Training Amy (7 page)

            Once she’d cleaned herself and the toy up she tried to fall asleep, but the thought of Eric wanting to date her and her fantasies of him and the possibility of what he and Brad were into – it was too overwhelming. Finally, she did fall asleep, but it was restless at best and only made her more curious about the secrets they were hiding in the back room.

***

            Friday nights at the bookstore were actually pretty busy. Brad had taken the night off, leaving Amy and Eric to run things alone.

            “So you guys are alternating Friday nights off?” She asked as she marked some special orders picked up.

            “That’s the plan,” he said, checking out what seemed like the hundredth customer in the last hour.

            “This is only my third Friday here and you know I would have never guessed so many people would spend their Friday nights hanging out at a bookstore,” she whispered.

            He laughed. “I know, right? But, that’s a good thing. It’s good for business.”

            Things started winding down closer to nine. At eight-forty-five there were still a few customers milling about.  

            “Excuse me, miss,” an older woman wearing a wide brimmed hat asked.

            The hat took Amy by surprise. She smiled, “Yes?”

            “I need to find a book for my grandson, could you help me?”

            “Sure!” Amy came out from behind the counter and started leading the woman toward the children’s section just as the phone began ringing. Eric answered it.

            When Amy returned, Eric looked upset.

“Everything okay?”

            “No actually. Umm, at nine I have to leave for about fifteen or twenty minutes and I am going to leave you here to close up. Is that okay?” He gave her a concerned look.

“That’s fine,” she insisted.

            “I shouldn’t be too long. I have to go pick up Brad. I’ll come back and grab you and take you home.”

            A swell of panic rose in her gut. “Oh my God, is he okay?”

            “Yeah, he’s fine so he says, but his car isn’t. Some asshole rammed him on purpose.” Eric seemed genuinely pissed.

            “Wow.” She didn’t know what else to say. “No, it’s not a problem at all.”

            By nine the last customer had left. Eric ran a quick check through the store and the back, he even unlocked the customer bathroom and checked in there to be sure no customers were left in the store.  “I’m not taking any chances you being alone in here. Stay close to the phone.”

            She nodded.

            He handed her a set of keys. “This is just in case anything happens and you need to leave and lock up or whatever. The front is locked, the bathroom is empty and locked, and when I leave out the back I want you to lock it behind me. I have a set of keys. I’m leaving the lights on in back so we can see when we get back, okay? If you get scared or anything call me on my cell.”

            “Okay,” she took the keys and his cell number obediently, following him to the back. Once he was gone, she locked the door behind him.

            Wandering up to the front she sat down on the stool behind the counter and looked out to the street beyond, the streetlamps casting a yellowish glow over everything. After about five minutes she was really bored. She could always straighten shelves, but then she worked a full day tomorrow. There would be plenty of time to straighten shelves then. A rush of excitement raced through her when it dawned on her that tomorrow night she and Eric were going out. Her fantasies from the night before flooded back to her and she looked at the keys on the counter next to her, then at the door leading to the back room and the locked doors.

            A little peek wouldn’t hurt, would it? She wouldn’t touch anything. No, that wasn’t her style. She had ethics, after all.  But she needed to know and her curiosity was just too great. With a deep breath she picked up the keys and made her way to the hallway leading to the back room. She eyed the door to her left warily and looked at the keys. Sliding one into the lock she was a bit surprised when it clicked and she was able to turn the knob with ease. She went into the room, found the light, clicked it on and almost laughed at herself. It really was just a private stock room. It smelled like old books and that’s exactly what it contained; shelves and shelves of what looked to be old books and possibly first edition hardcovers. Some of them labeled that they’d been signed by the author.

            With a shake of her head at her own wild imagination, she clicked off the light, closed the door and made sure she locked it behind her. She took a step back toward the front of the store when something inside her compelled her to stop. What about the furniture? She had to take a look, didn’t she? After all, something a woman like Kali would buy had to be interesting. With that she hurried back to the second private stock room and quickly found the padlock key and unlocked the door.  The door opened inward. This room smelled like furniture. Wood and leather. Sliding her hand against the dark wall she found the light and clicked it on, but not before running into something and knocking it over. A multitude of clanking, like sticks falling out of a bucket, resounded through the entire stock room.

