refrigerator on a shelf. She dragged herself up and over to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of spring water and drank heartily.
“The only reason you may stop a training exercise is for water. You will not allow your body to become dehydrated.”
She gurgled down the last drop, then nodded.
“Return.”
37
Bonnie Hamre
She dropped to her knees again in front of him, expecting praise. Instead, he ordered her to stand and put her through another series of exercises.
“I hate this,” she gasped through clenched teeth.
“Another set for speaking without permission.”
It seemed like hours later when he called a halt and ordered her to drink again. She paused at the fridge. She started to ask if he wanted one, then remembering that extra set of exercises, merely lifted one to him in invitation.
“No. Drink that, then shower. Come back in five minutes.”
“Five? I can’t do—”
“Four minutes.”
She ran for the bathroom. The hot water streaming over her head and body from the strategically placed showerheads felt good, so good, she was tempted to relax and take a leisurely shower. A massage. Scented oils, candles, quiet music. Ah…
She hopped out of the oversized shower, dried quickly, brushed her teeth again and returned to Adrian.
“You’re forty-five seconds late.”
Norris dropped to her knees in front of him. He made a small noise in the back of his throat that she hoped was approval.
“On the treadmill.”
When she was there, he commanded, “Walk, then run. Start slow.”
Oh, no. She hated to run, hated to feel her boobs bouncing up and down. She hesitated, giving him a pleading look.
“Run.”
She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I won’t say it again.”
She moistened her lips, threw him a resentful glare and turned the machine on. One foot, the other, bounce, bounce, jiggle, jiggle.
“This is not good for the breasts,” she muttered. “I should be wearing a sports bra for this.”
He flicked a glance over her breasts. “You’ll survive. Pick up the pace for talking.”
She held on to the balance bars and picked up her pace, glaring at him for his callous remark. “It hurts.”
“Think of it as incentive. When you lose the weight, your breasts will firm up. You might not need a bra then.”
She grumbled, but fitfully, since breathing and talking at the same time was hard.
He watched her, checking her respiration and her endurance. He turned the machine up a notch. “Faster.”
Monster, sadist, lecher ! All these and more she called him silently, even as she panted and ran.
38
Sweet Discipline
He watched, a smile she couldn’t classify on his lips. For a moment she thought she saw approval, even assurance, but that couldn’t be. Damn him! He enjoyed making her suffer. And she’d promised to let him touch her sexually. She must have been out of her mind!
“Pick up your knees. Higher.”
She white-knuckled the bar, lifted her knees and ran, gasping now. Those pounds had better be dropping like flies because any moment now, she’d fall off the treadmill flat on her ass.
“Slow down.” She did as he instructed, slowing until she barely walked. “Stop.” He turned the machine off. “Drink.”
Oh, she was tired of those terse commands, rapped out in that heartless voice. She staggered to the water, took a long drink, then wiped the sweat from her face with her forearm.
“That’s it for now. Clean yourself and wait for me in your bedroom.”
Her eyes widened. She glanced at him, wondering what to expect. Did he expect her to have sex with him? Now ?
He held her glance, then deliberately looked up at the rod and chain hanging from the ceiling, then back at her.
She fled.
When she came out of the bathroom, still toweling her hair dry, she found him sitting in the armchair facing the bed. He had all his clothes on, thank goodness. He looked comfortable and at ease, legs spread with one ankle resting on the other knee.
Behind him, the mirrors
“The only reason you may stop a training exercise is for water. You will not allow your body to become dehydrated.”
She gurgled down the last drop, then nodded.
“Return.”
37
Bonnie Hamre
She dropped to her knees again in front of him, expecting praise. Instead, he ordered her to stand and put her through another series of exercises.
“I hate this,” she gasped through clenched teeth.
“Another set for speaking without permission.”
It seemed like hours later when he called a halt and ordered her to drink again. She paused at the fridge. She started to ask if he wanted one, then remembering that extra set of exercises, merely lifted one to him in invitation.
“No. Drink that, then shower. Come back in five minutes.”
“Five? I can’t do—”
“Four minutes.”
She ran for the bathroom. The hot water streaming over her head and body from the strategically placed showerheads felt good, so good, she was tempted to relax and take a leisurely shower. A massage. Scented oils, candles, quiet music. Ah…
She hopped out of the oversized shower, dried quickly, brushed her teeth again and returned to Adrian.
“You’re forty-five seconds late.”
Norris dropped to her knees in front of him. He made a small noise in the back of his throat that she hoped was approval.
“On the treadmill.”
When she was there, he commanded, “Walk, then run. Start slow.”
Oh, no. She hated to run, hated to feel her boobs bouncing up and down. She hesitated, giving him a pleading look.
“Run.”
She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I won’t say it again.”
She moistened her lips, threw him a resentful glare and turned the machine on. One foot, the other, bounce, bounce, jiggle, jiggle.
“This is not good for the breasts,” she muttered. “I should be wearing a sports bra for this.”
He flicked a glance over her breasts. “You’ll survive. Pick up the pace for talking.”
She held on to the balance bars and picked up her pace, glaring at him for his callous remark. “It hurts.”
“Think of it as incentive. When you lose the weight, your breasts will firm up. You might not need a bra then.”
She grumbled, but fitfully, since breathing and talking at the same time was hard.
He watched her, checking her respiration and her endurance. He turned the machine up a notch. “Faster.”
Monster, sadist, lecher ! All these and more she called him silently, even as she panted and ran.
38
Sweet Discipline
He watched, a smile she couldn’t classify on his lips. For a moment she thought she saw approval, even assurance, but that couldn’t be. Damn him! He enjoyed making her suffer. And she’d promised to let him touch her sexually. She must have been out of her mind!
“Pick up your knees. Higher.”
She white-knuckled the bar, lifted her knees and ran, gasping now. Those pounds had better be dropping like flies because any moment now, she’d fall off the treadmill flat on her ass.
“Slow down.” She did as he instructed, slowing until she barely walked. “Stop.” He turned the machine off. “Drink.”
Oh, she was tired of those terse commands, rapped out in that heartless voice. She staggered to the water, took a long drink, then wiped the sweat from her face with her forearm.
“That’s it for now. Clean yourself and wait for me in your bedroom.”
Her eyes widened. She glanced at him, wondering what to expect. Did he expect her to have sex with him? Now ?
He held her glance, then deliberately looked up at the rod and chain hanging from the ceiling, then back at her.
She fled.
When she came out of the bathroom, still toweling her hair dry, she found him sitting in the armchair facing the bed. He had all his clothes on, thank goodness. He looked comfortable and at ease, legs spread with one ankle resting on the other knee.
Behind him, the mirrors
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