Naughty Bits Part II: The Training Session

by Joey W. Hill

  "The things I could do with that mouth," he observed in a low voice. "Would you like that, Madison? Would you like to see the things I could make you do?"

  She had enough brain cells left not to respond to that. This was way over the top of what she'd expected. She wasn't throwing herself off the whole cliff. But fortunately, he didn't push her for an answer. Instead, he moved to the wall controls and gave Troy enough slack he could lower his arms.

  "Hold on to her, Troy. She's not steady on her feet."

  Troy's lips brushed her temple and then his arms dropped around her, surrounding her with his strength as Logan loosened the ropes tying them to each other. He unboxed her arms and removed the harness, making her breasts tingle from the increased blood flow where they were mashed pleasantly against Troy. As that subsided, she was able to straighten and hold on to Troy as well, because he wasn't entirely steady on his feet, either. His rueful chuckle against her ear, acknowledging it, gave her a soft smile as well. She increased her hold on him, inhaled the scent of replete male and was content to be and do whatever she was directed to do. No thought was required for this. It was all feeling.

  Eventually though, Logan separated them, guiding them both to sit on a bench. As he kneaded Troy's shoulder muscles again and gave him a thorough examination, she summoned enough brain cells to analyze what he was doing. Perhaps gauging the color of Troy's skin where he'd been bound, how he was moving. Whether he was showing any evidence of residual pain, other than the wince when he first sat down on those paddle marks. Confirming it, Logan retrieved a cushion, bade him rise and shoved it under him before pushing him back down. He brought Troy and her both a bottle of water. Logan made sure Troy could hold it and sip it on his own, then he took a seat between them and offered her the same.

  As she closed her hand on the bottle her fingers overlapped his. He held on to it an extra moment, gave her cheek a quick touch.

  "Next time you open the store," he said, "remember this. Hold on to the feelings you had here tonight. Believe in what you're selling. It's a fantasy, but it's real, too. It's not a game, not in the traditional, negative sense."

  He passed a hand over her hair, a casual stroke, though the look in his eyes was anything but casual. "Thanks for helping tonight."

  "Sure. Anytime." She coughed on a chuckle to cover the pang. It really had been all about the scene, hadn't it?

  She'd had this problem in every freaking relationship, assuming things that weren't there, turning wishful thinking into reality. But he was so deliberate in how he used language and gestures. She couldn't help thinking about it. She's mine . . . Alice gave you to me . . .

  She rose, setting the water aside and retrieving her bra and tunic top. "Restroom?"

  Logan nodded toward it, and she responded with a tight smile. It only took a couple minutes to change back into the top. She left the bra off, since for the quick trip home she didn't really need it. The tunic wasn't as revealing as the snug T-shirt. She'd take the T-shirt home and pay him for it. She certainly wouldn't mind wearing it again to promote his business. It was the neighborly thing to do.

  When she came back out, Troy had pulled on his drawstring pants. Everything was civilized again, if the eye didn't stray to the shackles dangling loose in the middle of the room, the tarp marked with the small puddle of Troy's precum.

  "Well, I'd better head home." Her casual expression was going to break her face, but she'd lost her dignity plenty of times in relationship missteps. She wasn't going to screw this up. Logan was helping her learn how to get in touch with her inner sex goddess to make the lingerie store more profitable. End of story. "I really appreciate you giving me the experience," she told him, including Troy in the look of pleasant gratitude. "Please thank Shale . . . your Mistress, for me as well."

  Troy gave her a tentative smile, still fuzzy on the edges, but he was studying her a little too closely, like Logan. In a minute, one of them was going to ask her if everything was okay and her dignity was going to topple from its pedestal like a one-legged statue.

  Troy's lips parted, as if he were about to speak, but Logan stood, cutting off whatever he was going to say. "You're good?" Logan asked. The young man nodded, giving him a thumbs-up and touching the bottle to his nose in a parody of a sobriety test. Snorting at him, Logan stepped closer to Madison to curl his fingers around her elbow. "Let me take you to your car."

