Spring Training (10 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Recovered from her orgasm, Mistress Lola tugged on the whip handle. Brooke leaned in. Their lips met. The monster roared inside him. There wasn’t a chance in hell he could break free from his restraints, but he tried anyway.

“Cease!”

Todd stilled in his frantic attempt to escape. He stared at the ruby-tipped breasts at his eye level.

“I’m feeling generous, sub. I think you’ve learned your lesson, so I’m going to release you. However, you are still mine, and I’m not through with you or your little slave. Do you understand?”

As soon as she released the gag, he growled through gritted teeth, “Yes.”

“Very well.” She reached for the key hanging on the end of the stocks, well out of his reach, but close enough he’d dreamed of ways he might reach it.

Free, he straightened, his gaze finding Brooke across the room. Her back was to him, hands clasped behind her bowed head. Her legs were spread wide—a stance he recognized. He often required her to stand thus when she was overly aroused to keep her from rubbing her legs together in an attempt to find satisfaction.

“She needs me.”

“Yes, she does.” His Mistress knelt to unlock the shackles around his ankles. When she was done, she stood to face him. “She’s wet and ready. When we talked earlier, she assured me no protection was necessary between the two of you. Is that true?”

“Yes.” He would never believe Brooke had been with someone else during their time apart. “We’re both clean. She’s on the pill. She wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

He caught her nod in his peripheral. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Brooke.

“You both need a good fuck, but she isn’t going to be on her back for a while yet.”
Days. Weeks, perhaps
. “Give me a minute to get her into position. I’ll let you know when you can have her.” She took a few steps then stopped. Over her shoulder, she admonished, “Make it good for her, or you’ll answer to me.”

She left him standing there, rubbing feeling back into his wrists to keep from grabbing the only part of his anatomy that wasn’t numb. He would have laughed had his need not been what it was. He probably wouldn’t last more than a few seconds. He hadn’t experienced an involuntary ejaculation since his adolescent days when he’d awakened often to wet sheets and soiled underwear.

He’d never seen Brooke so compliant. She’d allowed Mistress Lola to touch her intimately without so much as a flinch to indicate her discomfort.  It was disconcerting to think that at his age his body could still overrule his brain, but watching the woman he loved submit willingly to another woman had driven him past the edge of sanity.

The woman guided her to bend over the same table as before. Giving her a pillow to hug to her chest, she adjusted Brooke’s breasts beneath her until the slave indicated she had found a comfortable position.

With tender care he’d yet to receive from the madam, the woman applied lube to Brooke’s pussy. He thought he might go mad. Forbidden to touch what was his, he watched as another prepared Brooke as if she were a virgin sacrifice.

Perhaps she was. The woman on the makeshift altar wasn’t the same one he arrived with tonight. She’d changed. Watching her accept the gentle ministrations of the other woman was proof enough. Her face turned toward him, her expression serene as Mistress Lola swept stray strands of pale blonde hair from her face. The Mistress leaned in, whispered something that brought a small smile to Brooke’s lips.

Mistress Lola straightened. Crooking her fingers at him, she beckoned him closer. His cock led the way, pulling him toward the heaven waiting for him. The sadistic woman stepped between him and the only goal in his life at that moment.

He snarled at her. “Out of my way.”

She grabbed his dick, freezing him to the spot with the cold lube in her palm. “One second, stud. She’s wet, but you’re big. I won’t take any chances with her.”

He appreciated her concern, but need clawed at him. “I’d never hurt her.”

“Not on purpose.” Her hand swirled around, worked up and down his length. “This is just a precaution. Remember what I said. Make it good for her, or you’ll answer to me.” With that, she stepped back.

There was nothing between him and Brooke’s pussy. He closed the distance, taking her hips in his hands. The head of his cock found her entrance. “Brooke, baby. I need you.”

“Please, Master. Fuck me.”

Forgetting about their audience, he silently counted to three before pushing inside her. He watched his length disappear inside her tight sheath one slow, torturous inch at a time. Sweat broke out on his brow. As his groin pressed against her striped ass, he let out a groan. It took everything he had to hold still, to let her adjust to him. Nearly two weeks had passed since he’d been inside her. He vowed then and there to never let that happen again.

A few days, maybe, but weeks? Never again.

“You okay, babe?”

“Yes, Master.” She pushed back against him, taking him impossibly deeper. “Fuck me hard, please.”

Hard. He could do that.
Did you hear her, Mistress? She wants it hard.

He hated to pull out of her, but prior experience told him the effort would be rewarded. His memory didn’t disappoint. She felt almost as good when he retreated as she did when he drove back into her hard enough his balls slapped her clit. He saw stars, but her voice proclaiming him a god was enough for him.

She met him, thrust for thrust. Rising to brace herself on her forearms, she was everything he’d ever wanted—fearless, brave, sexy, submissive, but not without a sense of self. She gave herself completely to him, but there was more to their coupling. While she gave, she demanded he give to her in return. Her body spoke to his. “
Give. Give me all you’ve got. Make me yours.”

He answered her demands with unspoken ones of his own.
Take me. Take all I am. You’re mine. I’m yours.

Every stroke inside her was a homecoming. He knew the feel of her, knew the familiar scent of her that made his nostrils flare. He’d wear that scent on him forever if he could as a reminder she was his. He would mark her with his scent, so every male who came near her would know she was taken.

“Fill me,” she begged, her soft lips imploring him over her slim shoulder. “Flood me, Master.”

Fuck.
He was going to flood her all right, but only if she milked it out of him. She would come first—he’d have it no other way. “Touch yourself, babe. Come for me.”

