Shockwave (Impulse Book 1) 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

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  Shockwave

  ISBN # 978-1-78651-117-1

  ©Copyright Sierra Cartwright 2016

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright October 2016

  Edited by Rebecca Scott

  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. Unauthorized 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 2016 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

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

  Impulse

  SHOCKWAVE

  Sierra Cartwright

  Book one in the Impulse series

  There can only be one victor…

  He vows to personally deal with her…

  When Master Nathaniel Stratton catches Alani Dane, a professional submissive, yawning during a scene with one of his club’s most prestigious members, he vows to personally deal with her.

  In order to claim her…

  Nathaniel works to shatter the emotional barriers she’s erected to keep her heart safe and takes the biggest gamble of his life to claim her for his own.

  But she’s no man’s submissive…

  He alternately thrills and terrifies Alani. Even though she craves the intense release that subspace brings, at heart, she’s no man’s submissive. In this intense battle of wills, dominance and submission, love and commitment, he’s determined to tear down the walls around her heart.

  Dedication

  For AJ and Andrew who shared their world and made mine bigger as a result. I cherish you as friends, and I appreciate your wisdom and generosity.

  Chapter One

  “All right, you naughty wench. Tell me what you deserve.”

  Alani Dane, professional submissive, rolled her eyes. What she deserved was a night off from play-acting with yet another weak-wristed wannabe Dom. What she wanted was a hot, sexy scene with a man she was into…a few hours of bliss. Hell, she’d even settle for a couple of minutes of happiness. Were her needs so outrageous that she couldn’t get a good ass beating that made her wince when she sat down?

  “Sub,” the man prompted when she didn’t respond right away. His voice was laced with a fake British accent. “I asked you a question.”

  She’d seen him on television, providing legal analysis for a high-profile murder case. Alani was willing to bet her last dollar he wasn’t from England. In the outside world, he was a smart man, a snappy dresser, but at Limits, the downtown Denver club where she worked, he affected airs. He even wore a cravat, and his jacket had tails. One night he’d checked a top hat and silver-capped cane at the coat room.

  She was grateful he’d tied her to the St. Andrew’s cross facing away from him. Even though it was still early on a Friday evening and they were in one of the club’s first-floor public areas, there were a few couples scening. A female sub was being fastened to a spanking bench and a male sub was suspended from a ceiling hook. The man wore a wicked-looking contraption around his cock, complete with metal spikes. He smiled in a way that lit up his entire face. Despite the torturous apparatus, his muscles were relaxed. He was obviously enjoying every moment.

  Alani wondered how long it had been since she’d been lost in that kind of happiness. Weeks? Months? Then another thought plowed into her. Had she ever blissed out that hard, despite her constant quest?

  The techno music thrummed out an urgent beat, but the volume was relatively low.

  Sometimes during scenes, she went deep inside her head, creating a fantasy within a fantasy. She often pretended she’d been naughty and needed to be punished. For the past few weeks, going away mentally had been the only way she’d been able to get into what she was doing.

  Tonight, though, even that wasn’t working. Because she’d played with Master Richard several times before, she knew what to expect. The next half hour, maybe less, was going to be boring.

  “Tell me what you deserve,” he repeated.

  “Oh, Sir, I’ve been bad,” she said, forcing a tremor into her voice.

  He touched the small of her back. She let out a small cry and pulled against the restraints. “So bad.” She’d learned to manipulate her Dominants into giving her at least a little of what she wanted.

  Knowing Master Richard was an ass man, she wriggled her hips. “Please, Sir, I want to be good for you. Perhaps you’d better teach me to behave.”

  “That’s more than you deserve, sub.”

  “I know, Sir. But I’m hoping you’ll take pity on me.”

  “What will it be this evening, you naughty, naughty girl?”

  She knew the answer he sought. And she knew what she craved. She wanted to be punished hard by a powerful man. She wanted to be with a man who would demand her very best. Her fantasy Dom would tug a belt from around his waist and use it harshly on her bare butt. Or maybe he’d catch her with the brutal strike of an open-handed slap.

  “Well? Answer me!” He pinched a bit of skin near her waist.

  That was unexpected and delicious. If he would keep that up… “Whatever you want, Sir,” she said, her answer so well-rehearsed she could recite it in her sleep.

  “The flogger it is,” he said.

  In the right hands, she supposed the flogger could be memorable. When swung by this unskilled Dom, it was the equivalent of a lover’s touch.

  “I’m going to pull up your skirt.”

  “Oh, Sir! No. Please. Anything but that!”

  “Hush, sub.”

