by Multiple
Master of Desire
A Domination And Submission Romance Anthology
His every touch an imprint, His every word a potent command. To become His—both body and soul—is not to be owned. It is to be truly accepted. To belong. Only a precious few know the ecstasy of giving themselves over to the ultimate Dom.
Ten bestselling domination and submission romance authors. Nine sensual novelettes of seduction and submission in one collection. The Master of Desire awaits.
Stealing Aubrey by Candy Quinn - He needs to have her, to possess her. Just barely into adulthood, the beautiful young woman is screaming for him to take her, utterly. With his new wealth, he plans to do just that.
As He Bids by Olivia Rigal - Applying for a summer internship at an upscale auction house just because she has a mad crush on one of the bosses, may be Career Fail 101 for Hannah.
Please, Maestro by Penelope L'Amoreaux - Once a promising cellist, Avery lost her hearing and her dreams until her conductor offers to teach her to play again. Can she withstand his harsh lessons or will she be undermined by her own desires?
Anything He Requires by Michelle Fox - She thinks it’s just another job when wealthy businessman Jacob Daniels hires her to train his willful puppy, but the way he crushes her lips when they kiss says otherwise. Daniels has set his sights on dominating her, undertaking an irresistible seduction that leaves Jessica willing to do anything he requires.
Becoming Jane by Jordan Bell - Avery doesn't want the life her family insists on. She wants Oliver, the mysterious Dom she's never met but who knows her heart. He can't give her forever, but when she asks, he gives her one night.
Master/Mistress by Hildred Billings - Two women, one exploring her true gender in the bedroom and the other an overworked businesswoman in the need of escape, embrace a domme/sub relationship under the darkness of Tokyo's hot nights.
Submission Therapy by Katie Salidas and Willsin Rowe - Billionaire Natasha Blakely is a control freak, fraying at the edges. When her therapist prescribes Submission Therapy she reluctantly agrees. Will she learn the sublime ecstasy of true submission?
The Master’s Exploits: Night Two by Jessi Bond - Dalton Alexander: alpha male, experienced dominant, alluring Master. He wants to turn his memoirs into erotic BDSM fiction, and ghostwriter Grace Reynolds is just the woman for the job.
Unwritten Submission by Elsa Day - Amy has managed to sneak into the most secretive club in town. The story would save her journalism job, but her plans change when she meets J. He wants to be her new Dom. But will Amy submit?
Table of Contents
Stealing Aubrey by Candy Quinn
As He Bids by Oliva Rigal
Please, Maestro by Penelope L'Amoreaux
Anything He Requires by Michelle Fox
Becoming Jane by Jordan Bell
Master / Mistress by Hildred Billings
Submission Therapy by Katie Salidas and Willsin Rowe
The Master’s Exploits: Night Two by Jessi Bond
Unwritten Submission by Elsa Day
Stealing Aubrey
By
Candy Quinn
For months, he’d been waiting for just this moment. Where his hand could trace along the hollow of her throat and feel her swallow in fear and nervousness. Where he could see the little goose bumps jump up all along her flesh in his chilly bedroom. Where her lip trembled as she wondered what next awaited her.
This moment had been such a long time coming. For a year, he’d been watching her. Every morning, every afternoon, he saw her walk by on the way to school, and from the first day he knew he had to have her. He’d spent so much money on getting his room just so - buying all the leather straps and collars and harnesses, the silken sheets. Hell, he even splurged on a new king size bed with a canopy.
And why shouldn’t he? He’d made it rich, right from the safety of his computer chair, and it gave him ample time to watch her, to follow her, to go over his plan for her again and again, deciding what he’d do once he lured her in.
She was young, but he’d found out her birthday. Her eighteenth had just come and gone not three days ago, and that thrilled him. He was double her age, after all, and already divorced. His wife had left him just before he made his fortune, and he couldn’t have been happier for her timing.
It had given him more time to work on his goals, and he looked better than ever. When he wasn’t working or spying on the sweet Aubrey, he was exercising, running. Getting fit, strong.
So that when he had her, he could keep her.
~~
Two days ago he’d struck up a conversation with her at her favourite coffee shop. Sometimes she skipped off in the middle of the day to drink some horribly sugary concoction, all by herself. Almost every time he’d seen her, in fact, she was by herself. Certainly it wasn’t because of her looks. The girl could have been a cheerleader if she didn’t seem so out of place in her own body. She had an awkward, cautious way of moving, and you could tell she was conscious of it.
Her height was average, her hair long and dirty blonde.
He thought of those silken strands filtering through his fingers, prickling against her scalp as he made her look at him.
She always wore loose fitted tops and skirts, but her legs were divine, and her outfits just added to the intrigue. Throughout the winter it was even worse, with her large coat, scarf and hat, but it had only made him more smitten.
He’d thought of stripping off those layers, one after another, discovering what prizes she hid beneath it all.
It had been easy to approach her in the overcrowded cafe, asking if he could share her table just for a little while. His head had been spinning and he couldn’t quite recall all the details of the conversation, which he cursed himself for, but eventually she told him it had just been her birthday. When he bought her a cupcake, she’d broken down in tears.
