Training Sasha (Club Zodiac Book 1)

by Becca Jameson

  Exhaustion set in even though she’d taken a long nap and then been bathed without lifting a finger. Mental exhaustion from trying so hard to please Lincoln and feeling the weight of failure. Was he mad because she’d spoken out of line, cussed, touched her nipple? He didn’t look mad. He was just… waiting.

  He knew she had no experiences like this—not just with a Dom but with any man. He was the first to see her naked, and he’d bared her to the point that she felt more exposed than just naked. As if he’d also removed her skin. She’d given him everything, leaving herself raw.

  She wanted to speak, ask questions, sob out loud.

  Maybe he was disappointed in her. The idea made her chest tighten since all she wanted to do was please him. His silence was poignant though.

  She decided to try again. “Sir, I—”

  “Sasha,” he warned, her name sharp on his tongue.

  She started to fidget. Knowing he was staring at her threatened her sanity. Her breasts were high and swollen, her nipples sharp points from the cold and the stress. Even her sex was exposed.

  She was not aroused. She was annoyed. Whatever he was doing, it was starting to piss her off.

  “You’re shaking with frustration,” he pointed out. At least he spoke.

  “Yes, sir.” She kept her head bowed.

  “Being submissive sometimes means following orders without explanation.” He pushed off the edge of the vanity and sauntered closer, circling her. Stalking her. Annoying her.

  Seconds ticked by. Maybe minutes. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  He stood behind her for a long time, making so little noise she considered the possibility he’d slid into another dimension. As her body adjusted to the temperature and the moisture on her skin dried, she was no longer freezing, but her anger grew by the second.

  What the fuck is the point of this?

  Was he waiting for her to do something?

  It was like a standoff. And she was losing. Finally, she couldn’t take another second and she dropped her form entirely, spun around, and faced him. “What the hell do you want, Lincoln?” Her chest was pounding. If he was testing her, he won.

  He lifted a brow. “Safeword?”

  She shook her head. “You wish.”

  Without a word, he set his hand on her shoulder and ran it down her arm until he held her wrist. He guided her from the bathroom and out of the bedroom. She hadn’t been able to read his expression at all.

  At least they were leaving the bathroom. She had been close to losing her mind standing there. She wished he would say something. Anything. There was a total disconnect that unnerved her.

  She was shivering again. Her hair hung in long wet ringlets down her back, not helping matters. The house probably wasn’t that cold, but the chill she felt was more from frustration than from temperature.

  They entered the family room. The sun was still out, but it had moved across the sky to the other side of the house, leaving the backyard in a glow of evening colors. It was beautiful. She could stare at it for hours.

  But apparently not right now. Her breaths were coming in short sporadic bursts as she worried about what his next move would be. Would he make her leave even though she hadn’t used her safeword? Maybe she had blown this entire arrangement with her outburst and he would take her home and declare her unfit to be submissive.

  Shit, maybe he was right. At this point, she wanted to haul off and slap him. She was no longer about to cry. She was furious.

  Lincoln led her to the opposite side of the room next to the entertainment system. He kept walking until they were standing in the corner with no place to go. She couldn’t imagine what he wanted to do there. Nothing was nearby. Not even furniture.

  She took several deep breaths, forcing her hands to remain at her sides to avoid taking a swing at him. She pursed her lips to keep from yelling at him and making things worse. She needed to regroup and think before she spoke again.

  When he released her hand and stepped behind her to set his palms on her shoulders, she began to worry. And rightfully so. He angled her toward the corner. “Hands clasped behind your back.” His voice was matter of fact. Soft. Giving nothing away.

  She grabbed one wrist with the opposite hand at her lower back. And then he guided her the rest of the way into the corner. Oh God. Oh God.

  One hand slid from her shoulder to the back of her head. He angled her face toward the floor. “Lean on your forehead. Nipples to the wall. Feet wider.” He stuck a knee between her thighs and nudged them open.

