In Training Read Online Free
time to show weakness, he reminded himself.
After a few more deep breaths, Abby set down the napkin and straightened her shoulders. "I, too, have recently passed a healthy body report," she pronounced.
Excellent. Now we can proceed.
He began his investigation. How long had she been in the kink lifestyle? What had brought her to the BDSM community? How involved in local events was she? What were her personal kink practices? What were her hard limits? What was her position on floggings? Canings? Blood play?
He answered each question himself without prompting, giving Abby a glimpse into the sexual interests of a man comfortable with his sexual needs, offering her insight into the man he was and the master he would be. He made his decision in his usual way: without hesitation.
"We seem to be a good match sexually."
* * * *
Abby's gaze dropped. He needed to know one more thing before he made that decision. Her fingers worried the napkin in her hand for long moments before she raised her eyes back to his. It's for the best, she told herself. He needed to know, just in case he wanted to opt out.
"Let me show you what you'd be working with." She rose to her feet and walked into the living room. The soft tread of Seth's footsteps followed. She leaned into each lamp as she switched them on. The early night had fallen as they'd eaten, normal for early spring in the Pacific Northwest, but within moments, light chased away the shadows.
Keeping her back to him, she pulled off her shirt and unhooked the purple-and-black lace bra, which she let fall. She covered her breasts with her hands and took a couple of bracing breaths. Then, straightening her shoulders, she turned to face Seth and dropped her hands to reveal her shame.
Along with the fine things that were Abigail Harrison was something she was ashamed of every day.
"They're not pretty," she said, as the harsh living room lights revealed the boat-anchor designs made by a surgeon's scalpel. Forced to clear the unusual huskiness from her voice, she nervously stated the obvious. "They're scarred."
Seth's gaze lingered on the display. Tilting his head to the side, he stepped closer and brushed his fingertips across the swell of her breasts. He touched with care, as if acknowledging an open wound visible in her psyche, even though the physical incisions were long healed.
He palmed the weight of them, one in each hand, stalling Abby's breath. Warmth rushed through her veins. Her nipples tightened into hard nubs.
"What happened?"
Her teen years had been spent being laughed at by her peers for having boobs the size of watermelons. Her huge tits had caught the unwanted attention from pedophiles like her stepfather to fetishists who lusted after the breasts instead of the woman. She'd hated her oversized breasts so badly she'd had a doctor shave off five pounds of breast tissue. "I had reductive surgery."
"Back pain?"
"Lots of pain," she said, but not all of it was physical.
He was silent, touching and examining, his breathing slow and composed. He traced the tiny, silvery lines with tenderness and care. While the surgery had greatly reduced their size, it hadn't erased her self-hatred.
"They're ugly, aren't they?" Her voice quavered on the question.
His eyes flicked up to meet hers, revealing a dark flash in their depths that he quickly muted. "The scars? They are barely visible."
He obviously needs glasses. "But see them here...and here?" She pushed her flesh this way and that, showing him the path of the surgeon's scalpel in a wholly masochistic exhibition of body loathing.
Seth caught her wrists, pulled them away from her body and stacked them at the small of her back, holding them there for a moment as his eyes caught hers and levied an unspoken message. She sucked in a startled breath and held her position as his hands dropped from hers.
He resumed the caresses, brushing Abby's skin with the backs of his hands before dancing his fingers across the landscape of her
After a few more deep breaths, Abby set down the napkin and straightened her shoulders. "I, too, have recently passed a healthy body report," she pronounced.
Excellent. Now we can proceed.
He began his investigation. How long had she been in the kink lifestyle? What had brought her to the BDSM community? How involved in local events was she? What were her personal kink practices? What were her hard limits? What was her position on floggings? Canings? Blood play?
He answered each question himself without prompting, giving Abby a glimpse into the sexual interests of a man comfortable with his sexual needs, offering her insight into the man he was and the master he would be. He made his decision in his usual way: without hesitation.
"We seem to be a good match sexually."
* * * *
Abby's gaze dropped. He needed to know one more thing before he made that decision. Her fingers worried the napkin in her hand for long moments before she raised her eyes back to his. It's for the best, she told herself. He needed to know, just in case he wanted to opt out.
"Let me show you what you'd be working with." She rose to her feet and walked into the living room. The soft tread of Seth's footsteps followed. She leaned into each lamp as she switched them on. The early night had fallen as they'd eaten, normal for early spring in the Pacific Northwest, but within moments, light chased away the shadows.
Keeping her back to him, she pulled off her shirt and unhooked the purple-and-black lace bra, which she let fall. She covered her breasts with her hands and took a couple of bracing breaths. Then, straightening her shoulders, she turned to face Seth and dropped her hands to reveal her shame.
Along with the fine things that were Abigail Harrison was something she was ashamed of every day.
"They're not pretty," she said, as the harsh living room lights revealed the boat-anchor designs made by a surgeon's scalpel. Forced to clear the unusual huskiness from her voice, she nervously stated the obvious. "They're scarred."
Seth's gaze lingered on the display. Tilting his head to the side, he stepped closer and brushed his fingertips across the swell of her breasts. He touched with care, as if acknowledging an open wound visible in her psyche, even though the physical incisions were long healed.
He palmed the weight of them, one in each hand, stalling Abby's breath. Warmth rushed through her veins. Her nipples tightened into hard nubs.
"What happened?"
Her teen years had been spent being laughed at by her peers for having boobs the size of watermelons. Her huge tits had caught the unwanted attention from pedophiles like her stepfather to fetishists who lusted after the breasts instead of the woman. She'd hated her oversized breasts so badly she'd had a doctor shave off five pounds of breast tissue. "I had reductive surgery."
"Back pain?"
"Lots of pain," she said, but not all of it was physical.
He was silent, touching and examining, his breathing slow and composed. He traced the tiny, silvery lines with tenderness and care. While the surgery had greatly reduced their size, it hadn't erased her self-hatred.
"They're ugly, aren't they?" Her voice quavered on the question.
His eyes flicked up to meet hers, revealing a dark flash in their depths that he quickly muted. "The scars? They are barely visible."
He obviously needs glasses. "But see them here...and here?" She pushed her flesh this way and that, showing him the path of the surgeon's scalpel in a wholly masochistic exhibition of body loathing.
Seth caught her wrists, pulled them away from her body and stacked them at the small of her back, holding them there for a moment as his eyes caught hers and levied an unspoken message. She sucked in a startled breath and held her position as his hands dropped from hers.
He resumed the caresses, brushing Abby's skin with the backs of his hands before dancing his fingers across the landscape of her
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