In the Den Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Totally Bound Publication

  In the Den

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-918-7

  ©Copyright Sierra Cartwright 2013

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright December 2013

  Edited by Rebecca Douglas

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2013 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Melting and a Sexometer of 3.

  This story contains 183 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 10 pages.

  Mastered

  IN THE DEN

  Sierra Cartwright

  Book six in the Mastered Series

  What could be headier than the surrender of a powerfully dominant woman?

  Dom Damien Lowell has always respected Domme Catrina Davidson. He likes the way she interacts with her subs, confident, kind, firm. And for years he’s fantasized about her submitting to him. What could be hotter than having the sexy Domme squirming beneath his lash?

  One evening, Damien challenges her, saying she’d be a much better Domme if she experienced submission…to him.

  Catrina doesn’t have a single submissive tendency. But she’s oh-so turned on when she watches a sub respond to Damien. A secret part of her is intrigued, and she asks herself, what harm can come from giving him two weeks?

  Over the next fortnight, she is introduced to the pleasures and perils of servitude. She has to admit that he’s right—her understanding of submission is deeper, more profound, than it would have been otherwise. But the private experiences they share in the Den leave her emotionally shattered, making her question everything she thought she knew.

  In her unique way, Catrina too, challenges Damien, forcing him to grow as a Dom, and he wonders how the hell he’ll ever be able to let her go.

  Dedication

  For Jason and Catrina, with thanks for the insights.

  Scarlett, you are a source of constant inspiration.

  Chapter One

  Damien Lowell always got what he wanted. Granted, sometimes the challenge was greater than he anticipated. But that didn’t matter. The more difficult the task, the more he relished it. Working hard for something flexed his mental muscles, sharpened his senses and fed his creative energy.

  Right now he was standing with his arms folded across his chest, his focus on the gorgeous dark-haired Domme on the other side of the room.

  Tonight she’d used kohl liner and false eyelashes to add drama and depth to her startling green eyes. Her hair hung over her shoulders and cascaded down her back in a shining mahogany waterfall. She wore thigh-high black boots with heels so tall he was amazed she could walk in them. Fishnet stockings were attached to a garter belt, and her tiny black skirt barely covered her buttocks. She’d topped the breath-taking outfit with a leather corset that he itched to unlace.

  As if sensing his perusal, she glanced over and raised her glass in salute. He inclined his head in acknowledgment.

  As she sipped, she continued to regard him.

  This was a bit of an unusual circumstance for him at the Den. He’d bought the massive mountain estate years before, and he’d turned it into a private and exclusive BDSM club. While female dominants were welcomed and accorded the respect due their position, less than two dozen had applied for membership.

  Most of the women he associated with here were subs. They didn’t meet and hold his gaze like Mistress Catrina was doing.

  After several seconds, she severed the contact and returned her attention to her submissive. She snagged a canapé and offered it to the bare-chested man kneeling before her. Since he sported spikey blond hair, the pair presented a striking contrast.

  The man, on a leash and wearing nothing other than tight, gold-colored shorts, looked up at her adoringly. She smiled and brushed a hand across his forehead. She drew him in closer, then popped the treat into his mouth.

  All the while, Damien pictured the Domme on her knees, affixed to his leash, fully understanding what it meant to submit.

  He’d known her for several years and he knew she was an excellent Mistress. Recently she’d attended a private event he’d hosted. That evening, he’d witnessed a deeper, more contemplative side of her. At one point, she’d stood in front of a window, gazing into the distance. When he’d joined her, she’d faced him. For a moment, before she’d schooled it away, he’d seen a groove between her sculpted eyebrows. When he’d asked how she was enjoying the evening, she’d responded with politeness. But she’d excused herself and left soon after.

  Damien didn’t often allow his thoughts to be consumed by women, especially dominant ones. But since that night, he hadn’t been able to get thoughts of Mistress Catrina out of his mind.

  “How’s it going, Boss?”

  Damien turned his attention to the Den’s second-in-command, Gregorio. Hiring the man had been one of the smartest business decisions Damien had ever made. Gregorio lived onsite in a caretaker cottage. He ensured the safety of their guests, and he oversaw the estate when it was open for a production company’s use. Additionally, he managed the calendar, the employees, the accounting and maintenance. Since he could top or bottom, he was even more valuable to the house.

  Gregorio folded his arms across his chest. Tonight he had on a black T-shirt beneath a leather vest. With his silver earring and motorcycle boots, he looked suitably intimidating. “Your demonstration starts in fifteen minutes, Boss.” He hooked a thumb and pointed over his shoulder. “Good turnout.”

