Paul felt his face heating. “Oh, well,” he said lamely. “John shared her profile with me. And he invited me to participate in an exercise the other day.” The compelling image of Alexis naked on the bondage table, the rope drawn taut against her cunt, the shudder and tremble of her body as they whipped her to a frenzy while the vibrators inside her did their work, leaped in blazing detail into his mind. He had felt her tension, her lust, her aching desire to submit, to obey, to endure what they gave her. It had been almost as if he’d had a direct conduit into her heart and mind. They’d been connected in a way that had startled him. He’d said nothing about this to anyone, certainly not to John, instead just storing it away for contemplation when he was alone in his room that night.
He was, he knew, falling for this girl. Falling hard.
Paul realized his cock had hardened at the memory of that scene. He shifted in his chair and crossed his legs. John and the other trainers were regarding him now with quizzical stares. Embarrassed, Paul lifted his glass and took another healthy swig of the brandy.
But Miriam wasn’t ready to let him off the hook. “Tell us more, Paul. Are you suggesting you have a special connection with this trainee? Something Master John hasn’t been able to tap into on his own?”
“No, I didn’t mean—”
“There might be something to that,” John interrupted in his calm, careful way. “She seems to respond with more authenticity when Paul is around, whether just as an observer or a participant. It could be he might have more success with her as her trainer.”
Miriam seemed to ponder this a moment. Then she slowly shook her head. “I don’t think that’s necessary, unless you’re unhappy with her, John?”
“No. I enjoy working with her. It’s a challenge to push past all the shields. And what she lacks in experience, she does make up for in enthusiasm.”
“Perhaps, especially now while he has no formal assignment, Paul could be an assistant.” She turned to Paul. “What do you think?”
“Oh, I, um, I’m not sure…” He trailed off, annoyed with himself for being so inarticulate.
Miriam leaned over and patted his arm, as if she were in on the turmoil of his thoughts. “Paul,” she said gently. “This isn’t about you. It’s about what’s best for Alexis. I’m sure that whatever feelings you might have for this girl, you’re professional enough to keep them at bay, for her sake. Am I right?”
For the second time that night he felt his face heating, and only hoped the blush didn’t show beneath his tan. “Yes,” he said, forcing his voice to be firm. “Of course, Miriam. Absolutely.”
~*~
Wendy poked her head into Alexis’s room. “It’s free time till nine o’clock. A couple of us are going down to the creek. Want to come?”
“Yeah. That would be great.” Alexis closed the journal she’d been writing and slipped it under her pillow. Marta, Sam and Rachelle were waiting for them outside the slave quarters and they walked companionably together across the meadow, which was dappled with little pink and yellow wildflowers.
It was a lovely summer evening, the sky streaking with gold and royal blue as the sun lowered itself below the horizon. The staff trainers were ensconced in what Alexis had been told was their weekly after-dinner meeting with Mistress Miriam to review trainee progress and handle various administrative details.
Alexis had completed a week of her training. Each session was a new challenge, and though she still failed more than she succeeded, Master John never gave up on her. In between sessions, she attended what was called grace training, working on the standard slave positions, as well as learning how to move with grace and beauty. Various pure service duties were thrown in, usually with Marta in the slave quarter bathroom. Marta was teaching her how to do the waxing, a definite step up from cleaning the toilets.
Alexis felt more alive than she’d ever felt in her life. The concept of submission was no longer just a sexy game. It had gone far beyond the slap and tickle in which she’d engaged at the BDSM clubs. She was, she thought happily, making progress. More than that, to her surprise she also found she was making friends.
She had gone straight from undergraduate school to earning an MBA, and then right into a CPA job that consumed forty to as much as eighty hours in a week, depending on tax season. As her twenties had sped by, she had, she was realizing now, rarely come up for air. This month-long vacation was a huge departure for her, and while she’d been afraid at first she wouldn’t be able to handle so much time away from the office, now she realized with a startled pang of surprise that she never wanted to go back.
