He slapped the tresses a little harder against the backs of her thighs and over her bottom. He loved the rippling sound of the leather as it rained against her flesh. He loved the way her ass jiggled with the impact, and the small, breathy sounds she made. His cock was hard as a rock, goddamn it, and bulging against his jeans. Good thing she was blindfolded.
He moved the flogger upward, letting the leather strike her back and shoulders. She tensed a little, hunching at the unexpected sting. “Relax,” he reminded her. “Embrace the pain. Breathe.”
He waited a moment as she obeyed, and then he struck her harder, square across both shoulders. She jerked in her restraints. They would need to work on stillness and acceptance.
He returned his focus to her ass, flogging her with steady, hard strokes that turned her bottom a lovely dark pink. She had begun to breathe rapidly, her breath shallow. “Slow your breathing,” he reminded her. “You’re doing well. I’m going to use the crop now. I want you to focus on remaining still. Let all the tension flow out of your body. You don’t need that anymore—it’s not serving you. It’s holding you back.”
“Yes, Sir,” she murmured breathlessly.
He waited a moment, pleased when she took several slow, deep breaths, her posture relaxing in the process as much as possible in her restraints. “Good,” he encouraged. “Stay where you are.”
He retrieved the crop and began a steady rhythmic smacking against her ass. At first he alternated between cheeks in a random pattern, but once she’d adjusted to the sting, he began to focus on a single spot on the right cheek, watching as the leather created a red rectangular imprint against her flesh.
“Ow, ow, ow,” she began to chant. She rose on her toes, her feet shifting in an avoidance dance. “It hurts. Oh, it hurts, Sir, all on one spot like that.”
“Keep your feet flat on the floor,” he commanded. “Stay still and take the pain. It pleases me to mark you like this. It pleases me to make you suffer. Take that pleasure and make it your own.”
He paused a moment, watching as she stopped her hopping dance and came off her toes. “That’s better. You can do this. You are doing this. Now breathe,” he reminded her. “Accept what I give you.”
“Yes, Sir,” she murmured, and she actually sounded calm.
Encouraged, he switched to the other cheek, creating an identical red mark. As he worked, she began to breathe rapidly again, but managed to stay reasonably still. He glanced up at her hands, which were clenched into fists over the cuffs.
“Relax your hands. You’re holding tension there. Submit to me, Morgan. Show me with your body that you accept what I’m offering you.”
Slowly, she uncurled her fingers, at the same time taking a deep, shuddery breath.
Aaron set down the crop and ran his fingers lightly over the two rectangles he’d painted on her ass cheeks. They were hot to the touch, yet a shiver went through her body as he stroked her skin.
He placed his hand on the back of her neck. The muscles were tight, and he squeezed gently, pressing his fingers into the muscles until she relaxed. “You’re doing really well so far. I’m pleased.” He moved his hand from her neck down her back. Her skin was so soft, and she sighed, leaning into his touch.
The sudden urge to bend down and kiss the nape of her neck nearly overwhelmed him. Abruptly, he yanked his hand away and took a step back. “We continue,” he said brusquely.
Retrieving the single tail, he snapped it experimentally in the air. Predictably, Morgan flinched. “Don’t anticipate,” he admonished. “Stay completely still, as still as you can.” He snapped the whip again, and again she flinched, though not as violently as the first time. The third time he snapped it, she remained still.
He began lightly, barely kissing her flesh with the flat of the whip. Save for a sudden intake of breath, she managed to stay still, feet flat. When he gauged she was ready, he popped the skin lightly with the tip of the whip against the fleshiest part of her ass.
“Ow!”
He snapped her ass again with a flick of his wrist. She moaned.
The third stroke left a long white line that quickly darkened to red. This time Morgan managed to remain quiet, though she stiffened, her ass cheeks clenching.
“Better, but you’re still holding some tension in your body. Practice acceptance. Surrender your will.”
