Her Master's Teacher Read online

  Once they’d mastered their position, they were rewarded with a lifestyle of leisure and comfort for the remainder of their lives.

  Opening a door at the far end of the hall, I allowed it to swing completely open so that Claire could see inside. She froze almost immediately, worry and concern appearing as a fine sheen of sweat on her brow.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s a room we use for training.” I kept my voice soft and calm, slowly leading her into a lifestyle that she never would have considered in her earlier life.

  “It looks like a torture chamber, like something I saw in my medieval humanities classes in school.”

  I couldn’t help the laughter that rolled out of my chest. “I guess it depends on the way you look at it.”

  Stepping in, I gently took her hand and pulled her across the threshold. There was still resistance in her, but I hoped to ease her into the idea of what this room could do for her. I didn’t bother with the speech about the different kinks of the owners in the society. I didn’t need to because the only man who would own her would be me.

  She spun in place, scrutinizing each piece of equipment in the room. Whips, chains, benches, beds; everything a person could need to stimulate and tease, to cause pain and soothe it with pleasure. This was a place where the beauty of bondage was on display, where a woman could let go to the side of herself considered odd and uncouth by polite society. It was a place of secrets and seduction.

  “Do you know what all of this is?”

  She glanced at me, a look of discontent in her eye. “I’m not a prude, Holland. Of course, I know what it is. I’ve just never seen so much of it in one place…at least, not in a place where I was standing.”

  Her voice trailed off as she picked up a flogger and examined it. Without looking at me, she said, “I get the physiological explanations for the BDSM lifestyle. The rush from hormones induced by pain makes sense. I even get the relief and desire of some people to act as a dominant or submissive. It makes sense…”

  She sounded like she was trying to convince herself. Unfortunately, she was completely wrong about the situation. This wasn’t BDSM. BDSM required two consenting parties and we were never concerned about consent. This was captivity, pure and simple. It was the act of stripping a person of their personality and putting the pieces back together again in such a way that the person would be comfortable with being owned. This wasn’t science…it was art.

  Sneaking up behind her, I pressed my chest to her back and reached around her small body to take the flogger from her hands. Replacing it on the table, I leaned down to brush my lips across her neck, planting small kisses in the spots I’d learned would make her moan. Her body trembled lightly, more from nervousness than fear.

  Whispering in her ear, I confessed, “I’ve never hurt you, Claire. Not intentionally and not by my choice. I don’t plan to start now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Claire

  He must have picked the flogger back up from the table in front of me when I wasn’t paying attention because I could feel the tresses sliding softly up the back of my leg. I hated the damn thing in his hand. It took everything I had not to jump away, especially after remembering the pain I’d been put through with the flogger Aiden kept in the kitchen.

  When his mouth fell hot on my neck once again, when he nipped at the sensitive area where my neck met my shoulder, I forgot all about the instrument he held. My head fell back against his chest and by body twitched when his other hand caressed my breast. Between his fingers, he rolled the tip and I felt a slick heat building between my legs.

  I hated him for what he did to me. I hated the fact that it was by his request I was taken. However, none of that mattered to my body because of the way he could make me feel. Holland’s body was like a drug: the way he looked, his smell, his taste. It was a seductive, mind melting combination that left a girl immobile when she saw him.

  I’d watched him so many times at school. He would walk into my classroom with a smooth swagger that simultaneously attracted as much as it repelled. To a foolish, young girl who couldn’t see past the superficial, he was all a woman could want. To a more experienced woman, a woman who’d loved and been burned far too many times by its flame, Holland’s display of arrogance was a warning sign to turn away.

  In the end, heeding the warning sign didn’t matter. If Holland Strong wanted a woman, he had more ways than one to ensure she ended up in his bed.

  “You are so fucking wet,” he murmured, running his finger through the slickened skin between my legs despite how tightly I clenched my thighs. The ends of the flogger continued to drag across my legs. When he pulled his arm up higher, the thin silk slip of my nightgown was lifted away from my ass.

  My legs felt weak as his hands explored me. Moving at a snail’s pace, he took his time touching and teasing the intimate parts of me until my breathing had quickened and grown shallow. My heart was beating a staccato rhythm in my chest and I closed my eyes as the first bursts of hedonism and need shot through me.

  I was faint from blood rushing my veins with such force that it thundered in my head. My mouth fell open and my lips parted, his lips coming up to kiss softly at the sides of mine. Holding my weight was no longer possible for my weak knees and I fell back against him, gasping softly when he caught me and swept me up quickly into his arms.

  Laying me down on a hard surface, he grabbed one of my wrists. Instinctively, I tried to pull away, but the slap of the flogger over my thighs shocked me so that I stopped struggling and looked up into the amusement in his eyes.

  “A courtesan never resists her Master, Pet. Doing so can lead to punishment.” His voice was smooth silk, deep enough to vibrate through my body while at the same time soft enough to soothe my fear. My first instinct was to fight back, to pull away and refuse to allow myself to be chained or struck. Focusing on the grim reality of the situation, I forced my body to relax. If I didn’t learn this now, then the possibility that I could fool Aiden was lost.