  She allowed herself to be directed. Right now, a numbness was keeping the embarrassment at bay. As they moved into his storeroom, she made herself say the expected things. "I've seen sessions in dungeons, but that's the first time I've participated. It's a lot different from the inside."

  She'd talk about it like it was a vacation experience, not an emotional connection. That was the way to handle it. There was a lot of intensity inside the walls, an outlet for deeper needs expressed in a safe way, but outside, everybody put on their day-to-day faces. She'd be as mature about it as he was. As Troy was.

  Logan made a noncommittal noise as he guided her through his back storeroom. It was dark but he didn't turn on any lights, letting the faint lights from the exit signs and fire detectors guide the way. When they reached the dividing door to her storeroom, she turned toward him. "You don't have to walk me all the way. I can--"

  Catching her under the arms, he lifted and shoved her back against the wall, putting himself solidly between her thighs. In less than a frantic heartbeat, he'd captured her erratic breath in his own mouth. Fisting his hand in her hair, he held her in place as he plundered that moist cavern, tongue locking over hers, lips demanding everything.

  Oh God. He had her pinned with every inch of his hard body. His erection pressed with unmistakable demand against the cross-seam of her jeans. She'd been so distracted by Troy's naked cock, how had she missed Logan's very sizeable reaction? Her damp tissues contracted. If he wanted her right here, up against this wall, she'd let him do it. He was too overwhelming to resist, and her defenses were already shattered.

  "Lift the shirt," he ordered against her mouth.

  She groped for it, pulled it up, baring her breasts, and then she cried out as his powerful back curled and he hiked her up further so that he could clamp damp heat around her nipple, sucking it into his mouth. It reminded her of the tarot card that had shown a lush Goddess figure. When she'd gazed at it, trying to imagine herself as a dominant Goddess suckling Troy at her breast, commanding a man's submissive devotion, instead she'd fantasized about Logan taking her over entirely.

  She'd been right about that. This was a man who might cherish female power, but he'd never kneel to it.

  He pulled on her nipple such that coils of need awoke anew in her lower belly. When his hands dropped to cradle her ass, knead and squeeze, she was squirming, trying to get closer, trying to push her breast further into his mouth. He switched, giving the other one the same thorough attention.

  When he finally raised his head, let her feet touch the floor, he didn't let her go. Yanking open the button of her jeans, he put his fingers down into her panties, capturing her clit and slick lips between two strong fingers, another finger stroking the compressed flesh so she was instantly working herself against him, as frenetically as Troy.

  "Logan," she pleaded. "I can't . . . Don't . . ."

  "Come for me. Prove you're mine."

  I already did. She knew it had been his presence, his command, even more than Troy's physical contact, which had brought that first climax. Now he swept her away with a second one.

  She screamed this time, unable to stop it, but he put his mouth over hers, absorbing the cries, working her. No fast spin this time. He kept her going until he'd milked the full measure of her climax from her. When he was done, she was holding on to his rigid biceps and panting, her forehead against his pectoral.

  "Wow," she said, a rasp in her throat. "You know, if you wanted to thank me for helping, that was overkill. A fruit basket would have been fine."

  He chuckled against her ear, and it made her nerves t
ingle, even as her heart broke a little. Don't make a mistake, Madison. Don't believe this is more than it is.

  But then he tipped her chin up, and she saw the gleam of his eyes in the darkness, the serious set of his mouth. With Logan, it was very hard to separate fantasy from reality.

  *

  When she arrived home she made herself a cup of hot chocolate, the best way she could think of to deal with what had happened. She paced the kitchen a few times, then collapsed in a chair.

  Tonight had been incredible, amazing. Surreal. How could she handle the next workday, being around the two of them? Hi guys, awesome night. We should do that again sometime. Next time I'll bring the rope.

  The unsettling thing was she had less of a problem laughing off what had happened with Troy and all the D/s stuff than what had happened with Logan in the back room. She'd never been so overwhelmed by a man so quickly, though she'd certainly fallen hard before . . . and paid the price.

