An Invitation: Alayna's Training

by Jennifer Cole

  But she was a young woman with wants, needs, and desires, and it was high time she sought her place in the world. She'd hidden behind her responsibilities at the restaurant after her obligations to Ariel's care became redundant. Perhaps it was time for her to throw caution to the wind and find out what life had in store for her.

  Alayna stood up, walked to the door, and pushed it closed. Once alone, she began rearranging the furnishings in the office so she wouldn't again be caught off guard by a visitor sneaking up behind her.

  As she struggled to turn the desk around, she thought about what Ariel had said about her comfort zone. Her past sexual encounters had been unfulfilling to say the least. She had never achieved orgasm with any of her partners. It wasn't that her partners hadn't tried to make the experience pleasurable; part of the problem was that she didn't know what it was she needed or wanted to get the most from their intimacy.

  The filing cabinets slid slowly along the floor as she struggled to push them one at a time over to the far wall.

  Then Logan Abram had entered her life and made her more keenly aware of her sexual desires. The man triggered something inside her that was foreign yet exciting at the same time. From the first moment she'd seen him, she'd recognized him as a man who knew what he wanted. One who would stop at nothing until he got it.

  Now that she knew he was joint proprietor in A Master's Gift, she felt the need to learn more about him. But she wasn't forward enough to approach him. Despite living in the twenty-first century, Alayna considered herself an old-fashioned girl. If Logan had given her more of an indication that he was interested in something more than casual conversation, perhaps she would be encouraged to take the step forward. But he hadn't.

  After she finished shifting the furniture, she sat down and continued to scope the Web site. She learned what sort of expectations a Dom might have of a submissive. She understood a dominant's desire to be in control, and that intrigued her. Though the prospect of giving control over to another person was a bit scary, there was also something exciting about it. Alayna wondered if making such a gift to another would bring the submissive a sense of freedom.

  If she wanted to be the kind of woman Logan Abram would be interested in, she'd have to explore his lifestyle from the inside. Alayna decided that was exactly what she would do. She knew he found something about her attractive; he watched her enough. Through training at A Master's Gift, she could become the perfect submissive for Logan. Maybe then he'd express interest.

  Deep down, she desired to be the object of his wanting. She craved to be the center of his attention. Sexual and otherwise. She wondered what it would be like to be his woman. To belong to him.

  Belong to him? Like a possession? Thoughts of what she'd come across on the Web site earlier flitted through her mind. She longed to be cared for, to be desired and cherished. She wasn't so sure she appreciated the term “owned,” but she wanted to be possessed. To belong. But not to just any man.

  If Dane Reese's leaving the business card for her was any indication, her submissive nature was obvious. Clearly he recognized something she didn't even know she was—or something that she might be. Was that the reason her love life had never been fruitful? Was she a submissive soul who, until now, had been endlessly searching for her master to show her the way?

  Until now?

  Alayna scanned the new arrangement of the office. A smile curled her lips. Not so much at the layout, but at having reached a decision. For the first time in ten years, she was going to give precedence to her desires. To see if she really had what it took to be a submissive, she would need to learn how to tap into that part of herself. The only way to do that was to shed her inhibitions and place herself in the hands of a master trained to assist in unleashing her inner wild child.

  And her sights were set on one in particular—Master Logan Abram.

  She gave the Web site another thorough once over. Then she reached for the phone.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning was Sunday, and the café was closed. A jet-black stretch limousine sat alongside the curb in front of the small brick cottage-style home Alayna shared with her sister. When she'd told Ariel the night before over dinner about her plan to tour the facilities at A Master's Gift and talk to Dane, Ariel's body had gone rigid with surprise for a handful of seconds before her demeanor turned encouraging. “You called. You're going to see them. You lucky girl,” she had said.

  Alayna walked along the cobblestone path from her front porch to the waiting car. Her nerves, which had been raging all morning, calmed to a simmer.

  “Good morning, Ms. Valerian,” the handsome, tuxedo-clad driver said, holding the back passenger-side door of the limo open.

  “Good morning,” she replied, lowering herself into the car and sliding toward the middle of the seat. “Thank you.”

  When the driver slid behind the wheel, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled warmly. “We have about a half-hour drive to reach our destination. Would you like me to stop anywhere along the way?”

  Alayna shook her head. “No, I'm fine. Thank you.”

  “Very well,” he replied. “Do you wish for me to turn the speakers on back there so you can listen to some music?”

  “Yes, that would be nice,” she said.

  “Do you enjoy a particular genre?”

  Again she shook her head. “What were you listening to?”

  “Classic rock,” he answered.

  “Classic rock it is then.”

  Alayna watched the small business district slide into the suburbs before the greenery of the countryside began to whiz by. The music reverberating through the speakers was nothing more than white noise in the background.

  What the hell was she doing? This wasn't something Alayna Valerian did. Jump in the back of a limo to be driven to a place where people engaged in nontraditional sexual practices. What in the world had she been thinking when she'd picked up the phone and called Dane Reese? After the teasing from her sister the afternoon before, she'd allowed her neglected libido to do her thinking for her.

