Now it was her turn to take pleasure in his choice of outfit. Likely selected by his Mistress, his incredibly snug black T-shirt defined the lean strength of his gorgeous upper body, including the bare curves of biceps. The dark blue jeans he wore rode low on his hips, but they weren't baggy. The shirt was tucked in so she could follow the trim musculature of his waist to the belted waistband. Until he sat down, she could slide her gaze over the impressive imprint of an aroused cock beneath the denim, but his bent knee position compensated her for the loss of that view with the curve of his buttocks flattened into the chair, the long lengths of his thighs folded up to accommodate the awkward seating.
His full attention still rested on
her, and when she met that look this time, she knew the course she'd take.
Before this moment, Madison had had some vague ideas of what she might do, but Shale had been right. Setting the stage helped. She and Alice had done all sorts of skits growing up, impromptu things just for the two of them, and now that flair for drama kicked in.
Crossing her arms over her breasts, she gave him a critical perusal, sweeping her gaze over him from head to toe. Making a tsking noise, she stalked around him, viewing him from every delicious angle. "That shirt is far too tight, Troy," she said abruptly. "It's against school regulations, and you know it. Take it off."
The soft female chuckle from the shadows was a bolstering vote of confidence. "Keep your eyes on the floor," Madison snapped at him. "You're not allowed to ogle the teacher."
"Your skirt isn't regulation, either, Miss Fine," Troy said in a smug drawl. Those blue eyes sparkled at her beneath the fall of hair over his brow. "Just sayin'. Not complaining. Ma'am."
Madison sighed, her lips thinning. "You have impulse control problems, like all naughty boys. We'll have to take care of that. Shirt off," she repeated sternly.
He rose to comply, pulling it over his head and treating her to a gorgeous display of muscles rippling, though she did notice a slight hesitation on the right side, just as Shale had mentioned.
"Over there, at the whipping bench. Bend over it, put your hands on the posts, and don't let go of them."
It was the piece of equipment with the simplest setup, meaning she was least likely to misuse it. As he rose to comply, she returned to her teacher bag.
She'd added a few other things, including a pack of colored construction paper and scissors. As he put his hands on the posts, turning his back to her, she cut off a few inch-wide strips. She could feel Shale's interested attention, and somewhere close to her, a dense energy field that was Logan. Moving to Troy, Madison wrapped a strip around each of his wrists and the adjacent posts, holding him to them with the type of paper cuffs they made in school to decorate Christmas trees.
He still had his eyes down, but he moved a finger, a small caress of her wrist. If she were Shale, he'd be doing it to earn more punishment, but since her hands had trembled a little as she affixed the strips, she had a feeling he was sending her a reassuring message. It helped settle the butterflies--her underlying anxiety that she might truly misstep and harm a friend--a little further.
Acknowledging the message, she let her hand slide over his shoulder and down the curve of his bare back. The jeans were low enough they showed the brand his Mistress had put upon him, the S initial in the small of his back. Madison traced a heart around it, a silent message and accord, one that she saw made Troy's lips curve in a wistful smile, even as his skin shivered under her touch.
She stepped back, returned to her role. "Now, if you flinch during your punishment and break the paper cuffs, you'll double the punishment. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Miss Fine."
Once behind him again, she let out another sigh. "I see your jeans are a violation of regulation as well. Below your hip bones. I can practically see the crack of your ass. What are you wearing under these, Troy? Absolutely nothing, am I correct?"
He nodded. She didn't think, just reacted, slapping him across the broadest part of his bare back with the wooden ruler. He jumped, not expecting the sting, and one of the cuffs ripped. He froze.
At the look in Troy's eyes, Madison felt a surge of something . . . she couldn't really describe it. Triumph, pleasure. He was genuinely dismayed at messing up so early, when he expected so much from himself, but right on the heels of that, she saw an anticipatory spark in his gaze, anticipating what she might do as a result. It was a heady duality. She wondered what she might do in his place, what punishment she would earn from Logan.
She pushed that away. "You don't nod or shake your head to me. Use your words."
"Yes, Miss Fine."
"Open your jeans with your one free hand, push them down. In fact, take them off. You better not break the other cuff while you're doing it."
Though he was already barefoot, it didn't make the task much easier, requiring a lot of careful movement, which she enjoyed thoroughly. The first time Logan had invited her to a session with Troy, Madison had seen him naked--hell, she'd been tied fully clothed against him--but with his Mistress present, Madison was surprised at how she hadn't hesitated to demand he strip. But it wasn't the first time she'd been startled by how easy it was for her to become a part of this world.
Seeing Troy strip was a gift that never lost its luster. Aware of the gleam of Shale's eyes in the darkness, she had a feeling she wasn't alone in that, and Shale had had the privilege of seeing him naked far more often. The shift of those muscular haunches, the pale marble smoothness that made the fingers itch to touch, the ripple of musculature pretty much everywhere as he stretched with unconscious male grace, held Madison rapt until he was done.
Pulling herself out of that, she stepped forward. She trailed her hand down his back again, over that red mark she'd made. Then lower, to the upper rise of his buttocks. Touching him intimately like this, when he was bound by her words and will, not able to interfere or reciprocate until she commanded it, was yet another exotic land. She let her knuckles glide over one cheek, smiling when he shivered, proving he was ticklish. It also made him flex those superior gluteus maximus muscles. She thought of him pushing into Shale, her legs locked over him as she ordered him to fuck her deeper, harder . . .
During their movie night, she'd begged to go down on Logan, seeking the deep contentment that had come from that. How she'd wanted him to press her into her mattress, spread her legs and claim her fully, tangling his hands in her hair, eyes pinning her to the bed as much as his body . . .
She brought herself back to the present again, realizing her hand had stilled. "What am I going to do with you?" She wasn't sure if she was talking to herself or Troy.
Returning to the tote bag, she withdrew the two books, the rigid Oliver Twist, the flexible Discipline for Dummies. As she stepped back up behind him, she tried a couple experimental smacks with the hardback. If she came up at an angle, it gave even Troy's tight ass a nice recoil wobble. But she found the ruler easier to handle, so she set the books aside and gave him another whack with it, this time across the point of his buttocks. Though he twitched from the blow, he held still, working so hard to obey. His head was bent, exposing the tender nape. She flicked the ruler over it, teasing his hair.
"Your hair needs cutting. I'm afraid only military school will help you, Troy. You need a drill sergeant to hammer you with discipline."
"I prefer a woman's discipline, Miss Fine."