On His Terms (10 page)

In retrospect, the kneeling, being in the posture collar, having her hands secured, even the spanking wasn’t all bad. He’d never hurt her, and even at his roughest, he’d ensured her safety, and he’d talked to her the entire time.

He had been right when he said that everything she experienced was coloured by her perceptions. The thick leather collar was only bad if she allowed it to be. It hadn’t been all that uncomfortable to wear. He’d made sure it wasn’t too tight, and the inside was lined so it didn’t chafe her skin. She’d been able to rest her chin on the top.

She wondered how different their scene might have been if she had stopped the internal struggle. At most, she would have been confined in it for a couple of hours, and if luck held, she might have ended up with an earth-shattering orgasm.

She moved the showerhead down her body, from her chest to her belly, then between her legs. She used one hand to part her pussy folds. Tonight’s interaction had left her with raw feelings. She hadn’t become very aroused. There were times—like when he entered the living room and she was naked near the fireplace, that she was aware of him, his proximity, his masculine power—that she’d started to be a little turned on. But then he’d kept himself remote.

The realisation stunned her.

She’d been hoping for something different. Even that night at the Den, she’d hated it when he seemed impersonal with her, and she had told him so. But at the end of the evening he’d fucked her. The connection had soothed her and made everything else okay.

At his house, that had been missing.

She didn’t want him to interact with her as if she were just any random woman. She’d seen the way he treated Brandy. And Chelsea wanted something more meaningful. Heaven help her, she’d wanted sex, hugs, even caresses.

Some of her previous boyfriends would be shocked by that admission. She’d always hated to snuggle. One man had called her cold, another had said she was standoffish.

So now what?

She wanted Master Evan C. Master Alexander wasn’t interested in her.

In order to be successful at training, she knew she would have to keep the relationship with Master Alexander professional, as if he were any other teacher. That he saw her nude and could do almost anything with her body was beside the point.

She continued to move the showerhead between her legs. She turned the dial so that the water pulsed, rather than sprayed, and she teased her clit with the warmth and the pressure.

The orgasm she’d wanted loomed out of reach. She rose onto the balls of her feet and clenched her buttocks, striving for completion.

She needed pressure on her nipples, she realised. And with the way she was using the showerhead, there was no way to do that.

A minute or so later, she gave up in frustration. Until he’d introduced her to the more extreme BDSM, she’d been able to get off easily. Now she wanted exquisite sensations everywhere.

The water ran cold, and she turned off the faucet.

After drying off, she took the tube of arnica from her purse and crossed the bedroom to stand in front of the cheval mirror.

The welts were almost all gone. But there was one that still looked a bit raw. She squirted ointment onto her fingertip and then dabbed it on the red mark.

Her breath caught as she recalled the way he’d picked her up and deposited her across his lap. He’d been perfunctory in his punishment, but it hadn’t been brutal. He hadn’t expected an apology, rather, he’d encouraged her to consider what caused her to react the way she had.

She recapped the tube and froze, recalling the way he’d treated her at the Den. No one had ever tormented her breasts the way he had, and she had liked having them distended. The exquisite line between pain and pleasure had made her orgasms so powerful.

Chelsea told herself she should go to bed. Instead, she put on a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt and buried herself in housework, trying to ignore the truth that was nagging at her—she wanted to continue her training.

But she couldn’t fault him for being frustrated, even if he insisted she’d never disappointed him. He had done his part, and she’d shown up without practising anything that would make her a good sub.

She recalled the way Brandy had knelt at the Den, and the way she’d executed his commands. The woman hadn’t questioned anything, and she hadn’t blushed with embarrassment when he’d issued orders. Instead, she’d moved from position to position with confidence. And Chelsea knew that mastery came from practice.

Why had she thought submission to be anything different from anything else she’d ever learnt?

She might decide he was right, that it wasn’t for her, and that she should be satisfied with an occasional scene. There had been moments during her times with Master Alexander when she’d felt at peace, when she’d harnessed her mind and stayed in the moment, which was a real change from the way she spent the rest of her life.

Since it was late, probably too late to call him, she decided to do the one thing she knew would please him and test her commitment. Despite the fact she was tired and more than a little sexually frustrated, she set an alarm on her phone for twenty minutes.

She knelt, then practised moving between the positions he’d taught her, from kneeling up to standing, from kneeling back to inspect. After a few minutes, the repetition became uncomfortable. Her muscles started to fatigue, and she glanced at the timer.
Damn.
She was only halfway through.

Drawing on the same determination that had got her this far in life, she kept going.

With five minutes to go, she realised how badly her body hurt, and she was thinking of all the other things she could do be doing, like a load of laundry, paying some bills, making a grocery list, even getting some much-needed sleep. Not that insomnia wouldn’t keep her awake, regardless.

But instead of giving in and quitting, she harnessed her runaway thoughts. She pictured him, his legs spread in a commanding way. Then she imagined him ordering her onto her back so he could lick her cunt.

She stumbled.

The man had the power to discombobulate her, even when he wasn’t there. She should have conjured that image while she had been in the shower. The orgasm would have been there for sure.

By the time the alarm rang, she was sweating. She had to give credit to Brandy. The woman had made things look easy As Chelsea had just learnt, it took a lot of work to make elegance appear effortless.

The next morning, she got up a little early so she could practise before going to the office. And at her lunch break, she gathered up all her courage and telephoned Master Alexander.

He answered on the first ring.

“You were right,” she said before he could say anything beyond hello.

“About what, in specific?”

His voice, so rough, so sexy, made her toes curl in her pumps. “I was being a control freak, questioning everything.” She left out the bit that he’d been too impersonal with her. Admitting that would be far too difficult. And clouding their arrangement with emotional need wouldn’t be good for either of them. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I want to continue my training, if you’ll have me.”