  Her apprehension began to brew, and her palms grew damp. Rubbing them along her thighs, she contemplated asking the driver to turn the car around and return her to her home. In an attempt to resist the sudden urge, she inhaled, then released the breath slowly. She didn't want to inconvenience Dane, who had arranged his time to meet with her, or the driver, who had traveled all the way in from the establishment to pick her up. She didn't want to cause anyone unnecessary trouble.

  To distract herself, she glanced around the interior of the backseat and spied a rack of sorts filled with a variety of reading materials. Leafing through the numerous magazines, she plucked one from the selection and settled against the back of the seat. Never having experienced anything like what she was embarking on before, Alayna had no idea what to expect once she arrived wherever they were going.

  What woman in her right mind would jump into a vehicle with a strange man and allow herself to be taken to another strange man? Good Lord, Alayna. What in the hell are you getting yourself into?

  Unable to rein in her anxiety, she squirmed in her seat. The magazine she'd chosen sat ignored on her lap. The scrape of her linen skirt against the lush leather cushion carried to her ears as she turned her attention to the minibar the driver had shown her when he helped her into the backseat. Helping herself to a bottle of organic fruit juice, Alayna glanced toward the windshield and caught the eye of the driver.

  “Would you care for something to drink?” she asked. “There's quite a selection.”

  The man shook his head. “No thank you, Ms. Valerian.”

  They had been driving in silence for more than twenty minutes when the driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “We'll arrive in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you,” she replied with a forced smile and a nod.

  She took a deep breath to try to calm herself. After she'd placed the call to Mr. Reese the day before, Alayna had surfed the Web for more
information on Domination/submission and BDSM. Some of the sites she had come across were frightening to say the least. Several depicted women as nothing more than objects to torture. There were aspects of BDSM play that left her wondering what people enjoyed about them. No matter how much she researched and studied, she couldn't understand the attraction of blood play and cutting another person.

  Another area of interest she had come across were those who dabbled in playing with electricity. She'd been zapped a few times accidentally, and she didn't see the draw in allowing another person to do it intentionally. Most disturbing, however, was the activity involving one person controlling another's breathing. Although she supposed the element of danger would be a turn-on for some, that particular play was a line she wasn't interested in crossing.

  The more she had searched, the more information she'd found. Alayna had been relieved to learn that many of the sites she had come across didn't represent the true lifestyle. Those particular Web sites were designed for titillation rather than an accurate depiction of a relationship.

  Not all the information she uncovered had been intimidating. She found several Web sites dedicated to the more realistic aspects of the lifestyle: actual couples in love, with complete trust in one another, who were willing to share their thoughts and experiences with people interested in learning about D/s relationships. Alayna found those sites to be the most useful.

  The thought of a little pain combined with pleasure wasn't abhorrent. She rather liked the idea of being spanked. What she realized she liked most about it was the thought of the follow-up to the swat. She wondered what it would feel like to have a confident, warm hand caress the cheeks of her backside, soothing away the sting it had created seconds before.

  But she still had difficulty picturing herself in such a position.

  The car came to a stop in front of an old Victorian-style home. She spun around in her seat to look out the back window, only to find she couldn't see the road. She'd been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed they'd driven up a long private drive.

  Without a word, the driver exited the car and walked around the back to the passenger side. After opening the door, he offered Alayna his hand. She slid her palm along his and stepped out of the car. For several moments she stood in silence, staring in awe at the three-story Victorian mansion. It was a magnificent structure, surrounded by lush, mature trees and colorful gardens.

  The front door opened, and Dane Reese strolled out. Today he was all business, dressed in a navy pinstriped suit. Standing on the front porch, he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pants and leaned his tall athletic frame against a square pillar on one side of the wide wooden staircase. He flashed her a grin.

  Alayna's belly somersaulted, and her knees wobbled, threatening to fail her. But she noted that the actions of her body were from nerves, not arousal. Though Dane Reese was handsome, she felt no attraction toward him. Not like what she felt for Logan Abram. After a silent moment passed between them, he pulled his left hand free and held it out to her.

  “Welcome, Alayna,” he said.

  As she stepped up onto the porch, Alayna slipped her shaking hand into his.

  “I can't tell you how happy I was to receive your call yesterday,” he said. “Even more pleased that you have come.”

  Alayna took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. “Now that I'm here, I'm a little nervous,” she admitted.

  “There's no need to be nervous. It's admirable you want to explore your sexuality. Would you like a tour of the grounds before we begin?”

  Of course she wanted to take a look around; however, with her belly flipping with mounting anxieties, if they didn't discuss what she came here for—and fast—she would surely back out.

  “Perhaps later, Mr. Reese,” she said, her voice carrying the same tremble of her body. “I was hoping we could get down to business.”

