Training Sasha (Club Zodiac Book 1)

by Becca Jameson

  “I like the way you’re inside your head today, little one. It pleases me you’ve managed to control your tongue and your temper.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” She kept her gaze lowered, but straightened her spine.

  “I expect you to obey my every command at all times while I’m training you. It’s more efficient and less confusing while you’re learning. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She tried to keep her voice from shaking. Every demand he gave made her sex clench and her breasts swell further. Did he know that?

  “I’m going to push you. Part of our exploration will entail figuring out what sort of submissive you are, if you’re even submissive at all. So, I’ll be guiding you in a variety of directions and watching how you respond.

  “But I don’t want you to worry about your safety or your boundaries. I would never ask anything of you I didn’t believe you could accomplish. You’ve made it clear in our emails and texts what your hard limits are. I won’t cross those without consulting you first. As time goes by, you might loosen your convictions.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” Was he right? She’d given him a list of things she would never consider doing. She found it hard to believe she might take any of them back. She’d done her best to research and think hard on every detail and only included the parts that made her completely come out of her skin.

  Obviously no permanent marks or brandings or tattoos or piercings. That went without saying, and he’d already pointed those things out last Friday. In addition, she’d declined to experience a whip, a violet wand, and ball gags. The whip made her cringe every time she imagined the sound alone. The violet wand was a mystery that involved more electricity than she could stomach. And the thought of having her mouth forced open wide made her gag impulsively. She might be able to endure a bit or something smaller, but not the ball gag.

  He circled her several times. Slowly. Unnerving. Intentional. She hoped she didn’t spend all her time psychoanalyzing everything he did. It would drive her mad.

  Chapter 11

  Lincoln was in deep shit. No denying it.

  Sasha had only flinched for a moment, and that was when he asked her to take off her clothes and put on the barely existent dress, leaving her nude underneath.

  He had no idea what possessed him to insist on such a thing. It was so unlike him. He didn’t ordinarily care what his subs wore or didn’t wear. As long as they reacted appropriately to his cane or the palm of his hand, he didn’t need them to be in any particular state of dress.

  Until Sasha. She was different.

  He was growing more and more aware that her needs were sexual in nature. She was strongly affected by exposure. Taking away her clothing—even partially—put her in a different mind frame. He hadn’t stopped to consider that before. It wasn’t his domain ordinarily. Subs came to him needing release through flogging or any number of apparatus. Often they chose whether or not they wanted to be naked or partially clothed. He didn’t harp on that issue.

  The moment Sasha stepped out of that bathroom, wearing nothing but the thin material of her dress, he knew he’d been right. Removing some of the layers of barrier between her and her Dom automatically put her in a sort of subspace. He was itching to find out how she would react when he told her to take the dress off altogether. And his reasons were not altruistic at all.

  Damn, but he wanted to see her naked. He didn’t dare, but the next best thing was almost naked. He lied to himself when he decided it would be no big deal to have her change into this flimsy, see-through material. He’d told himself no one would notice. That had been a mistake on his part because he hadn’t anticipated his own reaction to her public exposure. He’d held his breath all the way to the car, realizing the folly of his decision and knowing in a heartbeat he would never display her in public again.

  It wasn’t as if she was naked, but he hated worrying about other people possibly seeing what was his.

  His? Fuck.

  He should have known what his reaction would be based on how the hairs on the back of his neck had stood on end when Master Colin had lifted her skirt a scant inch or two. He had thought his body stiffened over her reaction to that last straw. Apparently he’d been wrong.

  Granted her reaction was important also. She clearly didn’t like it last Friday or today on the way out of her building. She was nervous and fidgety and never glanced around. It bothered her to be exposed.

  He hesitated at that thought. It bothered her to be exposed to Colin, to other people at the club, or even random people they might have encountered on the way to his car this morning. But alone with him?

  She wasn’t concerned about being exposed to him. No way was he reading this incorrectly.

  She was not an exhibitionist, but that was something else entirely. And it worked out well since he wasn’t inclined to ever share an inch of her skin again.

  Possessive much?

  He really needed a head adjustment. He owned a BDSM club for God’s sake. He’d been surrounded by scantily clad women for years. It had never made him flinch.

  But Sasha wasn’t joining those ranks. Ever.

  He inhaled slowly as he shook himself back to the present. He had no say in her life. He had no say at all in her future. She could pick any Dom she wanted and do whatever that man bid her to do, including strip naked in public.

  He stared down at her sexy body and held his breath. Her nipples called to him. They were begging to be pinched or clamped or suckled. He could smell her pussy from several feet away. She was wet. If her squirming was any indication, her arousal was leaking down her thighs.

  Fuck me.

  Again, since when did he care about such things? What he needed to do was grab his toy bag and ensure she didn’t like what he pulled out.

  But the idea made him cringe. He wasn’t going to do any such thing. She wasn’t ready. He needed to ease her into the lifestyle. At the very least, he needed to maintain a level of professionalism fitting of the owner of a fetish club who offered to train a newbie. Anything less would be indecorous and morally disgraceful.

  Fool.

  His cock had been so hard from the moment she opened the front door that he’d had to adjust it several times.

