbating? It wasn’t as though she felt the need to get off all day every day. But she did like to pull out her butterfly at least once a day. Usually when she went to bed. It helped her sleep if she had an orgasm first. She had no idea if she was an anomaly or not. It wasn’t like she asked other women how often they made themselves come. It was hardly something she could bring up in the teacher’s lounge at the preschool.

  But something was different.

  Yep. It was the demand that burrowed under her skin and left her feeling like she might come without masturbating. If this was what it felt like to submit fully to a Dom, she was totally going to ace this test.

  The question was, what would happen to her heart in the meantime, and how would she ever survive leaving Lincoln, let alone permitting another man to dominate her after he was done?

  Chapter 8

  Five days later…

  Lincoln stood inside the house he was currently renovating, staring out the back window at the patio. The floor beneath him had been stripped down to the concrete. He wasn’t concerned. He had a good team of construction workers on this project.

  He’d flipped so many houses in the last few years, he’d lost count. So far he hadn’t ever taken a beating. What had started out as more of a hobby to bring in extra money, had turned into a lucrative business he was proud of. He enjoyed the thrill of finding run-down homes for auction, turning them into gems, and selling them for far more than he�
�d invested.

  When Carter had become a partner in Club Zodiac, he had also become the construction head for Lincoln’s side business. The man knew his shit. And what he didn’t know, he didn’t fuck around with. He found the right men and got the job done.

  It was Thursday. Lincoln hadn’t seen Sasha since Saturday. He’d had a hard-on for her the entire time, and that worried him. This entire arrangement had him up nights. Thinking. Planning. Taking his cock in his hand. He knew he was a hypocrite ordering Sasha not to touch her sweet pussy while he jerked off more than once a day. But damn. The thought of her coming to him on Saturday with all that pent-up sexual frustration made his dick hard every time.

  Carter’s voice penetrated his thoughts. “Dude, we’ll get this house flipped a lot faster if you move out of my way so I can lay the tile in this room.”

  Lincoln jerked around to face his friend and found Rowen standing in the stripped kitchen too. His eyes were narrowed. He looked concerned. “You worried about making a buck on this money pit, or are you thinking about my sister?”

  Damn, he was sharp. Lincoln decided to turn the tables. “Neither. I was thinking about watching the game later tonight. You guys coming over? I’ve got cold beer. We can order pizza.”

  Carter was stacking tile in the center of the room as he responded. “Sounds good.”

  Rowen’s eyes narrowed further. “If we’re watching the game later tonight, why did you ask me to come by here now?”

  Busted. The stupid game had been an afterthought to cover his tracks. Now he needed to backpedal. “Because we all need to sign the lease renewal on the building, and I promised the landlord I’d get it to him this afternoon.” He held out a manila folder to prove his point. The lie was small. Their landlord didn’t need the papers specifically today.

  Since when was Lincoln lying to his friends to cover up his thoughts about a woman? Since the woman in question is Rowen’s sister.

  Rowen took the folder from Lincoln and pulled a pen from his pocket, but he was still glaring. He wasn’t buying Lincoln’s story. “I’ll get back to you about tonight. Need to check with Rayne. She’s… Never mind. Tell me what you have planned for Sasha.”

  Nope. Rowen wasn’t going to let this go. He also had something going on with Rayne. Not a surprise. He always had something going on with Rayne. Lincoln wished Rowen would get his head out of his ass once and for all where his girlfriend was concerned and either cut her loose or make a commitment. He didn’t want to interfere, but he suspected Rowen was stringing Rayne along, and Lincoln didn’t like it.

  Lincoln was a total fuck. Ironic that he would judge Rowen while he himself was in way over his head with Rowen’s sister. At the moment, Lincoln couldn’t imagine how long this farce was actually going to last. He’d told Sasha a few weeks or a month. That had been a lie to make her nervous. What he really needed was for her to see the error of her ways and safeword out of his house as fast as possible.

  Right now, he needed to address the constant tension that had gotten between him and Rowen over the last five days. They’d been friends for years. Lincoln didn’t want to ruin it over a woman. “Dude, my goal is to train your sister. Help her establish if she’s cut out for this lifestyle. Nothing else. I gave you my word I wouldn’t sleep with her. But I’m not going to give you a nightly play-by-play either like you’re a prefect or the head boy.”

  Rowen snickered. At least Lincoln had broken the strain between them. “Did you just make a Harry Potter reference? What are you, thirteen?”

  “Fuck you. Everyone loves Harry Potter. But that’s beside the point. The point is that you’re gonna have to trust me and back the fuck off.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that.”

  “Too damn bad. Either trust me or she’ll find someone else to train her. You want her to try her luck at Breeze? Maybe Master Colin is available. He seemed to like her the other night.”

  Rowen growled. He actually growled. “Fine, Professor Snape, but don’t make me have to kill you.”