She found herself able to open up with the other trainees and the staff slaves in a way she never would have dreamed of doing with other women, let alone men. Back in the city she had work friends she sometimes hung out with after hours, but there had never been a girlfriend with whom she had felt comfortable enough or safe enough to confide about what she used to think of as her “kink” and now was coming to realize was a lifestyle she wasn’t sure she could do without.
Marta spread a large picnic blanket over the soft grass while Sam set down a cooler filled with bottles of soda and beer. Rachelle and Alexis exchanged glances and grinned as they looked at the two trees where they’d been bound together for the predicament bondage session. Though it had only been a matter of days since that scene, Alexis felt like she’d come a long way in a short time. She wondered if Rachelle felt the same and made a mental note to talk it over with her when they were alone.
The five of them settled on the blanket, soothed by the sound of the burbling creek nearby. “This must have once been a working farm,” Rachelle remarked. “A horse farm, from the look of the buildings and pastures. The slave quarters used to be stables, I reckon. I grew up on a farm down in Arkansas.”
“You’re right,” Marta agreed. “Though the place hadn't been used for that purpose for years when Mistress Miriam bought the property.”
“I love old barns like that,” Rachelle said, waving her beer bottle toward the wooden structure. Its once red paint had faded to a pale pink, bleached by sun and age, and the huge old doors didn’t quite close, warped by time.
“They’ve actually fixed it up some inside,” Sam said. “There’s some play equipment in there, and even a little cot. It’s a great place to hide out when you need a little time alone.” This remark made Alexis wonder when or why Sam would ever feel the need to hide. He seemed so supremely comfortable with himself.
He didn’t elaborate, however, and she didn’t feel comfortable asking, so she turned instead to Wendy, who had stretched out next to her. “That ceremony the other night was really moving. Can I see the brand?”
“Sure.” Wendy rolled to a sitting position and spread her legs to give Alexis a better view of her inner thigh. Rachelle also leaned over to examine the small infinity sign. It was still a dark red, though it seemed to be healing well.
“Hoo wee!” Rachelle enthused. “That must have hurt like hell.”
“Not really.” Wendy ran her finger over the sideways 8. “I mean, yeah, it hurt, but I was so excited and hopped up on endorphins, and it was over so quick that I almost didn’t feel it.”
The sound of Wendy’s muted but agonized cry when the red hot metal burned into her skin echoed in Alexis’s mind, but she knew how the mind and body had a funny way of processing and remembering pain, and she didn’t think Wendy was pretending. For Wendy the memory of the experience was that it wasn’t so bad. And therefore it wasn’t. That was her reality.
“You and Master John must be so in love, Wendy, to do that ritual. It was like watching a marriage ceremony, only more intense, you know? Did you meet him here at The Compound?” Rachelle asked.
“Yes. He was my trainer, in fact. I fell in love with him pretty much from the minute we met, but he was a lot slower on the uptake.” She grinned an impish grin. “He’s very much one for protocol, and I had to petition to be his slave, even though my training was done and I’d signed on fo
r permanent placement at The Compound, and everyone told me he was head over heels for me. But to tell you the truth, that just made me love him more. He completes me.” She frowned. “I don’t mean that in a co-dependent icky way. I mean that before I met him, I wasn’t fully alive, not all there, if that makes any sense. Belonging to him has made me whole.”
There was a collective sigh from the others, including Alexis. Would she ever find such a connection?
“So what’s your story, Sam?” Rachelle asked, interrupting Alexis’s musings, for which she was grateful. She wasn’t in the mood for a private personal pity party. “What brought you to The Compound? Did you train here?”
Sam reached for another bottle of beer. “I never did formally train here. I came at Mistress Miriam’s request. We knew each other on the outside.”
“How’d you meet?”
