On His Terms Page 2

  “You may pull your skirt down and face me.”

  Her legs quivered as she stood. In the last three minutes, she’d had a bigger taste of BDSM than she’d had in the last six months. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

  “Tell me about your thoughts while you were bent over,” he said when she was facing him again.

  “I felt nervous and exposed.”

  “And how did you feel when I smacked you?”

  “I was startled, I suppose. And I didn’t like how impersonal your touch was. I could have been anyone.”

  “Was it difficult for you to remain in position?”

  She reached for her glass of wine and took a deep drink. “Yes.”

  “Tell me why.”

  “I didn’t know this would be an exploration into my psyche,” she told him.

  “Anyone who engages in BDSM with me opens every part of themselves—emotions, mind, thought process. It’s your choice,” he said. “You’re free to leave at any time.”

  She rarely shared her innermost thoughts with anyone, not even close friends. But maybe because he was a stranger it might be easier. “I’m accustomed to being the centre of attention. I don’t like to be left out. You ignoring me like that frankly pissed me off.”

  “But you stayed in position. Why?”

  “Because I want you to train me. And I wanted to show you I can do it.”

  “Very good. By the way, you have a very spankable ass. It turned bright red with my handprint.”

  She wondered if the colour matched her face.

  “Being a submissive is very different from being tied up, wearing a blindfold, or even getting a beating. What you just experienced is a sample of what you can expect as a sub. Doms typically adore and cherish their subs. Some couples, as you may have ascertained, indulge like you and your previous boyfriends, just with a few more rules and a bit more regularity. They may even use the words Dominant and submissive. To me, submission comes with strict protocols, with service, with attention to refined body movements. Do you have any idea what you really meant when you asked me to train you?”

  “Maybe I didn’t,” she admitted reluctantly. She shrugged. “What you just showed me… I wasn’t thinking it would be that hard core.”

  “Tell me what you mean by that.”

  “The whole being submissive thing…” She gnawed her lower lip. Once she realised she was doing it, she stopped immediately. Her mother had been harping on her about that her entire life. “I guess I thought it was mostly about getting spankings and being tied up.”

  “It’s more a state of mind,” he informed her. “What you’re talking about falls under the broad umbrella of bondage and discipline. And it could just be added kink in an otherwise vanilla relationship. But submission is about putting someone else’s needs before your own. And you do it from a genuine desire to serve, not because you see it as a means to an end. Most of all, it’s about mutual trust.”

  She felt as if she’d been chastised.

  “I appreciate your honesty,” he said. “I’m sure we can find you a man to spank you.”

  She laughed nervously. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested? I mean, it is your birthday, and someone should get a spanking, and I’m guessing you won’t be baring your butt.”

  “Quite correct.”

  She wished he’d tip the cowboy hat back so she could see his eyes better. “You could consider it a birthday present,” she suggested.

  “I’m not all that interested in giving you a spanking. And it has nothing to do with your delectable derrière. I prefer subs who have a desire to serve. Within that context, a spanking for punishment is fine, and so is an erotic beating.”

  While she hadn’t liked being ignored, or the nasty little pinch, she had liked his firm command and the way he’d so masterfully swatted her. It had stung. But the memory of it was making her horny. “I wish you’d reconsider,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt. “I can do anything I set my mind to. You won’t be disappointed in me. I promise you that.”

  Just then, Master Damien called for everyone’s attention.

  Sara had told Chelsea that the man could have been a movie star. He had long, dark hair that was secured at his nape. Leather pants highlighted his strong muscles, and a short-sleeved black T-shirt revealed a tattoo she couldn’t quite make out.

  Some Doms and Dommes urged their subs to their knees for the announcement. Those instructed verbally or through hand commands knelt without complaint. She understood what he was trying to say. No one appeared to rebel against the indignity the way she instinctively had.

  “We’re celebrating Master Alexander’s birthday tonight,” Master Damien said. He nodded to a server, and the woman pushed a rolling cart into the living room. A half-sheet cake was ablaze with dozens of candles. He began to sing the birthday song—too bad Master Evan C wasn’t in the room—and others joined in.

  As everyone applauded, Master Alexander blew out the candles. And because she figured he wouldn’t make a wish, she did.

  “Chelsea will be helping to serve the cake,” Master Alexander announced.

  She frowned at him.

  “Let’s see how much you really want to be a sub,” he said, looking at her.

  She sucked at cake cutting. She could never get the pieces to stand up, and she always ended up with frosting all over her hands.

  “Try it with a smile,” he added.

  The woman who’d wheeled in the cake offered her a huge knife. As Chelsea accepted the pearlescent handle, the other woman disposed of the candles. The same man who’d brought her wine earlier carried over a stack of plates.

  After cutting some mostly straight lines, she picked up the cake spatula and transferred the corner piece onto a plate.

  “Take it to Master Alexander,” the woman advised.

  Right. Chelsea was supposed to wait on him since he was the birthday boy. She picked up a plate.

  “Don’t forget the fork and a napkin.”

