Passion's Training

by Devyn Douglas

The thought cascaded warmth through her core. Stryker had won their contest. He’d won…

  Oh dear freaking saints. The prize was supposedly her ass. Anal sex had been one of the things she’d marked on that questionnaire from hell. She’d always been curious, but too much of a chickenshit to try it. Not that she’d had anyone she trusted around long enough to help her with it.

  She reflexively moved from his embrace. He drew her back. “Easy, Viviana.”

  He’d used her name. That meant they were through. Right? What about his reward? Questions pinged in her mind. She licked her lips and tentatively cast her gaze upward. Amusement flickered across Lance’s face. She noted the same expression on Stryker’s face. Drawing the blanket around her, she took a deep breath and prayed her voice was stronger than the rest of her. “Thank you for playing with me, Sirs.”

  “You are very welcome.” Stryker pulled errant hairs away from her face and cupped her chin until her eyes met his. “You are a complex little mystery, Viviana.”

  “We like mysteries.” Lance crouched before her, a hulking mass of sinewy temptation. He stroked her knee. “I’m afraid we have a few issues, Viviana.”

  Issues were never good. Viviana didn’t handle issues real well when they pertained to men. Hell, she barely handled men. That was half her problem. She remained silent, even though the voices in her head screamed, Run. Run. Run.

  “Did this scene sate your needs, little one?” Stryker’s question created a new state of anxiety within her. How the hell was she supposed to answer that?

  Yes. No. Yes. Fuck if she knew. She sighed pensively.

  Lance chuckled. Stryker moved the blanket aside until her body was on display for them. Tucked within his arms, all she could do was sit there and let them study her, a bug under their microscope. Unease clenched her limbs. She wanted to cower away. Run from the possible scathing comments and criticisms her mind was already preparing for.

  “Your pulse races beneath my fingers. You are not comfortable being seen like this.”

  It wasn’t a question. She remained silent. These two were way too aware of shit. How she thought she could play with either of them—much less both—was beyond her.

  “I didn’t expect it to end like this.” She fiddled with a frayed end on the blanket, wrapping the baby-blue string around her pinky.

  “What did you expect?”

  She shrugged.

  “That’s not a response, little one.” Stryker grazed her forehead with a soft kiss. “Answer Lance’s question.”

  “I figured you’d let me go and leave. Then I could go home.”

  “Is that all?” Lance asked.

  Viviana swallowed. “You might’ve had a few things to say about how I did.”

  “And that makes you nervous.”

  What the hell? She felt as if she’d ordered a BDSM session, extra Dom, with a side of psych eval to go. There were too many carbs in psychoanalyzing her behavior though. She had enough pudginess to contend with as it was.

  “There is no shame in what happened here, little one.”

  “And there is never any shame in letting a Master see your passion.” Lance pried her legs apart and ran his finger across her slit. “I can’t wait to feel your pussy gripping my cock. I’m a bit pissed that Stryker here won our contest.”

  “No fear, man. Jane will take both our cocks into her gorgeous ass.”

  “I will?”

  “Your body is ours. You will obey to pleasure us, and anyone else we feel will help enhance your learning experience.”

  Anyone else.

  Viviana allowed the images their words spun to take control. No, she’d gladly ceded control to them. This is what she’d wanted—to surrender to the hands of Masters who could extract her darkest desires. Without judgment.

  “Yes Sirs.”

  “Good girl.” Stryker removed the blanket from her shoulders. “What is your safe word?”

  “Cobra.”

  “Very good.” He helped her stand. Their hot breath danced across her cheeks, one on each side.

  Lance cupped her breasts and thumbed her nipples, flicking until the hard nubs ached. He released his hold. “You are incredibly responsive, Jane. This will please anyone lucky enough to play with you.”

  How many would that be?

  The question burned within her. She chewed on her lower lip.

  “Never be afraid to ask a question, Jane. If we are in high protocol, you will know. For now simply ask. You will never learn if you are too embarrassed or shy to ask what you want to know.”

