Finn Ch. 02: Anything?

He climbed into his truck and carefully sat down in the driver's seat. The burning sensation made his face flush, and his arousal became more prominent the farther his mind wandered back to the events of the previous night. He scolded himself and tried to switch his thoughts to something else, but the persistent pain every time the truck bounced wouldn't allow it.

He had never been hit before. Not as a child for punishment or as an adult for pleasure. It wasn't something he had ever given much thought to, and all his normal sexual encounters had never led to an opportunity for experimentation. They were usually short, abrupt, and rarely even remembered.

Why had he gone back? Twice he had gone back. The first time he blamed on his pride. The second time was the usual bad decision alcohol often subjected him to. He couldn't stand the thought of some random woman rejecting him, especially in the way she had. He had sailed through life on charm and good looks, and he still couldn't figure out why this woman made him feel so inadequate.

There was something about her, though, that made him feel powerless. The authoritative way she spoke, the way she looked at him like she owned him, the way she had dropped her coat and stood over him as he cowered. He could have fought back. It would have been an easy victory, but at the time she had seemed untouchable.

He was now fully erect and more confused than ever. Last night he had thought he was a victim of Alcohol Arousal Syndrome, a term his friend Trevor had come up with as an explanation for when he managed to get hard for a woman who was less than attractive. But he wasn't drunk anymore.

When he pulled into his driveway he quickly ran into the house and into the bathroom. He pulled his clothes off, jumped in the shower and wrapped his hand around himself.

He imagined her standing over him in her sheer dress, running the leather strap through her hands as she looked down at him. Her voice kept running through his head. Good boy, she praised him, bending down to run her hand down his back. He turned away from the running water. When the hot stream hit his buttocks the sting felt like she had just hit him again. He came hard, putting the palm of his hand against the tile for stability.

After his shower he pulled on jeans and a button up shirt then wandered into the kitchen where his sister stood washing dishes.

"Good morning, Sunshine," she greeted him, her eyes not moving away from their task. Kim was the only one left in his family willing to tolerate him in her house, which was why he had moved in with her two years ago.

"Morning," he replied, pouring himself a bowl of cereal.

"You didn't come home last night. Where were you?"

He rolled his eyes, sensing the start of the normal interrogation. "Out," he answered curtly.

"Out where?" she drilled, turning to face him.

"Why does it matter where I was? Why do we have to have this same conversation every fucking morning?" he shouted.

"You know why!" she fired back. "How much more of your life are you going to throw away? Which addiction were you feeding this time?"

"I wasn't feeding anything! Fuck you!" he yelled, getting up from the table.

"Don't leave that bowl there. I'm not going to clean up after you in my own house."

He ignored her and kept going, slamming the door on his way out. He pulled on his boots then climbed into his truck. Though he knew he owed his sister an apology, he started his engine and drove away. She would accept his apology when he eventually offered it. Everyone always did.

A few minutes later he was following the narrow driveway that led back into his parent's place. He backed up to their stock trailer then climbed into the bed of his pick-up to hook it up. After his horse was saddled and loaded he drove back down the driveway. Cowboying was the only job he could maintain and his uncle owned enough land and cattle to keep him busy.

It took about thirty minutes to get to the main ranch from his parent's house. As usual, when he drove over the cattle guard at the entrance, he was the last to arrive.

"You're late," his Uncle Clay said as he got out of his truck.

"I'm always late," he replied, then went to go unload his horse.

"Where'd you end up going last night?" his friend Conner asked, riding up to him and waiting while he climbed on.

"Home," he lied. He grabbed onto the saddle horn and pulled himself up, trying not to wince when he sat down on the roughout seat of his saddle.

"Did you hear they hired a hot new bartender at Tiny's? I call first dibs but you can have the seconds if you want when I'm done," Trevor said as he rode up beside them.

"She's only a six but that just makes 'em more eager to please," Ryan said from behind them.

All the men burst into laughter, except him. He managed a half smile as he ran his hand down his leather reins.

"What's wrong with you," Trevor asked. "You're being way too quiet."

"I'm just tired," he said, avoiding his stare.