  She put her fingers on the deck of cards she'd left stacked in the center of the table. She'd gotten into the habit of idly plucking from the top when she passed through to grab a snack. Now she turned one over. It showed a redheaded girl teetering in her mother's heels on the upper panel. On the lower one, the same redheaded girl was grown up and in a sexy nurse outfit, complete with stilettos no nurse in her right mind would wear. Along with that really short hemline. This card didn't have a pairing of words like most of the others did, but there was script on the bottom.

  Let make-believe change your reality.

  She considered the card. Maybe she was trying to be too much of who she'd been in Boston. She'd left her job, her life there, behind, so why was she clinging to old habits and fears? What if she tried really getting into the spirit of her store? She pursed her lips, thinking about the Wonderland room upstairs. Maybe she wouldn't go as extreme as the naughty nurse, but there were other, appealing options.

  Tonight, Logan had unlocked a door inside her. Somehow, tying her up had released her inhibitions, and she'd embraced a deeper side of herself that had always seemed too overwhelming to let free. Yet she'd let it free under his restraints. She'd trusted him.

  A startling idea and perplexing contradiction, but one couldn't argue with success. She looked at the naughty nurse, and felt a weird combination of laughter, intrigue, anticipation, excitement . . . She wanted to follow the feelings that had been unleashed tonight, and she wanted to use them for the store. She didn't want to dread tomorrow. She wanted to anticipate it.

  She'd just let herself be tied up and brought to climax with a guy she barely knew, after all. Trying out a new fashion would be far less nerve wracking.

  Go to bed, Madison. Turn it off for one night. Tomorrow's a new day.

  Yeah, yeah, same shit, different . . . oh, the hell with it.

  Leaving the kitchen, she headed for the second level, carting her hot chocolate with her.

  *

  That morning, she turned the store sign from CLOSED to OPEN. She'd borrowed some of Alice's clothes, but given the style her own spin, donning a gauzy lavender top over a short, pale green camisole, one that bared her midriff. She coupled it with her own earring choices and a pair of stonewashed jeans that revealed the navel piercing she'd had done with Alice when they were in their early twenties, never realizing that a decade later one of them would be gone. She brushed her hair out until it shone and then caught it in a clip at her shoulders.

  Glimpsing herself in one of the display mirrors, she was pleased to see Bohemian sensuality that was approachable, not scary. She might be channeling Alice, but she was going to roll with it, focus on the state of mind that had lingered with her since last night and see where it all took her. Maybe she'd try a different outfit each day, a different style. One day she'd even cross-dress, go Victorian male with trousers, cravat and crisp white shirt. Have a sale on anything in the store with a Man with a Maid theme. Do latex another day, have Mad Max playing on the flat screen up on the wall. Be creative, have fun with it. This didn't have to be about all the other shit.

  She propped the door open with the iron doorstop, since it was a pretty enough day to invite in the breeze and sunshine. Troy was making a change to the chalkboard sign out in front of Logan's store. Apparently this week's sale was on manual push mowers. At the sight of her, he grinned, gave her a leer that was more playful than aggressive, making her roll her eyes at him. She was relieved at the lack of awkwardness. But why should there be? For him, it was a training session to benefit him and his Mistress, that was all. It would only be awkward if there was more to it than that for one of the participants, right?

  New look, new state of mind. Even so, she thought about that kiss with Logan in the back room. Mental note: stay clear of Logan for a few days.

  "Glad to see you open for business," Troy said. "You look great."

  It was amazing, how a sincere, appreciative male compliment could affect a woman's ego. "Thanks. I'll have to work on getting the coffee and baked goods started up."

  "Praise the gods." He winked.

  "I'm not as generous as Alice. There will probably be a charge."

  "Maybe we can arrange a barter." The young man leaned on the sandwich board sign. "You know, if you need any maintenance done around Alice's house or here."

  "Serious?"

  "Serious." He nodded. "I'm buried under student loans. I'd do anything for money, including selling my body, if my Mistress would allow it."

  Madison glanced around. "You talk about her so openly."

  "Just us here, and you already know about her. I'd talk about Shale all the time if I could."