  They’d had plenty of reservations for the annual open house extravaganza. “There are a lot of new faces,” Damien agreed.

  “And buttocks,” Gregorio added with a grin.

  Despite a widespread snowstorm, guests had arrived from all over the region, including parts of Wyoming, Kansas, even Montana. Gregorio had planned ahead, reserving a block of hotel rooms in the nearby ski town of Winter Park. Skilled staff shuttled people back and forth in four-wheel-drive vehicles.

  “Susan went to the ladies’ locker room to prepare. She’ll meet you in the entranceway. Your items are laid out on the mantel as requested.”

  Damien nodded. “Great job, as always.”

  “All in a day’s work,” Gregorio said. “I’ll be ass
isting you onstage.” With a nod, he excused himself.

  Mistress Catrina was no longer in sight, and Damien wondered if she’d taken her submissive downstairs to one of the private rooms.

  Demonstrations typically drew a number of neophytes and people curious about joining the club. During presentations, long-time members often took advantage of the uncrowded conditions in the dungeon to connect and scene.

  He went upstairs to his private suite and flicked on the fireplace to banish the winter chill. The blinds were open and snow drifted past the massive windows. Another stunning Colorado night, cold and windy, perfect for sleep—or other things—in his custom-built bed.

  In the backyard area, the fire pit blazed and a few well-dressed, hearty souls stood around it.

  After changing into black leather pants and a short-sleeved T-shirt, he clipped a whip to his side and went back down the stairs in time to see Mistress Catrina while she was still in the public area. He tried not to show how ridiculously pleased he was. “Milady,” he said by way of greeting.

  “Damien,” she returned, glancing at him through long, enhanced lashes.

  He wondered what she looked like natural, naked, on her knees, her lips trembling as she waited for him. Then he shoved the thought away. No sense allowing his imagination free rein. He’d enjoyed success in business because he was pragmatic, not fanciful. “Enjoying the evening?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll take that as a polite lie.”

  She scowled. “Your events are always fabulous.”

  “So why aren’t you having a good time?”

  “You’re the one who said I’m not,” she countered.

  Her scent was as exotic as she was. Musk and vanilla, layered with a pervasive sexual need. He wondered if he was the only one who noticed it. “Where’s your boy?”

  “He’s outside having a smoke. Bad habit,” she said. “But who am I to judge?”

  “Who, indeed?”

  “We only hooked up for part of the evening.”

  “That collar isn’t yours?”

  “No. I’ve never formally collared anyone. That particular one belongs to Master Lawrence. We’re hoping he makes it up here tonight.” She shrugged, her creamy shoulders rising and falling before settling into a gentle slope.

  “But with the weather…”

  A sudden urge to wrap his fingers around her upper arms and drag her to her toes assailed Damien. But that would violate personal as well as house rules. He owed her the same respect accorded to all dominants. In all his years of being a Dom, he’d never had the urge to drive a Domme to her knees. Until now. “Are you planning to attend my demo?”

  “No,” she said.

  When he’d first met her, he’d decided she was blunt. Over time, he’d learned to appreciate her honesty. “Perhaps you should.”

  She tilted her head. “You think you can teach me something?”

  “A lot of things,” he said.

  “That’s a bit arrogant, Damien.”

  He longed to hear the word Sir on her lips. “Is it? We can all benefit from continuing education.”

  “Setting the scene and an intro to flogging is for newbies.”

  “Really?”

  “Have you heard complaints from my subs?” The words were tight, as if her breath were constricted.

  “Not at all.”

  “Then?”

  “I’m simply suggesting that some of the best dominants have embraced or at least tried submission.”

  “As you have?”

  “Indeed.”

  Her mouth parted before she pursed her lips.

  “I’d be happy to master you, Catrina.”

  “If you ever crave a beating, Damien, I’d happy to put the smack down on you,” she returned.

  “I invite you to try, Milady.”

  Bradley entered through the kitchen door, and when Catrina saw him, she smiled. Damien wondered what it would be like to see that same expression directed at him.

  The man shook snow off his gold boots before joining them. He knelt then placed his forehead on the floor in front of Catrina. “Good boy,” she told him, crouching to rub his head.

  Damien took Catrina’s arm to help her up. Her skin was warm, inviting. If she felt the same jolt of electricity as he had, she hid it well. Against her ear, so no one else could hear, he said, “With your hair, you’d look stunning in that position.”

  She drew her dramatic eyebrows together as she scowled at him. Without a word, she extracted herself from his grip.

  Just then, Master Lawrence arrived and joined them, nodding at Damien and kissing Catrina on the cheek.

  “You’re here, Master!” Bradley exclaimed.

