Chapter 14 #3
Bren doesn’t look fatigued yet. Fortunately, kickboxing’s not the only way I can wear my girl out. “You’re looking a little sweaty there, girl,” I say when it’s my turn with the pads again. Instead of strapping them on, I begin wiping them down with a towel.
“Not as sweaty as you, Sir.” She strips out of her gloves, pulls a pack of wipes out of her bag and cleans them. When I hold my hand out, she tosses me several wipes so I can do the pads and my own gloves. “Have I worn you out?”
I tuck the pads into her gym bag and rest my hands on my hips in mock disapproval. “That what you think?”
Grinning hugely, she nods. There’s so much light in my girl’s eyes; it hits me like a haymaker. Fills up my soul. And my cock, which she notices, her eyes flicking down and back to mine. Her grin gets, impossibly, wider.
“Remember when you told me to tell you if you were being too old and boring for me?”
“You daring to tell me now, girl?”
She bounces on her toes. “Would I, Sir?”
“You would. Let’s see how much sass you’ve got after I go nine rounds with that ass.
Get in there, girl.” I jerk my head towards the playrooms. “Hope you know where the lube is, ‘cause if I find you before you find it, I’m taking that ass without any, and I’m only giving you a two-second head start. ”
Bren squeals and bolts, darting around me toward the inner playroom.
“One. Two!” I shout after her before I follow her, wearing nothing but a huge grin of my own.
“Breathe out,” I tell Bren. “And I’m going to take one hand away. I still have you. You’re not going to sink.”
I slowly drop my hand from under her shoulders, leaving her body balanced on my left hand as she floats in Blunts’ huge pool.
I’ve brought her into one of the many grottos in the pool to teach her to swim, so she’s not jostled.
Although most of the festival is going on upstairs, there are some ponies being put through their paces underwater and the roped-off lap area is busy with more serious swimmers.
Bren’s no longer clinging to my arm the way she was when I first got her floating, but there’s still a lot of tension in her face and body. Her eyes have never left mine and they’re full of a feverish light. It’s not those sad shadows, but my bold girl isn’t happy, either.
“Tell me what’s scaring you, girl.”
“It’s stupid, Sir. I know I can stand up.”
“This isn’t about being smart or stupid. It’s not about logic. It’s about fear. Tell me what’s scaring you.”
“That I’ll sink and drown. I know it’s not rational, Sir—” She tenses even further as she speaks and grabs for my arm again. I let her hold it for a minute until she begins to relax.
“Both arms out again. Spread your body across the water. I’m going to count down from ten.”
Before I reach five, she’s released my arm and is floating again, very nearly on her own. I’m sure I can take my left hand away, but I leave it in the small of her back, so she feels my support.
“You know you can just put your feet down and stand up. The water’s not over your head. Why are you afraid?”
“I shouldn’t be. I know that.”
“Fear isn’t rational, sweetheart. Tell me why you’re afraid.”
“I’m out of control,” she finally whispers.
“That’s right. You feel out of control. And the water isn’t a Dom who will respect your safe words or check in with you.
You have to take back control, sweetheart.
Make that water your bitch.” That gets me a faint smile.
“The first step to taking back control in the water is learning how to float. Once you can float, no matter what happens to you in the water, you’ll always be able to float.
You’ll always have that measure of control. ”
“Floating’s my safe word,” she says.
“That’s a good way to think of it.”
“Okay, try it again,” she says.
I drop my left hand a fraction at a time until I’m no longer touching her. As soon as she feels unsupported, despite the fact she’s floating on her own, she thrashes and grabs my arm. I let her hold it for a minute and then count down.
It takes her three tries, but she finally floats on her own, without any support, without grabbing my arm. I let her float for ten minutes, to really get used to the sensation, before I call an end to the lesson.
She stands up in the chest-high water, looking faintly disappointed. “But I didn’t swim, Sir. Not even dog paddle.”
“You won’t swim next lesson, either. This is about getting you comfortable and confident in the water. Learning the strokes will come a lot easier if you know down in your bones that you’re not going to sink.”
She brightens and follows me to a set of stairs up onto a platform that’s styled like a Grecian temple.
I pick up our towels off the lounger and dry her off, then wrap her in one of the club’s robes before leading her around to the tiki grotto which has been commandeered by Logan, Max, their friend Warrin, and a cluster of littles who are currently playing with a huge beach ball.