He was the only person who had wanted to celebrate with her.
She was just waiting on graduation from school before she ran away from her parents place and into the big city.
“Well if you want,” he’d offered, never before having felt such a thrill, “I could offer you a place to stay. Rent free, until you graduate, of course.” What was that, two, three months away? Must be, it was just March.
“I couldn’t,” she’d protested, her green eyes seeking out his matching pair. “I couldn’t do that to you.” Maybe there was some hesitation, some caution. Maybe something in her was starting to tip her off that he wasn’t a good man, wasn’t someone she should be talking to.
Surely his height and build could be intimidating. But he’d hoped that his green eyes, his carefree stubble, his strong jawline would balance that out. Make him seem ruggedly handsome rather than dangerous.
Still, despite her hesitation, he couldn’t imagine it having gone any better. He didn’t even have to lay a trap; her parents had done that for him.
“Listen. I know what it’s like, having parents who don’t appreciate you.” He spoke slowly, with measured beats, in a controlled tone.
She wiped away her tears as he spoke, her lower lip trembling. He wanted to bite it. To kiss her so hard she'd stop shaking and melt into him.
“I have a nice house, good neighbours. You’d have your own room and all that.” He leaned back in his seat, nonchalantly, reaching into the breast pocket of the fine tailored jacket and retrieving a business card holder. Unclasping the fine platinum holder, he took out one of the thick pieces of cardstock with his name, business, and phone number on it.
“You don’t have to decide now. But if things get too tough at home, it’s an option, okay? I work from home, and that’s my cell number. If you need me, I’ll come running.”
Her caution melted away, her slender should
ers slumping with gratitude, and she nodded. His heart beat faster and his loins began to stir at the image of this wary teenage vixen.
“I’ll think about it,” she’d said, and he gave a calm smile as if it was all up to her.
He watched as she swallowed, traced her pink tongue over her pale lips and left a slight sheen behind. Her cheeks were a bit flushed, her outfit a bit too heavy for the crowded cafe, but it left her looking like a porcelain doll, so artfully painted.
As he stood from the table he was thankful his jacket hid the bulge in his pants. He leaned down and his index finger went to her chin, making her look into his eyes. He held her gaze for a few seconds before he spoke, “Happy birthday, Aubrey.”
Tears glittered in her eyes again and a smile formed on her wet mouth. “Thank you, Ryan.”
~~
It wasn’t even a full four hours before he got her call, and he went to pick her up in his black Audi. It was all dark at her address, and for a few minutes he wondered if she was yanking his leg. He knew this was her place; he’d covertly jogged by it more than once when she was leaving for school.
It wasn’t a great neighbourhood. The grass was overgrown in most of the lawns, and there was a broken down vehicle in her driveway. He momentarily wished that he hadn’t just waxed the car earlier that day, making it sparkle under the few street lamps that still flickered in and out. It stood out too much, was too flashy in the poor neighbourhood.
But when she quietly closed her front door, an oversized duffle bag in her hand, eyes widening at the sight of the car, he knew he’d done the right thing. Silently, he slid from the driver’s seat and walked over to help her with her bag, like a gentleman.
This was the start of something amazing, for both of them. She just didn’t know it yet.
~~
“I’m not sure about this,” she protested as she heard the camera flash go off again, her arms bound behind her. She was still dressed in that oversized white shirt, the black skirt pooling around her legs as she kneeled before him. A soft, leather collar was worn tight around her throat and she wouldn't stop swallowing, as if to make room.
She’d already accepted more than a couple of drinks that night as they celebrated her new adulthood over pizza and the strongest wine the liquor store had.
When he’d told her that he made and sold bondage equipment online, it wasn’t a total lie. He was the middle man, an intermediary for a bunch of fetish sites. But he didn’t make it, and he certainly didn’t need a model for his newest designs.
But she was cautiously curious, and that’d been enough. When he asked if she’d be willing to take some pictures - totally clothed, totally anonymous - she’d been afraid but unable to say no--especially after he’d been so nice to her.
When he’d let her into his home without asking for a single thing in return.
When he’d offered to pay her, to help her gain her independence.
“You look great, Aubrey. The collar fits you perfectly.” He smiled as he looked down on her, the camera separating them yet making him feel so in control. So in charge. “We’ll take it slow and just do what makes you comfortable,” he reassured her in his deep voice and she nodded.
“I’ve just... never done anything like this.” Her eyes were blindfolded, her arms bound, her throat collared, and he’d never seen her look more perfect. Her pristine skin looked so fresh and clean after her shower, and even though it was the middle of the night, both of them were wide awake. Alert.
Not even the wine could inhibit this, not when there was such electricity between them.
“I promise, no one will know it’s you. I really appreciate this, you know. And I’m sure the $500 will go a long way towards a lease, eventually.”
She stilled her uneasy fidgeting for a moment at the reminder of why she’d really agreed to do this, and she gave another nod.
His cock throbbed in his pants.
