Sweet Discipline (9 page)

She swallowed.

He reached forward and tapped her nipple. “Normally, a man doesn’t touch a woman’s breasts until he’s aroused her. Kisses and strokes and close body contact usually go first. Think about that for a minute. Can you imagine that happening now?”

She wasn’t sure. Many of her sexual experiences had involved some groping, and the steward had kissed and suckled her breasts, but he’d spent more time pumping into her. She closed her eyes, imagining Jack Rodriguez touching her, his lips on hers, tongue busy in her mouth, his hands stroking and cupping her breasts, his fingers plucking at her nipples.

It didn’t work, she kept losing her place, forgetting what he was supposed to be doing. Maybe because Jack had never given her a second look, not lustfully, anyway, that she couldn’t picture him. Instead, his face kept morphing into Adrian’s. It was Adrian’s long fingers she saw at her breast, his mouth closing around the nipple, his tongue flicking it until it popped up. Just as it actually did. And it felt so good!

She made a little sound, not quite a moan. She opened her eyes, to see Adrian watching her carefully. “Tell me what you were thinking.” His hand cupped her breast.

She moistened her lips as heat spread across her chest and up her neck. “Someone, a man, touching me.”

“How?”

She told him, carefully omitting the tiny little detail that it was he who turned her on. With each word, her insides warmed, until her breasts fell hot and too full.

He released her breast and ran his finger down her belly. She hated that it quivered under his touch but she couldn’t deny she liked the way it made her feel.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

She licked her lips. “Hot and soft and liquid bubbling inside.”

“And this?” His finger probed her curls.

“Impatient. It’s not enough.” Her breath came faster as she tried to hide her response from him, but he saw. His eyes narrowed as he gauged her reaction and varied his touches. He circled the curls on her mound, traced the junction between thigh and belly, and tickled her belly button. Her breath came faster.

“You are responsive, Norris. That is good. A man likes to know he can arouse his woman.” His eyes caught and held hers. “Now tell me what else you feel.”

“Shivery. Like hot, like cold. Like all my senses are focused on one place…” She closed her eyes against his demanding gaze. She held on to the sensations of his finger against her sensitized flesh, making this delicious anticipation last. She forgot her hands and her feet secured in the stirrups. All feeling was concentrated in her abdomen, in the warm pulse arrowing down to her clit.

His finger stilled. She could feel the heat of his hand, poised just above her skin. She held her breath, waiting for him to touch her again.

“Norris.”

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The air cooled her skin.
Oh, no, don’t stop!
She opened her eyes.

“I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Neither do I,” she muttered. She waited for him to touch her intimately.

“What do you feel?” he asked again.

She blew out a breath. “What you want me to feel,” she retorted, frustrated that he’d stopped touching her, angry with herself for being so easily manipulated and eager for him to put his hands on her. “Hot, antsy. Touch me!”

He stood and withdrew a step. “Are you in control of your body right now?”

She pulled against the strap on her wrist. “How can I be?”

“Settle down. Take a deep breath.” When she’d done so, he sat again, looking carefully at her exposed pussy.

She cringed. It was one thing to have him look at her while he touched her, another thing to be on display.

“We’ll start over. This time, enjoy the sensations, tell me what they are, and hold on to each one as long as you can.”

She studied his face between her legs. Perspiration beaded his upper lip. His mouth was closed tight. What did he have to sweat about? She was the one on the hot seat.

“Now.” He repeated his earlier actions, reaching between her upraised knees to touch her, wait for her response and touch her again. In slow motion, driving her crazy.

She searched for the words to describe her response. “Excited. Sensitive. Oh…do that again.”

He complied.

“Antsy. Focused.” She tried to control her breathing, but it quickened along with her pulse. “I can’t take much more of this,” she all but whimpered.

“You’ll take as much as I want to give you.”

“It’s too much.”

“Hardly.” He sat motionless, only his eyes monitoring her involuntary movement.

She felt twitchy, hot, unfulfilled.

She panted. Swallowed to moisten her dry mouth. “Please,” she pleaded.