"Hey, you get the number of that girl you brought home the other night? I wouldn't mind the sloppy seconds on that one. Fuck she was hot. Where the fuck did she even come from?" asked Conner, turning around in his saddle to look back at him.

"You know we went to school with her?" he asked, curious if anyone else remembered her since even her name didn't sound familiar.

"No we didn't," Conner replied. "Did we?"

"Yes, we did. She even lives here down Cherokee Road," he said.

"Huh. So was the pussy as hot as the rest of her?" Trevor asked.

"I don't know. She wasn't the kind." It was a half truth. He was too embarrassed by the full truth.

"What the hell do you mean she wasn't the kind? She went home with you after five minutes," Ryan said with a laugh.

"And nothing happened so fuck off."

"Oh shit. Please don't tell me you're gonna date this girl and get all whipped actin' like fuckin' Johnny," Trevor whined.

"I'm not dating anyone and I thought Johnny and his girl broke up," he said, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah, I think they did. Good, 'cause that girl was a bitch," said Trevor. Conner and Ryan mumbled in agreement.

It took them a few hours to ride through all the cattle and he spent the time trying his hardest to remain focused on the task at hand. When he got back to his trailer he dismounted and loosened his cinch. He unbridled his horse and went to load him up.

"See you tonight!" Trevor and Ryan waved out their windows as they drove by him. He waved back but didn't answer, still undecided where he would end up tonight.

*********************

"I wasn't sure what to wear," he said shyly as he walked into her house.

"What you have on is fine," she told him, assessing his jeans and button-up shirt. A black limo pulled up and parked in front of the house. "Let's go," she directed him. "We can go over the rules on the way."

"A limo comes to pick you up?" he asked incredulously as they walked down the driveway.

"One of our slaves owns a transportation business and likes to treat his mistresses well," she answered.

He sat across from her then began to squirm uncomfortably when he noticed her eyes watching him.

"I don't want to participate in anything," he said, wanting to make it clear he was only going out of curiosity.

"That's fine, but you will have to wear a collar."

"Like a dog collar?" he balked.

"Yes, with my emblem on it."

"Why?"

"Because then the other dommes will know you're there as my personal slave, off limits to them," she explained.

"Can't you say I'm just there to watch?"

"It doesn't work that way," she informed him.

"Fine." He couldn't believe what he was agreeing to, but also didn't want anyone assuming he was free game.

"Come here," she directed, pointing to the floor at her feet.

He reluctantly moved in front of her.

"Knees," she instructed when he sat cross legged.

He raised onto his knees, sitting back on his heels. She pulled a black leather collar out of her purse and wrapped it around his neck. The leather was cool and smooth against his skin. He ran his hand over it, his finger wrapping around the metal ring in the middle.

"Now that you're wearing my collar there are some rules I expect you to abide by," she told him.

"I told you I don't want to participate in anything," he reminded her.

"You don't have to participate in any scenes, but you still have to be respectful," she said.

"Fine, what are the rules?" he asked, redness creeping into his cheeks as he continued playing with the collar.

"The only words you will say when we're there are 'Yes, Mistress,' and 'No, Mistress.' You will only speak those words if you are spoken to. You will kneel as you're kneeling now at my feet wherever I choose to sit. If I get up to move, unless I tell you to stay you will follow behind me. Your eyes should always be down towards the floor, and most importantly, everything you see is to remain confidential."

"What if I have questions?" he asked.

"Then you will have to show some self-control and wait until an appropriate time to ask them. Do you understand?"

"Yes...Mistress," he replied hesitantly.

"Good boy," she said.

He moved his hands into his lap, hoping to cover the tension before she noticed it.

After a drive that was longer than he expected, he assumed they were in one of the nearby cities. When the driver opened the door to the limo he noticed the metal collar around his neck. He self-consciously ran his hand over his own collar then followed a few steps behind Morgan while they approached the front door of the house, if it could be called that. It was two stories from what he could see and was massive. The property was surrounded by tall trees and bushes so it was obvious that nobody on the outside would ever see what went on inside.