Alexis thought she saw a spasm of pain move over Sam’s usually sunny countenance, but then he smiled. Marta put her hand lightly on Sam’s shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze. He put his hand over hers but faced Rachelle with a smile. “She and my partner used to run a dungeon in the city. I worked there too, much in the capacity I do now in the training dungeon. When Miriam moved here to start The Compound, she sold her share of the business to us. We used to visit the place, especially that first year when she was just getting started.” He took a breath. “When my partner passed away three years back, she invited me to come here as a permanent staff slave. I sold the club for a nice sum and here I am.” He smiled again, though Alexis saw the pain still lingering behind his eyes.
“Gosh, I’m sorry, Sam,” Rachelle said, putting her hand to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ve accepted it. He was sick a long time—cancer. In the end it was better for him to go. I’ve made peace with it. He was the best thing I ever had, and more than most folks ever get. I’m happy here. I’m good.” He took another long drink of his beer and said, “So turnabout is fair play. How about you, Rachelle? What brings you to The Compound? What are you seeking here?”
“What brings me is my fiancé, Michael Horton. When we get married we want a 24/7 Master-slave relationship, but he says I need more training than he can give me.” She laughed without a trace of chagrin. “We heard about this program and he got busy helping me write my application. The second I got accepted he packed me up and shipped me off.” She shrugged, though she was still smiling. “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m having the time of my life here. It’s so intense, you know? But so hot, too. Master Clarence is fantastic. I’m thinking I need to get Mike’s ass up here too. He could learn a thing or two about being a Master from Master Clarence!”
Marta smiled. “Mistress Miriam says that exact thing. She says it’s all very well to train submissives, but if a Dom doesn’t know what he’s doing, all the training in the world isn’t going to matter. She’s talked about starting a program for dominants, and another one for couples who want to train together. She’s got a guy from Florida who specializes in training dominants who’s interested in working with her to design a program. We’re hoping to get it off the ground by next year.”
“Well, let’s get Mike signed up for the first class,” Rachelle grinned. “And what about you, Marta? What’s it like to belong to the head honcho? Did you go the traditional training route like me and Alexis, and then just fall in love?”
Marta beamed. “Pretty much, yeah. It was kind of ironic how it worked out. My partner sent me, much like yours, Rachelle. Looking back, it was a last ditch thing. We had been floundering as a couple for a while. The love just wasn’t there, though neither of us wanted to admit it, I guess. I signed on for a month, and when I was done and called her to come pick me up, she told me she had moved on, and she’d have my stuff shipped wherever I wanted.”
“Wow, that must have hurt,” Alexis said, wondering how anyone could break up with someone as lovely and seemingly perfect as Marta.
Marta smiled. “My ego maybe, but not my heart. Because, you see, Mistress Miriam had already stolen it, and I hope she never gives it back.”
“So what about you, Alexis? Did someone send you here hoping to whip you into shape, pun intended?” Sam lifted his thick eyebrows.
Alexis shook her head. “I heard about this place from my play partner at a club I like to go to. I guess I wanted more, you know? You can only go so far at a club. I can only go so far on my own. I want to connect with that submissive part of me that lends meaning and worth to my sense of self, but I’m not doing so hot. I’ve been here a week, and I still think I suck at this most of the time.”
Sam shook his head. “I’ve been watching you, Alexis. You’re doing great. Progress, not perfection. That’s my motto.”
They all laughed in agreement. “Amen to that,” Rachelle said with feeling.
Fireflies flitted, creating arcing sparks of light in the air, and an owl hooted in the distance. “It feels like summer camp tonight,” Alexis said, feeling warm and happy. “We just need to build a campfire and get out the marshmallows.”
“Speaking of summer camp,” Sam said. “Remember that game we used to play as kids where everyone stood in a circle and you’d fall back into someone’s arms?”
“I know that game,” Rachelle piped up. “It’s called Trust Fall.” She scrambled to her feet. “Let’s do it. I’ll start.”
Sam stood behind her and said, “Ready.”
Rachelle crossed her arms over her chest, closed her eyes and let herself fall backward. Sam caught her in his arms and they laughed. “Your turn, Marta,” Sam said.
