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“Yes, Sir,” she managed.
His voice gentled as he stroked a tendril of her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “You really need to calm down, Ellen. Relax. Breathe.”
Ellen managed to draw in a shaky breath.
“Better. I intend to use you hard, both sexually and during impact play. I’m aware of your reservations about certain types of play, and I’ll take them into consideration. But that doesn’t mean I’ll necessarily steer clear. I know you’re a highly trained submissive, but I plan to take you out of your comfort zone. If I want to tie you down and run a sharp blade along your throat or order you to cup your hands over the toilet so I can piss into them, that’s what I’ll do. While I’ll never harm you, I am going to hurt you. Do you understand?”
Holy shit. If that was supposed to help her calm down, it had the opposite effect. Yet it wasn’t only fear driving her reaction. If she was totally honest, she was thrilled to her bones by his seizing total control of the experience. The Enclave training had pushed her boundaries but the focus had been different—more on grace and obedience. While the experience had been intense and valuable, it hadn’t been personal.
“Yes, Sir,” she squeaked.
Master Damon’s cell had fallen to the sofa between them. He picked it up and scrawled his signature at the bottom of the screen with his finger. Then he held the phone out to her.
She took it, drawing on her grace to steady herself. Hand shaking slightly, she signed the contract with a fingertip and gave the phone back to him.
Master Damon slipped it into his jeans pocket. “Kneel on the rug facing me, hands behind your back.”
He waited until she was in position. Then he said, “I plan to use the rest of today to get a better sense of you as a slave. I want to more fully explore your ability to tolerate erotic pain, how well you follow commands, how skilled and responsive you are sexually, how well trained you are in anticipating and serving my needs.”
These were all things Ellen had expected. It made sense her Master would want to learn more about his slave’s limits and abilities before moving forward.
“During the course of the week,” he continued, “I plan to introduce a daily theme. One day might be focused solely on erotic torture, really pushing you to the very limit of what you can handle. The next day might be spent exploring hardcore sex of every variety. Another day might focus on erotic humiliation. The next on intensive bondage. Another on sensory deprivation. I might share you with others, if it amuses me to do so. You are, after all, my property to do with as I will. You good with all that, slave?”
As multiple possible scenarios unspooled in Ellen’s mind, she experienced both thrilled anticipation and acute anxiety. She bit her lip, her hands gripping each other tightly as she struggled to maintain outward control.
She adored erotic pain and craved the feel of rope, leather and chain binding her. She was fairly confident in her abilities to please a man sexually, but “hardcore sex of every variety” sounded more than a little daunting. And erotic humiliation had always been difficult for her, as was sensory deprivation.
But that was the nature of submission, she reminded herself. It transcended mere sexual masochism. The ultimate goal and the ultimate fulfillment came in pleasing her Master, over and above pleasing herself. While she’d hoped for a connection that would last more than a single week, she would use the time with this sexy, powerful Dom to delve deeper into her own submissive psyche. In the process, she would do her very best to serve and obey.
“Yes, Master Damon,” she replied, pleased her voice came out calmer than she felt inside. “Thank you, Sir.”
A lazy smile curved his lips. “Don’t thank me too soon, little girl.”
He rose from the couch. Bending toward her, he placed his hand on her head. Coiling his fingers in her hair, he gripped a handful, using it to haul her to her feet. “Let’s go see the rest of this place.”
His hand still wrapped in her hair, he led her to the back of the room. They looked first through the doorway on the left. It opened into a bedroom with just enough space for a four-poster queen-sized bed and a wardrobe. There was a small nightstand beside the bed, the lamp on it already lit. A small bathroom adjoined the space.
The second room elicited a low whistle from Master Damon. “Sweet,” he breathed.
Ellen’s mouth fell open as she took it all in. Not that she should have been surprised. This was still part of The Enclave compound, after all. They were looking at a first-rate dungeon, including a St. Andrew’s cross, a spanking bench, a punishment horse and a suspension rack. There was a bondage table set near the back of the room, a mirror affixed to the ceiling above it. Yoga mats were distributed around the floor.
Ellen sucked in her breath at the sight of the horizontal steel stockade set up near the back wall. A motorized fuck machine was positioned behind the stockade, its long cord already plugged into a wall socket. A huge black dildo covered in clear plastic film was attached to the plunger. She looked quickly away. Sex toys always made her a little nervous. Motorized ones made her a lot nervous.
She focused instead on the pleasing array of BDSM paraphernalia that hung on a steel peg board mounted on the wall at the back of the room. There were whips, canes, rope and various shackles and restraints. Raw desire zipped along her nerve endings.
“Go stand under the bondage rack, slave,” Master Damon commanded. “I’m going to help you relax.”
Chapter 6
Standing about six and a half feet high, the black triangle-legged bondage rack resembled a small swing set, minus the swings. Instead, Velcro wrist cuffs hung conveniently from the top bar on adjustable chains.
“Stand with your legs shoulder-width apart. Lift your arms over your head so I can cuff your wrists,” Damon directed.
Ellen raised her arms obediently but he could feel her nervous tension. Ever since they’d arrived at the cabin—no, even before that—ever since she’d met him in the mudroom, Ellen had become a bundle of nerves. While the sadist in him took pleasure in her erotic fear, the Dom in him wanted to help her relax.
After he’d cuffed her wrists and adjusted the chains, he moved to stand directly in front of her. Her slender arms were pulled taut by the restraints, her breasts lifted high by the position. Her head was down, her eyes focused on the floor.
Cupping her breasts in his hands, he pressed them together. Letting them drop, he reached for her nipples. He gripped them lightly at first, stroking and lightly tweaking them until they hardened.
