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She crowded closer and was gratified by how eagerly Troy thrust his cock against the damp denim. She squirmed against his chest, dragging her nipples against his bare flesh once more. Growing more confident, she nibbled at the pocket of his collarbone, using her tongue to taste the perspiration there. His hips worked against her as she increased the movements of her own, dragging her clit up and down his cock, the condom fortunately lubricated enough to make that work against the fabric. Logan was right, though. Between the punishment and her teasing of him, he was ready to go over. His heart was thundering in his chest and his breath was hot puffs against her, his jaw against her temple.
"Fuck . . . God . . . Master . . ."
"You have to ask me, Troy."
"Please, Master. May I come?"
She caught Logan in the corner of her eye. He'd leaned up against the workbench again, had unscrewed the top of a water bottle and was taking a sip. His eyes remained on them, his mouth a firm, unrelenting line. "Keep rubbin
g against her while I think about it. Feel how hard her nipples are. She's soaked with her climax. If those jeans weren't in the way, you could be greasing yourself between her thighs, her cunt rubbing against your cock."
Troy let out a desperate noise, but he obeyed, not slacking up in the least.
"You come without my say-so, Troy, you'll get a beating twice as bad as the first."
"Yes . . . Master."
She was getting aroused all over again by the wealth of need pouring off of Troy, the incredible effort he was exercising, holding back. She nestled her cheek harder against him, her fingers clasping her forearms behind her back. Her gaze lifted to Logan.
He'd moved, was standing next to them again. He touched her face, sliding a knuckle along her cheek. Turning her head, she caught his finger in her teeth, sucked it in, needing to taste him, wanting his mouth, his flesh, anything she could get. His other fingers fanned out along her jaw, lightly stroking her throat. The sensation made her close her eyes. His breath, his lips, brushed her brow, but when she tilted her head up, he drew back, not giving her the taste of his mouth she wanted.
"You can thank Madison for that delay, Troy. She distracted me. You can come."
Troy let go with a groan, humping hard against her body, only the ropes helping her keep her feet as he spurted into the condom, though she was sure some would run down to bathe his testicles and dampen her jeans further. The scent of it, of herself, of male and female perspiration, of sex and heat, kept her just as wet beneath the denim.
During sex, time could get eaten up by the things she felt obligated to do. Movement of hips, whispered encouragement, contracting muscles. However, tied the way she was to Troy, both of them under Logan's command, she had the luxury of savoring. Through sight, sound, scent and every vibrant nerve, she relished Troy's climax, but not just as a spectator. Since she was tied against him, it was a fully immersive experience. She never wanted it to end.
But at length, of course it did. As Troy started to come down, Logan set the water bottle aside and stepped in close. He laid his hand on the young man's shoulder, idly rubbing him there, a soothing touch as he studied Madison. When his gaze lighted on her parted lips, she couldn't move.
"The things I could do with that mouth," he observed in a low voice. "Would you like that, Madison? Would you like to see the things I could make you do?"
She had enough brain cells left not to respond to that. This was way over the top of what she'd expected. She wasn't throwing herself off the whole cliff. But fortunately, he didn't push her for an answer. Instead, he moved to the wall controls and gave Troy enough slack he could lower his arms.
"Hold on to her, Troy. She's not steady on her feet."
Troy's lips brushed her temple and then his arms dropped around her, surrounding her with his strength as Logan loosened the ropes tying them to each other. He unboxed her arms and removed the harness, making her breasts tingle from the increased blood flow where they were mashed pleasantly against Troy. As that subsided, she was able to straighten and hold on to Troy as well, because he wasn't entirely steady on his feet, either. His rueful chuckle against her ear, acknowledging it, gave her a soft smile as well. She increased her hold on him, inhaled the scent of replete male and was content to be and do whatever she was directed to do. No thought was required for this. It was all feeling.
Eventually though, Logan separated them, guiding them both to sit on a bench. As he kneaded Troy's shoulder muscles again and gave him a thorough examination, she summoned enough brain cells to analyze what he was doing. Perhaps gauging the color of Troy's skin where he'd been bound, how he was moving. Whether he was showing any evidence of residual pain, other than the wince when he first sat down on those paddle marks. Confirming it, Logan retrieved a cushion, bade him rise and shoved it under him before pushing him back down. He brought Troy and her both a bottle of water. Logan made sure Troy could hold it and sip it on his own, then he took a seat between them and offered her the same.
As she closed her hand on the bottle her fingers overlapped his. He held on to it an extra moment, gave her cheek a quick touch.
"Next time you open the store," he said, "remember this. Hold on to the feelings you had here tonight. Believe in what you're selling. It's a fantasy, but it's real, too. It's not a game, not in the traditional, negative sense."
He passed a hand over her hair, a casual stroke, though the look in his eyes was anything but casual. "Thanks for helping tonight."
"Sure. Anytime." She coughed on a chuckle to cover the pang. It really had been all about the scene, hadn't it?
She'd had this problem in every freaking relationship, assuming things that weren't there, turning wishful thinking into reality. But he was so deliberate in how he used language and gestures. She couldn't help thinking about it. She's mine . . . Alice gave you to me . . .
She rose, setting the water aside and retrieving her bra and tunic top. "Restroom?"
Logan nodded toward it, and she responded with a tight smile. It only took a couple minutes to change back into the top. She left the bra off, since for the quick trip home she didn't really need it. The tunic wasn't as revealing as the snug T-shirt. She'd take the T-shirt home and pay him for it. She certainly wouldn't mind wearing it again to promote his business. It was the neighborly thing to do.
When she came back out, Troy had pulled on his drawstring pants. Everything was civilized again, if the eye didn't stray to the shackles dangling loose in the middle of the room, the tarp marked with the small puddle of Troy's precum.
"Well, I'd better head home." Her casual expression was going to break her face, but she'd lost her dignity plenty of times in relationship missteps. She wasn't going to screw this up. Logan was helping her learn how to get in touch with her inner sex goddess to make the lingerie store more profitable. End of story. "I really appreciate you giving me the experience," she told him, including Troy in the look of pleasant gratitude. "Please thank Shale . . . your Mistress, for me as well."
Troy gave her a tentative smile, still fuzzy on the edges, but he was studying her a little too closely, like Logan. In a minute, one of them was going to ask her if everything was okay and her dignity was going to topple from its pedestal like a one-legged statue.
