Dead Daze – Pitch-Black Second Chance – Story Fodder Read Online J.A. Huss

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Insta-Love Tags Authors: J.A. Huss Advertisement

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When I finished my set and straightened, catching his eyes in the glass, he said, "Your ass looks really good when you squat. I've been watching it in the mirror. I'm gonna put one up in front of you next time, at just the right angle so you can see what I do." Just like that. Matter-of-fact. Professional tone. But his gaze lingered half a second too long before he turned away to adjust the weight rack.

Which seems normal, if you are normal.

But if you're a person who lives and breathes the D/s lifestyle—who understands it down to your bones—the mirror becomes something else entirely.

It transforms from a simple reflective surface into an erotic tool, a psychological weapon, a method of control. It's about being forced to witness your own submission, to see yourself through your Dominant's eyes, to watch your body respond in ways you can't hide or deny.

And my mind immediately went to the gyno table in Caleb's playroom.

How he positioned me on that cold leather surface, securing each limb before spreading my legs wide in those metal stirrups.

He made me watch in the mirror as he penetrated my pussy with that cheap blue Bic pen.

The same pen from my story. The same deliberate, clinical movements. The same psychological warfare disguised as medical examination, exactly the way I'd written it in The Appointment, down to the smallest detail.

The humiliation of it, the wrongness of it, the fact that something so mundane could be transformed into an instrument of such exquisite degradation—all of it played out in perfect detail in that mirror.

I force Caleb out of my mind.

I'm completely over Caleb. Ryan is the one commanding my attention now, filling the spaces in my head that used to belong to someone else. The other day he complimented my new sports bra. He said he liked the colors, coral and black, that they really gave me a 'good outline'.

I've replayed those words approximately fifty times since he said them.

It's maybe not entirely uncommon to comment on a woman's upper body athletic wear at the gym. People talk about brands, about moisture-wicking fabric, about whether Lululemon is worth the insane price tag.

But Ryan's comment wasn't about the brand or the fabric technology.

It was about what the sports bra did for my body, which means it was about my body itself. Which means—and I'm not imagining this—he was looking at my breasts.

Studying them, even.

Okay, fine. Maybe it's just me and my perpetually dirty mind interpreting Ryan's words to be something more than just casual gym pep talk. But he's the one who started it.

He chose those specific words. 'Good outline.' Not 'cute bra' or 'nice color choice' or any of the thousand neutral things he could have said that wouldn't have made my brain spiral exactly where it's spiraling now.

Good outline.

Does this phrase not inherently imply a specific, deliberate shape?

One that includes not just the breasts themselves but how they're positioned, how they're presented, how they're held?

And isn't posture—the way a woman carries herself, the angle of her shoulders, the lift of her chin, the arch of her spine—something a Dominant would naturally notice?

Because I think it is.

I think most men see a woman's chest and think, 'Nice tits,' and that's the complete beginning and end of their cognitive process. They don't analyze why they like them, don't break down the specific elements that create the attraction.

Or maybe—if they're slightly more articulate than the average gym bro—they can identify that the upturned point of the nipple is what draws their eye. Something I definitely have, especially in this particular sports bra with its thin, unpadded cups that hide absolutely nothing.

But they're not thinking about posture. About the way good posture creates the foundation for everything else—the lift, the shape, the outline that Ryan specifically commented on.

Which is the real reason aesthetically pleasing breasts exist in the first place, regardless of size or shape.

And Ryan noticed.

I think he's playing it professionally distant.

Not exactly waiting for me to make the first move, he's dropping hints. But he is the gym owner and I am a client. Like a real client now, because I bought three months of personal training.

And yeah, one could be cynical and say he's complimenting me because he wanted me to buy the three-month training package.

But I'm his only client at the moment.

He doesn't do that any more. He has a whole crew of trainers to manage the personal training.

So what else should I think?

He obviously likes me.

We banter and laugh as he trains me.

And he touches me. Not anything inappropriate—never anything that crosses a professional line—but he's not shy about making contact when he's correcting my form during a lift.

Sometimes the touches linger just a fraction longer than strictly necessary. Sometimes his hand settles on my lower back with a firmness that feels deliberate, intentional. Sometimes his fingers wrap around my wrist to adjust my grip on the barbell, and his thumb brushes against my pulse point in a way that makes me hyperaware of the contact.


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