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Her gaze moved to a St. Andrew's Cross not yet stained, and the hand sander next to it that said it was still being prepped. No scratches from bound, straining hands yet. She tried to clear the thickness out of her throat. "Wouldn't a power sander be faster?"
"Electronics have their place." Logan braced a hand on the door, hooking his thumb in his jeans pocket as he followed her gaze around the room. "They make things happen faster. But being in direct contact with the grain opens it up, lets the wood talk to you, tell you what it needs to become. Which is a lot like what happens to the people who use the finished product."
She folded her arms, a defensive movement. I can't be here. I can't. She was suddenly aware of how alone they were. When he touched her face, she jumped.
"You keep looking at me like that," he said quietly, "you're going to make me think I should have made that spanking a promise instead of a tease."
Here he had his choice of equipment to make that happen. "Don't," she managed, and he took his hand away.
Fortunately, he left her at the door, as if nothing unusual had happened. It gave her room to breathe, to steady herself. As he moved to the far side of the room, she saw a long wooden chest. It had carved feet, allowing a few inches of space beneath it. The piece was done in a golden pine, and the carved embellishments on it reminded her of the hinges she'd seen this morning, suggesting that was their intended place. As she drew closer she saw she was right, because he'd already screwed them in place.
She really needed to get out of here. Instead she came to Logan's side. He'd squatted next to the chest and unlatched the top. The front of the chest became two doors that folded back like wings along the short sides, with the help of the ornate hinges.
"This piece is for Troy's Mistress."
The chest walls were a facade for . . . a cage. A human-sized cage, if the human stayed on all fours or lay down. He or she could sit up, if the head stayed bowed.
"She plans to put it at the foot of her bed," Logan explained. "At the base corners are cutouts for air, so if she decides to close him in darkness, to punish or deny him the ability to see her changing clothes, she can."
She should act appalled, shocked, but his tone as he spoke of Troy and his Mistress, the way he passed his hand over the top with such pride in his handiwork, killed the impulse before it could form. Instead, she had an image of herself in the cage, Logan reclining in some manly chair, reading or watching cable. He'd have his ankles crossed and beer in hand while he glanced casually at her, watching her become more and more aroused, awaiting his pleasure.
A weird flutter moved up to her throat.
"Troy's doing the sanding, the hardest work on a piece like this. Once it's smooth enough, I'll stain and finish it. It's not ready for the hinges yet, or even the bars, but I put the pieces together tonight to make sure it's coming together properly. And to impress you." He gave her a disarming smile, so potent it had the opposite effect.
"He'd sleep in a cage for her?" She was proud of her note of cynical incredulity, even if it wasn't an accurate reflection of what was happening inside her. When Logan glanced up at her, she had a feeling he saw it, because his eyes did that delve-into-her-soul thing as he replied.
"For some submissives, that total ownership is a deep craving. When she locks him into this cage, she's underscoring he's her possession. It gives him a sense of safety and reassurance as well."
"He doesn't seem the timid sort."
Logan snorted. "Not in the least. Last year they were on a road trip and a couple of junkies tried to shake them down at a rest area. He jumped in front of her, fought both of them while she dialed 911 and grabbed her gun from the car. She shot one of them in the leg, the other in the stomach. Between Troy's beating and that, the police pretty much only had to do cleanup. It scared her to death, though, the thought of losing him. That's when I met them. She was punishing him at a public club session."
"Punishing him. For protecting her?"
"For not protecting what was hers. Himself. The punishment wasn't really a punishment, just a way for her to vent. But she branded him that night, made him hers permanently, which I think he considered the best of all outcomes. She really hadn't committed to him before then. She'd treated their relationship as more of a temporary situation, denying her feelings."
So Troy had the toothpaste-in-the-sink relationship, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. But Madison already knew it worked for some people. Just not her. She couldn't figure out the right formula, the secret code to it all.
She shook her head. "To most people, this isn't a normal conversation. Not in the least."
"How about to you?"
"You're making assumptions about me." She set her jaw. "I don't know what Alice told you . . ."
He didn't say anything as she trailed off. When he rose, and she started to step back, he spoke the same word she had, with a very different meaning, his voice brusque, eyes direct. "Don't."
She stilled, even though a quiver ran through her, telling her to run, run, run. But her mind was drowned out by emotions she couldn't explain.
"Better. You don't need to run from me, Madison. Whatever Alice told me about you, it doesn't change the fact you and I have just met, which means I'm learning everything about you from the source. You can be what you want with me, as long as you're true to yourself."
Though he wasn't touching her, less than a foot separated them and the impact of those words was more potent than a passionate kiss. She shifted her gaze to his chest. "It's not normal," she said.
"Deep inside all of us are vulnerabilities," Logan said, low. "Things we only reveal to the person capable of stripping us bare and yet cherishing the nakedness they find, not exploiting it. That's a common thread beneath a lot of the Dominant and submission sexual fantasies people have, whether or not they're actual Dominants or submissives."
She lifted her lashes, met his gaze, and earned a look of approval. "Good," he said. "I like it when you look me in the eye."
"Is this how you teach people? As a training Master?"