  She couldn’t breathe. Her body went limp, totally flattened to the wall in the awkward position. There was no way to balance, so she gave in and pressed her breasts and even her belly into the corner.

  His lips came closer to her ear. “Wider, Sasha. I want your pussy open and exposed so you have something to think about while you stand here.”

  She whimpered involuntarily while she spread her legs wider. Obscenely wider. Oh my God.

  “That’s a good girl.” He released her. “Perfect form. Don’t move. Thirty minutes.”

  And then he was gone.

  She tried to inhale, but only managed to sob. A time out? Is that what this was? A time out?

  So matter of fact. Not a single mention of her outburst. She hadn’t managed to get him to break from his dominant stance. Nope. Instead, she’d earned herself a time out.

  Shit. Shit shit shit.

  She really needed to stop thinking that word at all. Obviously she was unable to keep it from slipping past her lips. And why did he care if she—a grown woman—occasionally used that simple four-letter word? It wasn’t like she cussed like a sailor. It was one small word. She never said fuck. Or even damn usually. Just shit. Was it that bad?

  Jesus, Sasha, who cares about your damn cussing?

  She was cold. Apparently he didn’t care. It was probably part of his plan.

  This was too much. She hadn’t signed up for this kind of treatment. It was abasing. She didn’t want to stand in this corner. She also didn’t have to. She could use her safeword. Turn around, face him head on, and say red. And then she could flee the room, find something in her suitcase to wear, and get the hell out of his house.

  No. She mentally shook her head. Don’t move. Don’t move a single muscle. She was not going to give up. She came here to prove something to herself and to Lincoln. That she could submit to him. He wasn’t hurting her. He hadn’t hurt her at all physically. The last half hour had been emotionally challenging. Nothing else. Maybe even intentional.

  Had he pushed her to get her to break form so he could punish her?

  She realized the two of them had conflicting goals. She wanted to prove she could be his. He wanted to prove she wasn’t submissive and get her to use her safeword. She would not give him that satisfaction. She was stronger.

  She’d come to his home to learn to be submissive. For him.

  That wasn’t his aim, of course—at least not verbally. He insisted he was training her to prepare her for another Dom. Not him. That infuriated her every time he reminded her.

  Why? Why couldn’t he see that she wanted him? Not someone else.

  Maybe he doesn’t see you that way, Sasha. Did you ever think of that?

  She shook the annoying thought from her head. No. He wasn’t just a firm and angry Dom. He had other sides to him. He was also kind and caring.

  She inhaled deeply several times to calm her nerves.

  It was humiliating standing in this corner like a naughty child.

  Isn’t that what you are, though?

  She had let him down. She had let herself down. She had misbehaved. Tested him. Even sparring with him verbally when he told her not to. He’d warned her he would be firm and strict if she didn’t follow the rules. He hadn’t minced words.

  He had told her to obey his commands immediately without question. And yet, she’d lost her patience and blatantly disobeyed him.

  She was pissed. Half at herself fo
r letting him treat her like this and half at… well, herself again for doing the things that earned her this time out. Shit. I mean, darn.

  How long had she been here? Two minutes? Twenty? She had no idea.

  He was throwing everything at her at once. So many things in one day. Why? She knew why. He wanted her to safeword. She would not. She might have lost it there for a while after her bath, but she was pulling herself back together.

  Noises behind her told her Lincoln was in the kitchen. Maybe cooking. When the smell of red sauce hit her nose, she sighed. Something Italian. Her stomach growled.

  Again she wondered if he intended to do all the cooking while she did nothing but look pretty? This wasn’t how she pictured D/s. She’d read about submissives servicing their Doms. Wasn’t that what he would expect?

  The clock kept ticking. Surprisingly she wasn’t uncomfortable. She wouldn’t want to stand like this for hours, but putting the majority of her weight on her forehead, chest, and belly made it tolerable. Her sex was exposed, making it difficult for her to ignore its existence. And her butt still burned from earlier.

