Sweet Discipline (6 page)

31

Bonnie Hamre

She was here because she wanted to be here. She’d made a deliberate commitment to changing her body, her outlook, and her future. She wanted to change. She kept telling herself that. She’d envied Kendra her svelte and sexy figure and wanted the same for herself. And that went double for Kendra’s very active sex life. What wild sex had Kenny been talking about? New positions? Had she also learned new techniques while she was here?

What was Adrian going to teach her? She couldn’t ignore being aroused when he talked of sex. Sex with him? How?

Was it possible to have sex while she hung like a slab of meat?

If Adrian put her legs around his waist, supported her while he thrust into her…

She imagined how it would feel, unable to do anything but take his banging into her, do nothing but clamp him within her thighs and pull him closer.

Heat, then moisture gathered between her legs. Her hips moved with imagined thrusts. Was Adrian hard? Long, thick? What was he like as a lover? Would he satisfy her or be interested only in his own pleasure? Maybe he got off on arousing clients and then leaving them to stew, frustrated. Just like this. The thought made her angry.

She wouldn’t think about him as a man with his own sexual needs. She’d use him like any piece of equipment in this room. She’d absorb what he could teach her and then use it for her own needs.

She closed her eyes and mentally superimposed Jack’s face over Adrian’s. Yeah, that could work. Many women fantasized making love with another man while having sex. She could do that. She’d think about Jack and what she wanted to do with him.

Time passed. She thought about sex, deliberately focusing on her fantasies and visualized making them real with Jack Rodriguez. Not Adrian. Jack. Jack’s buff physique and trim belly under his custom suiting had attracted her since they’d met.

She’d fantasized about having his manicured hands on her breasts, wondered how his gym-toned body would taste. She ran her tongue over her lips, imagining hot words and even hotter actions. Heat liquefied between her legs.

When she got out of here, she’d make his tongue drop. Make him drool over her.

Make him fantasize about making love to her the way she’d dreamed about him. And when it happened, look out. She’d use all the stuff she learned from Adrian to blow his mind. Oh yeah!

Her stomach grumbled. She’d lost all track of time. Was it time to eat? Her stomach cramped. How could she think of food when she was aching all over? So this was how they intended to modify her behavior. Make her hurt so much she couldn’t think of anything but her pain. By the time that dictator Adrian came back, she’d have melted off five pounds at least.

Norris rested her head against her outstretched arm. She counted to one hundred, then one thousand. She listed her favorite foods, rearranging the top ten as the list grew.

Carrots and celery were way at the end. Cream Puffs, French Onion Soup, pizza, a thick steak, mmm, now that was food.

32

Sweet Discipline

She thought of her soft, comfortable bed, the book she’d been reading, and her favorite TV shows. Wouldn’t it be nice to be propped up in bed now with some tea and cinnamon toast? Followed by some chocolate truffles… That just made things worse.

She thought about Jack and what he might be doing. Maybe he was at his gym, buffing those muscles until they bulged. Wouldn’t he be surprised if he could see her now? Would he rush to rescue her, or leave her hanging like a bloated whale? That thought made her insides hurt and she quickly replaced it with the admiring glances she’d get when she returned to work.

Soon, though, nothing blocked the pain. She fought it, cursed it, cursed Adrian, screamed, and then gave in to it and endured. Slowly, so gradually, and in barely discernable increments, the pain ebbed. She felt it recede as if she were floating, now on the surface of a gentle sea, now on puffy clouds looking down on an expanse of deep, dark blue.

Time passed, she didn’t know how much. At times she thought she smelled food, other times she thought she heard voices, but when she lifted her head, she was still in the dark, still alone, still suspended from the bar. Music drifted by, low relaxing tones, and she absorbed it into her mind.

Time passed.

33

Bonnie Hamre

She didn’t realize Adrian had returned until he lowered her arms. She groaned as blood and pain rushed through them. He removed the mask and silently helped her through the door to her living room, then into the bathroom. The bright light hurt her eyes.

She felt heat, then tendrils of steam around her body. She opened her eyes as he led her to the tub and helped her into the steaming water.

