Saturday was a long, lazy day at the house. Shannon had just finished lunch and planned to go lie beside the pool with Julie, Mina, and Annette, but that plan was about to die a quick death because Lindsay now crossed the cafeteria with fierce purpose in his gaze. When he reached the table, he leaned in close to her, whispering gruffly in her ear.
“Put your tray away and come with me.”
She was startled by his tone. “A-am I in trouble?” She couldn't think of what she might have done. He seemed pretty amped up about something.
He chuckled. “No, you're not in trouble. At least not yet.” he allowed the enigmatic riddle to hang in the air as he rose back to his full imposing height, towering over her. He waited expectantly for the obedience that always came.
She felt flustered but got up and took her tray back to the drop-off counter. Lindsay was immediately upon her, his hand pressing against her lower back, guiding her out of the cafeteria and down one of the long hallways.
“Where are we going?”
“To our private dungeon.”
This was a punishment. It had to be. But what had she done? She couldn't think of anything. He took her to the set of dungeons he'd told her about but had never brought her to... until now. When had he had time to set it up?
Off her confused expression he said: “Gabe set it up for me while we were at work in the city this week.” Lindsay unlocked the door of one of the cells and led her inside. “I need your help training our new trainers.”
Shannon wasn't sure what to look at first. The walls were lined with implements of pain and pleasure. Expensive sex and bondage furniture was scattered about the room in a pattern that certainly only made sense to Lindsay.
There were five strange men in the room. They were young, hot, virile, and... hungry. The looks they were giving her... she hadn't had looks like that in a long time from anyone but the doctor and Damian. Suddenly she felt very self-conscious about the scars on her back. Surely those hungry gazes would fade to disgust or disinterest the moment they saw them. Just because it didn't disgust Damian or Lindsay didn't mean these men wouldn't judge.
Only a few feet away was a fancy, comfortable-looking bed that was definitely not a feature in Brian's dungeons. She had a very strong suspicion she was about to be fucked on this bed for a hungry and rapt audience. That thought made her sex come awake and pulse with need. She could already feel the wetness flooding her panties. But even so... the scars.
“I- I can't,” she said, backing up, but she only found herself more ensnared by Lindsay as she backed further into his arms.
He leaned next to her ear. “You can, and you will. If any of these foolish punks makes you feel insecure or unwanted, he'll wish he'd never been born. I'll personally inject anyone who chooses to live so dangerously with a horse tranquilizer and send them down to Brian.”
She shuddered.
He didn't exactly say any of this quietly, and when Shannon looked up, she could see the men had heard the threat very clearly. But those hungry gazes hadn't abated. They were like wolves excited to be alone with a lost, delicious lamb—already planning how they would devour her.
“Undress,” Lindsay ordered.
She hesitated, still afraid for them to see the scars.
“Don't make me ask twice. I'm supposed to be training them, but I can just as easily punish you. They need to learn that, too.”
Shannon swallowed around the lump forming in her throat. She was suddenly aware of how she must have looked to the men in her tight low slung jeans, nearly sheer white low -cut T-shirt, black bra, her nipples protruding even with the bra. She carefully removed the jeans and peeled the T-shirt off.
“Undergarments as well,” he demanded.
She couldn't bring herself to look at the strangers as she carefully unclasped the bra and slowly slid the straps down her arms. She dropped the scrap of black silk on the pile of clothes, then bent to slide her panties down. She flung the matching piece of silk on top of the other clothes she'd discarded.
“Go lie down on the bed.”
“Yes, Master.” She knew he'd want the title—especially with an audience. It was a power and control thing. She knew him well enough to know he'd want her status with him made plain for this group of horny new trainers. Shannon avoided the men's eyes and went to lie on the bed.
She shivered as Lindsay's heated gaze seemed to become lost tracing the curves of her flesh. Then he turned his attention to his excited students.
“The first lesson. Making a woman come. I know you think you know how to do this. Trust me when I say you most likely do not. When training a woman to please you, pain should be used judiciously and only for punishment. It is so much easier and better to control her with pleasure. And unless we're dealing with pain sluts, this is our standard training protocol. If you want a woman to excitedly rush to please you, you want her to know you can deliver pain. You want her to fear that possibility, but to be drawn more strongly by the other things you can deliver. You want to be the flame your little moth can't stay away from. Even though she knows it's bad for her.”
Lindsay had slowly loosened his tie while giving this speech. He removed it and draped it over a chair. He unbuttoned his pants and without even the slightest bit of discomfort at having an audience—even a male audience—he freed his growing erection from the confines of the fabric. Who knew Lindsay was an exhibitionist? The surprises never stopped coming with this one.
He turned to Shannon, dark intent in his gaze. “Scoot to the edge of the bed and spread your legs wide so everyone can get a clear view.”
She felt the blush start in her chest then move up her neck and into her face. After everything, she didn't know why she acted like such an innocent virgin about this stuff. But it had been a long time since she'd had an audience—especially one of strangers.
Shannon scooted to the edge and did as he demanded. She chanced a glance over to the men. Large erections strained against pants as they drank her in as though they were crawling dehydrated through a desert, and she was their oasis.
Without preamble, Lindsay thrust into her. She was already wet and ready but it was still jarring. Suddenly he was pounding away at her in a way very unlike his normal style—except for that first time in the cafeteria when there had been real passion and different body angles. But he'd never taken her in this almost robotic, mindlessly pumping way before.
She felt... stunned. It took her a moment to process what was happening. Was she actually having bad sex? With Lindsay? This seemed utterly impossible. But here it was happening, and with an audience. She tried to look interested, engaged, like this wasn't the worst sexual experience of her entire life.
A few minutes of this worthless fucking passed and then he looked at her and said “Come. Now.”
Was he kidding? What the fuck? Maybe he didn't perform well in front of others, and no one had told him. She couldn't bring herself to be the first. She couldn't embarrass him or... hurt his feelings? It seemed laughable the idea that she could hurt his feelings... but the male ego was... well, it was something.
“NOW! Shannon,” he growled.
She did the only thing she knew to do. She started to writhe and moan. She threw her head back in abandon. She grinded helplessly against him even though nothing he was doing was in any way bringing her even the remotest pleasure. In fact, she was starting to dry out a little, and so the faster she faked her orgasm, the better.