  “How many men will…” She broke off the question, unsure how to phrase it.

  “For tonight, no more.”

  “For tonight?”

  “We wish to extend your training, Jane. Tonight will not be enough to give you what you truly need.” Stryker ran his hand down her rib cage and rested it at her hip. “You are already aware of that.”

  She’d known with her first climax. There was so much more to experience than she’d anticipated.

  “We wish you to return tomorrow for private sessions.”

  Private sessions were expensive. Like, pay your rent or get a session expensive. She stammered for a response that wouldn’t make her seem pathetic. “I’m honored for the offer, but I’m afraid my budget won’t allow for that.”

  “These will be on the house.” Lance smirked. “We are bored, and you are the most interesting thing to arrive here since Kade snagged Autumn and we dragged her here for him.”

  She was sure that made sense to them, but she had no clue what the hell they were talking about. All she’d processed was “on the house”.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why would you do this for free, with me?”

  “You are a remarkably responsive submissive in need of training. We’d be fools not to be your first,” Stryker whispered. His free hand ran down her neck. Her skin tingled under his touch. “And we’re never fools.”

  “What happens next will determine your readiness for what awaits you, Jane. We will take you into The Brigade. Your hands will be restrained behind you.”

  “You are to follow two feet behind us with your eyes cast downward.” Stryker brought her hands behind her back and locked them to one another. “When we stop you are to kneel with your legs spread so that anyone near can see how needy your beautiful pussy is.”

  She got wetter thinking of what they intended. Her breasts were heavy with need, her pulse raced. Dare she agree to this? What if someone in the club knew her? Or worse, knew her brother? Holy crap, that would suck. Real bad.

  We saw your little sister parading around naked at The Brigade last night.

  “What was that thought, little one?” Stryker’s husky voice rippled through her, a salve for wounds she’d left untended for too long.

  “Nothing.”

  “A submissive must never lie to her Masters.” Lance’s words were soft, but his voice was firm. “A relationship is formed through trust. You must trust us with your innermost thoughts, no matter how hard that might be.”

  Emotion clogged her insides. Her lower lip quivered and she darted her gaze downward. Don’t you dare break down. Don’t you fucking dare. This is what you wanted.

  Yeah, but she hadn’t expected for her insides to get ripped open. She’d expected a little slap and tickle, so to speak. She should have known better. In a way, she’d wanted this. Deep, deep, deep down she’d wanted a man to care enough to demand answers to the tough questions. She’d wanted someone to give a shit about what she thought. Needed.

  She swallowed the terror rising within her and seized her golden ticket into her fantasyland.

  “What has you so upset about going in there, little one?”

  “I might get recognized.”

  “And you don’t think someone might have recognized you during the demonstration earlier?” Lance grinned.

  “True, but there weren’t as many people. It’s later and more are probably
here. And…” Holy hell, none of it really made sense. Not when she rationally considered it. Lance was right. If anyone was here, they would’ve already seen her—all of her.

  “What happens in The Brigade stays in The Brigade.” Stryker stroked her cheek, his hot breath falling on her ear. She pressed against him, longing for his heated embrace once again. “That is the second most important mantra for the resort, behind Safe, Sane, Consensual.”

  “Since we offered to train you, another founder must grant you an asylum membership. This prevents us from taking advantage of you,” Lance said.

  Viviana had read all about the founders of Brigade Enterprises when she’d helped with their security and their new websites. They’d all met at a private boarding school and carried their friendship on through their collegiate years. Somewhere within those formative years, they’d all discovered a mutual appreciation for the BDSM scene and a wish to help educate those interested in pursuing a lifestyle.

  Very little was offered about Lance or Stryker on the website though. Then again, Stryker wasn’t considered a founding member. But Lance was. He was the only one of the four without a public biography. That had planted a seed of curiosity within her from the beginning, and she felt it growing as she stood before him.

  “I understand, Sirs.”