He snapped the whip, drawing a parallel line over the first. Again she tensed, and again he reminded her to let go. They continued like this for six more strokes. She was breathing too fast, her hands again curled into fists, but she wasn’t dancing on her toes or crying out. She was working through it as best as she could at this early point in her training, and he decided not to interrupt the flow.
He settled into an easy rhythm, snapping the thin, braided strands of leather against her ass and the backs of her thighs in a random pattern, creating a pleasing crosshatch of marks.
Morgan’s rapid breathing began to deepen, accompanied by a moaning that could have been pleasure or pain, but was probably both. He struck slightly harder, raising a welt that caused her to cry out.
She began to pant, her breath again high in her throat, accompanied by small yelps. Still he continued to snap the whip across her flesh, observing carefully, certain she could take more. After one especially cruel stroke, he half expected her to shout, “Lemon,” or at the very least to beg him to stop, but she only gasped.
“Breathe through it,” he reminded her, thinking he would stop soon—she was nearing her limit.
But just as he was about the lower the whip, her breathing suddenly slowed, all the tension draining out of her body, as if she were a robot who’d suddenly been switched off. He moved quickly in front of her in case she’d hyperventilated and momentarily passed out, but as he moved, he saw she was still standing on her feet, not slumped against her wrists cuffs as she would have been if she’d fainted.
He pulled off the sleep mask, and her eyes opened slowly, her lips parting. She whispered something he didn’t hear. He leaned closer. “What did you say?”
“More,” she said in a slow, dreamy voice. “More please, Sir.”
“More?” he echoed. “You want the whipping to continue?”
“Yes, please, Sir.”
Surprised and excited, Aaron scooted back behind her and lifted the whip, eager to accommodate her request. He began lightly, letting her skin again acclimate to the sting.
She’d come slightly out of the trance, hovering again between resistance and acceptance, but he was sure he could get her back. Slowly but steadily he increased the intensity of the strokes, gently reminding her to accept, to embrace, to breathe, to surrender…
He held his breath as her tension was once again sloughed off like a skin no longer needed. He continued the whipping as her head fell back. On an impulse, he reached for the hair clip and released it, letting her hair cascade down her back. Her breathing was deep and even, as if she were in a deep sleep, though she remained firmly on her feet.
“Yes,” he whispered, entranced. “Yes. Fly for me, my—” He snapped his mouth shut, startled and disconcerted at the endearment he’d very nearly uttered aloud. Shunting away his emotion, he focused again on Morgan’s experience.
Her pain had transmuted to a dark pleasure, and she no longer distinguished between the two. He kept her there as long as he dared, mindful she would not ask him to stop, soaring as she was in a submissive headspace he could only observe and guide. It was up to him to assess when she’d had enough, while not stopping so suddenly she was jerked prematurely from her nirvana.
What had started as a simple erotic pain assessment had turned into more than he’d expected, especially from such a novice. If she could fly at this stage in her training, her potential was far greater than he’d initially believed. And though he tried to hide behind this clinical, removed analysis, Aaron couldn’t deny the feelings roiling just beneath the surface of his thoughts.
He was enchanted. More than that. He was…
He eased his stroke, bringing her as slowly and gently back to earth as he could. When he dropped the whip, she remained still, head back, eyes closed, lips parted, breathing slow and steady. He reached for her wrist cuffs, his other arm ready to catch her in case she fell.
As he brought her arms down, she swayed slightly, but remained on her feet. One arm supporting her shoulders, he gently turned her so he could see her face. Her eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first. Then she looked directly at him, her eyes skipping past his trainer’s mask and boring directly into his soul. “Oh, Sir, that was amazing,” she breathed.
Then her lips lifted into a slow, sensual smile, her eyes curving into half-moons of impish delight. “I never had a whipgasm before, Sir. I didn’t even know they existed.”