  As time wore on, she calmed herself. In a way, this was a blessing. It gave her a chance to remind herself of her goal. She could do this. He wasn’t hurting her. He would never hurt her. He’d promised. And besides, she knew better. Injury wasn’t a concern in her mind.

  It was just a time out. It hurt her heart because she hated disappointing him. But had she disappointed him? He’d gotten weird on her after the bath. Switched his mood to quiet brooding. She got the impression he was pulling out all the stops to get her to safeword. What would he do next? Chain her to the wall in a dark room?

  Deep breaths. The time out was humiliating. But no harm was done. And she had to admit she’d learned a lesson, even if that lesson was simply to never put herself in a position to warrant a time out.

  She could do better. She could do this. For him. For herself. He wouldn’t break her. No matter how hard he tried. And she now had no doubt his main goal was to get her to break and give up the idea of being submissive. It was possible her brother had even put him up to it.

  She would not give up. She would win.

  Chapter 16

  Lincoln had forced himself to get dinner in the oven, and then padded silently back into the family room and leaned heavily against the back of the couch, staring at Sasha’s back.

  He was so completely out of his comfort zone that he struggled to follow his own internal monologue. From the moment he woke her up, he’d been ad-libbing. For the last week, he’d pictured training her about postures and different positions and keeping her gaze lowered and kneeling at her Master’s feet. He’d incorrectly assumed she wouldn’t be able to go through with any of that.

  She’d proven him wrong, knocking him off his foundation. Time and again. Sure, she’d had minor infractions but nothing any ordinary Dom wouldn’t deal with even from a seasoned submissive.

  So, he’d pushed her. Hard. Forced her hand. It was a dick move. He knew it. And dammit, she had not used her safeword. He’d had to think fast. Plan B. A time out.

  He watched her closely, his heart at war. The battle raging inside him would not be won. No matter what, he would lose.

  Either she found herself pushed too far and used her safeword or she found a way to weather the storm. He honestly hadn’t been sure which way she would go as he arranged her naked body in the corner.

  She’d given no obvious signs to indicate which way she was leaning—telling him to fuck himself or submitting to his discipline.

  Half of his heart rooted for team Sasha. He wanted her to succeed. He wanted her to push through the punishment and come out on the other side stronger.

  The other half of his heart rooted for team… What was the other team? Team Broken Sasha? The one where she shoved off the wall, used her safeword, and left the house while glaring at him for being a total dick?

  Team Broken Sasha would be better in the long run. Safer. At least she would stop pressuring everyone to let her join Zodiac. She could move on with her life and put this nonsense about submitting behind her. Right about now, she should be feeling the pressure to do just that.

  And yet, she stood perfectly still right where he’d left her.

  Why did he want to pump his fist?

  He was an ass. No Dom should handle a new sub the way he’d handled her all day. Especially with the silent treatment he’d subjected her to since he’d helped her out of the tub.

  He could have spent the evening wearing her out with the mundane aspects of D/s. He probably should have. It would have been safer. Easier. It would not have pushed her away, however. The goal. Eye on the goal.

  At this point, he’d crossed so many lines, they were a blur of blackness. As if he needed reminding, he pictured her once again masturbating for him after he spanked her ass and shaved her pussy. His cock had gotten harder as the day wore on with every test to his willpower.

  He was playing with fire, and it would bite him in the ass if he didn’t rein it in and get control of his physical responses to her.

  He continued to watch her standing there, her fantastic body displayed for him. So brave. So obedient. His cock stiffened further, infuriating him. And then he paced, running a hand through his hair, angry with himself for treating her so coldly. It was uncalled for. And it had backfired. She’d proven she was up to any task, even if he was a total fuck about it.

  She was not going to use her safeword.

  She was strong. He was so proud of her. Dammit.

  She deserved better.

  At this point his goals were foggy. The lines he intended to draw were blurring, and he’d only had her one day. Not even a day. Eight hours.