She approached the house as if she owned it, and the door opened for her as soon as her heel hit the porch. Another man wearing a metal collar stood holding the door open, never looking up from the floor as they passed by him.

Once inside she undid the belt from her coat, letting it slide down her back. He rubbed his sweating palms together as the ends of her long hair brushed against the exposed dimples at the small of her back. Her sheer blue dress started right below it, and only continued far enough to cover her backside.

"Eyes on the floor," he heard her command, turning her head slightly towards him before handing her coat to the collared man.

His eyes moved to her brown boots, staying there while they walked farther into the house. Every time the heel of them hit the wood floor his blood pulsed. His mind went back to when he was cowered on the floor at her house. All he could see out of the corner of his eye were those boots.

"Mistress Morgaine," a blonde woman said, approaching them with a smile.

"Madame Lexi," she replied, leaning forward to accept her kiss.

Madame Lexi looked him up and down, then smiled. "Success," she said, taking Morgan's hand and pulling her into one of the rooms.

Morgan walked to the couch and sat down, then pointed to floor next to her. He knelt down on his knees by her feet, his face burning.

"Good boy," she praised him, reaching over to run her hand through his hair.

His already semi-erect manhood responded easily to her touch. The skin on his cheeks burned hotter when he saw Madame Lexi's eyes watching him.

"An interesting new prospect called me today," Madame Lexi said, taking a seat on the couch across from them.

"And?" Morgan responded.

"He says he wants to be a twenty-four/seven, no limits slave," Madame Lexi continued.

"Is he already trained?" she inquired, running her hand through his hair again.

"No. That's what's so interesting," replied Madame Lexi.

"Is he here?" she asked.

"Yes. I was waiting for you before I interviewed him. We do have a bed open... unless you plan on filling it," Madame Lexi questioned, her eyes passing over him.

"No. This one's mine," Morgan told her.

The ache between his legs increased when he thought about what that implied.

"Good. I'll have him brought in." Madame Lexi grabbed her phone from the end table. She sent out a quick text then moved to the arm chair at the head of the room.

Several minutes later the door opened and two men stepped inside. One wore a leather collar with a crescent shaped symbol on it, khaki pants and nothing more. The other man was uncollared other than his button-up shirt and tie tucked into slacks. He glanced confidently from Madame Lexi to Morgan as he followed the collared man to the center of the room.

"Come, Slave," Madame Lexi said to the collared man.

He approached her cautiously, never meeting her gaze and fidgeted uncomfortably when he stood before her.

"Do you want your collar back?" she asked him affectionately.

"Yes, Madame," he answered anxiously.

"He decided to come without permission this morning," Madame Lexi explained, looking at Morgan.

"Shame. What bad manners," she replied, shaking her head at Madame Lexi's slave. His face reddened, his eyes staying fixed on the floor in front of him.

"Pants," commanded Madame Lexi.

The slave pushed his pants down to his knees. A glint of metal reflected off a hoop piercing through the head of his manhood. Madame Lexi reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a small chain and padlock. She looped the chain through his piercing then directed him to lie over her lap. She then hooked the other end to his guiche piercing and locked it there with the small padlock. When he stood up the chain was tight, pulling his manhood down between his legs.

"Do you feel better?" Madame Lexi asked, directing him to stand so she could pull up his pants.

"Yes, Madame," he said, then sat down at her feet.

"Is this what you want?" Madame Lexi said, her voice breaking him out of his trance. Her eyes were on the man in the center of the room.

The man's forehead was shining with sweat, his arousal standing at full attention through his slacks.

His attention was brought back to his own discomfort, pressing hard against the inside of his jeans. He tried to maneuver himself slightly, hoping for some relief.

"No," Morgan's low voice came from behind him.

He froze and clasped his hands back into his lap, wishing he had worn more forgiving clothing. She crossed her legs towards him, her boot inches from his chest. He avoided looking at it, knowing it would make his predicament worse.

"Yes, this is everything I've ever wanted," the man in the center of the room replied eagerly.

"Why?" Madame Lexi asked.

"Because it's all I think about all day, every day," he told her.

"What is it, exactly, that you think about?" she pried.