  She took the plate to him, and she hid her snarl behind a smile.

  “Try again,” he said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Watch.” He gestured to the woman server.

  As she moved towards Master Damien, she kept her head tipped. She extended the plate and, when he accepted, she offered the fork and napkin as one package.

  Chelsea scowled. She’d never noticed all that before.

  “Keep watching.”

  The woman gave a brief, barely noticeable curtsy.

  “Seriously? You expect me to do that?”

  “You would receive this kind of instruction as part of your training.”

  Cheeks burning with humiliation, she carried the plate back.

  Now that Masters Damien and Alexander had been taken care of, the help began to offer cake to the rest of the guests.

  A bald man, apparently of some sort of Mediterranean heritage, was standing near the tray, arms folded across his chest. His shoulders and chest were massive, and she wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he played professional football. Or maybe he made a living as a bouncer.

  “No one is paying any attention to you.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Almost everyone here is with a sub, or they’ve been around the lifestyle for years. All subs have their behaviour corrected from time to time. It’s totally natural.” He smiled and set her at ease. “I’m Gregorio,” he said. “I work with Master Damien here, and I take care of the Den. It’s my job to ensure everything runs smooth.”

  “And that includes reassuring wannabe subs?”

  His silver earring winked in the overhead light. “My jobs are many and varied.”

  “I’m not even his sub. I just want him to train me.”

  “So he’s seeing if you’re worth the effort?”

  “He turned me down.”

  “Obviously, he’s intrigued. You found a way to get an invite to a private party to meet him. Don’t give up easily
, unless you’ve decided it’s not for you. In that case, move on and find someone who shares your kink.”

  She nodded.

  “Are you planning to take the cake back to him?”

  After thinking about it for a few seconds, she softly sighed and said, “Yes.”

  “Are you right-handed?”

  “I am.”

  “In that case, I recommend you carry the plate in your left hand. Wrap the napkin around the fork and carry those in your right hand. Keep your head down, gaze lowered. At this point, he won’t be expecting you to kneel. Concentrate on the pleasure he will receive from your service. Offer the fork and napkin first, and then seamlessly transfer the plate to your right hand so you have no awkwardness. The most important thing with service is to think about things ahead of time, plan them out, but have the room to be flexible if your Dom desires it.”

  “What about that little bow thing?”

  “You can manage something, I’m sure. Bonus points if you use the term Sir or Master Alexander when you address him.”

  “Right now, I’m not sure I can remember my own name.”

  “That’s why you need to concentrate on him, not yourself. Don’t overthink,” he added. “Try to be natural. You will screw up. Everyone does. Just accept the correction without taking it personally. As I’m sure Master Alexander has already advised, give yourself over to the experience of pleasing your Dom. Get out of your own way, allow someone else be the centre of your universe. If you’re a submissive, you’ll be fulfilled from pleasing him. It’s not for everyone. It’s not for most people.”

  Before she could thank him, he had moved off. Surreptitiously she watched another server. Cake was offered one way to Doms, and a little less formally to subs. Some Doms ate and refused a piece on behalf of their sub. One server was directed to place a plate on the floor for a sub. And as Gregorio had said, no one seemed to notice. The blonde sub held her hair back from face and began to eat. Her Domme placed the spiked heel of her boot on the girl’s shoulder while she ate her own dessert.

  Everyone had been telling her the same thing. Submission wasn’t for everyone. The more she saw, the more she questioned the path she’d set for herself. Other people seemed to think this was normal, when it seemed anything but to her.

  But then Master Evan C entered the room, electrifying it with his energy. The woman he’d been to the dungeon with looked beautiful with her smile and tracks from tears staining her cheeks. She walked over to the tray and carefully selected a plate for him. If others could find pleasure in this, so could Chelsea.

  Doubly resolved, she straightened her spine and moved back towards Master Alexander, her gaze cast downwards. She focused on the act of serving him, ignoring the little voice protesting what she was doing. “Happy birthday, Sir,” she said, following Gregorio’s directions.

  “Thank you,” he replied. “But I’ve changed my mind about having cake.”

  She bit back her instinctive curse. “Of course, Sir.”

  “I’ve decided I’d rather give you a birthday spanking.”

  Chapter Two

  “We need to get a few formalities out of the way,” Alex told her once she returned to him. He thumbed back his hat and looked down at her. He’d been impressed by her reaction when he’d refused the plate. She’d blinked, and she’d given a small sigh, but she hadn’t protested. Her behaviour hadn’t been exemplary, but for a neophyte, it wasn’t awful.

  Now, she stood in front of him, a little farther away than he would normally permit, but he understood that his words had shocked her and she needed to keep a bit of a physical distance between them. He continued, “For the moment, I want you to look at me as we’re talking. I want to be very sure you understand what I’m telling you.”

