Girl by Eden Bradley Read Free Book Online Page A

funeral I overheard things I probably shouldn’t have—my angry father talking to his lawyer. I was a teenager before I understood his implications that my mother had died while driving home from an assignation with a lover. But my father being who he is, I refuse to judge her for it. We all have to look for love somewhere, don’t we? The Training House is where I am looking.
    I can find it here. I can find everything I’ve ever needed here. With him.
    The gears in my head instantly switch, and I imagine my exquisite Master’s hands on my body, the things he did to me that first time—the forced squirting. I’ve never felt anything like it, and even remembering it now, I have to squeeze my thighs together, the muscles aching with need.
    Maybe the driver will fuck me tonight.
    Yes, please.
    I don’t even care who he is or how he might do it, how difficult he will make it for me. No, I want him to make it difficult.
    I sigh, and the sigh turns into a moan of deep yearning, my body on fire. I squeeze my eyes shut and pretend he is here with me—the driver. But no, it’s the Master, with his finely made hands. His clever, hurting hands. And they are inside me, pumping hard, the pressure building, and oh God, I can’t hold it back!
    I bolt upright as the door opens and Robert steps in. He comes toward me quietly, and I am so ashamed of having worked myself up, nearly to orgasm, that I kneel up for him, head bowed, hands behind my back. The loose choke-chain collar is like a weighted sacrament around my neck. It redeems me—a little, at least.
    “Very nice,” he says as he pulls my arms farther back, clipping the carabiner onto the cuffs once more, and I realize how sore my shoulders are from being in that position, but I’m hardly going to complain. Then he snaps the leash on, pulls me to my feet and takes me down a narrow flight of stairs.
    My head is reeling as I refocus on what is happening. The Master is giving me to someone else. He worked me, and then he was done with me. I feel a little desperate, suddenly. The Master’s beating wasn’t too bad—I’ve had much worse—and I’m a bit of a pain slut so my body can handle it. But there’s something else going on with me. Why should I care that he’s giving me to another man to work tonight? I’m getting more play, which is usually exactly what I want. Being given to another as if I’m merely a thing is one of my thrills, and I just nearly got off imagining this very scenario. But I didn’t want to leave him . To be banished for the whole night, and who knows how much longer. It’s him I really want to fuck me. But it’s impossible, and I’m so worked up the driver will do. Anyone would, at this point, which is, of course, part of their wicked plan. His wicked plan. And it’s as if he’s inside my head, as if he knows exactly how it will all work on me. And oh God, does he know! Exactly.
    I’ve just met this man. He is my Master, yes, for the duration of my contract. I don’t need to like him or be attracted to him, not at this level of the kink game. At this point my desires are considered only so they can be used against me, or to please those Masters and Mistresses who play with me. But I am attracted. Ridiculously. And the shadows in his eyes only make him more intriguing. Perhaps that’s the problem.
    It will be a problem, because he will probably always be denied me.
    Fuck .
    If this were the normal world—and it’s far, far from normal—I would flirt with him, try to gain his attention, do what I could to get him to talk to me. Do what I could to get him into my bed. I’m good at that in the vanilla world. I can have almost anyone I want, male or female, and that’s not ego talking—it’s simply the truth. But none of these things make any difference here. Which is one of the attractions.
    It doesn’t matter what you do now.
    I comfort myself with this thought, the same idea of having absolutely no control that goes through my mind