by Aya DeAniege
Until that moment I hadn't understood why the women had been gawking.
There's something about a man using well-honed muscles that just seems to awake something in a woman.
Nathaniel glanced at me, and I turned my attention to something else. This happened several times over the course of the workout. After training, he pulled me out of the workout room and into a room attached to it. There we showered as I tried not to look down, tried not to seem too interested.
When we got out of the shower, Nathaniel walked to his shorts and bent at the waist to pick them up. As he straightened, I swore he glanced over at me to see if I was watching him.
Of course, I was, but I moved to the towels and wrapped one around my dripping wet body.
Thank goodness we had just showered, how wet can one woman get?
Nathaniel peered at me, shorts in hand. “Problem?”
“No problem,” I said, starting to dry myself off.
I made certain, absolutely certain, to dry between my legs. As the towel slid between my legs, I almost shuddered. There was a fire in my blood and the towel grazing over me, even if it was only to dry myself, reminded me of that. I was very thorough. I didn't want to pull on a pair of underwear and soak them through in the first few seconds. With a robe on, I collected my soiled workout clothing and went back to my room to change into a dress.
The one I chose that day was blue with little flowers on a white background. The material was light and airy. Its skirt seemed to move each time I adjusted.
A servant was there moments later. I was informed that he was to take me to Nathaniel's study. I made no protest because I had nothing else to do.
Stepping into Nathaniel's study was a little different.
I had never been in such a room before. The walls had bookshelves lining them, all but behind Nathaniel's desk. The wall that wasn't covered in books had wood panelling on it. That wood panelling was the same colouring as the shelving of the book shelving. The floor was covered in a thick red carpet that muffled the sounds of my footsteps as I entered.
“Sit there,” Nathaniel said with a motion, his eyes sliding over me.
He sat behind his dark wood desk. His motion directed my attention to a dark green, fabric covered couch. In front of the couch and beside it were dark brown tables. The coffee table before the couch had a pile of books on it and seemed to be where he directed me to sit.
“I like purple,” I said as I sat where he had instructed me to. “There aren't any purple dresses in my wardrobe.”
“There will never be purple in your wardrobe,” Nathaniel said blandly.
“Why not? I like the colour.”
“Within the community people claim things," Nathaniel murmured. "Someone in the community uses the colour purple to claim things they want. While they would not claim you, they would see it as an invitation to try to claim me, and I won't stand for that."
“But there are lots of shades of purple,” I grumbled. “I like the colour. I don't see why I can't wear it just because someone claimed it before I joined the community, and after I was born and decided I like the colour.”
“You will not have purple.”
“Fine,” I growled out.
“On the table before you are several books,” Nathaniel said.
I looked through the stack and then frowned at Nathaniel. “I read most of these in my first year of school.”
“You will read through them for me now, out loud,” Nathaniel responded. “Shouldn't take more than an hour, I think.”
“What's Paradise Lost?” I asked, pulling it from the bottom of the stack.
“Read down the stack,” Nathaniel snapped.
“Okay, geez,” I muttered, putting the book back on the table where I had found it. “I was just asking.”
I read through the rest of the books, but it took longer than an hour. It took most of the day. Nathaniel made no comment on how I read those books, only making a small sound as I finished each one and set it to the side. The whole time I read, he worked on his computer, doing something that I couldn't see. When I reached for the last book, he stopped me.
“That's enough for today,” he said suddenly.
As the only book from the stack that I hadn't read, let alone heard of, I wanted to read that one. With my hand on the book, I stared at Nathaniel, who continued typing away on his computer. Ever so slowly I lifted the book off the table and brought it towards me.
“I said that's enough,” Nathaniel said, looking over the computer to me.
He frowned ever so slightly, which darkened his eyes.
“I was just going to read the back,” I said.
“Put it back.”
There was no doubting the command in his voice or the tone that dared me to question him. I knew what would happen if I did, or had a general idea at the least.
With a sigh, I put the book back on the table. I looked at Nathaniel, who stared back at me as if daring me to pick up the book again. I wanted to, I did. I wanted to disobey him and grab the book and run to hide someplace. The estate was huge. I figured I could find a room somewhere that he didn't know about, and read it.
There was a snapping sort of clicking and Nathaniel stood. Hands on the top of the desk, Nathaniel gritted his teeth in annoyance. For a moment, he simply stood there. Then he left the study without telling me where he was going. I turned and looked at the book, then glanced at the door again.
No, I did not want to risk that.
I left the study and almost ran straight into Nathaniel, who was standing just outside the door waiting for me. He had left the study to tempt me with the book.
“Funny," he said. "According to the Bible, women can't resist the temptation of forbidden knowledge."
“That was one woman,” I snapped out.
Nathaniel smiled, having got a rise out of me. I moved to march around Nathaniel, and the man grabbed me, turning to push me against the wall.
