The Training

Chapter Five

—NATHANIEL—

She mumbled something under her breath I couldn’t make out.

“Either stay quiet or speak so I can hear,” I said, giving her ass a sharp smack. “Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Very good.” I took hold of her bound hands. “Now bend over.”

She moved slowly, getting her bearings. I kept a firm grasp on her hands with my left hand, wanting her to realize she could let go and trust me. Her legs were spread wide, giving her a steady stance and giving me an incredible view.

“Very nice, Abigail,” I said. “I love how open your ass is in this position.” The lubed finger of my right hand circled her. “Let’s see if you were telling the truth about using your plug.” I pushed into her a little. “I can’t wait to take you here.”

She groaned and pushed herself back against me. My finger slipped deeper.

Fuck.

I slowly fucked her with my finger, making sure I kept a firm grasp on her hands to ensure she wouldn’t fall. Her head fell between her knees, hair trailing over the floor and sweeping against the hardwood with each thrust of my finger.

I slipped another finger into her. Pushing slowly. Stretching her. Preparing her. She was still so tight.

As she grew accustomed to my fingers, I started rethinking my plan. Taking her here, in the middle of the floor, wouldn’t work. I couldn’t hold on to her, work her body, and thrust without putting unnecessary strain on her arms and shoulders.

Glancing around the room, my eyes fell on the whipping bench.

Perfect.

“Have you missed this?” I asked. “Missed me preparing your ass for my cock?” I pushed deeper. My cock ached for friction, and as much as I wanted nothing more than to remove my fingers and thrust into her, I knew I couldn’t. She trusted me to make this good for her, and I treasured that trust.

I stilled my fingers, and she stopped moving as well. When I was certain she was steady, I let go of her arms. Keeping my fingers inside, I slipped my other hand between her legs and stroked her slickness.

“Very good, Abigail,” I said. “You have been using your plug. Missed my cock, have you?” I brushed her clit.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “Yes, Master.”

I continued teasing her clit with one hand while slowly stretching her with the fingers of the other. Every so often, she’d let out a soft whimper of pleasure.

“I’m going to remove my fingers,” I said. “When I do, I want you to move to the whipping bench.”

I use it for chastisement, I’d told her once. But it serves other purposes as well. Would she remember? Dare I hope I’d gotten her to a place inside her head where she trusted me implicitly?

I slipped my fingers from her, slowly removing them, and gave her clit one last swirl.

“Stand up for me,” I said, with a tug on her hands.

She stood slowly, her hair falling softly into place around her face.

“To the bench, my lovely.”

She didn’t hesitate. Knowing, hopefully, she had done nothing requiring punishment.

“I’m so proud of you,” I told her, when she had positioned herself. “The way you trust me.”

She was bent over the bench with her backside to me—her arms were behind her back and she’d kept a wide stance with her legs. I moved behind her and leaned over.

“You can feel it in this position, can’t you?” I asked, slipping a prepared finger inside her again, causing her upper body to move against the bench. “Your nipples.” I pulled out a bit and her body moved slightly. “How they scrape the bench with every push of my hand?”

Again I worked to stretch her with my fingers and slid a hand between her legs to graze her pussy. I wanted her to ache for me. Wanted to get her to where she hungered for my cock. The movement of her body against the bench, the gentle stretch of my fingers, the play of my fingers against her clit—they all worked to get her there.

She moaned.

“What is it?” I asked. “What do you need?”

“Oh, God,” she said as I pushed deeper.

“What do you need?” I smacked her across the ass, and she gave another moan. “Tell me.”

“You,” she panted. “Me.”

“Ready for me?” I removed my fingers and placed the head of my cock against her.

“Please,” she said.

I had to go slowly. This was only her second time. It would still hurt.

“Easy,” I said, more to myself than her. I pressed gently into her, gritting my teeth against the burning need to plunge forward.

I stilled my hips and dipped two fingers into her wetness. “What you do to me,” I whispered. “Is it the same for you?”

Her only answer was a groan as my fingers circled her clit. I pushed my hips forward and stopped suddenly at her sharp intake of breath. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes, Master,” she said in a tight voice. “More. Please.”

I slid farther into her. Backed out. Slid deeper. I hooked my fingers and, when I pressed inside her, felt the push and pull of my cock.

Fucking hell.

I thrust even deeper on my next pass, pushed her harder against the bench, and slipped all the way in. Her muscles tightened around my fingers.

“Let it go.” My voice was strained. “Whenever you want.”

She arched her back, and my fingers hit deep within her. I started a slow rhythm—my cock pushing in as my fingers came out and brushed her clit. Then I pulled out, with my fingers sliding inside.

She might have thought I consumed her when I took her this way, but the opposite was true—she totally consumed me. Every breath, every heartbeat, every nerve of my body pulsed with her name. Pulsed with a need for her. She swallowed me whole. Consumed me.

I threw my head back and increased my pace. Her body scraped harder against the bench.

“Ah,” she moaned, tightening around me again.

Yes.

I pushed my fingers deeper.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I can’t . . . I can’t . . .”

“Then don’t,” I whispered back, pushing deeper.

She climaxed around me with a soft yelp.

I thrust again, allowed the need to wash over me, and released into her.

We lay for several seconds, our pants and thumping hearts the only noticeable sounds. My head finally cleared, and I gently pulled away from her.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Oh, God, yes.”

I smiled. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

I walked into the bathroom adjoining the playroom and washed my hands, keeping my eyes on her. From my heated towel rack, I took some large towels, then ran hot water over several washcloths, knowing they’d cool by the time I needed them.

I spread the towels on the floor. When I made it back to her, I gently unbound her arms—kissing her wrists, letting the rope drop as I made my way up her arms, continuing a soothing massage to her shoulders. I took one arm and kissed inside her elbow before placing it beside her and doing the same to the other arm. I moved beside