I drop down onto a deep cushion next to Logan and draw Bren into my lap.
“You still not allowed in the water?” I ask Logan, nodding at the other two daddies who are splashing and playing with their littles.
“Doctors want me to avoid immersion for another two weeks,” Logan grouses.
His head injury over the summer has prevented him from doing a large number of things, including flying to London to be at his daughter’s birth. But the limitations are falling like dominoes as he recovers. Immersion and running with me have to be some of the last hurdles.
“That’s not too long,” I commiserate.
Logan’s dark eyes follow his little as she shrieks with laughter after getting a face-full of the soft ball. “I resent every second I don’t get to play with her.”
I snort. “You’re such a daddy. Who’d a thought, the big, bad sadist.”
“Wanker,” Logan mutters.
Bren shifts in my lap and I hear her stomach rumble. Between the kickboxing, a long fuck, and the swimming lesson, those pancakes are no longer filling my hole, either.
“Lunch next?” I ask Logan.
“Yeah.” He holds up his phone, which has a timer counting down. “I was going to give them five more minutes and then call everyone out so they can shower and dress for lunch. You happy with the club buffet again or do you want to venture out.”
“Club buffet works for me. You happy with that, girl?”
She tips her head back to smile at me. “Yes, Sir. I’ve got the hot sauce at the ready.”
I reach into the gap in her robe and tweak her nipple. Grin at her squeak of protest. “Careful, girl. I’m in the mood for another round with that sore sphincter and I’m happy to use hot sauce for lube.”
She gulps and turns around to watch the people in the pool.
“You mind if I invite a few people to join us?” Logan asks, thumbing over to a new screen on his phone. “Couple more members of the management committee it would be a good idea for you to meet.”
“Sure, anyone you want.”
“Good.”
Logan gets busy with his phone.
“Girl, can I tempt you with five minutes in the sauna while Logan wrangles his herd of littles?”
“Yes, Sir.”
She climbs off my lap and helps me out of the deep cushion when my knee protests.
I sling my arm over her shoulders as we walk out of the tiki area and follow the pool’s curve around toward the jacuzzi and steam rooms. The smell of hot cedar drowns the faint chlorine scent from the pool, and I take a deep breath to savor it.
I might be slightly uncomfortable at Logan’s fancy club, but it does have its fucking perks.
The first steam room is already occupied with a threesome writhing all over the benches. Bren and I exchange glances and without further discussion move to the next door. I’ll give them points for bravery but it’s too hot to fuck in a sauna.
The next room has a couple in it, but they’re lying on the top tier of benches, not speaking, not touching each other. I guide Bren inside, park my ass on the hot wood and gesture Bren down beside me. I turn her so she’s lying on the bench with her head in my lap.
“Reminds me of the cypress groves in Florida,” I tell Bren in a low tone. “They bake in the sun. Smell like this. You ever been to Florida?”
“No, Sir.”
“No? Any interest in going? I usually visit my mother in January or February. She lives down there in the Keys.”
“I’d love to, Sir. I didn’t realize your parents were still alive?”
“Ma is. Pops died more than ten years ago. Lung cancer.”
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
I wave her condolences away. “He was a two-pack-a-day man. Never could quit. I’m just glad Ma made him smoke outside so she wasn’t affected.
She’s remarried now so I keep my visits short.
If you’re up to long rides by then, we could ride down, stay a day or two, and make our way back, stopping wherever you want. ”
“I’d love that, Sir.”
I pinch her chin. “Anywhere else you’d like to go, you just tell me, girl.”
“Paris. I know it’s cheesy. Don’t look at me like that. I’ve always wanted to go.”
“So cheesy.”
She grins. “Green-cheese cheesy.”
“How does May sound?”
She sighs. “Perfect.”
“Mmm, you ready to shower, girl?”
“Yes, Sir.” She sits up and rolls slowly to her feet and I follow her out to where we’ve hung our robes on hooks outside the steam room. “Do you mind if I wear the robe to lunch? I’m too relaxed to get dressed.”
“That sounds good. I might do the same.” I give her gleaming breasts an appreciative leer before she covers them with terrycloth. “I like the easy access.”
“Me, too, Sir.” She reaches into my open robe and runs her hand down between my pecs. “There weren’t any rules about me touching you.”
“Nope, there weren’t,” I agree.
“So, I can touch you any time?”
“Any time you want to take the risk, bold girl, you go for it.”
She gives me that warm, alto laugh.