“Please what?”

“Touch me again.”

When he did, her hips rose automatically. “Be still,” he commanded.

His finger delved through her curls, then unerringly circled her bud. Rather than touching her clit, he followed the curve of one of her pussy lips down, then the other one up.

She squirmed. Empty. Longing. Gradually, a sense of place and time returned to her. This was so cold, trussed up, immobile while he toyed with her, emotionless. She stared at his face, looking for some indication of his feelings.

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Found none.

He showed no signs of interest in her as a female, only in her as a lab specimen.

That hurt. Humiliated her. This was awful. Demeaning. Her throat squeezed shut and she bit her lip to stop the tears welling up behind her eyelids.

“Stop,” she whispered.

Instead, he circled her bud again, butterfly touches that brought heat to her clit. It felt so good. So terrible!

“Stop,” she cried.

He flicked her clit in reprimand. Without a word, he continued arousing her with strokes, tickles and teasing. She couldn’t take any more.

Her eyelids felt heavy but she forced them open. Stared at him in disbelief. Now his face was drawn, his cheekbones pronounced and his mouth a tight grimace. If arousing her was so distasteful to him, why did he keep doing it?

What did he get out of working here? Pervert! Forcing women to submit, then playing with them like objects. Where was the satisfaction in that?

And,
ohmigod!
It felt so good. What he was doing to her made all her senses come alive. Made her focus solely on the little nubbin of flesh between her legs. With only one finger he had her so aroused she couldn’t see straight, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel. He hadn’t even touched her inside and she was so close. So close!

Nothing mattered but his finger on her clit. She clenched her muscles.

He raised his eyes to her face. Now she noted the beads of sweat on his upper lip and on his forehead. The room was warm in consideration of her nakedness, but not that warm. His breath came faster. He had to be feeling something, too, but whatever the feeling, it was lost in her own personal need.

She moaned, twisting away from his touch, lifting her hips to get closer, begging for more. Begging for release.

“Not until I tell you to come,” he reminded her. His voice was raw.

She panted, her inner muscles working like vises with nothing to clamp around.

She wanted, she wanted, oh oh oh, she wanted him! She needed him, his finger, his cock, something inside her. She needed it
now
!

She was desperate for him, desperate to climax. “Please, please.”

“Control it. Control your body,” he commanded harshly.

“I can’t,” she cried, all but sobbing with her need. Her hips lifted in invitation.

“Please!”

“Not yet.” He was firm, resolute, absolutely unyielding.

She bit her lip. She clenched her fists. She tossed her head from side to side, but she held on. The aching between her legs rose through her body, gnawed at her breasts and burned her throat. She held on. She whimpered, she sobbed, she cried, but she held on.

“I’m going to count backward from ten to one. When I get to one, I’ll let you come.”

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“Oh,” she panted. “Count fast!”

“Ten.”

She squeezed her pussy muscles tighter, tight as she could with her knees spread wide.

“Nine.”

She tasted blood on her lip. Her inner muscles clenched.

“Eight.”

Her juices flowed more copiously.

“Seven.”

She couldn’t hold on any longer. She came, in a great gushing release.

Adrian withdrew. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her. Such a cold expression, even with the sweat on his forehead. She panted, gazing at him half-blind, sweating herself.

“We have a lot of work to do yet,” he said at last. He undid her restraints. “Clean yourself.”

With effort, she got herself off the table. Her knees gave way. She grasped the table for support, then realized Adrian’s arm was around her waist, propping her up. She could feel his strength in his hardened arm muscles, feel the pounding of his heart against her temple. As she gained her balance, she noted the trembling in his arm, his rock-hard torso and his hurried breathing. She felt his chin rest for a moment on her head and his chest expand as he drew in a large gulp of air. His hand tightened on her hip. Was that a caress or did she imagine his palm sliding over her butt? He released her slowly. “Go.”