            “Shit,” she whispered. Looking down that’s exactly what it was. A multitude of sticks lay on the floor, the bucket they were in tipped over. She scooped them up and put them back into the container, setting it back where it should have been.  Standing up, she surveyed the stuff in the room. There were strange looking chairs, benches, and pieces of wood. One looked like an X. She moved further into the room to get a better look, noticing all the furniture had O rings on them. She looked to the right and saw a multitude of whips hanging on the wall and she gasped.

            There were so many of them in different colors and sizes and lengths. She never imagined there were so many types of whips. So, just because they sold the stuff didn’t mean they were into it, she told herself. Turning, she started back toward the door, catching sight of the shelves of cupping devices, dildos, anal plugs, nipple clamps and metal bars that looked like they had shackles attached.

            She heard the Mustang pull up. “Shit!” she cried out again.  In a rush she ran toward the door only to trip on the canister of sticks. The damn thing toppled over. A wave of panic and nausea ran through her. Switching off the light she pulled the door closed behind her and relocked the padlock just as she heard the key enter the back door. Bolting for the front, she jumped into the chair and tossed the keys on the desk next to her. She tried her best to look like someone who’d been patiently waiting.

“Amy?” Eric called out.

“Yeah?” She cocked her head to one side when they came through the door.

“Everything okay?”

            “I was going to ask you the same question.”

            Brad had a scratch along his jaw.

            She jumped up when she saw it. “What happened? Is this from the car accident?”

            “You mean the guy who rammed me? It wasn’t an accident. The guy was high on something. This wasn’t from that though. This was from the asshole hitting me. I think he was wearing a ring or something.
Cut me.”

            She grabbed the first aid kit. “Sit down and let me get a good look at it.”

            “No, I’m fine.”

            “No, man, she’s right,” Eric said, nudging Brad to sit. “At least let her put some anti-bacterial on it and clean it up so it doesn’t get infected.”

            Brad sat down with some reluctance and looked up at her.

            She tipped his head up toward the light so she could see it better. It looked superficial. It wasn’t deep and it had already stopped bleeding. She took a cleansing wipe to it.

            “Son-of-a-bitch it stings! Ah!”

            “I have to clean it out,” she told him sternly.  Once she was satisfied it was clean she put some anti-bacterial ointment on it.  “Good job.”

            Eric laughed.

            “What, am I five?” Brad gave her an amused look.

            “I’m fresh out of lollipops,” she shot back.

            Eric laughed again. “Time to go home.”

They all agreed. Amy handed the keys Eric had given her back to him and he took them without word.

            As they left she hoped and prayed that they wouldn’t pay much attention to the can of tipped over sticks. Brad let her take the passenger seat and he got in back and on the way home, he regaled her with the story of his SUV’s demise and subsequently how he kicked the ass of the guy driving the other vehicle. How he’d gotten himself into that situation in the first place was conveniently left out.

Chapter Five

            Saturday morning came quickly, and with it a barrage of customers who rummaged through the shelves at such speeds that Amy could scarcely keep up with keeping things neat and straightened like Brad liked them. Both she and Brad worked the floor while Eric kept himself busy at the register. A few times Brad had left to help a select customer or collector in the back. She had no way of knowing if they were legitimate book collectors or “special” customers for the stuff in the far back room.  Of course she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. No, she
was sure
she didn’t want to know. 

            As she saw it she was at another crossroads. She could either freak out and act like a child and quit her job because it was possible one or both of her bosses were into kink on their own time. Or she could buck up, pull on her big girl panties and educate herself on what all the fuss was about. Especially if a large number of the customers were also interested in such reading material. After all, she didn’t have to deal with what they had in the back. They’d said it themselves – she dealt with the books. That was all.

            Then it hit her. She had agreed to have dinner with Eric tonight. She couldn’t help but wonder if Eric was really into it. After all, he’d lent her the books his ex-girlfriend had allegedly left at his house. A bit of nervousness ran through her. She got along with Eric famously. When she was talking with him it seemed as though they had known each other forever. He couldn’t be into anything like that. He was too nice. Too normal. She relaxed a little then and reassured herself she had nothing to worry about. Dinner was just dinner. It was Brad she was uncomfortable around.  He had all the charm of a prickly pear cactus. No, that wasn’t fair – Brad had his own qualities and charm, she admitted to herself as she straightened the fantasy novel section. She remembered his touch and her body’s reaction. Then the fantasy…  It’s just that Brad was a bit more sober, more practical, and fussier about the cleanliness of things.

