Spring Training

by Roz Lee

  But he’d left her in the hands of another man so he could fuck some woman in Arizona.

  Curling into a ball under the covers, she shuddered as memories of her time spent with Frank flooded in. He was a hard taskmaster, demanding she give more of herself physically and mentally than she had been prepared for. Being Todd’s slave had seemed like the perfect arrangement when she proposed it to him, but living Frank’s version of the lifestyle had shown her how shallow her and Todd’s daily routine had become.

  They’d been playing at being Master and slave. Todd had tried his best, but she’d had little idea what would really be demanded of her; thus she’d made a mockery of their relationship, misbehaving like a toddler in order to gain more of his attention when she should have been content with whatever he gave her. It was a slave’s duty to serve, and now that she looked back on the last week, she was surprised at how good it felt to serve Frank in the way he demanded. She’d performed more tasks for him daily than she ever had for Todd and been rewarded with affectionate touches, comments, and smiles that made her eager to do more for him.

  If she’d submitted to her Master in that way, things would never have gotten to the point where he felt compelled to leave her in the hands of a trainer.

  No wonder Master Todd was fucking someone else. No doubt he’d found a sub who kissed his feet just for the honor of kneeling before him while she’d taken his love and his dominance for granted.

  Brooke sat up. She’d shed her clothes the day she arrived, donning the plush robe provided by the hotel when room service delivered her meals. Naked, she felt more in touch with her slavery. It was as if clothes were costumes she wore to go out in the world, and in removing them, she stripped down to who she really was. No artifice. Only truth.

  Slavery was her weakness—the one thing she couldn’t deny or purge from her system. But Frank wanted some other truth from her. No matter what he did to her, she didn’t think she would ever find what he insisted lay inside her.

  She’d avoided the mirrored closet doors, but now she stood before them, gazing at her nude body. Her fingertips tingled with the need to touch her pebbled nipples or her swollen pussy. If she closed her eyes, she could see Todd watching her from across the crowded bar where she first saw him. She’d touched herself that day, had brought herself to orgasm while imagining his hand working her pussy, his body pleasuring her.

  The reality of him touching her was better than anything she could ever conjure in her brain, and yet her childish behavior had driven him into the arms of another. Then in a fit of jealousy, she’d run away, probably destroying any chance remaining to repair the damage she’d done to their relationship.

  “You don’t deserve him.”

  She sank to her knees in the subservient pose her Master preferred, only this time she had no one to bow to, so she stared at her reflection. Her skin bore no marks to indicate she belonged to another. Every reminder of Todd and Frank’s touch had faded within hours of infliction. She longed to wear some symbol of possession, a collar, a tattoo, a piercing, or a scar, but her Master had offered none of those things.

  “Why would he? You have to earn them.”

  You have to earn them.

  Tears formed in her eyes, spilling over her cheeks when she blinked. She hadn’t earned the badge of slave because she didn’t understand fully what it meant to be one. Frank had helped her, but, deep inside, she knew there was something more she still didn’t comprehend about this facet of her personality. However, days of soul searching had brought her to one conclusion.

  “I want to be Todd’s slave.” Her breasts rose and fell with the deep, steadying breath she sucked into her lungs. “You’ll never earn him by being a sniveling mouse. You’ve got to fight for what you want.” And the only way to do that was to confront her Master about the other woman. She was a slave, not a doormat. She belonged to him, and it was her duty to serve his needs. If he needed a woman, that woman should be her.

  Squaring her shoulders, she sniffed back her tears and faced herself square on. “Todd Stevens is my Master. I won’t lose him to anyone else.”

  It was time to own up to her faults and her misdeeds and suffer the consequences of her decisions.

  She spent the next day primping. She washed and styled her hair, had her clothes cleaned by the hotel’s valet service, and, having shaved her mons to suit Frank, she reshaped the returning growth into the landing strip style her Master preferred.

  By the time she boarded a plane to Phoenix, she’d regained her self-respect, if not her confidence. He’d find no reason to fault her physical appearance, but running away from the trainer her Master had provided for her was a serious offense. If Todd took her back, there would be a price to pay for her actions.

  In the last few months, she had pushed her Master’s buttons on many occasions, using disobedience to force his attention. In the weeks before he left for Spring Training, it seemed the only time her Master touched her was to punish her for something she failed to do or had done wrong. Yet, he insisted the fault in their relationship was his.

  It took her a while, but she knew better now. A few days alone made her realize she’d been using her behavior to control the relationship, topping from the bottom. If her Master had punished her as severely and as often as her behavior warranted, she’d be a walking bruise.

  Her task was to submit to his will and to serve him. If she did that well, she would have all the attention she craved from him—and very little would come in the form of punishment.

  She would do better, but first she needed to convince him to take her back.

  ***

  “Have you heard from her?” Jason asked on Thursday as they walked side-by-side to the outfield to begin the morning stretch.

  “She sent a text on Tuesday. Two words. ‘I’m fine.’” Two fucking words. He’d even resorted to calling her parents, adding her family to the list of people worrying about her. He’d texted back, asking her to contact them. If she did, they hadn’t bothered to tell him. Maybe she asked them not to.

