Training Sasha (Club Zodiac Book 1)

by Becca Jameson

  He’d been underage when he’d first realized he had a need and the accompanying gift. He’d gone with his older brother, Alex, to an underground private club. It had been seedy and dark and a little trashy, but he’d stayed there all night. Watching. Learning. Craving.

  He’d gone again without his brother. Several times, and then every weekend. Eventually he’d gotten lucky when he caught the eye of the seasoned Dom who happened to be a sadist and noticed him studying his work.

  That was when he met Master Christopher.

  He’d changed Lincoln’s life. He taught Lincoln everything he knew about how to turn every implement in his arsenal into an appendage, at one with its owner. He’d helped Lincoln select and purchase his first flogger, his first whip, his first crop.

  All of this happened before Lincoln even turned eighteen. Nearly a year’s worth of tutelage before he enlisted in the army.

  When he was home on leave, he spent as much time as he could in the club with Master Christopher. It rejuvenated him, made him feel alive in the face of so much death overseas.

  He was twenty-one when he returned to the underground club on a more regular basis. Master Christopher took him as an apprentice of sorts, claiming he knew Lincoln had the special gift most aspiring sadists never quite achieved. The rest was history.

  Lincoln jerked himself back to the present. How long had he been holding Sasha in his lap?

  She sighed and squirmed her bottom on his thighs. He stilled her with a squeeze of his hand over her hip. She tipped her head back to look at him.

  His heart melted.

  So much trust and devotion in those gorgeous green orbs. Questions loomed deep inside, but she held them back. Good girl.

  He needed to come back to the present, get on track, discuss what she’d endured. He brushed a long curl from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. “Do you know why I put you in time out?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “I’ve pushed you hard today. Probably too hard.”

  She nodded.

  “You wanted to know what it was like to be someone’s submissive.”

  “Yes, Sir. I do.” That last word, so poignantly stated in the present tense made his heart sing. It shouldn’t have. That wasn’t his goal. What he needed to hear was the word red and a request to take her home.

  But Sasha was a fighter. She was not going to give up.

  And he was growing more and more proud of her by the hour.

  “You have questions,” he stated. “Go ahead.”

  She licked her full pink lips. “Why are you holding me so caringly in your lap if you’re mad at me, Sir?”

  He cupped her face, holding her chin steady so she couldn’t look away. “Oh, baby, I was never mad at you. That’s not an emotion I will ever have when it comes to you.” He was getting too personal. Keep it neutral, Walsh.

  She stared at him wide-eyed.

  He continued, staying firm, “When a submissive is disobedient, it’s important for his or her Master to correct the infraction as soon as reasonably possible. Not out of anger, but in order to teach the sub discipline. In this case, when I’m training you twenty-four seven, we’re living in an artificial environment derived to give you a taste of what the lifestyle is like.

  “You might not understand this, but I’m taking my cues from you. I have been all day. For the last week actually. In fact, your reactions to what I do and your behaviors are continually altering my responses. This isn’t how I pictured the evening starting out.”

  She nodded. Damn, she was so open, batting her eyes, soaking in his words.

  He adjusted his hand so that it curled around the top of her thigh instead of her bottom. The blanket had been between his palm and her butt cheek. Now his fingers gripped her bare thigh.

  She settled into the touch. So open. Willing. Eager.

  “In a normal D/s arrangement, like the ones you might experience with a more permanent Dom later, you’d negotiate terms. Perhaps you’d designate certain hours in the evenings or weekends to get into the roles.” A stab of pain jabbed his chest as he implied repeatedly she would one day have another Dom.

  “I’ve read that, Sir.”

  “This arrangement is not something I ordinarily do. I don’t train subs like you.” Never. “I’m doing this because I didn’t want you to fall into the wrong hands. An inexperienced Dom could cause serious psychological damage to a newbie sub.” These things were true. All of them. But Lincoln choked out the words nevertheless when what he wanted to say was: You’re mine. I will never let another man, Dom or vanilla, touch you.

  Without moving a muscle, her eyes changed. A sadness filled the green depths. He did that to her. And it hurt him dearly. But he had no choice.

  Her eyes confirmed what he suspected. She wanted this to end with them together. His words were hurting her. Deeply.

  Fuck.

  He kept talking, needing to stay on track. “Every Dom is different. Most would not get too bent out of shape about small incidences of misbehavior. A stern look or a verbal warning might be sufficient. But you didn’t come here to half-ass this experience. You came here to get the full picture of what it means to submit to a Dom at the deepest level. So I’m going to give you worst-case scenario.”

  “I understand, Sir.” Her voice was stronger, but still sad. Disappointed.

  He had to keep this strictly business.

  He needed to get her sexy body off his lap first and then feed her. The separation would help him regroup so they could resume her training for the evening.

  She stared at him. She needed more. She held his gaze. “You needled me on purpose tonight, didn’t you? You wanted me to use my safeword.” Her voice was strong, but a tear slid down her cheek.

  “Yes.” He would not lie to her.

