Free Trained for Milking by Mandoline Creme

When I walked into
the gym that day, it would be fair to say I was a little nervous.
    My brain was
rolling, full of the constant reminder that I needed to do this. That
I had no choice.
    Well, I
thought bitterly, I guess I could just give up the gig.
    My
stomach felt cold, and my palms couldn't seem to get dry, no matter
how much I rubbed them on my thighs. No, giving up was never an
option.
    The
facility was brightly lit, but quiet, which struck me as sort of
nice. I was used to loud gyms, full of muscle bound men slamming
weights, and girls chattering endlessly between college classes. I
had picked this place only because the ad had claimed the trainer
here would get me results. But, I had to admit, it was a relief to
find the place wasn't crammed with people.
    I
stood beside the small reception desk, feeling more anxious as I
waited. There was no one sitting there, and I didn't know what,
exactly, I should do. Rocking on my heels, checking my phone for the
tenth time, I was halfway through exiting the doors and trying again
later, when someone spoke up.
    “ Oh,
hey! You must be Freya!”
    Blinking,
I glanced up and spotted what was, no doubt, one of the most fit,
handsome men I had ever seen in person. He wore only a tank top and
long shorts, so his perfectly carved shoulders and bronzed skin were
available for me to ogle. If I had been nervous before, now I was
flustered.
    He
stood there, smiling with brilliant cheer, eyes sharp and alive. Dammit, Freya, say something! I
swallowed, licking my lips to wet them. “Um, yeah! Yeah, I'm
Freya.” I paused, staring at him stupidly. “You... must
be Drake, then?”
    When
he laughed, my heart thrilled. God, this guy is seriously
hot. Are all personal trainers so sexy? I
was smiling helplessly, my nervousness melting away. He extended a
hand, and I grabbed it, feeling him squeeze deliciously.
    “ You
nailed it. Yeah, I'm Drake Cardine, the main trainer here. I hope you
weren't waiting long, I was busy finishing another session.”
His lips coiled, a look of polite chagrin. How could I have been mad
at him?
    Pulling
back my hand, I adjusted my bag self consciously and shrugged. “It's
not a problem. You uh, you're the main trainer here? Does that mean you won't be able to work with me
directly all the time? Am I going to have to be fighting over you
with other clients?” I have a goal to reach, and
fast, I can't be waiting around while he's with other people.
    Drake shook his
head, and I was distracted by how it made the cords in his neck flex.
“Don't worry. I read over your information. We'll get you in
perfect shape for your fitness model gig.” His eyes twinkled.
“You'll have me all to yourself, I'll be on you the entire
time.”
    I couldn't, in my
honest opinion, have blushed a brighter shade of red at the image
that conjured up in my head.
    “ That... that
sounds great.”
    He laughed once
more, then guided me further in to show me the gym.

    ****

    The place was
called, simply, 'The Fitness Box.' It didn't seem particularly
special, to me, but what did I know? There were treadmills, free
weights, and a side room for yoga and such. I looked at it all, and
found my confidence starting to slump.
    What could
possibly make this place so different that it can get me in shape for
that gig I want?
    I shot a covert look
to the man who was, apparently, capable of getting me my wish. He's
in amazing shape, if that's some indication of what I might expect,
then...
    “ Freya,”
he said, making me jump.
    “ Yes?” I
adjusted my bag again, having trouble meeting those stark blue eyes.
We had stopped by the dressing rooms, clearly at the end of our tour.
    “ How long do
you have before your gig?”
    Not long enough. “Three weeks, is that
enough time?”
    Drake
rubbed at his angular cheek, and I watched how his fingers moved.
“Hmn. It'll be tight. But, I have an intense regimen that, if
you follow perfectly,” he shot a serious look down at me,
“should transform you by