  She imagined his words were supposed to be forceful, but they came out as a request.

  With his small hands, he drew her skirt up.

  “Oh, Sir!”

  He tucked the material into her waistband, then trailed his soft fingertips between her buttocks.

  As was her custom, she’d worn panties on top of her garter belt, and he hadn’t requested she change into anything more revealing. And it wasn’t as if he’d delve inside the silk to play with her clit. He wouldn’t do anything to ensure she got into the scene like he did.

  As Master Richard caressed her buttocks through her underwear, his fingers trembling and his breathing ragged, she stared ahead at a large mural hanging from the exposed brick wall. She
fell into the picture of the Maroon Bells, mountain peaks near Aspen. It was one of the most photographed sites in North America. Maybe this summer, she’d try climbing them. At least that would be challenging, and it would give her something to train for.

  She tried to lose herself in the picture, grateful Limits had no clocks in the public areas. Each second with Master Richard was interminable. Staring at a minute hand would only make time drag more.

  Something tapped her rear, and it occurred to her it was the flogger. She jerked her hips, hoping he didn’t realize the reaction came several moments after the almost-nonexistent impact.

  “Beg for another.”

  “Oh, please, Sir! I need you to punish me.”

  His second stroke had a little more oomph behind it. She reacted quicker that time and squirmed against her bonds.

  “You may thank me, my girl.”

  “Sir! Thank you, thank you! Please, will you punish me some more?” She stuck out her ass.

  He continued to flog her, and she remembered she needed French vanilla creamer for her coffee at home.

  Kukae. Shit. She was being paid to give this man a fantasy. And if he was pleased, he always left a large tip. Embarrassingly large. Alani blinked a few times to focus her attention.

  Several times, early in her career, she’d managed to lose herself in a scene. But now, it took all the skills she’d learned at a college acting class to stay in character. It wasn’t the Doms who were lacking. It was her. They hadn’t changed. She had gotten bored.

  “How many was that, sub?”

  How many? She’d barely registered any. “It hurts so bad I lost count, Sir. Please,” she wailed. “Take pity on me. I promise to be good.”

  “Four more,” he said.

  He landed another. She jerked with enough dramatics to win an award.

  As he paused, probably drooling over the sight of her rounded derrière, she yawned.

  She snapped her mouth shut when she saw Master Nathaniel push away from a wall. He was one of the club’s three owners, and he spent a lot of time out of the country. She didn’t know much about him, but the rumor mill said he was some sort of secret black ops agent who trained resistance forces throughout the world. She knew the work he did was dirty and dangerous, and the small scar bisecting his chin proved it.

  Damn. Why hadn’t she noticed him standing there?

  His chilly gaze was on her as he walked toward the cross where she hung.

  Had he seen her disrespectful yawn?

  Reacting from instinct, Alani clenched her muscles.

  She’d rarely seen him engage with the club’s subs or patrons. He showed up for occasional meetings. Once, while Master Braxton had been out of town, Master Nathaniel had signed paychecks.

  Alani told herself not to be nervous. But she wasn’t believing her own pep talk.

  Master Nathaniel was dressed as if he’d walked off the pages of a men’s fashion magazine. His long-sleeved shirt was turned up at the cuffs and the top button was unfastened at his throat. He wore loose-fitting slacks and polished wing tips. She imagined his attire was intended to make him appear civilized. It didn’t work. Raw masculine power pulsed from him. No polite trappings would temper his air of danger.

  He smelled of a cold winter night, and his green eyes were just as chilly.

  If she were honest, she’d admit he terrified her.

  “How’s it going here, Master Richard?”

  “Very well. Very well indeed, Master Nathaniel.”

  She didn’t dare crack a smile at the fake British voice.

  “I’m just going to give this saucy wench a bit of a workout,” he continued. “Only three more strokes to go.”

  “Mind if I watch?”

  “Delighted to have you,” Master Richard said.

  Master Nathaniel leaned in close to her, his expression tight, sending a shiver through her. “Let’s help keep you in the scene, shall we?” His words were quiet, pitched so that they wouldn’t be overheard.

  No doubt. He had caught her yawning. Crap.

  “Alani, is it?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger, leaving her powerless to escape.

  “Look at me,” he snapped.

  There was a whiplash in his voice, if not volume. All her senses sharpened.

  “Keep your eyes open. For this moment, I am your entire world. Don’t forget it.”

  How could she?

  He tightened his grip.

  Her heart thundered, this time with real fear.

  “Do you understand, Alani?”

  “Yes.” She gulped. “Yes, Sir.”