  At Lawrence’s urging, the boy thanked Catrina as she relinquished the leash. The blond followed his master down the stairs at an enthusiastic trot.

  “I’m available if you change your mind,” Damien said to Catrina before moving off to meet his partner in the foyer.

  Catrina might have muttered something about Hell freezing over, and with the snow and cold, he figured anything was possible. He grinned. Victory would be a sweet reward.

  * * * *

  When Damien disappeared from sight, Catrina exhaled. Damn him. Who the hell did he think he was? His words had shaken her, and she glanced around to be certain no one had overheard his outrageous proposition. As if she’d be on her knees for any man.

  So what was it about him that sent flutter-kicks through her stomach?

  Catrina had always prided herself on being in charge. From class president in high school to editor of the college paper, and now, as the founder of her own company where she focused on the financial success of women, she’d always been outspoken and driven.

  After the end of her engagement five years before, she’d gathered up the shattered pieces of her heart and resolved to be in charge of her own life. She’d also made the choice to be equal in her sexual partnerships. Her first experience in taking the initiative with a new man hadn’t been well received. Even now she cringed at the memory.

  It had taken her a couple of years to move on after her engagement. She’d finally started dating a nice, agreeable man. In the bedroom, though, he’d bored her. No way could she live with the same unimaginative, missionary-style every night. So she’d boldly tied Todd’s wrists to a slat in the headboard, and when she’d straddled his face, he’d demanded to be released. Feeling awkward but not deterred, she’d let him go.

  For the first time in their relationship, she’d seen an angry side of Todd. He’d towered over her and yelled—she didn’t want to be an equal, she was a control freak.

  His words had shocked her. He was probably right, but she wouldn’t admit it, so she’d met his gaze and disagreed. In response, he’d captured her hands and offered to tie her up and force her to lick his balls. She’d told him to get the hell out.

  The next day, when she’d arrived home from work, his few belongings had been gone from her apartment and his key had been sitting in the middle of the dining room table.

  A couple of weeks later, she’d met a handsome blond man at a party. After hearing about her previous, disastrous relationship, he’d said he’d kiss her feet. It had turned out he wasn’t joking.

  Ever since, she’d been involved with good-looking men who took care of her every sexual need. She ensured they received everything they wanted and needed, too. What could be better?

  At times, especially in the middle of the night, she pushed away the nagging voice that whispered she was missing intimacy. She’d toss and turn, telling herself she had friends for problem solving and conversation. Her life was full in every way. She didn’t need anyone to hold her and connect with about everyday life events. And she didn’t need someone like Master Damien Lowell bossing her around and making her kiss his feet. Definitely not.

  Gregorio moved through the rooms, announcing the start of Master Damien’s demonstration. Now that Master Lawrence had claimed Bradley, C
atrina was at loose ends. She could avail herself of the services of a house sub, and maybe even Gregorio with his pirate-like looks, silver earring and sexy body would agree to play with her. Since he was busy talking to a couple she’d never seen before, that would have to wait until later.

  More out of boredom than curiosity, and not because Damien had issued a challenge, she snagged a sparkling water infused with cranberry juice and wandered into the living room.

  The room’s usual furniture had been removed. A couple of rows of fold-up chairs had been arranged in a semicircle near the fireplace. Many dominants were seated, and their subs were standing or kneeling near them.

  Catrina stood near the back. From here, she had a clear view of Damien and the pretty sub on her knees, facing him, her head bowed. Catrina appreciated the woman’s lush, feminine form. She wore her hair in a blonde bob that shaded her face. The pair were turned sideways to the room, so that both of their expressions and all Damien’s gestures were obvious.

  Gregorio entered and stood near Damien.

  The gathered crowd quietened as Damien touched the woman’s head.

  Even from the distance, Catrina saw the submissive tremble. It took courage to participate in a demo, especially with the house owner. Her nervousness radiated in the room.

  Catrina noticed his biceps flex as he made tiny, massaging motions. His silent communication was impressive.

  “I’d like you to stand,” he told the woman. “And tell us your name.”

  “Susan, Sir.” She kept her eyes on the wooden floorboards, even as he offered a hand to help her up.

  Warmth shimmied up Catrina’s spine as she remembered the feel of his firm grip on her arm. She didn’t normally accept help, and it had surprised her how much she’d liked it.

  “I appreciate your show of respect,” he said.

  Damien had not used that tone with her. He’d spoken to her as an equal, not as a man intent on seducing a woman.

  “And I’d like you to look at me,” he continued.

  The woman glanced up, her eyes wide and unblinking.

  “I want you to be completely comfortable with everything we do here tonight.”