  “Good.” Stryker moved to stand beside Lance. “Remember your safe word. Remain two feet behind us at all times. When you kneel, make sure you spread your legs wide, Jane.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  The two of them turned and fled the safety of the tent. Her heart hammered as she marched behind them. Although she longed to visually drool over them, she averted her eyes as she’d been ordered, silently praying she didn’t bump into anyone along the way.

  How would they know she was behind them? Were they watching? How much farther? Her nipples were hard as rocks and her pussy was wet. She’d give just about anything for five minutes alone in a bathroom right now. Crap, she should’ve shaved a little more. Maybe trimmed a bit closer.

  The thoughts waged war with her bravado. The two men she now called Sir might be warriors, but she wasn’t really ready for a warzone. And a part of her couldn’t help but consider the hallowed grounds of The Brigade as exactly that—because she knew everything within its confines would test her in ways she hadn’t comprehended fully.

  Ready or not, the time to discover herself had begun. The warm air from inside lapped at her skin as she took the first step, then another, and another. A soldier marching into a war with herself and praying that the two officers commanding knew what the hell they were doing.

  Chapter Four

  What happens in The Brigade stays in The Brigade. Viviana chanted the mantra, a reminder that she had to take the first fateful steps alone—two feet behind the two men she couldn’t wait to be alone with again.

  Assuming she didn’t die from the humiliation unfolding around her now. Speakers vibrated beneath her steps, lights flashed around her. The sensual, rhythmic dance music engulfed her. Had she not known where she was, she’d swear she was at one of the many downtown Austin nightclubs. But this was no nightclub. This was The Brigade masquerade ball.

  She kept her gaze cast downward though curiosity demanded she take a glance here and there—a fleeting glimpse of the illusive interior to a place that had tapped her inner fantasies in a way she’d never expected. Other than mahogany and leather furniture speckling the walls on occasion, the area they traveled was open. Welcoming.

  They’d entered through a side door of some sort, one which had afforded her a more private walk up the expansive lawn. Boisterous laughter and stifled moans warned her the reprieve had been temporary. She was now in the bowels of the party. Or, about to enter them.

  Following the two was becoming increasingly difficult. The two-foot distance made it nearly impossible to catch their feet within her peripheral vision. She should’ve had LASIK surgery, dang it. The contacts weren’t cutting it tonight.

  She glanced up as they turned left. Fortunately, she’d only had to do this a few times—and hadn’t gotten caught. She suspected that one, or both, of them glanced backward now and then to make sure she hadn’t gotten lost.

  The warmth of the room spread across her skin when they turned a corner. She hoped they had no intention of making her kneel within the corridor they currently traveled down. Her steps fell against slate, but she couldn’t hear the clacking of her heels thanks to the loud music.

  As they entered the room she wished she had longer hair, and that Stryker hadn’t made sure every strand of the length she did have was dutifully between her shoulders and away from her breasts.

  Why couldn’t she have larger breasts? Okay, they were a C cup and that was pretty darn decent. But gravity had a way of catching up with a girl, and she wasn’t twenty anymore. Things sagged more than they used to. She glimpsed a blonde in a red leather bustier kneeling before a man in leather pants and wearing a black vest emblazoned with The Brigade Dungeon Monitor in red lettering. The woman was beautiful. Perky tits. Long legs. Not an ounce of cellulite.

  Bitch.

  Her gaze remained on the couple a little too long. The man smirked and his eyebrow rose. Crap, it was Chase. Yeah, that was his name. How she’d remembered it from earlier she wasn’t sure. Then again, it was hard to not remember a man who could’ve easily walked off the cover of GQ. She quickly started counting slate again.

  Okay, no more looking around. That was too close. Her heart thundered in her chest and shot sparks of adrenaline through her system. Her entire body was a live wire ready to explode at the slightest touch.

  Down three steps.

  Moans echoed. Leather against skin. The sounds were unmistakable—ones she’d only experienced from the safety of her computer screen. Furniture blocked sections off. Plants partitioned spaces, she assumed for privacy, along the path as they wound left, then right, then left again.