She stumbled away from him. Still reeling from her orgasm, she made it across her suite and into her shower. She turned on the water and stood under the multiple showerheads pounding her with warm water. Her body felt drained, weakened both by her climax and anxiety. She’d failed. Even though she’d imagined a softer side of Adrian during her test, and felt him shake when it was over, she knew he wasn’t pleased with her. Somehow she knew he’d keep at her until he was satisfied with her control and reaction.

What torment would Adrian come up with now?

He hadn’t told her how much time she could take, or what to do next. She soaped and shampooed as fast as she could, then dried off quickly and went back to the training room.

He wasn’t there.

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She didn’t know what to do. Should she assume the position and wait for him? She was exhausted, her body crying for rest, but if she stretched out on her bed and fell asleep, would he discipline her?

She paced from windowless wall to windowless wall. Her world was silent, empty without Adrian. Where was he?

Tiptoeing, she walked to the door of her suite. She hadn’t been out of her rooms for days. She put her ear to the door, and hearing nothing, opened it just wide enough to peek out.

There was no one in the hall. The other doors were closed. The silence unnerved her. For all she knew, she could be the only one on this floor. She wavered, half in and half out of her suite. Curiosity about the other rooms edged her forward. Caution moved her back.

In a made-for-TV movie, this was when the heroine would sneak down the hallway and out the door. Or smack into whatever monstrous evil lurked in the darkness. She wasn’t stupid. Adrian wasn’t evil. Just unbelievably controlled and self-disciplined. As he wanted her to be.

Feeling silly, she closed her door. She’d determined to do whatever it took to reach her goal, to leave here slim, sexy and in control of her own life. Somehow she’d find the strength to follow the program, do all her exercises, eat properly, and learn to command her own body. And while she was doing all that, she’d concentrate on Jack who didn’t know it yet, but he was in for the greatest sex of his life.

Norris sank down onto the plump cushions of the couch. Ordinarily, she’d have settled back into her favorite position, half sprawling, half sitting, but now it didn’t feel right. It was too comfy. Without a second thought, she slipped off the couch and knelt, assuming the position.

She gazed down at her opened palms. She’d never learned to read palms, had no idea what the lines meant, but she knew her life was her own making. It was up to her to decide what she wanted to do with it.

And strangely, now she wanted to make Adrian proud of her. Whatever he demanded of her, she’d do her best to deliver.

With that resolve uppermost in her mind, she barely heard the door open. She heard a man’s laugh, then realized it was Adrian, talking with someone outside her suite. His laugh was warm, vibrant and infectious. She liked the sound of it, and yearned to hear it directed at her. Why didn’t he ever laugh with her? She’d love to share a joke with him, find out if they had anything in common besides the 54

Sweet Discipline

client/trainer relationship. The laughter stopped as Adrian closed and locked the door behind him. She didn’t look up, even when his black boots came into view.

“Very good,” he murmured. She kept her head down as warmth crept through her, making her heart beat faster.

“As a reward, you won’t have to ask for permission to speak.”

As a reward, it sounded better than it actually was, since she’d broken that rule countless times. Funny, he hadn’t castigated her for that very often. Still, as a symbol that he thought she was doing better, that was good. Very good. “Thank you.”

“Stand.”

She got to her feet, vaguely aware that it wasn’t as difficult. She flicked a glance at him, noting that he had bathed and changed, too. His face was freshly shaven, still stark and severely handsome. He wore a black jumpsuit, emphasizing his lean physique.

Looking at him, and seeing no trace of his earlier reaction to her sensual ordeal, she almost imagined she’d seen it. But she had. He hadn’t been able to do all that to her without feeling something himself. He might act like a robotron, but underneath, he was a man. One she wanted to know better. She smiled and wondered what he looked like naked. She’d bet he’d be amazing.

“You’ve shown me you are responsive. Foreplay doesn’t seem to be a problem. That means that whatever issues you’ve had with sex in the past haven’t been caused by any lack on your part.” He nodded at her relieved grin, his expression pleasant. Her smile grew wider. “But you have trouble with control, Norris. Part of that is normal, particularly physical response to pleasurable stimuli, but it is something you can learn.”