On His Terms Page 5

  The next thing? There’s more after that?

  “For example, the Dom’s birthday present.”

  “Of course, Sir.”

  “Assuming you still want to continue.”

  The more he goaded her, the more resolved she became. Even if she wasn’t able to convince him to train her, the things she’d already learnt would help her attract Master Evan C’s attentions. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Have you ever played with a flogger?”

  “At the parties I attended, yes. But I’m betting it was nothing like you mean.”

  She watched as he moved a small stool to the middle of the floor. Then he went to the far wall and lowered a pulley. It didn’t take her long to add up the facts. She was going to be standing on the stool and attached to the hook. As she’d guessed, this was nothing like the playtime she’d had with others.

  Her nerves skittered when he removed his bolo tie and hung it on the wall. His vest and shirt followed, and when he turned back towards her, she was even more aware of him as a man and as a formidable Dom. His chest was broad, and his biceps well defined. He had a small amount of dark chest hair that gave him a sexy edge. When she had fantasies, this was the type of guy who showed up centre stage.

  She vehemently disagreed with the little voice suddenly nagging her, informing her that he, rather than Evan C, was the right kind of man for her. Master Alexander was too brash and demanding. Besides, she definitely wasn’t the type of woman he would be attracted to.

  He helped her from the table. For a moment she was close, far too close, to his chest, to being in his arms.

  When he had been fully dressed, the atmosphere had felt somewhat instructional. Now sensuality simmered on the surface. He’d brought her to a rocking orgasm, and it wasn’t just because of what he’d done to her body. It was because of the connection that arced between them. She liked the touch of his strong fingers on her skin. His commanding tone of voice made her want to bend her knees.

  Music began to blare again, shattering the intimate air. She was grateful. It would be easy to forget she wanted to learn about submission so she could ensnare a different Dom.

  “I’m going to bind your wrists together and then attach you to that hook.”

  He confirmed what she suspected, and she nodded bravely.

  “I want you on your tiptoes, but I will do nothing that will compromise your safety.”

  “Meaning you won’t dislocate my shoulder, Sir?”

  He didn’t bother responding to that. “Since today is my thirty-third birthday and you graciously offered to accept my spanking on my behalf, I’m going to flog you thirty-three times. No part of you is off-limits.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean by that, Sir.”

  “This is a fairly lightweight implement, meant for beginners. You’ll feel an impact, for sure, but it won’t cut or sting overly much. I intend to whip your entire body, breasts, buttocks, thighs, calves, pussy, stomach.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He studied her for a moment before nodding. He selected a pair of cuffs—thankfully they were fabric, rather than metal—then fastened them around her wrists.

  “Onto the stool,” he said.

  Filled with trepidation, she took the big step up.

  Motions efficient, he attached the cuffs to the hook, then slowly hoisted her onto her toes. She was stretched farther than she ever had been before, and she felt the tension throughout her entire body.

  “How’s that?” he asked.

  “Tolerable, Sir.”

  “Good.” He double-checked all the rigging. “Parsley?”

  “Sir is a dreamer.” She expected the beating to begin immediately, but he shocked her by vigorously rubbing her legs, then her buttocks and arms. He used a much gentler pressure on her front, but he covered her entire body. “That’s nice, Sir.”

  “You’re welcome, sub.”

  He picked up a flogger, and it felt as if the room temperature dropped by at least ten degrees. It had been one thing to discuss it theoretically, another to have him approach with the wicked-looking strands dangling from his hand.

  “Ready?”

  She licked her lips. “Yes, Sir.” She wasn’t, but then she figured she probably never would be.

  “We’ll do the first fifteen on your back.”

  She willed him to get on with it.

  The first landed on her buttocks. She inhaled sharply, but didn’t protest. The anticipation had been worse than the actual hit.

  He placed the second at the small of her back.

  And then she was lost to the thuddy sensations. Back and forth, he caught her shoulders, her calves, her thighs, and the sensitive area beneath her ass cheeks. She jerked and occasionally cried out when he only caught her with the ends.

  Then suddenly, he stopped. Was that fifteen?

  “Your entire back is red,” he told her. “It looks beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “I’m glad you remembered your manners so we didn’t have to begin again.” He moved in front of her and shook out the strands. “Are you ready to continue?”

  She nodded. Watching him was so different from having him behind her. Seeing his eyes narrow as he selected the spot he intended to strike was frightening. The man was more focused and intent than anyone she’d ever met.

  When the strands connected with her belly, she closed her eyes. She was more relaxed when she wasn’t able to see what was going on.

  The strands bit at her breasts and curled around her sides. Her breathing became more and more laboured. She wasn’t sure if he was hitting harder, or whether her front was more sensitive than her back, or maybe it was psychological.

  “You’re doing well,” he told her. “You can do this. Relax your body. And your mind.”

  She opened her eyes. Earlier he’d mentioned that he was always watching her, and she now recognised how true that was. She could trust him.

  “Thank you, Sir.” She adjusted her stance and closed her eyes again.

  This time, when he flogged her breasts, she didn’t pull away.

  “Good, girl,” he said.