In a moment he was pressed against me, one of his knees pushing between my own, spreading my legs while his hands travelled down me. Nathaniel was always hot, but the feeling of hands brushing over my sides made me writhe. His torso flush against mine put such dirty thoughts into my head. He was close enough to smell the soap he preferred to use after a workout. A juniper berry smell instead of the brighter citrus that he used when he showered every other time.
His fingers seemed to burn through the dress. I struggled, pushing at his shoulders to try to get him off me. Nathaniel grabbed my wrists and pinned them to the wall above my head. The hand wrapped around my wrists seemed to dig into my flesh as he leaned closer. It was so difficult to breathe. He loomed so close, his body oozing heat beyond what I thought was possible.
Had all men always been so hot? Or just people in general? It had been so long since I had been in close contact with another body that I had forgotten what it felt like.
I was certain that was it, that was the moment he would have me.
Maybe if he did, I'd stop thinking about it.
I wanted him to push the boundaries more. The flush of heat between my legs was followed by a distinctly moist feeling that I was quickly learning was arousal. Not embarrassingly so, but enough that I knew what I wanted and had to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from begging for more.
As suddenly as it began, Nathaniel pulled away. I was left leaning on the wall, struggling to get in a breath. The only thing keeping me upright was that wall. In that moment, I had wanted him to take advantage of me. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have that man between my legs.
Nathaniel's eyes flowed down me, then back up, but stopped where the skirt ended at my hips.
I swore there was a red colouring to his cheeks as he turned away.
“Dinner is at six. After dinner will be the movie," Nathaniel murmured, then walked away.
Leaving me in the hallway, by myself. After a moment of terrified struggle, I pushed off the wall and went to my room. Finally safe, at lea
st as safe as I could be in the estate, I stripped off the dress and went immediately to the shower. A long, cold shower didn't help.
Everyone always said cold showers work. They don't.
The cold shower did nothing for the fire between my legs. It only made my body cold to the point of being painful. I dared slide two fingers over my wet flesh. I groaned and trembled. The words from my fantasy the night before wafted back to me. My belly twinged in response, and then a wonderful feeling flooded my limbs.
I snapped my hand away from myself and spun, looking over the bathroom. A freezing shower hadn't helped me any. I left the bathroom and pulled on a dress, any dress, from the wardrobe and fled my room in search of Nathaniel. In the end, I had to ask a servant where he was. We found him in the gym again.
The servant left as I stood there awkwardly, staring at him as he wiped the sweat from his brow.
“What is it?” he asked.
I struggled to say the words that I had wanted to say. My hands clenched and unclenched as I stared at him. Certain he would say no, I almost left.
“I don't know,” I managed to get out.
In the slum, I'd pleasure myself whenever I found a spare, private moment. That wasn't very often, once a week or so. I wasn't used to doing something one day, only to need to again the next.
“Did you try a cold shower?” Nathaniel asked in a specific sort of tone.
One that I had trouble placing at the time, but would later on realize was an amused annoyance. He wanted me to come right out and say what I felt. Nathaniel realized that the slums were vanilla, as those in the community would say. We didn't talk about masturbation or sex outside of sex ed classes.
“Yes!” I said.
Nathaniel made a face and motioned me over. I approached him and, when he held out his hand, placed my own in it. With a small smile, Nathaniel pulled me closer. His free hand slipped up my skirt and over my underwear. Through the thin fabric, he caressed me.
I trembled, I couldn't help it. My tremble made his smile grow just a little more.
“Your flesh is rather cold, compared to this,” he murmured, fingers probing deeper.
I whimpered, hips moving as Nathaniel's hand moved from my wrist to my waist. Biting my bottom lip, I tried not to make another sound as his fingers moved a little faster.
“Remember, I haven't given you permission to come,” he said.
“What?" I demanded.
His words sobered me up.
I tried to get away, but his hand was clenched around my midsection.
I continued to struggle as Nathaniel moved me. Removing his hand from my underwear, he thrust me against the bench he had just been using. There was the scent of him on the padding covering the bench. I breathed it in, the fight going out of me for only a moment.
Then I recalled where I was and who I was. Isabella Martin didn't get manhandled. I had kicked the asses of bigger men than Nathaniel. Though, I was facing them and upright when that fight began. Already being against the bench put me at a disadvantage. Even though I did struggle, and I did manage to elbow him hard enough to drive a sound out of him, he won in the end.
Nathaniel's hand placed pressure in the middle of my back, holding me almost still.
Pressed there, I was unable to get away. I might have worked in labour, but that had nothing on working out every day for years.
A yip came from my mouth when Nathaniel struck me hard on the backside. His hand slid under my skirt again, down my backside and between me and the bench. I writhed as those fingers went back to work.
It should not be that easy for a man to make me mewl.
“Stop,” I cried out. “Please.”
The fingers pulled away. Another swat was delivered to my backside, driving my hips against the bench. Yet another strike fell on the other side. My shudder was of a different sort. I ground against the bench, then pushed back against Nathaniel's hand as it massaged my hip.