  His friend clapped him on the back. “Carrie will be glad to hear that.”

  Late leaving the clubhouse, they began their own row behind everyone else and joined in the toe touching exercise already in progress.

  “She hasn’t talked to your girl?” he asked.

  “Nope. Carrie wouldn’t be so worried if she’d heard from her.”

  “Tell her to stop worrying…for now. When Brooke decides to come out of hiding, that’s when she should start worrying.”

  “Need I remind you that you need to give her a chance to explain before you decide on her punishment?”

  “No. But unless she’s walking away from the relationship, she’ll be punished. This disappearing act is killing me.”

  His friend chuckled, dropping to the ground to do the next set of stretches. “You look like shit.”

  “Thanks for noticing.”

  “What are friends for?”

  He hadn’t seen Mistress Lola since parting ways with her in front of the diner on Saturday evening. Or was it Sunday morning? Time didn’t mean much when he didn’t have Brooke to look forward to. One day was pretty much like the others—play some baseball, act like everything was right in his world, go home to an empty condo. He checked with Frank every night, just in case his slave had decided to return home.

  He appreciated Jason’s offer of support, but he didn’t feel completely comfortable discussing his dysfunctional Master/slave relationship with a co-worker. Jace was relatively new to the lifestyle anyway, and what he knew about a twenty-four/seven living arrangement would fit in small jockstrap.

  However, there was one person who would understand.

  ***

  The moment Mistress Lola held the hood up for him to see, he knew he should have stayed at home. “Frank told you about that?”

  “He said you think he pushed your slave too far.”

  “She wasn’t ready for that level of sensory deprivat
ion or the electric play. Especially not the two combined.”

  “Did she tell you that?”

  “You don’t think that’s why she’s gone into hiding?”

  She put her hand inside the hood, examining it closely. There didn’t appear to be much in the way of air holes as best he could tell from where he was strapped to a padded table.

  “No. I don’t think that’s the reason. I saw the videos. She was shaken, but she dealt with the scene well enough. Whatever happened to set her off occurred later.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “Did you watch the aftercare videos?”

  “Some of them. Why?”

  “She knows you’re seeing someone in Arizona.”

  He jerked against his restraints. “What the fuck? What are you talking about?”

  “Frank told her.”

  He jerked against his restraints, might have even growled. “I’ll kill him.”

  “Calm down. He didn’t tell her exactly, just hinted that what you did was none of her concern—as your slave.”

  “I didn’t tell her because I was embarrassed to need the help, not because I needed a woman to fuck.”

  She stepped closer. “Let’s see how you do with the sensory deprivation.” After pushing a gag into his mouth, she worked the hood over his head, fastening it securely around his neck. Unlike the one Brooke had worn, this one didn’t have any openings, save two air holes for his nose.

  “Breathe for me, slave.” Her words were muffled by the heavy fabric, but he heard well enough. He inhaled deeply then let it out slow.

  “If you’re in distress, make a fist with your right hand. Otherwise, I’ll assume all is well. Rest assured I won’t leave you alone at any time. Nod if you understand.”

  He nodded. She explained about the headphones, identical to the ones Frank used on Brooke—noise canceling, but via a wireless connection, Mistress Lola would be able to speak to him.

  “No forced orgasm tonight,” she assured him through the headphones. He flinched when she attached the first electrode pad to his nipple. “Some men can come from electrical stimulation. Others can’t.”

  When she strapped something around his cock then placed more electrodes on his balls and thighs, his concern mounted.

  “You wanted to know what Brooke experienced. I’m going to give you the short version since you have to be on the field tomorrow.”

  The first sensations were mild, a warm tingle, but it wasn’t long before he was screaming against the gag for her to stop, but never once did he make the fist required to end the scene. His cock grew hard under the constant barrage of electrical current. The need to come was more painful than the charge running through him.

  Oh, Brooke. You are an incredible woman. Is this what it was like for you? And I wasn’t there to fuck you over the edge? I’m so sorry, babe. So very sorry.

  His fingers twitched as he fought with himself over ending the scene. Then, as quickly as it began, it ended. He breathed a sigh of relief, congratulating himself for hanging in there. He told himself to remain calm. It would take Mistress Lola a few minutes to release him.

  She began with his cock, gently unfastening the bands at the base and just beneath the head. But instead of moving on to other parts of his anatomy, she slipped something wet and warm over his shaft.

  “Go on, slave. Fuck the pussy. You’re still mine. No hand jobs when you get home.”

  Mortification overtook him. Why, he didn’t know. Just a few days ago, this woman had forced him to come. Fucking an artificial pussy was infinitely better. At least he retained some control over his own body. Needing to come overrode his embarrassment. Bucking his hips, he worked his cock in and out.

  “That’s it, slave. Fuck it. Fuck it hard.”

  The orgasm felt like a fireball ripping through his guts. Hot semen flooded the deep chamber, coating his cock as he rocked into it until the last spasm eased. Breathing hard, he collapsed against the table. Mistress Lola bathed him clean, then, beginning with his ankles, she released him.

