Page 18 of Under His Control

It took Ellen a moment to switch gears. “Um, if it pleases you, Sir.”

All at once he was beside her. He gripped her throat, using it to haul her to her feet. “I didn’t ask whether it pleases me.” He squeezed. “I asked if you want to come?”

Her throbbing nipples, his hand on her throat, his sudden reassertion of his dominant control had had the combined effect of reducing her to pure lust.

“Yes, please, Sir,” she begged, instantly flashing back to his warm, wet mouth against her sex.

Abruptly, he let her go. As she stumbled back, he said, “Get down on the floor and make yourself come, cunt. No need to ask permission. You have sixty seconds.”

Chapter 8

Ellen stared at Damon in apparent incomprehension, her dark blue eyes wide, color high on her cheeks. He cocked a brow as he lifted his wrist and tapped the screen of his watch to bring up the timer.

“Sixty seconds,” he said, starting the clock.

With a sharp intake of breath, Ellen dropped to the floor and lay on her back, her hair fanning out on the hardwood. She put her fingers in her mouth and then brought her hand to her cunt, her legs splaying open. Squeezing her eyes tight, she rubbed herself in a rapid, circular motion.

Damon’s cock instantly stiffened to a full erection at the erotic display. Reaching into the waist of his jeans, he adjusted himself. He kept his hand curled around his shaft as he watched her feverishly pleasure herself.

A glance at his watch told him thirty seconds had already passed. Her breath had quickened to a pant. He thought about commanding her to open her eyes and look at him as she came but decided to cut her a break. She was clearly trying her damnedest to obey and that distraction would no doubt set her back.

He was curious if she’d actually manage to climax in the allotted time. If not, would she fake it? Somehow, he didn’t think she would do that. In the brief time he’d known her, he already had the strong impression Ellen was a straight shooter. She did want to please him, but not at the expense of honesty.

“Ten seconds left,” he advised, pulling his hand from his pants as he silently rooted for her.

Her eyes flew open at the warning. Her brows furrowed as she caught her lower lip in her teeth, her concentration intense. She made small, sensual chuffing sounds, her fingers flying over her slick, swollen folds. Even so, he could already tell she wasn’t going to make it.

The timer dinged.

“Stop,” he said firmly. “Hands at your sides.”

Her face crumpled in dismay, a soft sigh escaping her lips. But she did as she was told.

“You didn’t come, did you.” He made it a statement, rather than a question.

“I almost—” She cut herself off. “No, Sir,” she replied in a low voice, her eyes flitting away from his. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“What happens at The Enclave when a slave is given a direct command and she fails to obey?”

She drew in a breath, her eyes now meeting his. “She gets punished, Sir.”

He waited a beat, then said, “I’m not going to punish you, Ellen.”

Relief washed over her features but also… what? Disappointment?

He nodded thoughtfully as he regarded her. She’d been trained at The Enclave. She’d probably been given tasks like this that weren’t entirely dependent on will. And she’d probably been punished for her failures, regardless of her good intentions. No doubt, The Enclave was her baseline for “how things were done.”

But he wasn’t an Enclave Dom. He was still feeling his way with this slave girl, but it would be his way on his terms.

He thought back to those first few weeks at West Point when he’d been a brand-new cadet, all shiny-eyed and eager to join the elite ranks of the esteemed military college. It was during “Beast Barracks,” West Point’s equivalent of boot camp, that he’d seen firsthand how destructive the wrong sort of training could be.

Most of their commanding officers, including those brought in from outside the college, were top notch. But Sergeant Oganowski had been one of those bullies with a chip on his shoulder about “the elitist bastards” at West Point—privileged rich boys who didn’t have what it took to work their way up the ranks, as he had.

As bullies often do, Oganowski had singled out a shy, nervous cadet named John Hanson to torment. Only a few days into their training, he’d ordered Hanson to assemble and disassemble his rifle blindfolded within an unrealistically short time frame. It was an impossible task, especially for a new recruit. When Hanson had inevitably failed to complete the task in the time allotted, Oganowski had forced him to do calisthenics while verbally berating and belittling him until Hanson had actually thrown up and then collapsed from overexertion. All he’d taught Hanson, and indeed, the rest of the cadets, was to hate and fear him.

Pulling himself back to the moment, Damon explained, “I’m not going to punish you for failing because I haven’t yet established your sexual capabilities. Some people, women especially, need more stimulation to achieve orgasm. And while I’m confident I can train you to come on command, I don’t believe in punishing someone who is trying their very best to obey. You tried your best, am I right?”

“Yes, Sir. But it’s—” Again she cut herself off. “Yes, Sir,” she repeated instead.

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