Chapter 1: Downward Dogging the Virgin
The air in the studio was cool and smelled faintly of lemongrass and sweat. Daniel tried to focus on his breathing, on the instructor’s smooth voice guiding them into downward dog, but his awareness was pinned to the woman two mats over. Miriam. Her body moved through the vinyasa with a liquid precision that made his throat go dry. When she lifted into a perfect wheel pose, the thin fabric of her tank top fell away from her torso, revealing the taut line of her stomach and the curve of her breasts. He looked away, heat flooding his face.
“Daniel.” Her voice, low and amused, was suddenly right beside his ear. He flinched, nearly toppling out of his shaky plank. “Your alignment is off. Hips higher.”
Her hand, cool and firm, pressed into the small of his back, pushing him up. The touch was electric, jolting through his thin t-shirt. He mumbled a thanks, unable to meet her eyes.
“Stay after class,” she said, the command soft but absolute. “I’ll give you a few pointers.”
The rest of the hour was agony. Every time he caught her gaze, she was watching him, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. When the class ended with a collective ‘namaste,’ Daniel lingered, rolling up his mat with clumsy fingers as the other students filtered out.
“You’re new next door, aren’t you?” Miriam said, walking over. She wiped her neck with a towel. “I’ve seen you coming and going. College boy.”
“Yeah. First year,” Daniel said, his voice cracking slightly.
“Cute.” She tilted her head. “You’re very tense, Daniel. All that studying knots you up. Come here. I’ll show you a partner stretch for the hips.”
Before he could protest, she had guided him to the center of the empty studio. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed the city darkening outside, their reflections ghostly on the glass. “Lie on your back,” she instructed.
He obeyed, the polished wood cool through his shirt. She knelt beside him, her fingers circling his ankle. “Now, Sophie,” Miriam called out, and Daniel’s heart lurched as the lithe, blonde girl who’d been at the front desk walked over, a sly grin on her face. “We’ll demonstrate. Daniel, bend your knee. Sophie, straddle his thigh and sink down.”
Sophie did as told, lowering herself so her yoga-panted crotch settled against his upper thigh. The pressure was intimate, overwhelming. He could feel the heat of her through their clothes. As Miriam guided his leg, Sophie shifted, and the deliberate, slow grind of her against his leg was unmistakable.
It happened instantly, embarrassingly. His cock, already half-hard from Miriam’s attention, swelled to full, painful erection, straining against the thin fabric of his gym shorts. The outline was obvious, jutting upward.
“Oh, look at that,” Miriam purred, her voice dripping with false sympathy. She didn’t miss a beat, continuing to move his leg in a stretch that made Sophie rock against him. “Poor baby can’t control his little dick.”
The humiliation was sharp, but it was twisted with a bolt of raw arousal. He whimpered, trying to shift away, but Miriam’s hand came down on his chest, pinning him.
“Stay still. We’re helping you.” Her other hand drifted to his pec, her fingers finding his nipple through his shirt. She pinched, hard. The pain was bright, shocking, and his hips bucked involuntarily, making his erection bob against Sophie’s thigh.
Sophie laughed, a light, cruel sound. “He’s so eager.”
“He is,” Miriam agreed. She leaned close, her breath warm on his ear. “See how wet you’ve made yourself?” She didn’t touch him there, but he felt the damp patch of precum soaking through the shorts. “Maybe we should let the whole class see what happens when boys get too excited. Call everyone back in.”
“Please,” he choked out, not knowing if he was begging for her to stop or to go on.
“Please what?” Miriam’s eyes were dark, absorbing his desperation. Sophie kept grinding, a slow, torturous rhythm. The friction was maddening.
“I don’t know,” he gasped.
“You will.” She released his nipple and nodded to Sophie, who rose with a final, deliberate press. The sudden absence of contact was its own torture. “Get up, Daniel.”
He scrambled to his feet, mortified by the blatant tent in his shorts, the dark stain at the tip. He crossed his hands in front of himself.
“Hands at your sides,” Miriam said sharply. He obeyed, trembling. She circled him like a predator. “You liked that. You liked being exposed. Used. Don’t lie to me.”
He couldn’t. He nodded, a tiny, shameful dip of his chin.
“Good. The first truth.” She stopped in front of him. “You’re a desperate, horny boy with no idea what to do with it. I could see it the moment I saw you. That need to please. To be told what to do.” She reached out and traced the straining outline of his cock with one fingernail. He shuddered violently. “You want to come, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Not yet.” Her hand withdrew. “Follow me. And don’t you dare adjust yourself.”
She turned and walked toward a door at the back of the studio he’d assumed was a closet. He followed, his hard-on aching with every step. She led him into a small, private treatment room—a massage table, shelves of oils, a single chair. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in quiet.