  Part of him wondered what the hell he was thinking. He’d stopped training over two years ago. Even when he’d done a fair amount of it, he’d only worked with subs who already had prior experience. He’d only been approached by a sub one other time. In her heart, her soul, every part of her being, Liz had said she was committed to the lifestyle, but she’d really been more of a masochist. Training had been a constant, and wearing, battle. She hadn’t just wanted to be the perfect sub, she’d wanted to be beaten. The harder, the better. Though he’d fallen in love with her, her constant misbehaviour had devoured their relationship. There was never a time she hadn’t been goading him.

  The dissolution of their bond had devastated him, and in the past two years, he’d been selective with whom he’d played. He took no one home, and he formed no physical or emotional attachments. Not that he would have had the time, even if he’d had the inclination.

  Chelsea had mentioned the Bartholomew scandal. And sometimes it seemed that everyone who lived in North America had heard of it. He, Gavin and their team had given months of due diligence. But one of their employees had overlooked some accounting irregularities, leading to devastating results for Monahan’s clients.

  Damien, a friend for years, and one of the investors who had lost big in the scandal, had organised Alex’s birthday party and presented it as a fait accompli. He had insisted there were no hard feelings. Business was business. Sometimes a deal went south.

  Now that he’d met Chelsea, he was grateful for his friend’s generosity and glad to be back at the Den after an eighteen-month absence.

  She was refreshing. Bold. Brazen. Unable to comprehend the word no. She made him forget his problems, and he knew time with her was exactly what he needed.

  In general, he liked women with a few more curves than she had. He preferred longer hair. And he demanded more honesty and respect. But he admired her bravado.

  She was at least five foot seven, even taller with the heels on. Her short blonde hair had chunks of dark highlighting, and the few curls that had escaped their clips lay on her forehead. But her green eyes snared and kept his interest. They were wide and expressive, and he could see her emotions revealed there.

  The way she sometimes worried her lower lip charmed him. In the time they’d been talking, she’d worked off most of her lipstick, making her appear vulnerable. He doubted she’d appreciate that observation.

  Although he had no intention of seeing her again past tonight, he could give her a taste of what she was really in for if she pursued her course of action. He understood why she’d want Evan C as a client, but frankly he thought the self-absorbed rocker was a wannabe and never-gonnabe. Evan C lacked discipline and vision, though he demanded that of the subs he played with. Still, the man had natural talent and, Alex supposed, that could sustain him as a cover band for some time.

  But if Chelsea thought getting a little instruction would help her capture and keep Evan C’s interest, she was wrong.

  Subs were born, not made, and he’d observed her internal struggle when she’d served him cake, then he’d irritated and confused her when he’d refused her offering. She sure as sunrise hadn’t appreciated being bent over, her pert rear exposed to the world, while he greeted guests. He saw her commitment, but his money was on her failing, no matter who she found to train her. She might enjoy whips, bondage and blindfolds, but subjugating her will would be a challenge, if not impossible.

  Now that the formalities were out of the way, the party began in earnest. Evan C and his band moved into the sunroom and picked up the instruments that had been set up earlier. People spilled out onto the patios. One had a fire burning in a brick pit, another was warmed by several kerosene heaters. Several people headed for the dungeon. And that left him all but alone in the living room with the headstrong Chelsea Barton.

  “You mean you’ve changed your mind about training me?” she asked.

  “No.” He shook his head. “I’ve decided to let you be my birthday present for the evening, if you’re agreeable.”

  She sucked her lower lip between her teeth again. “Just know that I’ll be trying to change your mind. I will want to spend real time with you learning how to please a Dom.”

  He grinned. �
�And I’ll be trying to convince you to give up your quest. You’re not a sub. Tonight will prove it.”

  She stuck out her hand.

  The gesture startled him, but he accepted. They shook hands, and he noticed she once again had a determined tilt to her chin. They hadn’t known each other an hour, but he was already familiar with it. Game on. He released her. “First of all, you will address me as Sir. You may call me Master Alexander, but not Master.”

  “What’s wrong with calling you Master?”

  “It’s too confusing for someone as new as you. I’m not your Master. That speaks to a level of relationship we don’t have.”

  “I think you underestimate me.”

  “Maybe,” he conceded. “But that’s part of being a good sub.”

  She scowled. “What is?”

  “Following my rules, whether you like them or not, whether you agree with them or not.”

  “So I have to do everything you want?”

  “Of course.”

  She swallowed deeply.

  “Within reason,” he amended. “We’ll use a safe word, and I need to be aware of your limits.”

  “I really don’t know much about my limits,” she admitted, still looking up at him. “No permanent scars or markings, I suppose.”

  He respected that she hadn’t looked away. “Understood. We’ll learn about the rest of your limits together, then, through your safe word. Do you have one?”

  “Parsley.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “I hate the stuff.”

  “And you’ll remember that during distress?”

  “I remember to request it be left off my plate when I go out to eat. So yes, I’ll remember.”

  “If it works for you, we’ll use the word ‘slow’ if things are too much and you need a break.”

  She nodded.

  “The Den also has a safe word. Halt. Master Damien, Gregorio, or any guest will intervene if you use that word. Are you clear?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, Sir. Or yes, Master Alexander. From this moment forward, we are no longer equals, you and I. I am the Dom. You are the sub.”