  His words soothed rather than annoyed her. She liked the criss-cross caress of the leather strands, and she knew her nipples had hardened. Now she understood why some people talked about flogging euphorically.

  “Open your eyes,” he said. “I think the sub likes to be flogged.”

  “Are you finished, Sir?”

  “Those fifteen are, yes.”

  “Oh. Thank you. You were right. I did enjoy that more than I thought possible.”

  “This wasn’t a punishment,” he said. “I assure you the flogger, especially crafted from something such as buffalo, feels quite different from this. The number of strands, their length and the way the Dom wields it changes the intensity, as well. Don’t assume all beatings are like this.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you for clarifying that.” She was getting the hang of the right verbiage. When he stood there, still flicking his wrist rather than letting her down, she frowned. Then she remembered. “You’re thirty-three today, Sir.” And he’d only hit her thirty times.

  “Ask for your last three.”

  “May I have them on my breasts, Sir?”

  “You may not. Spread your legs.”

  Goose bumps chased up her arms. He couldn’t mean…

  He stooped and moved her feet apart. Now she was frightened.

  “Ask me to whip your cunt. Give me a birthday present to remember.”

  Her tongue felt too big for her mouth. But she also knew that drawing this out wouldn’t help. “Please, Sir, whip my cunt.”

  “My pleasure, girl. And if you draw your thighs together, we’ll start over until we get three good ones in a row. Are you clear?”

  “Very clear, Sir.” In anticipation, she pressed the balls of her feet harder against the wood.

  The first shocked and seared. This was nothing like the ones he’d delivered to her breasts. The second was le
ss painful, and the last was so gentle that her scorched clitoris started to demand attention. Her pussy throbbed.

  He was a master all right, in every way. He’d turned her on with tails of leather.

  “Happy birthday, Master Alexander,” she said. “And thank you for giving me the gift.”

  “The gift was all mine,” he told her. “I’m going to lower you, and when I do, I want you to move slowly.”

  Her body felt leaden, and she shrugged to restore circulation as soon as she was able. All the while, she looked at him. His body was beautifully hewn, and she wanted him. “Sir, this may be untoward, but would you fuck me?”

  “It’s not a good idea to confuse training that way.”

  “But you’re not my trainer,” she pointed out. And she wanted to be taken hard, by a man as uncompromising as he was. He knew her body better than she did. “Sir.”

  He unfastened her wrists. “Chelsea—”

  “You’re the one who made me horny, Sir.”

  “Get on the table.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered. She didn’t smile until she was faced away from him. She perched on the edge of the table and studied him as he undressed.

  Deliciously, he was commando beneath the jeans. His pubic hair was well trimmed, and his cock jutted out. She’d been so caught up in her own sensations that she hadn’t seen how hard his cock was.

  And what a gorgeous cock it was. Big, thick and pulsing. The sight of a man’s penis had never made her salivate before. But then, she’d never wanted sex this badly, either.

  “Lie down,” he instructed while sheathing himself in a condom. “But keep your legs where they are. You’re going to be wrapping them around my waist.”

  There would be no doubt he’d be fucking her, rather than making love. His way of keeping the demarcation line between what they had and a relationship? Regardless, it worked for her. She wanted it raw.

  She lay back and spread her legs in invitation.

  “Is your pussy hot, girl?”

  It is now. His coarse language heightened the energy in her raging hormones.

  He moistened his thumb pad and pressed it against her clit. She arched up, wordlessly begging for more. And he gave it to her, rubbing her gently, then harder, then backing off again. “Yes, please, Sir.”

  Instead of taking her to completion, he guided his cockhead towards her entrance. She wrapped her legs around him, as much for balance as anything, as he forcefully took her.

  “Play with those pouty tits,” he said. “I want to see your expression. Make sure you squeeze your nipples hard or I’ll put a pair of clamps on them and yank on the chain so hard you’ll see stars.”

  He drove into her. There was nothing sweet or reserved about his claiming. She gasped from the depth. “Damn, Sir.”

  “Is this what you wanted, girl?”

  “It is!” It was. He filled her and satisfied the urge crawling through her veins.

  “It’s what I want, too,” he said, his voice husky with pleasure. That he was so vocal about being turned on increased her arousal.

  “Do me, Sir,” she pleaded.

  “My pleasure.”

  He thrust into her repeatedly, making her body jerk from the force. She played with her breasts and pinched her nipples. From the way he’d used her earlier, the tips were still swollen and sensitive, and that only heightened her need.

  When she was on the verge of an orgasm, he stopped.

  “Knees over my shoulders,” he instructed.

  Damn, how could he read her so well?

  He helped her into the position he wanted. “Perfect,” Master Alexander said. He leant forward, letting her body take his weight. It stretched her hamstrings unbelievably, and it permitted him in so deep she couldn’t draw a full breath.

  “Sir…”

  “All of me, girl. Take all of me.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He held her ankles tenderly, but pistoned his hips, and she screamed.

  The discomfort of being impaled so forcefully made her come. She hadn’t asked permission—she hadn’t been capable of it. The climax had claimed her so hard and fast, she was helpless.