  The tresses of the flogger played over where they’d previously struck my legs and my skin tingled until the burn faded from it. His finger brushed over the area then and I jumped at how erotic his touch had become. Even the feather light stroke of his palm sent shivers across my body, my head falling back as my breath left my lungs on a violent tremor.

  He stepped away from me and I turned my head lazily to see him flip a switch on the wall when he passed by on his path to a small closet on the other side of the room. He turned to look at me with his hand still in contact with the small metal switch and he smiled.

  Selecting some items from the closet, he crossed the room to stand beside me again before leaning down to whisper, “You can do this, Claire.”

  I didn’t want this recorded and I couldn’t relax knowing that Aiden could not only watch what was about to happen, but could force me to watch it as well. Paralyzing fear froze me in place, barely lessened by the encouraging words that Holland continued to whisper in my ear.

  My eyes were glued to that switch until he placed a silk blindfold over my eyes, lifting my head so that he could tie it in place. Replacing my head on the surface of the bench, he leaned down again, his lips tickling the rim of my ear when he said, “Don’t think about it. The camera doesn’t matter. Not between us.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but he covered it with another silk scarf, tying it in place at the back of my head. My arms and ankles were bound next, set in place with leather cuffs that were bolted to the bench. I was laid out in a perfectly straight position. I didn’t understand the complexity of the bench he’d selected. Stepping away from me, he allowed minutes to pass before his hands wrapped over my thighs, pulling them apart as the bench beneath my legs moved and split in two.

  Except for the thin nightgown that covered my body, I was open and exposed to him, breathless and anxious as I waited for him to make his next move. Swimming in the heady sensation of my fear mixed with my apprehension, I shook my hea
d from side to side, not able to handle the jarring sensation of being stripped of all control.

  My entire life had been about control. Controlling my environment, controlling my mind. To a certain extent, it had been about understanding other people, under the mistaken guise of controlling them as well. I thought if I knew how their minds worked, if I could understand what drove them, I would be in a position to recognize the good in people and avoid the bad.

  Since the minute I’d woken up in the cold, dark room, I realized that any feeling of control I’d had was as misguided as my belief that I had a say in my fate.

  Holland was in control. Aiden was in control. I was nothing more than a hapless servant, a person shaped to be the perfect plaything for their amusement.

  The flogger struck me again, the tresses stinging sharply between my legs. My breath left my body all at once and by the time I was able to fill my lungs again, the tips of his fingers trailed over the sting on my skin, titillating and stimulating the sore places until they tingled with need for his touch.

  It was an exercise in futility to calm my heart. The pounding rhythm was so loud that it was all I could hear in the room.

  Two more strikes and my hips were writhing over the soft leather cushion on the bench. With each strike, my heartbeat pounded and blood rushed my head, pushing me to a point where I felt like I was floating on a drunken cloud of euphoria. He never hit the same place twice, but somehow managed to tease my cunt with every contact the flogger made with my skin.

  Then, he was gone again. Seconds passed and I couldn’t feel him. I listened intently to the sounds in the room, but I could barely make out a thing over the sound of my rushing blood. Trapped in a place where the only sense I had left was touch, anxiety exploded in my head, tears threatening my eyes while I waited. Finally, after what felt like hours, but was most likely only minutes, I felt the cold, hard edge of something metal sliding over my belly. Attempting to twist away out of fear, Holland’s hand slammed down on my hip.

  “Don’t move.”

  The two words left me motionless, but not relaxed. I was unable to ask what he was doing because of the gag and I couldn’t open my eyes due to the blindfold. I was helpless to him, completely and utterly dependent on his choice to be cruel or kind.

  “Let go, Pet. It will feel better if you let go.”

  He whispered to me and I clenched my eyes shut beneath the blindfold. Nodding my head, I tried to communicate to him that I would try.

  The metal slid over my skin. It didn’t hurt except for the bite of cold. My nightgown fell away from my body and I realized he was cutting the silk. The sharp tips pressed against the dip in my throat before he pulled them away from me entirely.

  The air in the room rushed my exposed skin and felt like ice against the sticky and nervous sheen of sweat that coated my body. I couldn’t stop trembling no matter how much I tried, my anxiety building the longer he refrained from laying his hands on me again.

  The slap that followed wasn’t the flogger, but something harder…a paddle or a cane. I could feel that it was thin, flexible as if the wind itself had bent it back when he brought it down across the tops of my thighs. I gasped at the sharp sting, but that was nothing compared to the moan that forced itself from my throat when his hands slipped up to cover the painful part of my thighs and his mouth covered my pussy.

  Even the gag covering my mouth didn’t hide the sounds his tongue forced out of me. The muscles inside me clenched at nothing, desperate and begging to be filled. He teased the entrance with the tip of his finger while swirling his tongue over my clit. I was coming undone in that moment, splitting apart at the pleasure and pain, drowning in the hormones and chemicals his actions had created inside me.