  He was treading in uncharted territory, and it both unnerved him and intrigued him. Maybe he could learn something about himself during this arrangement too. He didn’t have any hope it would apply to Sasha, but he might be able to take something away that would benefit future submissives.

  He had every intention of focusing on discipline and obedience. Instead, his mind kept wandering to sex and gratification. Hers. Of course. Hers.

  She clearly needed a Dom who would make her body hum. He had to step up to the plate since he’d been the one to propose this farce. It was his fault and on his shoulders now.

  It would be easy to put any lingering doubt about how she would react to her nudity to bed. He would bet his last dollar her awkward nervousness did not extend to him. He was both dying to know the answer to that question and afraid to find out.

  Disassociate, man. You can do it. This is for her. Her training. Her experience. Get your head out of your ass and teach her.

  “Knees wider, sweetheart.” Why the hell would he ask her to do that, and why would he call her that nickname?

  He ran a hand through his hair from behind her.

  She trembled, her legs parting farther, her shoulders thrusting back more.

  Her nipples called to him. He was going straight to hell. Rowen was going to escort him to the gate.

  Honestly, he couldn’t remember when he’d ever been this turned on by a woman. He seriously needed to cool it before he hurt her. He could take things too far. He wouldn’t fuck her, of course. That was out of the question, but he could take her places she might enjoy too much and then associate them with him. That would be detrimental.

  His cock told him to strip her naked and make her hum. His brain told him to use his big head instead and take things slow.
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  The reality was he needed to nudge her in several different directions to prove his theory. It was against his normal procedure to assume. Maybe he was wrong about her. Maybe she needed a good caning in order to release pent-up frustration.

  He nearly chuckled. As if he or anyone else would ever cane the beautiful unmarred skin of Sasha Easton.

  Damn. He was doing it again. Focus. Time to get to work. “Tell me what you’re feeling, Sasha.”

  She flinched. “What… I’m feeling, Sir?”

  “Yes. The best way for me to judge where you are in your training is to stop and take your pulse often. If you’re not honest with me, you’ll slow down the process. When I ask you to tell me what you’re feeling, I need you to do so without holding back.”

  “Okay… Sir.”

  “I know we’re just getting started, but a lot has happened this morning already. You’re now in an unfamiliar environment with a man you hardly know on your knees wearing very little clothing. How does that make you feel?”

  She hesitated and then whispered, “Aroused, Sir.”

  Yep. He did not need her to tell him that. Had he done it for her or for him? Making her verbalize her arousal changed nothing.

  “Is that hard for you to admit?”

  “Yes.”

  He set a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. He hadn’t meant to make direct contact with her yet, but he couldn’t resist, and he also hoped she would take a cue from his firm squeeze that she’d displeased him.

  She lifted her gaze and turned her head to look at him. “Sorry, Sir. I’m trying. I keep forgetting.”

  He smiled down at her indulgently. Indulgently? Fuck.

  “Would you like me to call you Master Lincoln or just Master?”

  He shook his head, releasing her and rounding her body to lower himself onto the sofa a few feet in front of her face. “No. I’m not your Master. Call me Sir.” He was a complete idiot. Where did that come from? Almost everyone who came to the club called him Master Lincoln. It was normal. Obviously Sasha should do the same. His brain cells weren’t firing properly.

  “Okay, Sir.” Did she look deflated?

  He leaned back, aiming for nonchalant which had never been a problem for him in the past. After crossing his legs, he studied her.

  She was still looking at him, which he should point out, but he needed to see into her eyes. They hid nothing. She was scared. She was nervous. She was also aroused. He let his gaze roam down her body intentionally, pausing at her chest for long moments so she would know he was admiring her.

  Eventually, she shuddered.

  He lifted his gaze to hers. “Does it embarrass you for me to look at your body?”

  “No, Sir. It’s… unnerving.”

  “Good girl. Always answer me truthfully. Would you say you have high self-esteem in general?”

  “Yes, Sir. I mean, I guess so. Do you mean with regard to my body?”

  “Yes. How do you feel when you’re naked with a man?” He deliberately baited her with that question. She was twenty-two years old. Logically, she’d been with a man, probably more than one. But damn. His racing heart was praying she had not.

  She lowered her gaze back to the position he had required in the first place. Hiding? “I’m not sure.”

  “You don’t know how you felt when your partners looked at you? Aroused? Confident? Self-conscious? Embarrassed?” It seemed prudent to force this issue because until she told him how experienced she was, they would be walking on eggshells.

  She swallowed, her thick, wavy curls falling around her face.

  He needed to pull her hair back and clip it at the base of her neck so she couldn’t hide behind it. Or perhaps he was telling himself that so he could get his hands on all those luxurious curls.

  “Self-conscious, I guess. Sir.” She sounded hesitant, and her words surprised him. They insinuated she had been naked with men. Why didn’t he believe her? Wishful thinking perhaps.

  “You guess?”

  She didn’t respond. Instead, she bit her lower lip and held it, though he had to dip his head to catch her reaction.

