What To Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection Part Two (97 page)

“If it pleases you, Sir.”

She felt his hand tighten around her waist while she waited for his pounding. Sir’s thrusts became hard and commanding. She started to moan and then cried out, holding nothing back as his hard shaft stroked the inside of her tight hole.

Sir’s groans of pleasure were music to her ears. To please her Sir was Brie’s deepest desire, so when his fingers entered her wet pussy and he ordered her to orgasm, she released all her pent-up passion and came violently around his fingers.

His surprised groan sent a second wave of pleasure crashing over her. As if he couldn’t take it, he immediately grabbed her hips and began stroking into her ass for all he was worth. She reveled in it, loving every second of his passionate pounding. She screamed out his name when he stiffened inside her and began bathing her ass with his hot seed.
There is no greater joy than this!

When Sir finally pulled out of her, he seemed more vulnerable, more approachable. She longed to be released from her bonds so that she could wrap her arms around him and kiss him all over. Instead, he turned away and got dressed.

When Sir came back to her side, he was once again the authoritative headmaster. He undid her straps and ordered her to get dressed. Brie had to move slowly, still shaking from the heated exchange.

“Don’t put your shoes on yet,” he told her.

After she was fully dressed, he called her to kneel beside him. He stroked her long hair in such a loving manner. It made her wish she could remain beside him like this forever. Eventually, he ordered her to stand up. She did so gracefully, desiring to please him. She desperately wanted to gaze into his eyes, and silently begged him to speak to her.

She was pleasantly surprised when he pulled her against him and lifted her chin up. Sir’s lips pressed against her mouth and she moaned in pure ecstasy.

“Something tells me that this ex-virgin would like more.”

“Yes, Sir,” she purred.

“Too bad, my dear. You must wait.”

She wanted to seduce him, but remembered her place. “As you please, Sir.”

She stepped into the torturous six-inch heels and hid her pain with a look of contentment. She followed close behind Sir as he walked down the hall, curious to know what he planned to give her.

As soon as they entered his office, he commanded her to kneel again. He sat down at his desk and began searching through the bottom drawer. He held up a thin black collar. Brie’s heart wanted to burst with joy. It was obvious he wasn’t pleased with the other Doms showing an interest in her, and she’d read online that a collar was a sign of ownership.

“As one of my students, you are under my charge. I cannot have Doms endeavoring to claim you before the course is finished. There is still much for you to learn.” He walked back over to her. “Brie, it would be foolish to choose a Dominant until you have more experience. Although I can safely say that all of the Dominants used in training would make good partners, I do not want any of them attempting to sway your decision. Therefore, I am placing this collar of protection around your neck.”

She felt his manly touch as he fastened the collar on her. Brie closed her eyes, her stomach fluttering at the intimate contact.

Sir continued, “This will be a visual reminder for others to keep their distance until your training is complete.” He said in a lower voice, “This does not indicate my ownership of you.”

Brie’s heart dropped, but she said, “Thank you, Sir.”

He chuckled lightly. “Everything you feel is written on your face, Brie.”

She felt shame and then wanted to die because he could tell. Sir lifted her chin. “I am your trainer. I cannot claim you as my submissive.” He kissed her one last time, and the collar around her neck rubbed pleasantly against her delicate skin.

It didn’t matter that Sir had said to wait until her training was over. In this one area, Brie could not obey—her heart was already his.

Brie Learns Her Power as a Submissive

T
he sun streamed into her bedroom, announcing the start of a new day. Brie curled up under her blankets with a grin on her face as she relived her encounter with Sir. His erotic touch had surpassed her wildest dreams and she could not forget the look of vulnerability on his face afterwards. She knew he felt the strong connection, but Brie had to be patient. As her trainer, Sir was not allowed to claim her.

Still…
She caressed the thin black leather collar around her neck. He insisted it was a ‘protection’ collar so the other Doms would not influence her during training. She had a sneaking suspicion the collar’s true purpose was to stake his unspoken claim on her. Brie didn’t mind; she wanted Sir all to herself.

She popped out of bed when the alarm started beeping. Today would be her third day at the Submissive Training Center. Of the six women who’d started the program, three had already dropped out. The first two sessions had been meant to weed out wannabe subs. It made her wonder what tonight’s training would be like, now that only serious submissives remained. She trembled with excitement.

Brie dressed for work, this time choosing tight-fitting jeans, a black silk shirt and her six-inch heels. After only a few days of class, she already looked at herself in an entirely new light. She’d always worn clothes for comfort, but now she wore them for power—sexual power. It was thrilling to observe the positive reactions from men, and sometimes even women, in the confines of the little tobacco shop.

People treated her differently now. Mr. Reynolds, who had always been respectful, now treated her with reverence. It was intoxicating. Even Jeff, who was worthless as a coworker, tried to get in her good graces. He stocked the cigarettes on his own these days and pointed it out, hoping to impress her.

Um…that’s his job,
she thought as she priced the new shipment of tobacco. When the door to the little shop opened, she looked up, wondering which of their regulars it would be. Her stomach did a little flip when she saw it was Tono. He looked at her with those rich, chocolate brown eyes and a smile that melted her heart. Seeing him in her work environment was disconcerting, but in a delightful, earthmoving way.

She stood up slowly and faced him, practicing her grace and poise. His eyes traveled from her face to her neck, but then locked on the collar. Without a word, he turned and left the shop.