  He nodded then looked over her shoulder at Master Richard. “Proceed.”

  As if goaded by Master Nathaniel’s presence, the man hit her hard.

  She gasped from the unexpected sting.

  “Better.” Master Nathaniel grinned, and her belly tightened. When he spoke, he increased the volume so it was obvious he was addressing the pretend Dom. “She is a saucy one, Master Richard. You were correct.” Master Nathaniel compelled her gaze. He refused her any quarter, keeping her gaze focused on him. “Make the last ones count.”

  “Unclench your buttocks, wench,” Master Richard said. “I do so enjoy seeing your arse jiggle when I give you a good one.”

  She gulped. Somehow, this was more compelling, even a touch humiliating. She wasn’t sure why. Being somewhat of an exhibitionist, she liked people watching her, enjoyed presenting a memorable show. But Master Nathaniel, with his brutally penetrating gaze, was different.

  “Alani! I said unclench your bum.” Master Richard poked her with the hilt of the flogger. “Do it now, you cheeky girl!”

  “Yes, Sir.” She drew in deep breaths, no longer pretending to be nervous or focused. She was hyperaware of everything going on.

  Annoying her, Master Richard took his time. Master Nathaniel’s grip was unyielding. All Alani wanted now was to be released from her bondage so she could go home for the night. Master Nathaniel’s scrutiny unsettled her in ways she’d never experienced.

  Willing the scene to be over, she arched her back even more. Long, long seconds later, the Dom behind her let the flogger fall.

  She yelped. Where the hell had that strength been until now? That had hurt.

  His fingers trembling, Master Richard traced the straps of her garters.

  Wiggling and moving now seemed obscene with the way Master Nathaniel was looking at her.

  “Are you ready for your last one?” Master Richard asked.

  He isn’t done yet? “Yes, Sir.”

  After moving away and stretching the time from seconds into at least a minute, he gave her the final one. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sting. When she opened them again, Master Nathaniel was still regarding her, his jaw set, nothing revealed in the enigmatic depths of his rich green eyes.

  “Thank Master Richard for flogging you,” Master Nathaniel told her.

  “Thank you, Sir,” she managed.

  As suddenly as he’d grabbed her, Master Nathaniel released her. Without another word, he strode away.

  She watched him out of the corner of her eye until she lost sight of him. Then she released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  “You were a good girl,” Master Richard said as he unfastened her right ankle.

  “I’m sure I’ll have trouble sitting for the next few days, Sir,” she fibbed. She had to admit, for Master Richard, it had been a robust flogging.

  “Let that be a lesson to you.”

  “It was. I’ll try to be a better girl.” Although with him, she never knew what her supposed infraction was. Other Doms dreamed up elaborate stories and encouraged her to misbehave so they had something to punish.

  He took far too long unfastening her left ankle. No doubt he enjoyed being crouched between her legs. This evening, that bothered her, though she couldn’t explain why.

  Moments later, her wrists were fr
ee.

  His grip gentle, he turned her around to face him. He held her for several seconds, making sure she was able to stand. On the three-inch stilettos, after being tied to a cross, that was sometimes more difficult than it seemed.

  “Steady, love?”

  “Yes, thanks.” She smiled, trying to appear graceful, then knelt and directed her gaze toward the floor. “I enjoyed the scene, Sir.” She hoped he was savvy enough to heed her wordless signal that the scene was over, whether or not he had time remaining.

  “You were most excellent, wench. Behave yourself until I see you again.”

  “I will try, Sir.” She glanced up to see him hook the flogger onto his belt loop.

  Without another word, he headed toward the bar.

  She exhaled.

  As she stood and smoothed her skirt back into place, she glanced around, looking for Master Nathaniel.

  When she didn’t see him, she considered her options. Deciding she would rather avoid him than risk seeing him, she snatched up her discarded blouse, shrugged into it, fastened the buttons then started toward the locker room for a quick break.

  Before she could reach the foyer, a firm hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her in place. Startled, she turned and looked up at Master Braxton, one of the club’s other owners and her direct boss.

  “Alani. My office. Five minutes.”

  Master Braxton kept his voice low. No one around them would have heard him, but she did. She’d caught the sharpness in his normally well-modulated tone. The worst was the firm set of his jaw.

  Damn that Master Nathaniel. Rat. Fink. Bastard.

  It didn’t matter to anyone that she’d tried to get into the scene with Master Richard or that he’d been satisfied with her performance. The owners would only see her failings.

  “Did you understand my order?” he asked when she didn’t reply right away.

  “Sorry. Yes, Sir. I did. I’ll be in your office in five minutes.”