  The hair had to go. “Don’t move.” He stood and stepped from the room, aiming for the guest room. He set her suitcase on the bed, opened it, and grabbed her toiletry bag. He hadn’t gone through the small bag when he repacked for her earlier, and he hoped he wasn’t violating her privacy by doing so now, but he needed a hairband, and that wasn’t something he kept in his home.

  Bingo. He grabbed the band, set her toiletry bag in the attached bathroom, and returned her suitcase to the floor.

  When he was once again standing behind her, he reached for her hair. “Tip your head back, sweetheart.”

  She did as he instructed, which made it much easier to gather the thick curls at her nape and thread the entire mass through the hairband. “There. Now I can see your face.”

  He returned to sit in front of her, pleased with the way she resumed her position, face toward the floor. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Hope you don’t mind that I went through your stuff to find the hairband. I’m glad you had a package of them.”

  Her brow furrowed. She opened her mouth. Then she closed it.

  “What were you going to say, little one?”

  “I was, uh, wondering why you don’t have any hairbands in your home. Surprised me is all. Sir.” The way she repeatedly tacked the address to the end of her statements as an afterthought made him chuckle inside.

  “I don’t have enough hair to warrant them,” he teased. “They don’t exactly complete my look.”

  Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean… I mean, I’ve seen you use them at the club. On your subs, I mean. I just thought… Sir…”

  Where was she going with this? “Yes. I do like to pin my subs’ hair back during a scene. It helps me judge where they are emotionally if I can see their faces. It also prevents the possibility of injury. For some scenes, hair can get in the way and be a hazard.”

  He watched her closely. She was still confused. She bit the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, her gaze fixed on the floor again. “So, you, uh, only use them at the club. Not at the house? Sir?”

  Ahhhh. Now it was clear. “Sasha, look at me.” The timing sucked. He didn’t intend to tell her this yet. It might give her the wrong idea. But he also wouldn’t lie to her, and he’d backed himself into this corner, so now he would have to deal.

  She lifted her face, blinking.

  “I don’t bring subs to my home.”

  “Ever?” She swayed forward a bit as if she’d lost her balance and then righted herself.

  “No. Never. You’re the first.”

  “Oh.” Her face turned a lovely shade of pink. He was glad to see it since he’d made her remove all that makeup she’d had on when he arrived at her place. She didn’t need makeup. She was stunning without it. Pure. Innocent. The things that attracted him to her.

  “I’ve worked with submissives many times over the years, usually in the club on designated nights. Sometimes in their homes. Never here.”

  Her mouth rounded further. “Why did you bring me here, Sir?”

  “I didn’t see any other choice. You needed a Dom to train you, and I was available.”

  She licked her lips. “You could have gotten someone else.” She winced. She wouldn’t have taken this challenge with any other Dom. He knew that. Nor would he have permitted her to do so. Nor would Rowen—if he could get his head out of his ass long enough to consider the options.

  “There wasn’t someone else.” He managed to sound like a complete ass when he spoke. And then, frustrated with himself, he made matters worse by dragging the last topic back to the forefront. “Let’s get back to my original question.”

  She tipped her face back down, a habit he recognized as her way of keeping him from seeing her expressions while pretending she was doing so in the name of proper positioning.

  “How many men have seen you naked, Sasha?”

  She s
wallowed and then muttered, “None.”

  His heart stopped. He’d pushed and pushed to get what he wanted, and now he couldn’t breathe. The sexiest woman he’d ever met was a virgin.

  He was so fucking happy he nearly pumped his fist in the air.

  He was also scared out of his mind about how he would proceed with that important detail behind them. It was one thing to train a new sub to enjoy a flogging. It was another thing entirely to work with a sexual submissive. But taking on a virgin was out of the stratosphere.

  No way in hell could he touch her. How was this going to work exactly?

  She was trembling, making him realize he hadn’t responded to her admission. “You misled me before. Intentionally.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her voice shook.

  “Why would you do that?” He was being an ass.

  “I didn’t want you to think I was a baby, Sir. It’s… embarrassing.”

  He flinched. “I most certainly don’t think you’re a baby, Sasha. Super aware of your age. And you shouldn’t be embarrassed about being a virgin. Be proud of that. Hold it tight. Not many women your age can claim to have held on to their virtue.” He had no idea who was using his body to speak through him, but whoever it was sure sounded eloquent.

  She didn’t move a muscle. He wasn’t sure she believed him.

  “Did you catch the part where I said I wouldn’t tolerate lying?”

  Her voice was barely audible now. “Yes, Sir.”

  “I will have to punish you. You know that, right?”

  “Yes, Sir.” This time she gulped. She also squirmed, pulling her legs together subtlety. The idea turned her on. She tucked her elbows toward her torso tighter.

  He could see the faint outline of the disks of her nipples through the thin dress. He wondered if she’d ever worn the scrap of fabric even with a bra and panties. It wouldn’t be suitable. Not on her. Not for any occasion. “When was the last time you wore that dress, Sasha?”

  Another shiver shook her. “Um, maybe last year. To the beach, Sir.”

  “Ah.” That made more sense. “Well, don’t wear it outside of my house from now on.” Oh, he was so in over his head. He needed to get control of his tongue before he totally confused her. And himself.