“Take off your clothes. All of them. Fold them and place them on the chair.”
His fingers fumbled with the drawstring of his shorts. He felt utterly exposed, more than if he’d been alone. Her gaze was a physical weight on his skin. When he was naked, shivering despite the warm air, he stood with his arms held stiffly, trying to cover himself.
“Arms at your sides. Look at me.”
He forced his eyes up. She appraised him, her expression unreadable. “Turn around. Hands on the wall.”
The plaster was cool against his palms. He heard the soft sound of a cap opening, then the scent of almond oil filled the air. Her slick hands landed on his shoulders, kneading the muscles. He jumped at the touch.
“Relax.” Her voice was close. Her hands worked down his spine, strong and purposeful. It felt good, so good, and his tense muscles began to unknot. Then her hands slid lower, over the curves of his ass. She spent time there, massaging, parting him, and his breath hitched.
“You have a beautiful body, Daniel. So responsive.” One oil-slick finger traced the cleft of his ass, a feather-light touch that made his whole body clench. “So untouched.”
Her finger pressed, not entering, just a firm, insistent pressure against his pucker. He gasped.
“Have you ever been fucked here?”
“N-no,” he stammered.
“You will be.” The promise was clinical. Her hand left him, and he heard the rustle of her clothes. He dared a glance over his shoulder. She was undressing, her movements economical. Her body was sublime—full breasts, a narrow waist, strong thighs. She wasn’t shy; she watched him watching her.
When she was naked, she approached him. Her own arousal was evident, the neat thatch of dark hair glistening. She pressed herself against his back, her breasts soft on his skin, one hand snaking around to take hold of his cock. He cried out at the contact.
“So hard. So needy.” She stroked him, her grip perfect, twisting slightly on the upstroke. Her other hand returned to his ass, fingers playing. “You’ll come when I say. And only when I say. Understand?”
“Yes,” he groaned, his hips pushing helplessly into her fist.
“Good boy.”
She worked him with relentless skill, her fingers on his ass becoming more intrusive, pressing, circling. The dual sensations were overwhelming. He was hurtling toward the edge, his balls tightening.
“I’m gonna… I can’t…”
Her hand left his cock. The denial was a physical pain. He sobbed.
“Not yet.” She turned him around, pushed him gently until his knees hit the massage table. “Lie back.”
He lay down, his cock standing straight up, leaking onto his stomach. She climbed atop him, but instead of sinking down, she straddled his chest. The scent of her, musky and deep, filled his nostrils. Her wet cunt was inches from his face.
“Taste me.”
It wasn’t a request. He lifted his head, his tongue tentatively finding her folds. She was salty, tangy, utterly foreign. He licked, encouraged by her low moan.
“Use your tongue properly. Like you mean it.”
He dove in, lapping at her, sucking her clit as he’d seen in porn. Her thighs tightened around his head. She ground herself against his mouth, riding his face with soft, deep groans. He was her instrument, and the power of it, of being used for her pleasure, made his own need scream.
After a few minutes, she lifted off, her fingers tangled in his hair. She was breathing heavily. “On your hands and knees.”
He scrambled to obey. The position was deeply vulnerable. He heard the tear of a foil packet, the sound of her rolling a condom onto him. Then the blunt, insistent pressure of her guiding his cock, not to her cunt, but lower, to that tight, forbidden place.
“Relax,” she soothed, but it was a command. She pushed, and there was a burning, stretching pain. He cried out, his knuckles white on the table. “Breathe.”
He gasped, and she sank down another inch, the sensation splitting between pain and a shocking, full penetration. When she was fully seated, she stilled, letting him adjust. The feeling of being inside her this way was incredibly tight, hotter, a secret invasion.
“Now,” she whispered, her hands on his hips. “Now you can move.”
She set the pace, rolling her hips, taking him deeper with each stroke. The pain began to transmute, melting into a pleasure so intense it bordered on agony. His own neglected cock swung beneath him, heavy and desperate.
“You’re mine now,” she breathed, her rhythm increasing. “My good little slut. You take this so well.” Her words ignited him. He met her thrusts, the slap of skin filling the room. “Come for me. Now.”
The permission shattered him. His orgasm ripped through him, violent and draining, his cock pulsing uselessly in the air as he spasmed inside her. She rode him through it, until he was soft and oversensitive, then she clambered off.
He collapsed onto the table, spent, shaking. She disposed of the condom and began to dress, calm and composed as if she’d just finished a meeting.
“Get dressed, Daniel,” she said, not looking at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening. Seven sharp. We’ll discuss rules.”
He moved slowly, his body feeling used and new. As he pulled his shirt over his head, he caught her eye in the mirror. She was watching him, that small smile back on her lips. He knew, with a certainty that both terrified and thrilled him, that nothing would ever be the same.