Her bunched muscles screamed as she sat, then slowly unfurled and eased with the heat. He turned on the jets and as the water rushed around her aching body, she let him push her back until only her face was above the water.

She couldn’t speak, only feel. He took a washcloth and wet and soaped it. Without a word, he began to wash her, competently, unhurriedly. He lifted one arm and washed it in long strokes, massaging sore muscles as he cleansed her. He did the same for the other arm, then her legs. She moaned in relief as her cramped muscles responded and relaxed.

It felt so good, even as he soaped and rinsed higher and higher on her thighs then she began to notice how else her body was reacting to his sure touch. She murmured a protest when he lifted one leg and washed between them.

“Quiet.”

She bit her lip and tried to ignore the warmth of his hand, detectable even against the heat of the water. She felt the washcloth against her labia, felt his finger wrapped in terrycloth penetrate her, circle her pussy, then retreat to thrust in again. She bit her lip against the unexpected pleasure, then relaxed and accepted. He washed her intimate folds, pulled gently at her clit, and then raised her buttocks to wash her bottom. She tightened against his finger penetrating her ass, then winced as he flicked a finger hard against her clit in unspoken reprimand.

When he re-soaped the washcloth and ran it again back to her ass, she remained still, trying not to tense as his cloth-wrapped finger wormed its way into her. He massaged the inside of her anus, surprising her with the way it made her feel. Excited.

Eager.

She risked a glance at him. His face was devoid of expression. He could have been somewhere else entirely for all the interest he showed.

From nowhere came a flash of resentment. He was male! The least he could do was pretend some interest in her as a woman. He could pretend he enjoyed arousing her How could he ram his finger up her ass as if it meant nothing?

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Sweet Discipline

He let her leg plop into the water with a small splash. He dropped the washcloth, and lathered his hands. With care, bare-handed, he washed her breasts, shoulders and underarms, adding a muscle-deep massage as he kneaded away her lingering pain.

Along with the pain, her indignation eased, replaced with a fresh awareness of her body. She could almost imagine he was her lover, stroking her in foreplay, arousing her to almost unbearable excitement. Not that she’d ever had a lover do that, but she could dream.

She forced an eyelid open. He was attractive in a chiseled, masculine way. Seen this close, his eyes, which she’d imagined to be as black as his hair, were brown. A warm, chocolate brown. Too bad they belonged to this severe, humorless tyrant. Even his hair, clipped short, added to his austere look.

But oh, he did have good hands. His fingers worked on the sore muscles in her upper arms, drawing from her both pain and resistance. Remembering to put a finger beside her lip as he’d instructed, she sighed. “That feels good.”

She barely heard his response. “Wait until tomorrow.”

* * * * *

For sure that was one way to lose weight. Exhaust the clients into oblivion, then watch them waste away to nothing. She wished she had a scale to see just how much she’d lost, but there wasn’t one anywhere in her suite. She’d asked the woman who delivered her breakfast if she’d bring her one, but the woman had shaken her head, said nothing, put down the tray and left.

Norris spooned another grapefruit segment into her mouth. She hated grapefruit but this morning, it was heaven. Sleep had restored her appetite and her resentment about the way she’d been treated so far at
Sweet Discipline
. All her rancor was directed at one person, the man who had subjected her to humiliation and pain. After her experiences yesterday, she determined there were going to be some changes around here. After all, she was the client and deserved to be treated with respect and care.

The hall door opened.

“Be with you in a minute,” she said without turning to look.

“Norris.”

At the sound of displeasure in that deep baritone, she knew she was in trouble. She scooped up the last sliver of dry wheat toast and turned, still chewing.

“Norris.”

She felt her heartbeat pick up speed. How could he do this to her? She hated feeling like a child with her hand in the cookie jar. What now?

He pointed a finger at the floor. What? Oh, that stupid kneeling routine. She hesitated, then thought that the sooner she indulged him, the sooner she’d get busy 35

Bonnie Hamre

with her program. She slipped off the chair onto her knees. She fumbled with the edge of her tunic, trying to pull it down her thighs. Flabby thighs.

