Nurturing Britney (Surrender Book 7) Becca Jameson (ebook reader for comics TXT) 📖

He slides his hands up so that once again his thumbs are grazing the underside of my boobs. “I’m equally unsure how I’m going to work out with these sweet little titties teasing me from across the room. However, hard rule. We can negotiate when we leave the house, but when you’re inside, you’re my little girl, too young for bras. Not even while working out. Take it or leave it.”

I sigh. “Okay.”

He stands and heads for my bathroom.

I follow and find him holding my brush. He arranges me in front of him and takes a few minutes to brush out the tangles before dividing my hair into three groups and deftly braiding it down my back. “There. That will keep it out of your way. I’m going to grab us some water. Use the potty, sweetie, and meet me in the workout room.”

I hurry to pee and wash my hands and splash my face and then rush to find Davis. When I arrive, he hands me a pair of brand-new sneakers and ankle socks. Both are pink and I smile as I sit down to put them on, wondering how the hell he always manages to have exactly what I need within hours of me needing it.

“Do you want to start out on the treadmill, sweet girl?”

I nod and head over to where he’s standing.

“Climb on. Let me show you how it works. I’ll start it for you, and you can increase the speed.”

“Yes, Sir.” I step onto it. I’ve used one of these before. It’s not rocket science. Lucky for me there’s a small workout room in the basement of my apartment building. It doesn’t have much, but it’s free, and it works.

Davis pushes a few buttons and points out several others, and then as it starts, he leaves me to adjust it and climbs onto the elliptical. He’s across from me, watching me. It’s unnerving and it’s about to get worse.

At first, I start out walking, picking up the pace for the next three minutes. It’s not enough. I need to jog. I’m used to jogging three miles. I’m going to have to get over my lack of bra and go for it.

I turn up the speed and start to jog. Oh, yeah. It’s weird. My boobs are small, but they’re bouncing. Every step causes them to lift and fall, my nipples rubbing the front of my tank top.

I try to adjust by tugging down my shirt and then supporting my boobs with my forearms.

I gasp when Davis clears his throat. “Stop worrying about your tits, sweetie. They’re fine. Keep your hands away from them. They aren’t so large that you need support. It’s all in your head.”

I flush as I drop my hands and try hard to focus on something else, but when I lift my gaze, I see that the entire wall across from me is a mirror. Great. Now I’m watching my boobs bounce up and down with every step.

I’m starting to doubt this workout idea. Maybe I should have just let myself get flabby and out of shape. It’s not like I’m going to return to dancing at strip clubs. As job prospects are concerned, it’s one I’m at least qualified for. However, I’m probably blacklisted now. My boss would’ve told every club owner in the tristate area to call him if I ever came in looking for a job.

I almost laugh as I think about what Davis would say if I told him I was going to start stripping again. When I glance at him, he’s eyeing me suspiciously. “Do I even want to know what you’re thinking, Britney?”

“No, Sir.” I keep jogging, increasing the pace while consciously keeping my arms swinging normally at my sides. As I watch myself in the mirror, I decide he’s mostly right. My tits are bouncing but not as much as they are in my mind. They’re pert. My nipples are hard points that I imagine must look quite sexy to Davis.

And indeed, when I look at him again, I find him staring at my body. He’s working hard on the elliptical but not as hard as is warranted for his heavy breathing.

I could work this. The man loves my boobs. This information could come in handy if I ever need something to use as manipulative leverage.

When I finish my three miles, I turn off the machine and decide to test my theory. I start stretching, bending in every direction but mostly with my arms high so I can lean back and forth, making sure I’m always facing him, my tits on full display.

Davis finishes on the elliptical a few minutes later. He turns it off so casually that I’m not sure he even noticed my tempting display. A moment later, I reconsider because he stalks toward me, sets his hands on my waist, runs his palms up my body, and cups my breasts.

I gasp when he thumbs my nipples, but then he pinches them hard, and I yelp.

“I do believe my sweet girl has decided to give me a teasing little show right here in the gym.”

I whimper as I drop my arms to my sides.

He pinches my nipples again, harder this time. It hurts, but arousal shoots to my pussy at the same time.

“As sexy as you are, sweet girl, I won’t permit you to manipulate me with your body.” Another pinch, pulling me closer by the nipples.

I shuffle forward until we’re touching. “I’m sorry, Sir,” I whisper.

“You’ll wear what you’re told under my roof, and remember you’re always in your little space unless I say otherwise. That means you behave appropriately for a little girl. When I remove your clothes and make your body hum for me, then you can be Britney the adult, but you don’t get to choose when that happens.”

“Yes, Sir.” I’m whimpering now. And so very aroused.

He releases my nipples, takes my hand, and leads me to the weight bench. Without