“I don’t give a lot of second chances.” His tone was flat and less than encouraging.

She continued on, regardless. “I don’t blame you.” She paced back and forth in front of her office window. “But I’m asking.” She took a breath and stood still. “Please.”

“What changed your mind?”

She should have realised this wouldn’t be easy, that he’d ask dozens of questions. “I did a lot of thinking last night. I do want to get Master Evan C’s attention. But I want to experience this for my sake, as well. There’s something appealing about giving up control. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I found it somewhat relaxing, after I got past my thoughts and accepted the experience.”

He remained silent for so long she thought he might not answer. When he did, she felt as if he’d sucked all the enthusiasm from her veins. “I expect you to practice your positions every day for half an hour. Some days you should wear lingerie and heels. Other times, you should be naked. I also expect you to get checked out by a physician and be prepared to show me the test results. If you can manage all that without complaint for a week, and
if
you’re still interested, contact me again.”

Without another word, he ended the call.

In shock, she stared at the blank screen.

Traffic passed by and she barely noticed it. She’d been prepared for him to say no or to accept her back with a punishment. But she hadn’t been prepared for a conditional yes.

She hated being tested. She’d made her decision. Why the hell couldn’t he forgive her?

Frustration bubbling inside her, she resumed pacing. Then, realising that wasn’t helping to dispel the agitation gnawing at her, she dropped her phone on her desk. She took her seat and drew several steadying breaths. The maddening, irritating man always gave her plenty of opportunity to work on schooling her thoughts, which, she supposed, was part of being a good sub. And that was exactly his point.

She’d heard in his tone that he expected her to fail.

And that was not an option.

Every day for the next week, she did as he’d instructed. After getting out of bed, she went through the motions for fifteen minutes. She did the same for a quarter of an hour after work, no matter how late she got in or how exhausted she was. And because every part of her ached, she soaked in the hot tub every day.

The first couple of days, she’d had difficulty reining in her thoughts. Then it had become somewhat easier. By the last part of the week, she’d been able to go through the paces with a certain amount of grace and a whole lot less of a brain fuck.

This time when she called him, she got his voicemail. She sighed with frustration as she listened to his greeting, but she put a smile on her face—a technique she’d learnt at a sales training event—and left a pleasant message.

All day, she jumped every time her phone rang. And she even checked the screen several times, even though she knew for a fact it had been silent. That night, when she was in bed, he finally telephoned. She exhaled a few times to steady herself before answering. “Good evening, Sir.” It amazed her how the words themselves made her feel calmer.

“You’re certain you want to continue forward?”

“I am, Sir.”

“Tell me why.”

“I want to learn. In fact, I already am learning to quiet my thoughts. It’s surprising to me, but I’m more focused at work, and I am feeling more creative.”

“You realise I will be able to tell right away if you’re telling the truth about any of this.”

She gritted her teeth. “Of course, Sir.”

“And this is your last chance. I will not accept you back again after this.”

Her heart leapt into her throat. “This means you are accepting me back?”

“For two weeks,” he said. “And only if I see significant improvement in your attitude and proof that you’ve done what you said you have.”

She refused to challenge him, another first for her. Instead, she said, “Thank you.” She ignored the fact her hand was shaking. Until he’d agreed, she hadn’t realised just how important his answer was. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Do you remember where I live?”

“It’s still programmed into my navigation system, Sir.”

“Are you available to start tomorrow evening?”

“I am, Sir.”

“Very well. Six o’clock?”

She tossed back the blankets and climbed from bed. “Is there anything specific I should wear?”

“You’ll be naked the moment the door closes behind you, so it doesn’t matter.”

When she didn’t respond right away, he asked, “Question?”

“I presume you’ll open the door and then I’ll strip?” She started to pace, a habit she’d picked up since she’d started seeing him.

“Let yourself in, remove your clothing, and wait by the fireplace.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Have you been masturbating?”

Heat chased through her body. “Not successfully,” she said. “I mean, I tried.” She stumbled through the admission while he remained silent. “I did, masturbate that is, with the showerhead.”

“And you didn’t climax?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good. From here forward, you will come only when I give permission.”

“I…” She trailed off and inhaled before saying, “Yes, Sir.”

“Being good doesn’t come easy to you, does it, Chelsea?”

“May I have permission to come tonight, Sir?”

“Absolutely not.”

Since he’d denied it, need crawled through her. Right now, she knew even the gentlest of touches against her clit would get her off. She could feel her pulse there, demanding. Confound him.

“Don’t be late, Chelsea.”

He said the last word with a soft inflection that made her heart stop. That had sounded personal, and her body reacted. “I will be there, Sir.”

In bed, she couldn’t get comfortable, and she was certain he had planned it that way. She was aware of the ache in her pussy that a simple touch would vanquish. Her breasts felt full, and she desperately wanted to play with her nipples.

She thumped her pillow into a different shape, and that didn’t help, either.

Finally, half an hour later, in abject frustration, she climbed out of bed and went through her paces again, while wearing her pyjamas. If she took off her clothes, she would be tempted to touch herself.

The act of thinking of her Dom rather than herself helped calm her.

As always, sleep eluded her. She thought wryly about the posture collar. Having her hands secured seemed like the best way to resist temptation. So she would just have to use willpower.

She turned on her side and shoved both hands beneath her head. She forced herself not to think about her upcoming time with Master Alexander, and instead, she counted sheep, something she hadn’t done since she was a child.

It must have worked because the alarm dragged her to a groggy consciousness. She hit the snooze button often enough that she was running late for an appointment with a potential new client. The coffeemaker took too long and she glared at it, as if that would hurry it along.