The moment her fingers made contact with her clit, her body quaked. Pressing one palm into the small of her back, he held her hip steady with his other hand. He ground his pelvis against her ass and let her body take what it wanted from him.

He bent over her, felled by the spasms wrenching cum from his dick. She gave everything. She took everything.

He was conscious of her breathing heavily beneath him. He needed to get off her. He must be hurting her, given the condition of her back. Placing one hand on the table beside her, he prepared to move as gently as possible, so as not to cause her any more pain.

“Don’t go,” she pleaded. “Please.”

He let his weight press against her again. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It hurts good. So good.”

“I know all about hurting good, babe.” He smiled, despite his concerns for her comfort. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

“’kay.” One of her hands was pressed flat to the table beside her face. Her fingers curled and uncurled. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Missed you, too. Never again, Brooke. I won’t be apart from you that long ever again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Is it okay if I move now, Sir?”

He kissed her shoulder before lifting his weight from her. “Yes.” As she stood, her legs gave way. Todd caught her in his arms.

“Bring her in here.”

Todd’s gaze jerked from the woman in his arms to the other person in the room. He’d forgotten all about Mistress Lola’s presence until she spoke.

She stood near an open door, one he’d never been invited through. “She’s in no shape to go home.”

Looking down at Brooke’s pale complexion, he knew the woman was right. His slave had been through every level of hell tonight.

“She needs food and water,” he said, skirting through the open door with his charge. “And something for her back.”

“Put her on the bed on her stomach. I’ll get the salve.” A minute later, she handed him a jar of ointment. “Spread this on the welts. Take your time. A few minutes extra to avoid causing her any more pain won’t make a difference in how long it takes her to heal.”

He brought the jar to his nose. “What’s in this stuff?”

“It’s my own blend. If you really want to know, I’ll tell you later. Get busy, sub. I’ll be back in a few minutes with food.” She disappeared down a narrow hallway, leaving them alone in the surprisingly cozy room.

He dipped his fingers into the jar, scooping up a generous amount of the white goo inside. “This is probably going to sting,” he said by way of apology.

When he spread the first glob over the welts on her shoulder, Brooke sucked in a sharp breath.

He stopped. “It hurts that much?”

“No. It’s cold!”

He smiled. “Ah, well, nothing I can do about that right now.” He dropped another sizeable scoop in the middle of her back.

“Bastard.” He heard the smile in her voice and chose not to take offense at the appellation. He was that and more for putting her through tonight’s scene.

“I’m sorry, Brooke. If I’d had any idea….” He couldn’t find the words.

She pushed up on one elbow, turning her gaze on him. “Don’t be sorry, Master. The whipping was unpleasant, but I wouldn’t change a thing about tonight.”

“You wouldn’t?”

Her ponytail swayed as she moved her head from side to side. “No, Sir. That doesn’t mean I want to repeat the punishment, but it did help me to see things more clearly.”

“What kind of things?”

“Would you mind if we talked about them later, Sir? Right now, I just want to feel your hands on me.” She dropped back down, presenting her striped backside to him again.

Stunned by her admission, he resumed coating her skin with the aromatic goo. “You’re a remarkable woman, Brooke. I would spare you any pain if I could.”

“I know, Sir. But it really isn’t necessary.”

Mistress Lola returned, entering through the same passageway she’d used earlier. She’d donned a long, black robe that looked as if it were a favorite, given the worn satin edging on the lapels. She brought an insulated tumbler with a straw and a plate filled with grapes, bite-sized chunks of cheese, and an assortment of crackers.

“Finger food,” she said to him. “Feed her first, then you can have whatever is left over.” Crouching beside the bed, she held the straw to Brooke’s lips. “Water with vitamins added. Drink it all, or you aren’t going anywhere.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Brooke’s lips closed obediently over the straw. When she was done, Mistress Lola stood, setting the bottle on the bedside table.

“This room is for aftercare.” Her arm swept in an arc. “Everything you could possibly need is here. Help yourself.” She pointed to the hallway. “My apartment is through there. I’m going to shower then I’ll be back to check on Brooke. Don’t leave.”

He couldn’t imagine his slave going anywhere in her present condition. “More water?” He reached for the tumbler when the other woman had gone.

“I’m starving. Can I have something to eat, Sir?”

He wiped his hand on a towel he found next to a sink in one corner of the room. “My hands smell.”

“Just hand me the plate. I can feed myself.” She was up on both elbows now, eyeing the food.

He placed the offering in front of her and went back to tending the angry lines left by the whipping.

“I could really use a slice of chocolate mousse cake right now.” She popped a grape in her mouth.

“If I knew where to get it for you, I would.”
I’ll do anything for you.

“No worries. I’ll make one tomorrow if you don’t mind me using your kitchen, Sir.” She popped a cube of yellow cheese in her mouth, talking as she chewed. “You can’t trust chocolate mousse to amateurs.”

He smiled. “I don’t suppose you can. Feel free to use my kitchen if you’re up to it, but I don’t want you overdoing it.”

She craned her head around to look at him. The love in her eyes would have felled him if he’d been standing. “I won’t, Sir. I promise. I would never do anything that would keep me from serving you as I should.”

He was grateful for the towel he’d draped over his lap. He went hard as a post just from hearing her wish to serve him.
I don’t deserve you.

“I know you wouldn’t.” He cut his eyes to the plate in front of her. “Eat, slave. You’re going to need your strength.”
Because I’m going to fuck you day and night for the rest of my life.

She’d eaten almost the entire plate of food and drank most of the water by the time he finished coating the marks on the back of her calves. He’d used nearly the entire jar, or he would have begun again on her shoulders.