  Carter laughed. “Are you two done acting like a couple of teenagers? I need to lay the tile now. Get the hell out of my kitchen.” He made sweeping motions with his hands, ushering them toward the carpeted area of the attached family room.

  Lincoln’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he rushed to tug it out of the tight denim with more haste than he should have. For the last five days, he’d kept the cell attached to his hip, literally, at all hours, eagerly awaiting contact from Sasha as if he were the teenage boy both of his best friends accused him of being.

  Sasha texted him at least once every day with a question or comment. He wasn’t sure if she did it because she liked to interact with him, she genuinely required a response to her inquiries, or she thought it might be funny to tempt him with her increasingly erotic questions.

  He glanced at the screen, grinning when he saw it was from her. And then his face flushed, and he nearly dropped the phone on the carpet.

  Sir, is a spreader bar used to keep a woman’s pussy exposed? And if so, does it strap on at the thighs or the ankles?

  Jesus. He was fairly certain by now she was making this shit up with increasing levels of sexual innuendo to get under his skin. And it was working. Dammit.

  How the fuck was he supposed to respond to that?

  Rowen interrupted him as he held his thumbs over the screen. “What the fuck is up with you?”

  Lincoln pocketed the phone. He would have to answer her later.

  Carter was staring at him too. “Your face is red, and you’re grinning like a lunatic.”

  Rowen’s gaze narrowed again, every effort to calm him down a few moments ago disappearing entirely. “Please tell me that wasn’t my sister.”

  “It was.” He didn’t want to lie.

  “And?”

  “She’s trying to kill me. Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it. I said I would. And I will. I’ve got to get back to Zodiac. I’ll see you guys tonight?” He asked that question as he rushed for the front of the house. He didn’t wait around to hear their answers. The last thing he wanted Rowen to notice was the fucking hard-on once again bulging the front of Lincoln’s jeans.

  It was Friday afternoon before Sasha fully internalized this was real. Her preschool was closed for summer, and she was going to Lincoln’s home tomorrow to stay with him indefinitely while he trained her to be a proper submissive.

  She still couldn’t wrap her head around what that really meant. She had no idea what he would expect of her except that she wasn’t permitted to cuss and she needed to learn to address him as “Sir.”

  She also knew he didn’t intend to sleep with her, though she hoped she might convince him otherwise. She’d certainly done everything she could to tempt him in the past week. At first she had dug deep to come up with questions that sounded educated and reasonable.

  Do you like your submissives to keep their head bowed?

  How do you feel about ropes?

  Will I be expected to wear a ball gag?

  What sort of nipple clamps do you use?

  Are vibrators used internally?

  She’d come up with something new every day in an effort to engage him in the hopes she would get to know him better. She’d failed, seeing as every answer was clinical and brief. After pulling out the last stop yesterday, she knew she was doomed.

  The contrived question about spreader bars had made it difficult for her to keep her fingers away from her clit as she typed it. And his response? She’d nearly come in her seat without touching herself. Thank God she’d been at home and not in front of her students.

  Sasha, if we get to the point that I need a spreader bar to keep your legs open wide enough, whether it’s attached at your ankles or your thighs is going to be the least of your concerns. Do I have your attention now?

  She shivered every time she re-read his response. God, how she wished she could read between the lines, see what his expression had been when he typed that.

  Did he ha
ve any idea what it had been like for her to sit on his lap wrapped in his arms? Like a dream. She had to text him every day at least once in order to remind herself he was even real. The spark she’d felt the first time she’d met him had burned hotter with every contact she’d had with him and then flickered into a flame the night of her college graduation when he pressed his palm into the small of her back. And that flame became an inferno when he held her against his chest at Breeze, brushing her hair from her face.

  Being in Lincoln’s arms had not come close to comparing to the reaction she had to Master Colin’s touch. She didn’t have to dig deep to wonder why this was the case.

  Sasha was not Master Colin’s submissive. She belonged to Lincoln.

  Currently, she needed to stop thinking about tomorrow and concentrate on today. She still had packing to do, and she needed to let her neighbor know she was going to be out of town for a while.

  She headed next door first, took a deep breath, and lifted her hand to knock on Mrs. Lopez’s door. She knew most of the other people living on her floor, but Mrs. Lopez was the sweet old lady next door who wouldn’t ask questions.

  Or maybe she was mistaken…

  The door opened to an older Hispanic woman whose face lit up as she ushered Sasha inside. “Hello, dear. How are you? I haven’t seen you in several days. I hope those sweethearts of yours haven’t given you a cold.”

  “No. Not lately. I’ve been lucky.” Sasha stepped inside.

  “Come in the kitchen, mija. I just made fresh tortillas. Can I tempt you with some? There are way too many for one woman.”

  Sure enough, the apartment smelled fabulously of the doughy goodness that was Mrs. Lopez’s tortillas. Sasha’s stomach grumbled. Not only did Mrs. Lopez have fresh tortillas steaming in their round pottery dish on the table, but she also had a cast iron skillet filled with carnitas simmering on the stove.