  “Beautiful, my horny little cock slut,” he said, but the words held no threat of retribution. “There’s more.” After he released the grip he’d had on her ankles, he brushed her hands aside and pinched her nipples as he continued to ride her.

  “I apologise, Sir. I—” Her scream swallowed the rest of the words. The exquisite agony he inflicted, combined with the relentless, deep pounding, made her come again.

  Chelsea was lost.

  He groaned as he fucked her. It felt impossibly hard to her, and so very sexy. Their gazes collided and she saw raw desire there. Then he closed his eyes and gave a deep guttural moan. That she had that kind of power over him intoxicated her. As he ejaculated, his dick got bigger, and the penetration was deeper than ever. It hurt, but it felt good at the same time.

  More considerate than any lover she’d been with, he released her breasts and played with her clit to bring her off one more time. She came so hard that she forced out his semi-hard penis.

  “Stay there,” he said.

  As if she could move, even if he ordered her to.

  Realising she was panting, she took a steadying breath.

  He removed the condom and quickly cleaned up, then returned with a cool washcloth to soothe and cleanse her pussy. “Thank you, Sir.” She’d never had a man do this before. And she liked it.

  He offered his hand to help her up. “You’ve made this a memorable birthday. Thank you.”

  She was satiated. And more determined than ever to get this man to agree to train her. She just needed a plan.

  Chapter Four

  “Chelsea did what?” Alex asked, sitting back in his chair and looking out of the window towards the foothills. Damien’s call had surprised Alex, but his gut-twisting reaction to the news stunned him.

  “She called Niles,” Damien repeated unnecessarily.

  On the surface, that wasn’t a bad idea. At one time, Niles had been as well-known as he was respected in the community. Since the death of his wife, he’d become reclusive. He participated in some scenes filmed at the Den, but he saw no one beyond professional models and actresses. Just like Alex, Niles had an edge to him. But Niles was rougher, more remote. Some wondered if he was capable of emotional attachment. Alex shoved away the unwelcome idea that the same description could apply to him.

  “Niles turned her down,” Damien continued. “But he gave her several recommendations.”

  She wouldn’t be deterred. Alex should have realised that and not ended the evening the way he had, by wishing her well in her endeavours. She wanted to snag Evan C, and so would recklessly pursue any path that got her there. It didn’t matter that he’d refused to train her, she would find someone, anyone who would. And not everyone could be trusted. Foolish girl. “Thanks for the heads-up,” he said.

  Before ending the call, he updated Damien on a couple of their investments, one that was doing as well as expected, one that was performing better than anticipated. They didn’t make up for the colossal failure of the Bartholomew deal, but it was a start. He was pursuing other opportunities, but before he said anything, he and Gavin would be triple-checking all the details.

  Alex slid his cell phone onto the desktop and stared at the sunset. At least this was one good thing about their recent move to the less expensive address. Their Cherry Creek offices had lacked the view that the Denver West area provided.

  He thought about Chelsea, just like he had done every night this week. He’d enjoyed playing with her, introducing her to things she’d never tried before, seeing what made her nervous, then pushing her past those apprehensions.

  Since Liz, he’d spent his nights alone. Until Chelsea, he’d had no desire to change that.

  The idea of her going through all the Doms in Denver pissed him off. She could be hurt. And damn it, he wanted to be the one to watch
her green eyes open wide, to soothe her brow when she was frightened, to teach her proper decorum. If she was so desperate to be trained, he would be the one to do it.

  He picked up his phone and scrolled through the contacts list until he found the number for Sara’s Dom. Within five minutes he had Chelsea on the line. “Round one to you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You win,” he conceded.

  “Does this mean you’re agreeable to training me?”

  He heard excitement in her tone. Not just triumph, but honest enthusiasm. She might have won, but if she was gloating, she was disguising it well. “I’ll give you two weeks. Are you available in the evenings and on the weekends?”

  “There are a couple of events that I need to attend, but mostly I can rearrange my schedule, Sir.”

  “I recommend we start tomorrow.”

  “That works.”

  “Dinner? Six o’clock.”

  “That works,” she said.

  He named a restaurant near his office. “Wear a short skirt, heels, no undergarments. And pack an overnight bag in case you decide to stay. Any questions?”

  There was silence. “How much will this cost me?”

  “I don’t charge.”

  “In that case, I’ll make a charitable donation in the name of Monahan Capital.”

  He exhaled. She might not be a masochist like Liz had been, but that didn’t mean he would have the patience he needed to deal with her annoying persistence. “Don’t be late.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He half expected her to call and try to change the arrangements, and he was pleasantly surprised when she didn’t. He arrived at the restaurant five minutes early, and she was already there. Impressive. She was sitting on a bench, her impossibly long legs crossed. Her back was hunched slightly, as if she were trying to hide the fact her breasts were bare beneath the loose-knit sweater. Her beauty was startling, and he was man enough to notice and appreciate it.

  He’d prefer to see her present her body more proudly, and they’d be working on that. The next time they dined in public, her behaviour would be different.

  With the artificial, calculating smile he recognised from the first time she approached him at the Den, she stood and offered her hand, as if he were a business associate. He ignored her hand and said, “I’d prefer you to kiss my cheek.”