  Metal clicked beneath the bench and my body was dropped down, angled in such a way that my head was lower than my hips. I struggled, scared that the bench was broken, but Holland’s hands were on me as he shushed the whimpers that escaped me. He was gone again and I was left in that position, the blood rushing to my head even more violently. Just as I started to swim, started to reach a level of euphoria that was confusing and thick, I was struck on the bottom of my feet with the thin cane; the sensation of pain traveling up my legs, and setting fire inside my core.

  I was being prepared, I knew that, but in ways I never imagined were possible. Through the mastery he’d gained in his craft, Holland’s skilled hands touched on innocuous nerves that one would think meant nothing, but in truth they were prepping and priming my body for the most carnal of pleasures. I was gasping for air, panting like a damn dog, ready to beg and plead for him to fill me, if for nothing else but to soothe the growing fire and ease the almost painful demands of my body.

  “Please…” I mumbled despite the gag. I wasn’t sure I could take anymore. I was too afraid of what his next tease or touch would elicit.

  Sex. I’d never known it could be like this. I mean, I’d known, but I never imagined that the body could take over the mind, that my own feral nature could force a disconnect between logic and sensation. Before this moment, sex had been something soft and sweet. It had been an activity expected from relationships, it had been something that I could take or leave.

  This…this was something else entirely. It was a shedding of my skin, a moment where I had no say in what was done or even how my body reacted. He’d taken everything out of my hands and replaced it with a burning desire; a frantic need for his touch.

  When his mouth closed over the tip of my breast and something vibrated against my clit, I almost lost it. I whimpered and writhed, begging him to finish this with nonsensical words and sounds that were muffled by the scarf he had tied around my mouth.

  He moved from one breast to the next and I could hear him chuckle sadistically above me, but I didn’t care. Let him react however he liked because it didn’t matter as long as he could finally give me the release my body was demanding.

  An orgasm stirred inside me, building and growing and spreading over every nerve ending beneath my skin. Tears broke free of my eyes because I didn’t believe I could take anymore.

  Pulling his mouth from my breast, I missed the soft warmth of his tongue and gasped to feel him pull away only to be replaced by the cold bite of the air in the room.

  “Shhhh…” His mouth was to my ear and even that contact was too much for me to bear. “…It’ll all be over soon, my beautiful girl.”

  His whispered promise did nothing to soothe me. It only served to seduce me more, to pull me farther down into a place where I felt like I was splitting apart with desire.

  Then he was gone again. No longer touching me. No longer speaking to me. No longer making a sound that would tell me he was standing close by. I was lost in a black depth, my body humming with need, my head swimming in a thick soup of confusion.

  “Please…” I whispered again into the void where he’d left me.

  A single finger slid inside me. One single finger and I cried out as the muscles of my core clenched tightly just to feel it. Just the tip at first, he slowly pushed in, touching a spot inside me that I’d never known to exist. He pulled out just as slow and was gone again, leaving me breathless.

  “Please…”

  Then he filled me, fully and completely. My mouth fell open and my head angled back against the bench. My entire body convulsed once or twice as he pushed inside me with one slow thrust. I was balancing on a precipice, the muscles of my core gripping and rippling over his cock, the junction of our bodies so wet that I could feel where the air slipped between us. Only when I stopped trembling did he begin to move and the orgasm that at one point had been a distant threat was now growing with such intensity that I pulled on the bindings of my wrists and ankles, unable to control my body and the way it moved.

  His hands gripped my hips, the tips digging in painfully against the nerves. Sounds were coming out of me that I’d never heard before.

  It was carnal and primal. The mind completely blown apart while the body’s natural driv
e took over.

  When I finally peaked, when an orgasm shook my body so violently that my hands gripped the cuffs around my wrist and my mouth opened so wide that my cheeks hurt, I was lost, cut free from gravity, floating up into a wild abyss where the wind controlled my movement. The sound of my own blood pounding against me, ringing so intently, that it was all I could do to keep a hold on reality.

  I never wanted to come back down because I was cushioned in a warm, beautiful place where no problems existed and I wasn’t trapped in a never-ending nightmare.

  Almost as soon as I started coming down, floating back into my body, but still high on pleasure, did he climax as well. Aftershocks tore through me and my lungs screamed for the breaths I’d ceased taking.

  It was a mind-altering experience, a wake up call that some things existed outside the comfortable, safe life I’d led. I saw stars beneath the blindfold. I was still without awareness of my surroundings. Quickly releasing the bindings on my wrists, he grabbed my body and pulled me up against him, his mouth crashing against mine as our hearts slowed down.

  I felt like I couldn’t move, that I was useless as if I’d been drugged.

  Finally, when his lips left mine, he moved away, laying me back on the bench so that he could replace it in its starting position in order to loosen the cuffs on my ankles. Once I was free, he lifted me up, cradling my body against his chest and my head against his shoulder.

  I wasn’t sure where he took me after that, but I remember it being soft and warm. I was curled into a ball with his body surrounding me.

  For the first time since I’d been taken, I felt safe.

  Even the weight of that frightening thought wasn’t enough to break me away from the blissful veil of sleep that covered me.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Holland