            What if that back room was
his and not Eric’s
? Who was she kidding? Of course it was Brad’s and Eric’s too. She winced. Brad was pretty fussy about how clean things were. He was sure to notice the knocked over container of sticks.  Yet neither Eric nor Brad had mentioned anything amiss in the back and she was comfortable pretending it never happened. If confronted she decided she’d just play dumb and pretend she had no idea what happened. Brad told her not to go into those rooms, after all.

            Making her way back toward the non-fiction section she started straightening the human sexuality shelves. Feeling bold she grabbed what looked like an introductory book about bdsm. “Well, if I’m going to help the terrified Mary’s I might as well read up, eh?” she whispered under her breath with a laugh. She flipped through the book and before she knew it, she’d read an entire chapter. The movement of a man in the next row over made her jump and put the book back on the shelf.

            “Amy?” came Brad’s voice from between the rows.

            She hurried out of the stacks and smiled when she saw him.

            “I have some orders to place and we need to give Eric a break at the register,” Brad said, quickly as he moved back behind the counter. He sat down at the computer and immediately engrossed himself with whatever was on the screen.

            She slipped behind the counter to the register.

            “Thanks,” Eric said with a smile.  He picked up a stack of books from behind the counter. They looked really old.

            “Oh, I finished those books you lent me. I’ll bring them back tomorrow. Thank you,” she said with a polite smile. With that, she turned to help a customer who’d approached the counter with a magazine.  Out of the corner of her eye she caught Brad shaking his head and Eric grinning ear to ear as he disappeared into the back room with the books.

            She’d helped about six customers, one after another, when Brad ordered, “Go into the back and ask Eric what he wants on his burrito.”

            She looked at the register. Was it going to run itself? She saw and older woman making her way to the counter with about three books. “What about…?”

Brad jumped up and took her spot. “I’ll deal with it, go.”

            She started toward the back. “Yes Sir.”

            “If you’re going to say
Yes Sir
, say it like you mean it,” he quipped back.

She rolled her eyes, opening the door into the hallway. There was a foreboding feeling in the air. “Eric? Where are you?”

            She heard a door close. “Back here.”

            Entering the back stock room she saw him putting a padlock on the private stock storage room. “Master Brad would like to know what you want on your burrito. Or maybe I should call him Drill Sergeant Brad.”

            Eric regarded her for a minute. He wasn’t smiling, at first. Then his normally playful expression returned. “What’s gotten into you?”

            “Guess I’m feeling a bit frisky.”

            “Oh?”

“Yeah. So, burrito?”  She raised an eyebrow.

            “I’ll go up and tell him myself,” he said decidedly.

            Nodding in response she started back toward the door.

            “Amy, hold on. I have to ask you something.”

            There was a tone to Eric’s voice. A tone she wasn’t sure she cared for. She lifted an eyebrow and turned to him. “Sure!”  

            “When I went to pick up Brad last night, were you snooping around in the back room?” His expression was dead serious.

She felt her face flush six shades of red and she swallowed, hard. There was no way she could lie; not to Eric.  “I, umm, thought I heard movement, like rats or something.”

He furrowed his brow. “Were you told not to come back here?”

            Fear clutched at her gut. Great, she’d done it now. She was going to get fired and lose the hot guy all because she was too curious for her own good and couldn’t be trusted. She looked down at her feet. “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry.”

            “This is a serious offense.” He shook his head and turned back to the door, unlocking it. “Come here.”

            She swallowed again, pent up emotion swelling inside her, hitting that wall. Willingly her feet did as she was told. Following him into the room she waited as he pulled the cover off a large cage. A moment of puzzlement passed over her face. She didn’t say anything.

He took the pin out of the cage door and turned to her with a sober expression. “Take off your clothes and get in the cage.”

            Disbelief overwhelmed her. “Umm, sorry?” She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. The whole thing seemed surreal.

