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Once that was done and she had returned her cell to her bag, Master Damon asked, “Anything else you want to go over in the actual contract?”
There were probably things she should review and clarify but her brain was refusing to cooperate. “No, Sir.”
Master Damon nodded. “Okay. Good.” He regarded her with those cool sea-green eyes, his dark brows furrowing. “Just to be absolutely clear. I know one of the purposes of this whole auction thing is to help like-minded Doms and subs connect. Given that we have differing long-term goals, I’m still not entirely sure why The Enclave Doms decided to put us together.”
He held up a hand as if to forestall any protest.
“Don’t get me wrong—I’m fine with the arrangement. But I want you to understand that, as far as I’m concerned you still have a choice. If you want out, I get it. I’ll give you a ride wherever you want to go.”
Ellen stared at him, shocked and even a little insulted that he seemed so ready to let her go. Perversely, his apparent willingness to let her off the hook only made her more determined to stay. No matter what happened, or didn’t happen, this was a great opportunity to experience full-on, immersive erotic slavery. She didn’t need to focus on the long term. Better to stay in the moment.
“No,” she said emphatically. “No, Sir. I don’t want out.”
“Good.” He flashed a brief smile. “Neither do I.” He twisted toward her. “Face me,” he commanded.
As Ellen shifted toward him, Master Damon reached out and placed his large hand around her throat as he’d done the night before. The barbed-wire tattoo around his bicep rippled as he gripped her. He didn’t squeeze, but his hold was absolute.
Heat sluiced through her body, her nipples tingling, her heart hammering. She forgot to breathe as she stared into his eyes, unable to look away.
His voice deepened. “Just so we’re crystal clear—you’re mine for the next seven days. No hard limits, no exit door. Got it?”
“Yes, Sir,” she managed, barely able to hear her own voice over the roar of her blood in her ears. “I understand.”
“Good.” Abruptly, he let her go.
Ellen gasped in a breath of air, her hand fluttering to her throat. Her nipples were throbbing, her clit pulsing.
Master Damon tilted his head, an amused, knowing smile lifting one side of his mouth as he watched her struggle to regain her composure.
“We’re agreed, then. A few clarifications. First, I don’t care if you call me Master Damon or Sir or just plain old Damon. That’s up to you. Second, you don’t have to wait for permission to speak. If you have something to say, just say it.”
Ellen frowned as she took this in. The Enclave Masters were big on protocol. She would never have dreamed of calling any of them by their first names without the honorific, nor could she imagine just blurting out whatever came into her head.
He’s not an Enclave Master, she reminded herself. He’s his own man.
“Yes, Sir,” she replied.
“Once you sign, I will take total control of your body. That means you don’t use the toilet without permission, don’t eat or drink without permission, never, ever masturbate unless expressly ordered to do so for my amusement. I’ll decide when and how you bathe and groom yourself. The only caveat is that you may use the bathroom without my permission if I’m asleep. Ditto getting a drink of water in the middle of the night, or a cup of coffee in the morning.”
“I understand, Sir.” She was pleased with his sensible caveat. A good Dom never made rules that might go against a slave’s basic needs. And coffee was definitely a basic need in Ellen’s book.
“Good. Obviously,” he continued, “you will be expected to serve me sexually in whatever way I wish, and without hesitation. Every orifice belongs to me. While I have no problem if you derive pleasure from what I do to you, you are not allowed to come unless I say so. We clear so far?”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied, wishing she could get control of her pulse, which was jumping wildly. Where was her submissive calm and poise? What was it about this man that so easily penetrated her usual defenses?
“I read on your profile that you take the pill for contraception. I assume you have a ready supply with you?
Another whoosh of heat radiated through Ellen’s core. It spread up over her chest and into her face. Damn it, why was she blushing like a novice trainee? It wasn’t like she hadn’t understood that sex would be an integral part of a one-on-one Master/slave contract. There was a reason all parties had had to present clean bills of health and indicate what forms of contraception they used. When Ellen had blithely selected “no condom necessary” on her profile, it had been just another box to check.
But now, alone in this secluded cabin with a Master she’d committed to serving for the next week, it was all too real. This tall, muscular, sexy man with the mysterious scar and the barbed-wire tattoo was going to fuck her, whenever and however he wished.
She ducked her head to hide her continuing blush. “Yes, Sir.”
Still facing her, Master Damon reached out, this time gripping her chin with thumb and forefinger. He gently forced her to lift her head. An amused smile still ghosted his lips. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a newbie at this. What’s with all the blushing and hiding your face?”
Ellen swallowed, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “My apologies, Sir,” she managed. “I’m just, um, a little nervous.”
“I get it. And I understand you can’t control your blush. But I do expect you to look at me when I’m speaking to you. You will not hide yourself from me in any way. Is that understood?”