  A deep chuckle resonated from his broad chest. “Ahh, you're all work, work, work, aren't you?” His tone teased. “You know what they say about all work and no play.”

  When she didn't respond, his smile broadened.

  “All right, come. We'll talk in my office.”

  Alayna nodded. Dane settled his hand against the small of her back and guided her through the heavy wooden front door. Upon crossing the threshold, she instantly caught the faint scent of Logan's cologne in the air. It was as if he'd walked through a short time earlier. She inhaled deeply and reveled in her body's reaction as recognition caressed her senses. A pleasant hum vibrated through her nerve endings.

  Her eyes scanned the large foyer, hoping to see Logan enter at any moment. She was amazed at the decor; inside, the authentic-looking furnishings reflected the era of the house itself.

  “This is a beautiful home,” she said. They walked through a sitting room, past a dining area, and down a corridor.

  “My partner's doing,” Dane replied. “He's an old-fashioned soul.”

  “Mr. Abram?”

  “Yes. I sometimes wonder if Logan wasn't born in the wrong era.”

  “W-will he be joining us?” she asked, hoping.

  “I'm afraid not. Logan is a workaholic,” he said. “Though an admirable quality the two of you share, you both must learn to incorporate fun into your lives,” he said. “Stop.” His sudden unwavering, firm tone made Alayna freeze midstep. “Your head hasn't stopped swiveling since you entered.”

  “I'm in awe, Mr. Reese. Everything is simply beautiful. I can't take it in fast enough.”

  A smile lifted his lips. “A tour of the grounds will wait, but allow me the indulgence of showing you around the house.”

  It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Alayna nodded. “I'd like that.”

  They turned and walked back up the hall.

  Partway down the hall, he directed her attention to a small sitting area with two large chairs positioned in front of a stone hearth. Two more chairs stood in a corner, and a small table separated them.

  “There is a larger living room for entertaining past the stained-glass French doors,” Dane said. “The view of the room from the end of the hall is stunning.”

  To the left, Dane pointed out the formal dining room. A table big enough to seat a dozen people sat in the middle of the room, and several ornate curio cabinets filled with expensive-looking trinkets and statues lined the walls.

  “Meals are served here,” he said. “The kitchen is through those doors. We'll see it at the end of the tour.”

  “All right. Is it as authentic as everything else seems to be?”

  Dane shook his head. “No. Despite Logan's protests, I insisted it be modernized.”

  “Do you enjoy cooking?”

  “I like to try my hand at new dishes every once in a while. Let me show you the living room, and then we'll head upstairs.”

  Alayna nodded.

  “How did you come to live here?” she asked. “Is this home your family's?”

  “The estate has belonged to Logan's family for generations,” Dane replied.

  That information provided Alayna a sense of comfort. As well as being dangerously rugged, Logan also possessed a distinguished and refined aura. This house was exactly how she imagined his home would look and feel.

  At the end of the hall, Dane directed her to the large archway leading to the living room. He was right; it was stunning. A large stone hearth took up half of the outside wall. Because it was summer, it sat dark and cold.

  “When his parents passed, the estate was bequeathed to him from his paternal grandparents. That was when he'd just turned twenty. He and I have been best friends since grade school and are business partners in several different endeavors.” They glanced at the furnishings of the large living room. “He personally chose each piece of furniture and artwork you see. He has an eye for antiques. And other beautiful things.”

  “I can see that,” she replied in a soft voice. “I feel as though I am in a completely different time period. I would love to learn of the history o
f this place.”

  “Come, we will head upstairs,” Dane said and pressed his hand against her back again. “The top floor is where the guest rooms are located, and there are eight in total. Continue up the stairs, please. I'll show you those before we check out the second level.” When they reached a landing, Alayna glanced down the long hallway. Doors lined either side of the corridor.

  The corridor on the third story of the mansion was the same as the second. Doors lined each side of the long hallway. All but one stood open. With his hand still against her back, Dane led her to the first door, where she poked her head in for a look-see.

  The room was small yet functional. Inside was a double bed, a dresser, and a nightstand with a lamp on top. A couple of pictures hung on the walls, and a large window overlooked the backyard.

  “All of the guestrooms are similar in design. They aren't extravagant, but they serve the purpose.”

  Alayna nodded. She supposed much of a client's time was spent one level down. Her body warmed as she thought of herself in a room, experiencing the sexual pleasures she craved.

  “There are two full bathrooms on this floor, which the guests share.”

  “I'll be staying in one of these rooms?”

  “Yes. Now, let's head back downstairs.”

  When they reached the landing, Logan's scent once again assailed her senses. It was a hint stronger than before, and she wondered if he was in one of the rooms. A twinge of jealousy rippled through her as she thought of him training another submissive. It didn't matter that service was what the establishment provided; the only sub Master Logan Abram needed to work with was her.

  At the absurdity of her thoughts, Alayna gave a mental headshake to clear the ridiculous notions from her mind. This was his business, his lifestyle; she had no license to condemn his practices. She only wanted to be a part of it. At his hands.