            Letting out a deep sigh Eric regarded her for a moment, grabbing a whip from a table. “You’ve broken the rules, Amy. The rules were not meant to be broken. Now it’s time to pay the penalty for disobeying a direct order. Two hours in the cage. Clothes off, in.”

A rush of excitement and fear ran through her. She wasn’t sure which was stronger.  Either way she felt she was going to be sick.

“Come on. I don’t have all day. I need to get back up front.” Eric’s eyes bore into her expectantly.

            “I’m not getting in there,” she finally said.

            “You either do as I say of your own free will or I’ll bind and gag you and put you in the cage myself. Don’t make this difficult.”

            She looked at the whip in his hand. He was certainly stronger than she was. How could she have been so wrong about him? They’d spent almost eight hours a day together for the last three weeks.

            He took a step toward her.

Unbidden she kicked off her shoes and began undressing. All the while Eric watched her, seemingly emotionless and detached. When she had removed everything and stood nude in front of him with her hands over her breasts and her legs tightly clenched of course, he regarded her for a moment.

“Put your hands behind your back and spread your legs.”

            A warm tingle spread through her sex. With some reluctance and some embarrassment she took her hands away from her breasts and pulled them behind her back, feeling her chest naturally arch outward, shoving her full breasts forward for his inspection. Then she stepped her legs apart, painfully aware of her exposed shaven pussy.

An approving look washed over his face. “Good, now into the cage.”

He motioned her into the cage and she went, feeling a rush of excitement when he closed the door behind her.

            “Now get on your knees, legs spread and hands behind your back,” he ordered.

Drawing in a deep breath she maneuvered in the tight space and did her best to follow his instructions. She said nothing. It was as if her voice no longer worked. Her willpower left her. She so badly wanted that look of approval from Eric. After all, he was right. She wasn’t supposed to have been back here at all. She
deserved
to be punished. When that thought crossed her mind she felt her slit moisten.

            He was still watching her. Quietly he set the whip on the bench then picked up her clothing and also set it on the bench. “I’ll be back in two hours and I’ll let you out. Stay in
the position
.”

With that he simply left the room, closing the door behind him.

            Once he was gone she looked down at herself. Her nipples were hard, her lips swollen and her arousal glistened between her legs. Oh God. He’d seen it all.  She closed her eyes and tried to stay in
the position
wondering all the while what was going to happen when he came back. Would he demand more payment for her infringement? Would he use a whip on her? Would he fire her? She was pretty sure this meant dinner was off. Closing her eyes she concentrated on her breath, staying in
the position
.

            Why was she doing this? She could sit however the hell she wanted, part of her screamed. Another part of her screamed for approval and didn’t want to move. It was the latter side that was winning. Shoving the thoughts from her mind she went back to her breath, trying to ignore the fact that her pussy was dripping and she was very aroused.

Two hours felt like fifteen. When the door opened again, she breathed a sigh of relief, fighting the natural instinct to cover herself. Opening her eyes she gasped realizing it was Brad and one of his private customers.

            He merely glanced at her with a smirk and led the customer, a distinguished man wearing a suit, maybe fifty or so, into the room. “The furniture is made by a man a few counties over in his home woodshop. All of it is customizable if you wish.

“Very nice spanking benches,” the man said, running a well-manicured hand over the leather cushion of the bench. “How much?”

            The man didn’t look at Brad, instead he looked around the room, his eyes settling on Amy for a moment then moving to the wall of whips. 

            Brad watched his customers’ gaze carefully, “Two hundred and fifty.”

            The customer’s gaze settled on Amy then. Or at least it seemed like he was looking at her. “Nice cage. What’s it made out of?”

            “Steel. They’re fully collapsible. Unpainted, thirteen-hundred,” Brad said. He gave her a wink.

            Amy looked down, trying to disappear.

            But the customer’s attention then went to the back wall. “Ah, spreader bars. I need another one for the house slave.  Cost?”

            “They range from seventy-five to two-fifty,” Brad said, sounding somewhat bored.

            “Good.  I’ll take a cage, that bench over there, and two of those spreader bars. I might consider one of those Saint Andrews crosses. I have a steel one now, but I think I’d like a wooden one as well.  So I’ll take one of those,” he finished, dismissively motioning toward the Saint Andrew Cross in the corner.