She felt the urge to run after him, but stayed where she was. She fingered the thin, leather protector around her neck.
Who knew it had that kind of power?

Brie was grateful Sir had thought to collar her. She would never have guessed that Tono would be so quick to start something outside the Training Center. Sir had read the Dominant’s intentions well. It was obvious that the young Dom respected Sir, based on his quick retreat.

However, something pricked her consciousness. Even though she was devoted to Sir, there was no denying she had feelings for Tono. She couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment at not getting the chance to talk to him. She hoped she would see the charming Dom that evening, so that she could express with her hands what she had been unable to say with her mouth.

After work, she readied herself for class, taking special care with her nails. She painted them a deep red, wanting them to look as sexy and desirable as her lips. Once she was dressed in her corseted school uniform, she practiced her transitions from a kneeling position to standing in front of her full-length mirror.
Beauty and grace
, she repeated to herself.

She was so caught up in doing it perfectly that she forgot the time. Brie had to grab her long coat and rush out of the door. When she got to the campus, she only had four minutes to make it to class. She turned her ankle, smashing hard into one of the business students at the entrance of the school. He caught her in his arms, preventing her from falling onto the cement.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” he asked with a smooth chuckle.

She looked up into crystal blue eyes and forgot herself for a second. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I have to go or I’ll be late.”

She whipped off her shoes and ran for the elevator. With seconds to spare, she made it to the classroom and sat down at her desk. She gracefully slipped her heels back on just as the bell rang.

She glanced up and saw everyone staring at her. Brie smiled innocently and shrugged. Mr. Gallant began his lesson on cue, not allowing her dramatic entrance to disrupt his teaching. She wondered if he would reprimand her after class.

“It is important that you understand the power you have as a submissive. It is not a case of you being inferior when you bow at your Dom’s feet. The reality is your Dom only has the illusion of power. You are the one in control. You decide how far the scene will go. It is your gift to him or her. The Dominants in this establishment understand this and treat it as the valuable gift it is. Not all Doms are as enlightened, but we will talk about that another day.”

He walked from the other side of the room to Brie’s desk. He glanced at her collar momentarily and then began speaking again.

“You will find the more power you give up, the more powerful you will feel. You are, in essence, giving a magnificent and selfless gift to your Dom. It is sacred. Never lose sight of that. A true submissive is a jewel of great worth.” His voice dropped lower and became sensual when he added, “There is nothing more intoxicating than looking down at my sub when she’s trembling at my feet in breathless anticipation for my next action or command.” Brie found her body responding to his words and had to force herself not to envision herself bowing at his feet.

He continued, “What does your Dom give back to you? He takes on the responsibility of caring for your needs throughout the scene, but he also brings to the table his imagination and experience. His is the art of arousal. A Dominant’s job is to increase his submissive’s state of excitement throughout the encounter, while at the same time testing and challenging her limits. Not an easy task, mind you, but one well worth the staging and planning required.” Mr. Gallant’s voice took on a silky consistency. “The union of a dedicated Dom and a confident submissive is a harmonious marriage of souls. There is no other experience like it.”

Brie closed her eyes as he spoke, his words resonating through her. Just listening to his description of a Dom/sub relationship gave her chills of pleasure. She couldn’t wait for the next practicum.

“I would like you to write down a favorite scenario that arouses you. One you have fantasized about for years because it makes your loins quiver when you think about it.” He handed out cloth-covered notebooks, each one different. Brie’s was a luxurious wine color. “This is your fantasy journal.”

She opened the book and was delighted to see each page was lined with gold. It was an opulent book, made to hold her sumptuous and naughty dreams. Mr. Gallant then handed each of them a gold pen. “You will not find a better writing instrument.”

Brie took hers and wrote her name on the first page. The pen glided over the paper effortlessly. She purred, loving everything about this assignment.

“Please include as many details as you can,” he continued. “You will also want to describe your feelings throughout the fantasy. You will find it aids tremendously in understanding your deepest desires. Being an exceptional submissive depends on you connecting to your unspoken needs and underlying motivations. A fantasy journal can help you do that.” Mr. Gallant sat down at his desk and proceeded to write in his own journal.

Since she was a filmmaker, Brie’s fantasies were complicated affairs. They had to make sense and her characters needed to have believable backstories or she couldn’t get into it. She took a deep breath and dived in, knowing exactly which fantasy she wanted to release onto the page.

My parents wanted to move us to Kansas in the hope that we could make a fresh start. My father had been a dreamer ever since I could remember. He’d lost everything we’d owned pursuing his impractical schemes. It didn’t surprise me when he jumped at the chance of free land when they opened up the West. He had no qualms about taking his family into the wildness. When I voiced my innate fear of Indians, Papa chastised me so severely that I never spoke of it again.

I was only eighteen at the time, a proper young woman of marrying age. Naturally, my mother and I were concerned about finding a suitable husband for me on the prairie. Papa dismissed those worries as well, claiming that Kansas men came from good stock and I would have plenty of fine gentlemen to choose from.

We were just days from our destination when our wagon train came under attack.

****

I hear the wild cries before I see them circle us. A cold chill grips my heart. Momma screams, “Run, Isabella! Run as fast as you can!” She pushes me off the wagon. The terror I feel gives my feet incredible speed. I don’t look back when I hear her scream—I only run faster.

I sprint until my sides ache, but I refuse to stop, knowing that it will spell my doom. Just when I think I can run no more, I come upon a stream and plunge my face into the cool water, to try to quench my insatiable thirst.