  “It was your goal all day,” she deadpanned.

  “Yes.” He held her gaze, not backing down.

  “Why?”

  He licked his lips. No way was he going to go into the details, but he owed her an explanation. “I didn’t think you belonged in this world. I was trying to help you see that sooner rather than later. It was a shit move. I should have known better. I owe you an apology.”

  She blinked. “Have I proven you wrong? Are you done testing me?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry I pushed you so hard. It was inexcusable. You’re definitely submissive.” At least with me.

  “You’ll keep working with me?” Her eyes were hopeful.

  He didn’t have the willpower to turn her down. He was damned either way. If he made her leave, she would never forgive him, and he would worry about whoever dominated her next. If he let her stay, he needed an abundance of self-control. In both scenarios it was going to devastate him to turn her over to someone else. “Yes.”

  Was he seriously going to continue to fucking train her?

  He slid his hand into the hair at the back of her neck, keeping her head steady. It occurred to him that he used that tactic with all the subs he played with. It was a trademark of his. When he wanted a sub’s attention, he insisted on it, not giving them the opportunity to look away. It was domineering. It worked.

  So, no, he was no longer gripping her chin, physically forcing her to look at him, but he now had his fingers on her neck, doing the same thing. “I’ve learned things about you.” He needed to get them back on track.

  “Like what, Sir?”

  “You don’t like to be punished.”

  “No, Sir.” She might have attempted to shake her head in the negative, but he held her neck firmly.

  “You didn’t get off on having your bottom spanked, nor did you get off on being ignored in a time out.”

  “No, Sir,” she repeated softly. “Isn’t that the point?”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “But it doesn’t work for everyone. I told you about brats, earlier.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Brats and other types of submi
ssives enjoy being punished. They crave it. They intentionally disobey their Masters in order to get punished. They get off on it.”

  “Wouldn’t that be annoying, Sir?”

  He chuckled. “Yes. Very. To me anyway. Some Doms love it. For every type of sub, there’s a Dom waiting somewhere in the shadows to complement him or her.”

  “I see.” She shivered. “Well, I don’t like to be spanked or ignored in a corner.”

  He winked at her. “Then I won’t have to worry about you deliberately disobeying me, will I?”

  “No, Sir. And I’ve learned those two lessens well. You don’t need to repeat them either.” She grinned, more like half grinned. Testing him. Topping him.

  He narrowed his gaze. “You need to learn another lesson about submission before you speak again.”

  The color drained from her face.

  “Never suggest to a Dom what he should or shouldn’t do. It won’t go well for you. You’re the one training here. Not me. It’s a Dom’s job to take care of his sub, not the sub’s job to offer suggestions. I’ve been a Dom for many years. I’ll decide what punishments to dole out and when. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, Sir.” The words were weak. Nervous.

  But she needed to understand. Learn. “When you tell a Dom what to do, it’s called topping from the bottom. It puts you in charge and spins the table so the roles are reversed. Any Dom worth his salt won’t stand for it. If he does, he’s not a Dom at all. It’s the worst kind of disobedience. You’re likely to find yourself severely punished in a way that would make spanking and time outs seem like a trip to the amusement park.”

  She swallowed. “I’m sorry, Sir.” A tear came to her eye.

  He eased his thumb up and swiped it away. “Don’t even attempt something like that again.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She was going to cry if he didn’t pull her out of it. Not that he had a problem with submissives crying. It happened. He dealt with it. But he’d given her a stern warning, and she’d learned her lesson.

  She’d also had a long stressful day, enduring two forms of punishment she was not used to receiving. She was mentally drained. He had lofty goals of pushing her too far, but he would never do something he didn’t think she could emotionally handle.

  “We need to eat. You need your energy for later.”

  She nodded. “Okay, Sir.”

  He slowly stood, set her on her feet, and tugged the blanket free. “Are you warm enough? I turned the air up earlier to make you uncomfortable during your time out. It should be warmer in here by now.”

  She flinched. “You made it colder?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was freezing… Sir.”

  “I know.” He grinned. “There’s a vent over that spot.”

  “You’re devious, Sir.”

  “Never forget it.”

  Chapter 17

  Sasha was surprised that Lincoln let her feed herself. He didn’t let her sit at the table. But he did let her sit fully on the thick pillow on the floor on her butt, and he handed her a plate with her own fork. Small blessing.

  He was an amazing cook. She hoped he didn’t ask her to cook in the near future. He would be disappointed.

  The pasta casserole filled her quickly, but she ate every bite, including the salad, assuming he wouldn’t appreciate it if she didn’t clean her plate.

  When he took her dirty dish from her, she told him how she felt. “That was delicious, Sir. You’re a great cook.”

  “Thank you, baby.”

  “May I clean up, Sir?”

  He set their plates in the sink and turned back to her. “Not tonight. Maybe another time. Let’s leave the dishes for now.”

  “Okay, Sir.”

  He took her hand and helped her stand, and then he shocked her by leading her out the sliding glass doors to the backyard. The temperature was perfect. The usual humidity known to Miami was lower now that it was dark.