  He’d gotten so far off track he didn’t even know what success looked like. He had a foot in two worlds. He was playing a game, but he was the only player on both teams. Every point scored was a win and a loss.

  This tennis match had to stop soon, or Lincoln was going to need a straitjacket. Back and forth.

  He wasn’t right for her.

  She wasn’t right for him.

  The sooner he got that through his thick skull, the sooner he could get on with her training and let her go.

  He wanted her to succeed in her training, he realized. He wanted to watch her blossom under his tutelage. He wanted her to blossom and grow as a submissive. And she was hanging in there even though he’d thrown too much at her in eight short hours. He’d taken her places he wouldn’t recommend a Dom take his sub in a week.

  He’d asked her to do things she wasn’t ready for. And she’d done them. All of them. It was time to admit she was indeed submissive, she was also strong enough not to allow failure, and he was a total dick.

  He’d pushed her to do so many things outside her comfort zone. She’d gotten naked for him first thing that morning. He knew that was hard for her, and yet she’d stripped down to her soul for him. It humbled him and made his cock rock hard at the time and every time he thought about it since.

  He couldn’t shake the vision of her pulling that flimsy piece of cotton over her head. The first moment he saw her rosy nipples, the swell of her sweet breasts, the dip of her stomach, the flare of her hips, the curls between her legs. She’d been so brave, clasping her hands above her bottom and pulling her shoulders back to lift her tits.

  His cock couldn’t take the visions anymore. He shook them from his head and glanced at his watch. Her time was up. His previous intentions to pressure her into using her safeword vanished. She’d proven herself. She deserved praise and aftercare.

  She was not going to back down. Ever. What did that leave Lincoln with? He’d made her a promise to train her to be the best submissive she could be. Regardless of the fact that his intentions had been completely different, she had proven herself worthy all day. He’d be a total dick not to acknowledge that, regroup, and figure out what the fuck he was going to do next.

  He approached her, schooling his voice. “It’
s over, baby,” he soothed.

  She wobbled as she pushed off the wall.

  He reached out a hand to steady her and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. When she sighed, her shoulders falling, he leaned down and picked her up. The breath whooshed from her lungs, unmanning him.

  He carried her to the sofa and sat, settling her across his lap. “I’m so proud of you, baby.” He tucked the blanket around her and inhaled slowly. She’d been through a lot since he’d yanked her awake. He couldn’t imagine everything that had gone through her mind in the last hour.

  She was calm. A bit stiff. But calm. So he held her and decided to let her be in silence for a while longer.

  He closed his eyes and thought about her pinkened bottom. So fucking sexy. She’d taken the punishment like a seasoned sub, not a newbie. Not someone on their first day. She’d endured it without stopping him or trying to get away. And then he’d had to stare at that still-pink ass while she stood in the corner.

  He took long breaths, hoping she wouldn’t notice he was out of sorts. The tables had turned. He needed to figure out a new game plan. Pushing her to safeword was no longer a viable option. He held her tight as she relaxed into him, snuggling closer.

  Could he actually train her and then let her go? Turn her over to another man? Risk having to watch her blossom and grow under someone else’s care? He had no choice. He knew in his soul he couldn’t have her.

  Before today he had truly believed she was too innocent for BDSM. Too pure. But then why was she doing this? Why push herself to endure everything he doled out when it didn’t suit her?

  He couldn’t ignore the possibility that niggled in the back of his mind over and over.

  What if it was him?

  What if she was doing all this to please him? What if she really did have a childhood crush on him that caused her to irrationally leave her body and do everything in her power to win him over?

  Fuck. She had no idea who he was or what he was. She couldn’t understand that he was a sadist. He needed to top women in ways she couldn’t imagine. He enjoyed the endorphin release from flogging or caning a woman as much as they needed to receive the release. He’d been that way for years. Since he could remember. He didn’t permanently harm them. Ever. He simply gave them what they needed. What they begged him for.