"You mean my fantasies? I want to be dominated by women. Or men, if that's what my owners want. I don't care. I can take a beating, I can take anything you want. I'm also good at pleasing women. I live to please," he said excitedly.

"You're good at pleasing women?"

"Very good," he answered confidently.

"Well, so far you haven't done a very good job of pleasing Mistress Morgaine or myself."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his smile dissolving.

"There are two women in this room and you have yet to show your worship for either of us," she said harshly.

His face flushed and he began walking towards her.

"Crawl," she demanded.

He fell to the floor and approached her on all fours. When he reached her he kissed the toe of her black boot, then ran his tongue along the side before he began sucking on the leather.

"Enough," she said, lightly kicking his face away.

He quickly turned and crawled to where Morgan sat, then began caressing her boot with his tongue.

"Enough," Morgan said sternly, and the man turned to crawl back to the center of the room.

"Strip," Madame Lexi directed.

He began taking off his tie, then unbuttoned his shirt. His well sculpted form flexed as he removed his belt then pushed his pants to the floor. He stepped out of his shoes, pulled off his socks and stood before them, waiting.

Madame Lexi rose and walked towards him. "Legs apart, hands behind," she instructed.

The man spread his legs slightly and clasped his hands behind his back. Madame Lexi circled him, her eyes assessing his fully presented length.

He watched from where he knelt, wondering if this was what Morgan would eventually do to him, and jumped when her hand ran through his hair.

"Good boy," she praised him softly.

He wished she would tell him to strip like the other man so he could get some relief from the pressure between his legs.

"You don't get to wear clothes while you're in training," said Madame Lexi.

"Okay," the man replied.

"The correct answer is 'Yes, Madame'," she prompted.

"Yes, Madame," he corrected himself.

"You can come into training as a submissive. You haven't earned the right to call yourself a slave, especially a no limits slave. You don't even understand the meaning of those words. We will help you understand though, and help you find your limits, which I'm sure do exist. Once you have completed training then you can decide whether you're a sub or a slave," she told him.

"Yes, Madame."

"Slave, take him to Mistress Brianne," she instructed.

Her slave stood and walked towards the door, the naked man following closely behind him.

***************

She looked down at Finn from her seat on the couch. She smiled thinking about how uncomfortable he must be in his jeans. They weren't tight fitting, but kneeling made them fit more snuggly. His constant squirming alerted her to his distress. He had been behaving himself well, which surprised her given he was untrained and uncomfortable.

"I'm going to go have some fun," Lexa said with a mischievous smile as she headed towards the door. "Are you coming?"

"No, I think I'll take some time to show him around," she replied, running her hand through his hair.

"Okay."

After Lexa left, she stood and headed towards the door with him close on her heels.

"Stay," she directed, and he froze in place. She locked the door then walked over to a closet, opened it and pulled out a crop.

He watched her playfully spinning it around in her hands, his jaw clenching.

"Are you uncomfortable?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," he replied, his face flushing with embarrassment.

"Why?" she questioned.

"I made a bad choice of clothing," he stammered.

"Then take your clothes off."

He remained still for a moment, then glanced over to the locked door.

"It's locked. Nobody can come in," she assured him.

He began trying to unbutton his shirt with trembling hands. She watched him struggle for a moment, then walked over and started to undress him, saving his pants for last.

Once all his clothing was in a heap on the floor she stepped back to look at him. She had waited a long time to see him like this, and he wasn't disappointing. Long days in the saddle had kept him fit, and if she could teach him how to use it, the size of his manhood would be pleasing as well.

His face burned while she assessed him. His hands clasped and unclasped in feeble attempts to cover himself, his feet shuffling over the floor beneath him.

"Why are you so fidgety?" she asked.

"Because I'm not sure what I should be doing," he answered timidly.

"Would you feel better if I took away some of your options?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Do you want to find out?"

"Yes, Mistress," he replied reluctantly.

She walked over to the cabinet and got out ankle and wrist restraints and two chains. When she approached him his face paled, but he stood quietly while she put them on him.

"Come," she instructed.

He nervously followed behind her until they reached the area she needed.