  Lincoln took a seat in one of the large, cushioned lounge chairs, spreading his legs and patting the space between them. “Sit, baby.”

  She crawled up between his knees, facing the pool. Strategically placed lights made the inviting water cycle through a rainbow of glowing colors.

  Lincoln wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against him beneath her breasts. He leaned back against the chair, taking her with him.

  She was surprised by her ability to relax. For one thing, it hadn’t escaped her notice that she’d been naked all day. And Lincoln was fully clothed. At some point it stopped bothering her. It was still super weird, but she was no longer freaking out over it. After all, by now the man knew every inch of her body. The only place he hadn’t touched was the inside of her pussy.

  Not to say he wasn’t intimately acquainted with every inch of her sex. He’d watched her up close and personal, including when she thrust her own finger inside her.

  She shuddered at the visual of him between her legs, his face so close he could have tasted her.

  Lincoln drew a lazy circle on her arm with the hand not holding her. “What was that, sweetheart?”

  Shit. “Nothing, Sir.”

  A soft chuckle vibrated both their bodies. She loved it when he laughed. She loved to watch the lines on his face that spread from the corners of his eyes when he smiled.

  “Baby, you’re a horrible liar.”

  She said nothing. If he thought she was lying, would he punish her again? Probably, and she was so comfortable. Was omission considered lying? Digging into her brain wasn’t a skill he had.

  His hand trailed from her arm to her breast, one finger swirling around her nipple.

  It jumped to attention. So did she. Wetness pooled between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together.

  “It’s so easy to read you, baby.” His words were a soft whisper so close to her ear that she could feel his breath where her head lay below his against his shoulder. “You were thinking something, and it disturbed you enough to jump. Now tell me.”

  She couldn’t imagine what she would say, but certainly not what she had been thinking. “I was just admiring the pool.”

  He chuckled again. “And?”

  She needed to give him something more believable than that. “And thinking about how I’ve been naked all day and you have not.”

  “And?”

  What the hell was he, a mind reader? “That’s all, Sir.”

  “That is most definitely not all.” He flicked his finger over her distended nipple and swirled it around the tip some more. “Try again.”

  She sighed. Maybe if she answered his question with a question. “Is it weird that it doesn’t feel strange to me anymore? Being naked, I mean.”

  “No. It’s normal. You’re desensitized for the moment.”

  For the moment? Would it feel odd again later? Tomorrow?

  He continued. “It will never have the same impact in the future that it did the first time—stripping for me—but every time you’re dressed and I ask you to remove your clothes, you’ll feel the rise of self-consciousness and arousal. It’s who you are.” His voice dipped to a soft whisper. “It’s who you are with me. It’s who I want you to be. And it’s sexy as hell.”

  She stopped breathing. He gave her whiplash with the way he switched back and forth between talking about her future in the subjective as if she would be with any number of other Doms and never see him again and then switching to a more present tense that implied he owned her.

  She liked the latter better, but every time she allowed herself to hope, he turned on her.

  He kissed her ear and then ran his tongue along the lobe. “Now, it didn’t escape my notice that you still haven’t answered my question.”

  She held her breath, memorizing this moment. She’d never been so turned on. The sexiest man she’d ever known—the only man she would ever love—was holding her naked body on a lounge chair on a perfect Miami evening. His hand held her so close it was impossible to misinterpret his feelings. Fingers danced around her nipple
to drive her mad with need. She closed her eyes to burn the image into her mind for later.

  She wanted him to talk to her. She wanted to have a normal conversation like two people dating would have. Was it possible? While they were simply lying outside, lounging in the night air, maybe he would let his need to control everything down for a few minutes.

  “May I ask you some questions, Sir?”

  “Of course. Go ahead.”

  “Personal questions, I mean.”

  “Hmm. I suppose.”

  “You were in the army, right?”

  “Yes. Four years.” He continued to draw circles around her nipple while they spoke.

  “Why did you leave?” She held her breath. Would he tell her?

  For long moments he said nothing while her hope dissipated. His fingers trailed away from her breast to stroke her arm lazily. Finally, he surprised her. “I enlisted right out of high school, same as your brother and Carter, though two years after them. My brother Alex was twenty. He talked me into joining with him.”

  “You have a brother?” Would he care that she didn’t address him as Sir while they were having this personal discussion? He didn’t say anything.

  “Had. He was killed in action a few months after we were deployed.”

  She winced. “I’m so sorry.” She could hear the depth of pain that still lingered in Lincoln’s voice.

  “Yeah, me too. We were close. When he enlisted, I couldn’t let him go alone. I thought I would look weak, so I followed in his footsteps.

  “It wasn’t a difficult decision. Our parents were hard-working, middle class. They hadn’t saved for a college education. It was my ticket. When he was killed, I knew I had to work twice as hard to stay alive, for my parents. A shrink would probably say I buried my sorrow by redoubling my efforts.”

  Sasha set her hands on Lincoln’s thighs and gripped his muscles in silent support.