“Be still. Did I give you permission to eat?”

Angry with herself for feeling cowed, she glared at him. “I was hungry.”

“No doubt. What did I tell you yesterday?”

She flicked a glance at him, but said nothing. Today he wore plain gray sweatpants, a black T-shirt and athletic shoes. The fabric clung to his shoulders and followed the outline of his flat abs. The material in his pants draped over his package. Her gaze settled on the shape of his penis under the loose fabric. Her mouth went dry.

“Your time at
Sweet Discipline
is going to be difficult until you lose some bad habits.

It’s your choice. Easy way or hard way.”

“
Sweet Discipline
, my ass! They should have called it
Abandon Hope Spa
.”

He chuckled. “I see your sense of humor hasn’t deserted you. You’re going to need it.”

She needed more than that. She needed to feel good about what she was doing. She needed encouragement and support, but he made her feel small. Last night, she’d fallen asleep reminding herself of her goals, and bolstering her resolution to do whatever it took to lose her weight and gain control of her life. And here she was, on her knees, feeling humiliated and awkward.

“You are to be naked in my presence,” he reminded her.

“You have your clothes on,” she retorted.

“Stand up. Go brush your teeth and come back naked.”

A few minutes later, she found him in the training room. He pointed to the floor at his feet. Reminding herself that she’d leave here skinny and sexy, she took her position at his feet.

He lifted a foot and placed it on her neck. She felt the treads on the sole of his shoe as he pressed her body down. She put out her hands to balance herself but he had her nose to the floor in an instant.

He kept her in that humiliating position while he spoke in a dry, unemotional voice.

“It takes several days to make new habits. At the rate you’re going, it may take you a week or more, but you’ll make them.”

“Okay, okay. You made your point.”

“The question is, Norris, are you going to fight me every inch of the way, or submit?”

His foot grew heavier on her neck by the second. Her instincts yelled,
Fight, fight
!

Her ego refused to let him get the better of her. This wasn’t learning new habits. This was cruelty. Sadist! She squirmed. She hadn’t signed up for this. She wanted to be thin and in control of her eating, but this was too much!

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Sweet Discipline

He waited. Her breasts, squashed to the floor, hurt. Her ass, pointing up to the ceiling, quivered. Her practical side reminded her of the charge on her credit card.

She gulped. “Okay, you win.”

His foot didn’t move. “You submit to me? Say it.”

She couldn’t move her head, couldn’t move. She was forced to say the words.

“Yes.” She swallowed. “I submit to you.”

The pressure on her neck eased immediately as he lifted his foot, but came back on her ass as he moved his foot there and crushed it to the floor.

“Don’t move.” He cautioned her. “Not until I tell you.”

She nodded.

“What is the rule about eating?”

“Wait until you tell me to,” she answered, her voice small but rebellious.

“And about the food you eat?”

“Only what you tell me to eat.”

“What is the rule about speaking?”

“Only when you give me permission.”

“Very good. Will you remember all that?”

“Yes.”

He removed his foot. “You may kneel.”

She scrambled to her knees, lowered her head, straightened her back and placed her hands, palms up, on her thighs.

“Very good.” His voice was still emotionless. “Stand and go to the mat.”

She waited by the mat for further instructions.

“We will begin with some basic exercises. Stretches first.”

He led her through the routine, correcting her stance, pushing her until her muscles relaxed and lengthened. She panted and muttered under her breath.

“Stop.”

Gratefully, she crumpled onto the mat, breathing hard.

“You are out of shape.” He said it without expression, but she winced.

“Get up. Drink some water.” He pointed at a small refrigerator on a shelf. She dragged herself up and over to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of spring water and drank heartily.

“The only reason you may stop a training exercise is for water. You will not allow your body to become dehydrated.”

She gurgled down the last drop, then nodded.

“Return.”

37

Bonnie Hamre

She dropped to her knees again in front of him, expecting praise. Instead, he ordered her to stand and put her through another series of exercises.