Marta rose with that fluid grace that always made Alexis think of a ballet dancer lifting from a low curtsy. Crossing her arms over her chest as Rachelle had done, she, too, closed her eyes and sank gracefully back into Sam’s arms.
“Now you,” Sam said, nodding toward Alexis.
Alexis was not sure she wanted to play this game. But they were all looking at her expectantly, and so she stood slowly and approached the young man, turning her back toward him. She let her arms hang at her sides and closed her eyes. “Cross your arms over your chest, like we did,” Rachelle instructed her. Alexis complied, feeling a little silly as she shifted from foot to foot. Why was she hesitating? This should be easy. Sam was strong and had already proved with the other two women that he wouldn’t let them fall.
“Go on,” Marta urged softly.
Alexis wanted to. And yet she couldn’t. It was like there was some kind of force field at her back, holding her up, stopping her from letting go. She glanced back at Sam, who was waiting, his arms extended toward her.
“Don’t think about it,” Rachelle offered encouragingly. “Just do it.”
The ease and happiness Alexis had felt was fast slipping away. She felt sweat prickle under her arms, and the skin on her back tingled against the invisible force field of her hesitation. She’d never been able to do this as a kid, either, she recalled now. What if Sam didn’t catch her? Despite his best intentions, what if his foot slipped, or he miscalculated his position in relation to hers?
“Come on,” Sam called. “What’re you waiting for? Don’t you trust me?”
Alexis tried to conjure the image of Master John. If he was standing behind her, would she obey? Still her body remained stiff and unyielding. How about Master Paul? She pictured his kind smile and his sparkling eyes. It didn’t work.
She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Opening her eyes, she saw Marta standing beside her, and Wendy on her other side. “Sometimes you need to take baby steps,” Marta said. “We’ll hold you so you feel safe as you go back.”
Alexis nodded, feeling both embarrassed that she couldn’t do what the others had done with such seeming ease, but also warmed that they didn’t want to give up on when she’d been ready to give up on herself.
“I’m waiting,” Sam said behind her. “The girls won’t let you fall and I’ll be here to catch you.”
With their supportive h
ands at her shoulder and waist, Alexis let herself fall into Sam’s waiting arms.
Chapter 12
Alexis was suspended facedown about four feet from the ground, secured in a sturdy rope harness that wound around her torso and hips. Her head hung down, her long, dark hair obscuring her face. Her arms were behind her back, her legs bent at the knees so her wrists could be cuffed to her ankles.
Paul forced himself to focus on the knotwork and resist the temptation to stroke her smooth, soft skin. Miriam was right—he was professional enough not to let his desire get in the way of the training, but it was turning out to be harder than he expected.
“That should do it,” John announced, stepping back from the suspended girl and gripping the convergence of rope that hung from a pulley in the ceiling. Alexis’s trussed body swung gently between the two men.
Sam was at his usual post in the play dungeon, leaning against a wall where he could see all the scenes in progress, ready in case he was called for service. John gestured toward him and he came at once to their scene site. “Be on alert in case we need you.”
“Yes, Sir.”
John crouched in front of Alexis so his face was even with hers. “How are you? Are you comfortable? Do you feel secure in the harness?”
“Yes, Sir.”
She had a nice voice. A sexy voice. Paul wondered what it would sound like in the throes of an orgasm. Not an orgasm wrested during erotic torture training, but the throaty cries of passion he would tease from her as she lay beneath him, his cock buried inside her.
“Wiggle your fingers for me,” John said to Alexis. “Good. Now your toes.” The trainer stood, apparently satisfied, and turned to Paul. “You can put these on while I get the rest of the stuff.” He handed Paul a set of clover clamps and some lead fishing weights.
Reaching beneath the suspended woman, Paul found and rolled one of her nipples between his forefinger and thumb. He could feel it engorge and distend. Alexis moaned softly at his touch. Paul pushed away a brief fantasy of flicking the hardening nipple with his tongue and then sucking it into his mouth.
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