  How the hell had they expected her to keep her gaze down and follow through all this? She wasn’t Wonder Woman. No, Wonder Woman didn’t have that sort of power. Who the hell did?

  Shit, they’d stopped. She fell to her knees and kept her gaze locked on the padded flooring beneath her. Thank God it was padded. That slate would’ve hurt like hell. Had she spread her legs wide enough? She nudged them apart more, hoping the maneuver wasn’t obvious.

  Stryker’s chuckle sent heat coursing up her face. Apparently it had been.

  “I think we caught Jane thinking and not paying attention.”

  “Or looking around.” Lance ran his hand down her cheek. She battled the urge to lean into the soft touch. “You wouldn’t disobey and look around, would you?”

  “No Sir.”

  “Good girl.”

  “We’ll have our regular, Sarah, and bring Jane here a rum and Coke.”

  “I think she’d prefer a chardonnay.”

  “She’s a hard liquor girl, I bet. Aren’t you, Jane?” Stryker asked.

  Actually, she’d prefer to remain sober. She needed what few brain cells still working to remain on duty, not lollygagging or dancing on the tabletops. “I’m fine, Sir.”

  “You will have a drink, Jane. You have a long night ahead of you, and we won’t be near a bar later. Enjoy it while you can.” Lance chuckled. “We’ll hold the glass for you.”

  The statement reminded her that her arms were trapped behind her. Her breasts were on full display. Sweet heavens, anyone could see her pussy.

  “Spread your legs a little wider, little one.” Stryker nudged her knee with his boot. She complied instantly. “Good girl.”

  “It’s about time you two returned. Gabe was ready to storm the tent in case Jane here got the better of you two.”

  The voice sent a chill slithering down Viviana’s back. She recognized that voice.

  “I see you’ve met Viviana.” Stryker moved to stand behind her as Chase sauntered up and cupped her chin. He pulled upward until their gazes locked.

  “I did. I hadn�
�t noticed those gorgeous eyes outside, but I sure as hell did earlier.” He winked. “You two have a sexy little handful here.”

  “Indeed.” Stryker squeezed her shoulder. “Were you looking around earlier, Jane?”

  “Yes Sir. You turn corners faster than my brother on his motorcycle.”

  Amusement flickered in Lance’s gaze. “Must be a man thing.”

  “I don’t doubt it, Sir.”

  “When you are given an order you must obey it and trust that we will look out for you.” Stryker rubbed her arm. “We wouldn’t want you to bang into any corners.”

  “Skin this soft would bruise easily,” Chase commented. “May I?”

  May he what? Her pulse raced as he stepped closer. She involuntarily maneuvered from his touch. Though he’d touched her before, he’d asked permission this time. Permission implied an intention. Intention implied an Oh Shit! moment.

  Stryker braced her body between his hands, holding her still at the shoulders.

  Chase grazed her cheek with his finger. “Definitely a little spitfire. I enjoy subs with spunk. Is she new around here?”

  “She’s a party crasher,” Lance commented.

  “Our own little rebel sub,” Chase stated. His hand ran down her neck and across her upper chest. She inhaled deeply and willed the downward path to stop. He cupped her breast, as if testing its weight. His thumb flicked her nipple.

  Viviana stifled her moan. She’d gone almost thirty years without a single man who had a touch that could emulsify her spine. Tonight she’d found three—the only three she’d encountered, if she didn’t count the guard—who turned her entire body gelatinous without a thought.

  Chase crouched before her and extracted a device from his jean pocket. He smelled of cinnamon when he leaned in and reached around her. A scanner. She remembered the devices from earlier, and the rush of mental thought alleviated the apprehension rising within her.

  Or was it desire? Was she afraid, or turned-on?

  Hell if she knew.

  He thumbed through screens, his eyebrows lifting. He stood and regarded her silently. “She’s a brave sub.”

  “Indeed.” Stryker returned his hand to her shoulder. “We played Last Man Standing earlier.”