  The S of the brand flashed through her mind. She'd been right about the significance. The way his countenance softened, simply from saying Shale's name, made his feelings clear. It was so easy when you were younger. Of course, he wasn't that much younger than her. Just less scarred. She decided to ignore resentment in favor of curiosity. With Troy, she could consider it market research.

  "Isn't she possessive? What Logan did with you last night, that doesn't bug her?"

  "Oh yeah. Shale can be mean as a snake if she thinks someone going after what she considers hers. But it's different with Logan. For one thing, he's straight as they come. For another, he gets off on being a Master, no matter if he's topping male or female. You picked up on that?" He gave her a grin, not realizing how directly the arrow hit the sore spot. "Logan's like a really strict football coach. Really strict."

  He did a furtive rub of his backside, winked. "Looks like you have a customer."

  She pivoted, seeing a woman had stepped into the store while she and Troy were talking. Giving Troy a nod, she shook herself mentally. Different look, different day, different outcome. Go, team!

  Crap. It was the pretty girl with dark hair and expressive gray eyes from earlier in the week. The Liv Tyler lookalike. Last time, Madison had inspired nothing in her but a desire to escape. But she'd returned, right? What better opportunity to prove she could do this than to win back a customer?

  Her long fingers were caressing the filmy fabric of a baby-doll nightgown, but she had a crease on her brow.

  "Anything I can help you with, I'm right here," Madison said warmly. She moved toward her counter. She'd make herself busy with some jewelry rearranging, giving the customer that necessary sense of privacy, rather than projecting a buy expectation, a sure way to run her out of the store. Studying her beneath her lashes, she recalled how Logan had watched Troy, registering every shift in expression, how close he was getting to climax, his wants, his needs. He'd never turned his attention from Troy's mental and physical state, and so now she did the same, judging the girl's body language. What she saw had her ambling out from behind the counter.

  "Special occasion, or are you playing with an idea?"

  The girl responded with a half laugh. "I think I'm looking for a miracle. A friend of mine came here last year, and she said that you really helped point her in the right direction. I came earlier, last week, an
d didn't get that vibe, but then I thought . . . well, it felt like you had more to give and I should give you another chance. Understand?"

  She turned, and met Madison's gaze. Her melodious voice went with her quiet movements, such that Madison saw her as a willow tree, whispering on the banks of a slow-moving creek. Yet what caught Madison was her note of uncertainty, a touch of despair mixed with exasperation. And that note opened a new door inside herself.

  Madison suddenly saw her customer, not as an obstacle to surmount, a goal to reach, but as a unique soul like herself, with needs she was having difficulty articulating, possibly because of how deep her desires ran. Just like Madison. But different, too.

  Selling wasn't about the seller. This exchange wasn't supposed to be about Madison's experiences and needs, about how great a salesperson she was, how much she could impress herself. It had to be about the buyer, figuring out what she wanted and needed.

  Almost exactly the words Alice had used in the final letter she'd left her, the letter Madison had found the day she came back to the store. She took a breath.

  "Your friend would have been dealing with my sister, but let me give it a try. What's your name?"

  "Samantha. Sam."

  "All right, Sam. What's the situation?" She was a pragmatist, after all, and she saw no reason to beat around the bush, now that the shot had been fired. Sam seemed to agree, because her attitude toward Madison became less guarded.

  "Two friends. Close friends. Guys. They both like me, and they like each other. They don't know what to do about it, and I thought . . ." She sighed, visibly summoning up the courage to look toward the back archway, at the stenciled pair of handcuffs beneath the flourished "Dungeon Room" label. "One of them, I think he's like that."

  She colored a little, but at Madison's neutral reaction, she elaborated. "Sometimes, the way he looks at us, the way he acts, I think he'd like to tie us both up and have his way with us. And I think Chris really wants that, too, though he can't say it. There, I said it out loud. Are you horrified? I mean, how much more taboo can we get? Threesome, bondage, and two guys who probably want to touch each other as much as they want to touch me. Maybe I'm crazy."