“That was very good of you,” Nathaniel purred out, leaning down against me. “Telling me you were so close.”
His hand slipped under my skirt again, fingers returning to their place between my hips and the bench. I trembled as his hot breath came against the back of my neck. Groaning, I pushed against his fingers.
“Come for me, Darling,” he murmured.
I shuddered with need, but couldn't do it. Nathaniel groaned against me as I writhed.
“That's it, little one,” he whispered. “Come for me.”
A sharp intake of breath was all I managed as I tumbled over that edge. My body all but seized, but I was already pressed tight against the bench. I had no place to go as Nathaniel's fingers continued to work on me. When I thought I could take no more, he withdrew his fingers.
“That was very good,” he said, releasing me.
He stood and walked away, leaving me over the bench.
This was a different sort of struggle. The afterglow wasn't so much of a glow as it was a shame. All the good of moments before came crashing down around me.
No one else had ever made me feel that way. No one else made me throw caution to the wind in such a way. I could hardly believe that I was bent over a bench, having been pleasured by a man I had only met a few days before.
I slid off the bench as Nathaniel returned with a towel, drying his hands. I glanced up at those cold green eyes and looked down and away immediately.
“You're dropping,” he said, tossing the towel onto the bench.
The motion made me flinch. Nathaniel sat beside me, pulling me onto his lap. His arms were wrapped around me as I tried not to cry.
“It happens, to different degrees,” Nathaniel murmured, kissing the side of my head. “I'm not going to leave you alone, not until you're stable again.”
I sucked in a shuddering breath and looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Sub drop. Not something we read about, but nearly everyone who plays learns about it. I learned the hard way after my first threw something at my head and broke up with me. The strange part is that we weren't dating. It was a one time play for me to learn about my kinks.
“Those from the slums especially feel it. You're brought up with very clear definitions for sex. The shame will fade over time. You'll feel it a little less, especially after I introduce you to others and you learn that your response is normal. It's okay to like what I do to you. Which makes it okay for me to do those things to you because you consent to those things being done to you."
“That doesn't make it right,” I said.
“Easy,” his hands worked their way to my shoulders as he spoke. Fingers dug into my flesh, finding the knots as they massaged. “I might be a sadist, but this is the sort of feeling I don't want you to attach to play. If you feel like this during, you need to use the safe word. Because right now, you don't feel very good, do you?”
“No, not at all,” I said.
“I'm betting you're feeling very vulnerable right now,” he said quietly.
“Yes, I think I am.”
“Good, it's good that you are willing to admit that,” Nathaniel responded, standing and lifting me with him.
Is there anything this man can't do?
He took me into the bathroom and set me on the cold floor as he turned on the shower. The world felt like it was just too much. Too cold, too big, and too mean to deal with right then.
Nathaniel pulled me to my feet and dragged my dress over my head. I batted his hands away and stripped off my underwear. I went into the shower, and he followed behind me. The heat was just the right temperature. Tension drained from my body, a tension that I hadn't realized was weighing on me.
He stepped into the shower behind me, reached past me for the soap.
Like that first day, we washed together. It was odd to me, even then, that I found this shower comforting. I enjoyed being washed by Nathaniel. Cleaned, and feeling a bit more like myself, I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. Once I was dried, I reached for the dress and pulled it back
on.
Even feeling more stable, I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes.
“You should nap before dinner,” Nathaniel said as he pulled on his shorts. “I have something I need to do.”
“Shouldn't I be doing that for you?” I asked with my eyes on the floor.
“No, you shouldn't. Training you is more important than my needs."
“I'm here for that, aren't I?” I asked, daring to glance up.
“Yes, but I need to know that you won't come without permission first. A few more sessions and I'll start working on linking your arousal to my pleasure, coming on command is only part of it. Perhaps with some practice, you'll come when I come, whether I've touched you or not."
I opened my mouth to protest but closed it again. I had no idea what to think of that.
“The key is using the word 'come' as you do,” Nathaniel said. “It then becomes a Pavlovian response. Do you know what that is?”
“No,” I said with a shake of my head.
“You should brush up on that. Though a true response would be training you to come to the sound of a bell or chime, maybe to a word I slip into the conversation.”
Nathaniel approached me and gave my forehead a kiss. It was odd that he had kissed me twice in such a short period of time. He seemed so gentle suddenly.
“I suppose I should go nap,” I said, motioning towards the door.
“You should," Nathaniel said. "Hopefully, you feel more normal when you wake up. The only other way I know how to counteract the drop is actual sex. That's not an option."
I left the room, wondering why sex wasn't an option, but not daring to ask.
Chapter Eight
I felt enormously better after a nap. Dinner helped even more.
After dinner, Nathaniel sent me to my room to change, because I had put on the same dress I had worn to the gym, to dinner.