In spite of himself, Aaron guffawed at her newly coined term. “I never heard it quite described like that before.” Impulsively, he took her into his arms and held her close. It was so good—so right—to hold her like that.
“Oh, Aaron, thank you, thank you!” she murmured, lifting her face to his, her eyes fluttering shut as her lips softly parted.
Aaron?
The part of his brain that could still function began to shout inside his head. You’re her trainer. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?
He dropped his arms abruptly and took a step back. Deeply shaken, he tried to get his bearings. “Aftercare,” he finally managed, ignoring the hurt confusion in her eyes. “Lie down on one of the yoga mats. I’ll send someone in to tend to those welts, and then you have free time until this afternoon’s session on sexual responsiveness and control.”
Turning on his heels, he fled.
Chapter 9
Morgan lay on the yoga mat in a state of confused bliss. Whatever had just happened at the end of the whipping had been like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Just as she was reaching the point where she couldn’t take another second of the raw, stinging pain, everything changed.
It was as if she’d been hanging over the edge of the cliff, her fingernails dragging against the rough stone as she lost her grip, bit by bit. Just when her hold was giving out and she tried to prepare herself for the inevitable fall, her mouth already forming the word that would stop all the action and ruin everything—all at once, it was if some huge, indefinable but welcoming force had wrapped its warm, comforting arms around her and spirited her away. Flying on huge, silent wings, it took her up, up into the heavens, suffusing her being with a peace and serenity she’d never known before. And though the whipping continued for some time after that, the leather no longer licked with fire, but instead kissed her skin with the softest, most welcome touch in the world.
As if that weren’t wonderful enough in itself, then Aaron had put his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace that was even more welcome than the soaring experience of a moment before. She knew in that instant as surely as she’d ever known anything that she was in love. How could she not fall in love with someone who had given her something so unique and so powerful? And the way he’d tenderly held her to him—she’d been sure they were on the same page when she’d lifted her head for his kiss…
But he’d abruptly let her go, no kiss, no caress. He’d run away from her, when what she longed for was the touch of his hands to smooth away the sting and fill her with warmth.
Still, there was this afternoon’s session to look forward to—sexual responsiveness and control…yum… Her mind instantly filled with visions of Aaron kissing her lips, and then her nipples, sucking each one until they were hard nubbins, and then moving down her body, his tongue licking a trail toward her sex…
“Ah, ma chérie. Trainer Aaron sent me to see to your aftercare.”
Startled, Morgan lifted her head just enough to see Claudette’s bare feet in the doorway, her toenails painted a rosy pink, a gold chain strung with tiny pearls around her slender ankle.
As Morgan started to lift herself from the mat, Claudette waved her hand. “No, no. Stay as you are. I brought my kit with me. Just lie there and relax.”
Claudette’s ministrations felt good as she stroked a soothing salve over Morgan’s ass, back and thighs. As she worked, Claudette commented, “You have some lovely marks, Morgan. Badges of submissive courage, I call them. I understand you handled the pain with real grace. Well done.”
Morgan warmed at the unexpected praise—both indirectly from Aaron, who must have shared it, and directly from Claudette. “Thank you, Ma’am,” she whispered.
It was as if Claudette’s words had opened a new door inside of Morgan, into a space that contained more than mere sexual attraction and lust. Maybe for the first time in her life, her focus had shifted from her own pleasure, be it masochistic or otherwise. She wanted to please another—she wanted to serve him.
When she saw the trainer that afternoon, she would apologize for using his first name. And no matter how exciting and sexy it might get during the sexual responsiveness session, she’d behave, doing only and exactly what was asked of her, and nothing more. She would make her trainer proud.
~*~
The cold shower worked, and Aaron was back in trainer mode. He really needed to exert better self-control. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror as he rubbed his hair with a towel. “Are you losing it, Sterling?”
Surely it had just been a moment of weakness, brought on by the unexpected event of her flying. He’d never had a trainee fly before. A lover, yes, but only after a deep bond of trust had been established between them, and even then it was a rare event.