  He could hardly stand, much less walk. Promising to call her when he got home, he dressed and left. He had no desire to talk to her about the scene. Tomorrow would be soon enough to contemplate the helpless feeling of being a sub. Maybe by then, he’d have a clue how to address the mixed up thoughts in his head.

  All he knew for sure was that Brooke was stronger than him. She’d known enough to run.

  ***

  Brooke checked the time on her cell phone. Midnight. She’d been freezing on Todd’s Phoenix doorstep for nearly four hours, waiting for him to come home so she could beg his forgiveness. But the longer she waited, the less sure she was of the decision she’d made.

  Where are you? Who are you with?

  He’d always maintained she had no reason to be jealous because he wanted only her, but the last week had played hell on her insecurities. Frank’s slip up, cautioning her not to question Todd’s activities while he was away, had sparked the green fire to life. Four days of trying to screw her head on right and she’d finally put her fears to rest. Todd loved her. He wouldn’t dishonor their commitment to each other while he was out of town.

  You’re a fool, Brooke Adams.

  A sleek SUV pulled into the parking spot reserved for Todd’s condo. Straightening, she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the bright lights. The driver’s side door opened, and a familiar silhouette climbed out. Two steps brought him even with the front bumper where he stopped to lean against the fender, arms crossed. She didn’t need to see his face to know he was pissed.

  Well, two could play at that game. “Where have you been?” she asked.

  The timed headlights blinked off, allowing her a better view of the man she had come to see. Pissed wasn’t even close to describing the look on his face.

  Crossing her arms, she cocked one hip, mirroring his stance. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  He straightened. Even furious, he was sexy in tight, faded jeans and a button down shirt beneath a leather jacket. Sliding his fingertips into his front pockets, he moved, reducing the distance between them by half before stopping. His laser-sharp gaze sent shivers down her spine. Brooke tightened her arms around her middle to control the shaking inside.

  “You’ve been waiting. I haven’t heard from you in four days. I called your parents.” He was close enough she could see the tick of anger in his clenched jaw.

  “I called them. They know I’m safe.”

  “You think you’re safe?”

  “You won’t hurt me.” She raised her chin, confident she knew him well enough to make that statement.

  “Why are you here?”

  Why? Wasn’t that the million-dollar question? “I came to apologize, but I’m not sure I have anything to apologize for anymore.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I want to know where you were tonight. You owe me an explanation.” The walkway lighting was weak, making it difficult to see, but she could have sworn his lips twitched up on one corner. “That amuses you?”

  He came closer. She stepped aside, so he could open the door. Heat rushed out, beckoning her in behind him.

  “Shut the door.” He tossed his keys on the breakfast bar separating the tiny living room from the even smaller kitchen. “Lock it.”

  Her fingers shook as she turned the deadbolt, sealing them inside. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply then let it out before turning around. He ditched the leather jacket over the back of one of the two chairs at the dinette set occupying one end of the galley kitchen. He toed off his shoes, leaving them under the table. She’d imagined his living space larger, more luxurious. He could certainly afford better than dated furnishings and barely enough room to turn around.

  “Want something to drink?” he asked.

  Her gaze snapped to the kitchen, where he stood with the refrigerator door open. She shook her head, another chill racing through her body.

  “I have coffee and tea if you
want something hot.”

  “Tea, please.” Back pressed to the door, she watched him fill a plain ceramic mug at the sink. He placed it in the microwave then pulled a small box from the cabinet.

  “This stuff doesn’t go bad, does it?” He studied the container.

  She shrugged. “Who knows? I don’t care. Why are you being so nice?”

  Todd went through the motions, selecting a teabag, dunking it in the hot water. He set the mug on the counter then leaned against the edge, putting as much distance between them as possible. “Drink your tea. Then we’ll talk.”

  Brooke sat on the single barstool. Wrapping her cold fingers around the mug, she absorbed its warmth without taking her eyes off the formidable man watching her like she might spring across the bar at any moment.

  “Sugar?”

  “No. I have coffee, tea, and beer.” He raised the brown bottle he’d taken from the refrigerator for himself. “I don’t eat here.”

  “Is that where you were? Out to dinner?”

  “No.”

  Her gaze dropped to her hands. She lifted the cup to her lips. The bitter brew helped thaw her numb brain. Right or wrong, she’d come to Phoenix to see what, if anything, could be salvaged from their relationship. “As your slave, it might not be my place to ask, but as the woman who loves you, I think I have a right to know. Were you with another woman?”

  Todd sighed then drank the contents of the bottle in one long pull. He set the empty container on the counter behind him with exaggerated care. His fingers curling around the countertop on either side of his hips, he looked up at her, stone-faced. “Yes.”

  It wasn’t green she saw, but red. “How dare you?”

  “I would dare anything to keep you, Brooke.”

  “To keep me? You leave me in the hands of a sadist while you’re fucking another woman.” She wished she hadn’t drunk the tea as it churned in her otherwise empty stomach. “How exactly do you think that was supposed to help you keep me?”