Free Training Amy by Anne O'Connell Page A

he simply left the room, closing the door behind him.
                Once he was gone she looked down at herself. Her nipples were hard, her lips swollen and her arousal glistened between her legs. Oh God. He’d seen it all.  She closed her eyes and tried to stay in the position wondering all the while what was going to happen when he came back. Would he demand more payment for her infringement? Would he use a whip on her? Would he fire her? She was pretty sure this meant dinner was off. Closing her eyes she concentrated on her breath, staying in the position .
                Why was she doing this? She could sit however the hell she wanted, part of her screamed. Another part of her screamed for approval and didn’t want to move. It was the latter side that was winning. Shoving the thoughts from her mind she went back to her breath, trying to ignore the fact that her pussy was dripping and she was very aroused.
    Two hours felt like fifteen. When the door opened again, she breathed a sigh of relief, fighting the natural instinct to cover herself. Opening her eyes she gasped realizing it was Brad and one of his private customers.
                He merely glanced at her with a smirk and led the customer, a distinguished man wearing a suit, maybe fifty or so, into the room. “The furniture is made by a man a few counties over in his home woodshop. All of it is customizable if you wish.
    “Very nice spanking benches,” the man said, running a well-manicured hand over the leather cushion of the bench. “How much?”
                The man didn’t look at Brad, instead he looked around the room, his eyes settling on Amy for a moment then moving to the wall of whips. 
                Brad watched his customers’ gaze carefully, “Two hundred and fifty.”
                The customer’s gaze settled on Amy then. Or at least it seemed like he was looking at her. “Nice cage. What’s it made out of?”
                “Steel. They’re fully collapsible. Unpainted, thirteen-hundred,” Brad said. He gave her a wink.
                Amy looked down, trying to disappear.
                But the customer’s attention then went to the back wall. “Ah, spreader bars. I need another one for the house slave.  Cost?”
                “They range from seventy-five to two-fifty,” Brad said, sounding somewhat bored.
                “Good.  I’ll take a cage, that bench over there, and two of those spreader bars. I might consider one of those Saint Andrews crosses. I have a steel one now, but I think I’d like a wooden one as well.  So I’ll take one of those,” he finished, dismissively motioning toward the Saint Andrew Cross in the corner.
    “Any manacles or silk rope? Canes or floggers?” Brad offered helpfully.
    The man shook his head and started toward the door. “No, I think I’m good for now. I’ll pay for it today and send over one of my hired hands to pick it up Monday. I suppose that beautiful little slave in the cage doesn’t go with it?”
                Brad laughed heartily, handing him a slip of paper. “Afraid not. That’s our shop helper. Eric is punishing her.”
                “Too bad. But I’m glad to see Eric wasn’t completely destroyed by his last little sub. What was her name, Emily? That little girl, were she mine, would have been put over a bench and flogged until her ass had welts…”
                Their voices drifted off as the door closed behind them. Luckily the room was warm so she wasn’t cold. Though it seemed an eternity before the door opened again. Her knees hurt and her mind had gone numb.  She’d almost fallen asleep a few times.
                Eric crossed his arms over his chest. “It seems your lovely display sold a cage. It’s been a little longer than two hours so I’m going to let you out.”
    She was afraid to meet his gaze