His ringing phone startled him from his thoughts, the ringtone indicating a family member was calling from overseas. Rushing into his bedroom, he grabbed the phone from the night table. He glanced at the screen. Odd. His father rarely called, preferring to leave that particular task to his mother.
He accepted the call. “Hello? Dad?”
“Aaron, glad I got you.”
Something in his father’s tone made Aaron’s gut constrict with concern. “What is it? Is everything okay? Is it Jordan?” His younger brother, a freelance reporter, was famous for disappearing for months at a time as he traveled the globe in search of a good story.
“Your brother’s fine. He’s off jaunting around Italy or somewhere.”
Aaron snorted softly as he pulled on his jeans. Typical Jordan.
“I left him a message,” his father continued, “but I haven’t heard back. It’s your mum. She’s been in a car accident.”
“Oh, my god! Is she okay?”
“She’s in hospital, in intensive care.” His father’s usually controlled voice cracked. “There was some trauma to the brain and they’ve put her in a medical coma, but they think she’ll recover fully. This is just precautionary, they said.”
“I’ll get a plane out this evening. I can be there by the morning,” Aaron said, already moving toward his closet to pack.
“Oh, son, that’s okay. I’m sure she’s going to be fine.” His father’s voice cracked a little. “I just wanted to let you know.”
Aaron reached for his overnight bag and carried it to the bed. “Don’t be daft, Dad. I want to be there when she wakes up.”
“Well, all right. If you insist.” His father sounded clearly relieved. He never handled crises well, and Aaron could tell he was barely holding it together.
“Stay calm and positive, Dad. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” They finished their goodbyes and Aaron slipped the phone into his pocket.
As he placed clothing into his bag, Morgan popped into his mind as he’d left her—naked and beautiful, her hair wild about her face, her lips softly parted for a kiss…
Someone else would have to continue her training for a few days. That was probably for the best, as he clearly wasn’t doing a very professional job of it. He ignored the stab of yearning that pierced his heart for just a split second. He was being ridiculous. Michael could take over, or Gerard. Claudette would as
sist, as usual.
He finished dressing and moved back into the bathroom to pack some toiletries. Hoisting the bag over his shoulder, he found his passport, grabbed his wallet and keys from the bureau and headed out of his room to find Michael. As he hurried down the stairs, he tried not to worry about leaving his new trainee just as she was starting to show potential. She would fine…just fine.
But would he?
Aaron tapped on Michael’s office door, glad he’d caught him before lunch. After he explained the situation, Michael replied, “You absolutely must go. No question.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your understanding.”
“Don’t give it a second thought. Have you already made a reservation? Claudette and I use a great travel agent who always finds us great deals at a moment’s notice.”
“No, I haven’t had a chance. To tell you the truth, I was just going to get in the car and drive to the airport and see what I could find.”
“Better to have a reservation. Let me just shoot her a quick email. She’s hard to reach by phone but she practically lives on her computer. It never takes more than a few minutes for her to reply. You want to leave as soon as possible, right?”
Aaron nodded. “Yeah. Listen, I really appreciate this. You know I’d normally never leave in the middle of training.”
Michael waved his hand dismissively. “I told you—it’s not a big deal at all.” He began to type rapidly on his laptop. After a moment, he looked up. “There. All done. I’ll bring my phone in to lunch so we don’t miss her reply. We can easily handle the new girl while you’re gone. We’ll just pick up where you left off. You can shoot me a quick email once you’re on the plane, giving me an update on her progress, and we’ll take it from there. What did you have scheduled for the rest of the day?”
“This afternoon we were going to work on sexual responsiveness and control.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed, his mouth lifting into a wolfish smile that Aaron didn’t entirely like. “Ah, no problem. I would be more than happy to handle that for you. I do have a full calendar the rest of the week, but I’m sure Gerard can step in after that.”