Page 20

A battle of wills

I experience a visceral reaction to the sight of Lord Murray. Not only is he way too tall and muscular, but he has red hair and a mustache to match his beard. I shudder, thinking how unsexy it would feel to be kissed by those lips covered in fur.

It seems ironic to me that Lord Murray should check off almost every dislike on my list. But, at the same time, I feel a twinge of embarrassment as well. The trainer must know how I feel about him after reading my entry form.

Still…

This man is seriously intimidating and, if I’m being honest with myself, I’m apprehensive about scening with him.

“Are you going to join me, Miss Lane?” he challenges, in that gravelly tone.

I hesitate, tempted to call out my safeword before we even begin. However, I can’t forget that he specifically called me out for being afraid.

I’m not about to prove him right. So I stand up, determined to excel in this encounter. But, despite my resolution, my confidence begins to falter as I climb the stairs and feel his green eyes drilling into me.

Keep walking, Sophie!

Forcing my legs to move, I join Lord Murray on the stage and turn to face my fellow classmates. I hear Headmaster Wallace address me, “Miss Lane, you stated that you do not like mustaches, tall men, large muscles, or redheads.”

I hear snickers amongst my classmates.

“Silence,” Headmaster Wallace barks, and the auditorium becomes quiet.

“I did,” I reply, blushing deeply as I stand beside Lord Murray.

“You also indicated that you do not like whips.”

I hear an assistant walk onto the stage behind me. I physically shudder when I see her hand the trainer a brown whip.

In that distinctive Scottish lilt, Lord Murray assures me, “There is no shame in using your safeword.”

I frown, turning to face the redheaded giant. “I’m not afraid.”

“Then undress completely,” he commands.

I wasn’t prepared to get naked on the stage. I’m slow to comply, terrified that everyone is going to see my chubby fat rolls and cellulite.

“Reconsidering?” Lord Murray asks with a raised eyebrow.

His question taunts me, and I answer coolly, “No.”

With my fingers trembling, I untie the laces of my corset and slowly remove it, sucking in my breath when the cool air of the auditorium hits my bare breasts. The temperature causes my nipples to harden.

I am proud of my breasts, but it’s the rest of my body that I’d prefer to hide. Wanting to get it over with before I lose my nerve, I unzip my skirt and slip everything off—hose, thong, and skirt—all at the same time. I kick them to the side and stand there with my hands placed over my pubic area, filled with relief when I don’t hear a peep from the audience.

I glance at the other trainers and blush when I catch them scribbling something on their tablets. Suddenly feeling unsure of myself, tears well up in my eyes as I stand there naked in front of everyone.

Just when I open my mouth to call out “Red,” Lord Murray holds out the whip for me to examine. “Do you know what kind of whip this is?”

I shake my head, biting back a whimper.

“It is an equus whip made of horsehair.”

I look down at the unusual whip. It has a smooth wooden handle with long, chocolate-colored hair attached.

“Touch it.”

I tentatively reach out, grazing the coarse hair with my fingertips.

Lord Murray asks the question I’m thinking, “Will the whip sting? There’s only one way to find out.”

I’m struck by the weight of this moment.

Although I have zero desire to be whipped, I do have a choice. I can call my safeword and quit the challenge, which would prove to the trainers and everyone in attendance that Lord Murray was right about me.

Or I can override my fear in the hope that I learn something from this experience. Choosing to be courageous, I nod to myself and take a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

My response is inadequate, based on the tone of his voice. Expecting to see irritation in his eyes when I meet his gaze, I’m caught off guard when I see empathy instead.

“Tell me what you want,” he commands.

I almost say I’d like to scene with you , but that would be insincere. Thinking for a moment, I answer, “I am interested in scening with you, Lord Murray.”

“As you wish.”

He snaps his fingers, and a table lowers from the ceiling. My heart races when I see that it has cuffs hanging from it.

“I will not be strapping you down…today.”

His statement would be reassuring if he hadn’t hinted that he would do it in the future. Convinced that Lord Murray is testing my resolve, I hold up my chin higher.

He cautions, “Do not resist my guidance, wild thistle.”

Hearing the trainer call me “wild thistle” feels like it’s meant as an insult. After my father passed away, my mother charged me with weeding her neglected garden. As a result, I know the thorny plant well and have an intense hatred for it.

“You will address me as Rìgh for this scene,” he states solemnly.

“Yes, Rìgh,” I answer, doing my best to mimic his pronunciation by rolling the “R” and pronouncing it “Ree.” I’m curious as to why he wants me to call him by a different title and wonder if it is meant to be another slight.

Then he commands, “Lie face down on the table, lass.”

I’ve never had anyone call me that before, even though I’ve heard the endearment many times on TV. It has an unexpected effect I’m unprepared for, and I soften toward the man.

With my heart racing, I climb onto the table. I purposely turn my head away from the other students as I lie down so I won’t feel as exposed.

But Lord Murray must suspect my intention, because he commands, “Look toward your classmates. They are here to learn from you.”

I turn my head as I’m told, but I focus my gaze on the “EXIT” sign above the door to avoid looking anyone in the eyes.

“Because you are new to this whip, I will introduce you to the instrument.”

Lord Murray lightly brushes the whip over my naked body, starting with the soles of my feet. Goosebumps rise on my skin when I feel its ticklish caress. He moves around the table, stimulating various parts of my body with the horsehair.