He could scarcely believe that this was happening, that all his dreams were coming true, and the grin across his face widened as he dropped to one knee in front of her. He could smell that light vanilla perfume on her, see every little detail of her skin as his eyes greedily devoured her blindfolded form.
“This will be the easiest money you can ever make, Princess. If you don't watch yourself, you might get addicted.”
The way her back arched at the word ‘princess’ made his loins jump again, responding so acutely to that odd mix of emotions he sensed within her. The submission in her, craving to be coaxed out.
Ryan didn’t touch her, though. Not then. Even though he wanted to, he only appreciated every bit of her body in its fully-clothed glory, up close and personal. She was bound and helpless, but he didn’t want her to fight. He didn’t want her to struggle.
No, he wanted something grander. He wanted to possess her.
To get in under her skin.
The next day, he doled out 25 crisp $20 bills, placing them into her hand with a wink. She was already feeling more comfortable, now that he’d proven his word and not taken advantage of his bondage shots. She'd come out of it unscathed. Untouched.
He almost felt like a father, paying her allowance, and when he watched her head out to classes there was a noticeable skip to her step.
She’d be back, begging for more before she knew it.
~~
The day passed horrifically slow. Every moment was spent pining for her, poring over the pictures from the night before. The way her creamy skin was caressed by the light, the contrast of the dark, textured leather against her slender neck.
She was a prize, and he couldn’t help but touch himself as he stared at her.
His favourite was one where he was looking down on her slightly, and there was a pensive look on her face. Her plush lips a bit pouted, her cheekbones prominent beneath the blindfold, her collarbone peeking out from the loose blouse.
It was an innocent picture, but one he felt captured her. That struggled desire, that curiosity, the line between being a girl and a woman so tentatively crossed.
She was more perfect than he could ever have imagined, and he smiled in anticipation of more.
~~
“Ryan,” Aubrey started, and his heart began to thud. The way his name rolled off her mouth was exquisite, and he looked at her curiously over the dinner table. Just like they were family.
“Yes, Aubrey?”
“Last night…” She swallowed and his eyes were drawn to the way the motion made her slender bones flex and move so fluidly. Everything about her seemed designed so carefully, so lovingly. It was hard for him to believe that her parents didn't appreciate how lucky they were to have her.
“Go on, Aubrey. I won’t be mad, I promise.” His green eyes flashed at her and he took a sip of tart wine.
“It was weird, wasn’t it?” Oh, how delicately she phrased that, as if she truly didn’t believe the words. As if she wanted his reassurement.
He stood from the fine wood dining chair, closing the distance between them and staring down at her. Careful, he reminded himself. Play it slow. Get inside.
His large hand reached out, gently cupping her jaw and letting her look up at him with those wide, expressive eyes. They looked almost fake, so vibrant a shade of green they were, and the bit of mascara she wore brought them out even more.
“I don’t think it was weird at all. Modeling is a fine profession, and I think you have what it takes, if you don't mind my saying.” He smiled at her, leaning down and pressing his nose to the top of her blonde hair, smelling his own shampoo in her soft tresses.
He lingered there, the smell of his soft cologne wafting towards her nose before he pulled back slightly. “You are a gorgeous young woman, and I think those photos I took of you were some of the best I’ve ever taken.” The compliments he paid her were genuine, and he let the truth seep out of him just a touch.
She looked cautious at first when he touched her, when he kissed her. It was hard to get a read on why, but the relief in her gaz
e spoke to her own darkness. His heart leapt when it occurred to him that it was something she kept hidden, deep inside, and his gentleness was teasing it to the surface.
“But it’s not really modeling,” she protested, and he knew what she was asking. It was sexual, wasn’t it? The collar, the bindings, the blindfold…
She wasn’t ignorant to the sensuality of the display, and his heart pounded. He wanted her, but he needed to bide his time. To wait. To be patient.
His fingers trailed through her hair, tucking it behind one of her beautiful, fragile ears, and he leaned down on one knee so he could look her in the eyes. So that he could see her reaction in vivid detail.
She sat primly with her knees together and her billowy skirt flowing over her legs to shield them.
“It’s a special type of modeling,” Ryan said, cautious of his words. Careful. “And it takes a special type of person to get good at it.”
“But people will see them and…” she struggled for the words. She was still a newborn fawn, needing his guiding hand. To train her, to teach her about this strange new world she was so frightened of, so curious about.
“No one needs to see them if you don’t want.” Ryan’s face softened, and his voice was so calm and reassuring.
“But I already spent some of the money!” He realized she was practically in tears, her eyes glittering with all of her pent up emotions, and he couldn’t help it. He pulled her to his chest, into the finely tailored dress shirt, into his personal space.
His hand stroked along the back of her head and she started to sob louder, harder, and he kept petting her, cooing. Easing her through a rollercoaster of emotions he could never hope to comprehend.
But when at last she pulled away, his shirt soaked, her face red, he kissed her forehead once more. “Listen,” Ryan said softly, “that money is yours. I don’t need it, and if I just spent $500 to give you a little piece of mind, I’d do it again. You don’t have to do anything.”