He then switches to gently stroking my back with the whip. He touches me so lightly that it feels like the flutter of butterfly wings.

I smile in response, amazed that the muscular trainer has such a delicate way with a whip.

“Are you prepared to experience its true nature, lass?”

Having been lulled into believing that I might actually enjoy the whip, I shut my eyes now, automatically tensing up in anticipation of the first lash.

“Keep your eyes open,” he orders. “To fully grasp my lesson, you must remain aware of all of your senses.”

I swallow hard and answer, “Yes, Rìgh.”

“Relax, wild thistle, and trust me.”

Trust…

The word triggers me like a blow to my gut and I instinctively make a sour face.

Lord Murray lowers his head and growls, “Did you intend to insult me with that expression?”

Mortified, I sputter, “No…it was a subconscious reaction, I swear.”

“Be equally aware of your body as you are of your senses.”

“Yes, Rìgh.”

Taking his command to heart, I strive to be more fully aware of both my mind and body, taking pains to forget about the stage and the audience watching me.

I can feel the energy of his presence when he steps out of my line of sight, and I imagine him lifting his hand to swing the whip. I hold my breath when I hear the whisper of the strands cut through the air before they land on my right ass cheek.

I let out a trill of surprised laughter. Instead of delivering pain, the whip feels deceptively gentle, leaving a light tingling sensation on my skin.

“Color, lass?”

I have to think about it for a moment before I realize he’s asking for my comfort level. “Green.”

“ Braw ,” he murmurs. “Now that you know the character of the whip, I want you to relax and enjoy it.”

Lord Murray towers over me, stroking my entire body with the equus whip. I relish its light caress and soon feel a pleasant tingling sensation all over my body.

Standing between me and the audience, he then instructs me to lie on my back. I’m grateful to him because his massive body helps to shield me from the others so I can reposition myself without feeling uncomfortable.

Staring straight up at Lord Murray, the scene takes on a more intimate tone. Even with the red hair and mustache, I realize the trainer is handsome—in a beefy, lumberjack way.

As I study his face more closely, I watch his gaze travel down my naked body. I wait to see any telltale signs of disappointment and am relieved to see only lustful interest in those green eyes.

“This time, I want you to close your eyes, lass.”

The way he calls me “lass” with that Scottish inflection is quite the turn-on for me, and I murmur, “Yes, Rìgh.”

I close my eyes and moan in pleasure when the ticklish strands of the whip begin stroking my sensitive breasts and nipples. Lord Murray wields the instrument like an extension of his hand, teasing me to distraction with each stroke of the whip.

Giving in to the building sensations he’s creating inside me, my eyes pop open when I feel his lips press against mine.

“Relax and close those emerald eyes,” he murmurs huskily, kissing me more deeply. I’m surprised to find his trimmed mustache is soft and not prickly like I feared. Although slightly distracting, it adds a masculine element to our kiss that I’ve never experienced before.

Feeling the connection deepening between us, I ask if I may open my eyes.

“No, my wild thistle. Give in to the experience I’m creating.”

Hearing him call me that again hits differently this time. Instead of bristling at the nickname, I find it oddly sweet.

Each swipe of the gentle whip and every kiss leave me wetter, and I’m sad when he stops and I hear him set the instrument down.

Then I feel his hand between my legs. My pussy is already slippery wet from his attention, and I let out a small gasp when I feel his finger penetrate my opening.

He begins to gently stroking with two fingers. Turned on by his possessive nature, my nipples harden, and I let out a passionate moan.

“I want to give you something,” he murmurs in a husky tone.

“Yes, Rìgh,” I answer breathlessly, expecting him to claim me.

Lord Murray surprises me when he starts to vigorously rub my G-spot with his finger. My back arches of its own accord as he continues without stopping. Soon, the auditorium echoes with the juicy sounds of my pussy.

I tense, overwhelmed by the intense stimulation, and whimper, “Too much!”

“Trust me,” he commands.

I start moaning in a mixture of excitement and fear as the tension in my body builds at an alarming rate.

“Please…” I beg.

My thighs start to tremble. Whatever’s happening feels different than any orgasm I’ve experienced before, and it quickly overwhelms me. Seconds later…I feel a glorious release and my pussy gushes with water.

Afterward, I lay there breathing heavily and look up at him in astonishment. “What just happened?”

“Welcome to your first squirting orgasm, lass.”

I shake my head in dazed wonder as he gently cleans me before helping me from the table.

My legs feel like jelly as I stand to face the trainers. Lord Murray holds out his arm to me in a gallant manner, and I grab onto it for support.

Headmaster Wallace asks, “Miss Lane, how do you feel right now?”

“Shaky.”

“Did you enjoy the scene?”

Surprised and grateful for the experience, I answer, “Yes, Headmaster.”

“Would you choose to scene with your partner in the future?”

I glance up at the trainer towering over me, still feeling weak from our unusual encounter. I hesitate before answering. “He’s scary, but I think so.”

Lord Murray smirks at my response. “She’s a stubborn lass, but I see potential.”

I blush at his answer.

“Noted,” Headmaster Wallace replies solemnly, but I catch a hint of a smile when he turns to me. “You may thank your Dom, Miss Lane.”

I face Lord Murray, feeling physically rocked by the intensity of our exchange. “Thank you, Rìgh.”

He nods and picks my uniform up off the floor to help me dress. As the two of us are leaving the stage, he whispers, “Until next time.”

Those three little words send a chill of fear and excitement coursing through my entire body…