Bared to Him

by Cartwright, Sierra

  When he’d shown up at her door, she’d never expected this. “Do you always get your way?”

  “Generally. I try to make things mutually beneficial. I’m not into making anyone a loser. I want you, Myka. I want to learn about you, to protect and care for you. To spend our time loving each other. Say you will.”

  “I…” When she tugged on her arms, he released her. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yes,” she said simply.

  He kissed her. Not in a dominant way, but in the way a man courted a woman. He knew how to approach her, how to coax the responses he wanted.

  “On your knees, sub. When we’re together, you’ll address me as Master Phillip. And always as Sir.”

  She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

  He pulled the collar out of his front pocket.

  “You brought it with you?”

  “I was hoping you’d say yes.”

  This man, so big, strong, dominant, seemed so humble. She knelt and lifted her hair.

  He secured the collar in place.

  Her breath rushed out of her lungs.

  He tipped back her chin. “To a lifetime of exploring you.”

  “And of learning how to please you, Sir.”

  He helped her to stand. “I want you naked, sub. I’m going to fuck you hard so that you know whom you belong to.”

  “Could I shower first, Sir?”

  He shook his head. “Naked, now.”

  “The bedroom? The living room?”

  “Was there anything unclear about my order?”

  She understood. Anytime. Anywhere.

  Her hands trembled as she stripped for him. Yoga pants and a T-shirt weren’t sexy, but he made her feel as if she were wearing lingerie.

  As he undressed, he said, “Face the wall. Hands above your head.”

  He toyed with her clit, with her pussy, making her wet. And then he slapped her ass several times, starting soft and ending on a brutally hard note that made her cry out for more.

  “Please, Sir. I’m ready to come.” And she had been the moment he’d collared her.

  He took her from behind, slamming her into the wall. If there was a feeling more delirious than having her Dom this needy, she didn’t know what it was.

  “Whom do you belong to, Myka?”

  “You, Sir.”

  “Whose orgasm is this?”

  “Yours, Sir.”

  “Whose cunt?”

  She screamed as he slammed into her. “Yours, Sir!”

  “Whom do I share you with?”

  “No one, Sir.”

  “Come, sub.”

  Crying out, she did. Moments later, so did he.

  They were both sweating and satiated when he turned her to face him. “You please me greatly, Myka. And now you can crawl into the bedroom.”

  “Sir?”

  “I’m going to make love to you, Myka, and celebrate the first night of our future.”

  The juxtaposition of being cared for and being a sub was a heady combination. And she knew she’d never tire of it. “Did you bring a leash, Sir?”

  “Mouthy sub. I’m going to love teaching you your place.”

  She lowered herself to the floor and looked up at him. “As long as my place is with you, Sir.”

  Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

  Her Two Doms

  Sierra Cartwright

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  “Who the hell are you? And where is Master Devon?”

  Gabriel Stone raised an eyebrow. Instead of being on her knees, her legs spread, her head lowered, her gaze focused on the floor like a good little submissive, Victoria West stood in his domain, her blue eyes narrowed in anger.

  Her blonde hair was pulled up, but a few wisps escaped to frame her face. Her jaw was set in a tight line, and she tipped back her head to stare at him. Stare. Even though she wore a bustier with an unbuttoned blouse over it, a short skirt, silky stockings and mile-high stilettos, she still managed to look like the high-profiled attorney that she was.

  Instead of answering her question, he steeled his voice and commanded, “You received a handwritten note, sub, with specific instructions. Follow them.” Gabriel couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned about her bad behaviour.

  A month ago, Devon Burton, a long-time friend and his partner in the three nightclubs they owned together, had asked Gabriel to join this cruise.

  For the past five years, Devon had been contracted as a Dom on the annual four-day fetish cruise from Galveston to a private resort in Mexico. This year, they were short-handed, and Devon had offered Gabriel several thousand dollars to fill in. The money would go a long way towards paying past taxes on the mountain cabin he’d recently inherited from his father. Crossing that worry off his list had sealed the deal.

  Tonight, Devon had had to teach a class for attendees new to BDSM, leaving Gabriel to deal with the wayward Victoria. Devon had apologised in advance, shaking his head and warning that the woman was a handful, accustomed to being in charge, and used to winning.

  Gabriel had dealt with subs for the better part of a decade. He’d yet to meet one he couldn’t tame. Devon had snickered at the words, saying Gabriel hadn’t come across anyone like Victoria.

  Gabriel had been confident. She was a woman. A sub. All she needed was a few sharp commands, punctuated by relentless hits from his leather belt, and she’d fall in line like the rest.

  Trouble was, getting her into position to taste his leather might be a challenge, he thought wryly.

  “Surely you realise who I am, Mr—”

  “Master,” he interrupted. “Master Gabriel Stone, your Dom for the evening. And I know exactly who you are. I read your file, which includes press clippings.”

  “And?”

  “I’m not impressed.”

  She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Here, Victoria, you are a sub, not a lawyer, not a television host.”

  “Tell Master Devon to telephone my room when he’s available. I don’t accept substitutes.”

  Gabriel felt a pulse tick in his jaw. His training in martial arts helped him restrain his temper and not give in to the temptation to paddle her until she cried out her surrender. “That’s certainly your choice. You’re free to walk away, but, as you know, you’re paying thousands of dollars for this experience.”

  “But—”

  “You’re an attorney. I’m sure that means you read your contract before signing it.”

  She tucked the few wayward strands of hair behind her ear. “I did.”

  “Then you know the cruise ship Commander made no guarantees of you having a scene with a specific Dom. And there are no refunds once the cruise has set sail.”

  “Master Devon has always been my Dom,” she said, with a stubborn tilt to her chin.

  She continued to stare at him, as if her determination would change things.

  “He still will be, for most of the cruise.” Gabriel hardened his tone. If the woman didn’t want to play, he wouldn’t force her. He would collect his fee whether he was having a drink in the lounge or beating her tight ass. “Tonight he is otherwise engaged. As you’ve already pointed out, I’m the substitute. Believe me, at this point, I’m no more thrilled with it than you are. And here’s what you need to know. I can give you what you came here for, but I will do it on my terms, not yours. Your behaviour will not be tolerated. In fact, it will be punished.”

  She swallowed, but her chin remained high. She was an attorney, but right now she was behaving as if she were a princess.

  “You’re wasting my time as well as yours,” he continued. “You have three choices. You can fucking kneel like a good little sub, I can force you to follow my order, or you can walk out that door.” He pointed to the exit.

  She had the nerve to put her hands on her hips.

  His temper threatened to flare again. Even newbies didn’t behave this way. According to Devon, Victoria had been a regular on the cruise for all the years Devon
had been contracted. She knew better. “I repeat, you can fucking kneel like a good little sub, I can force you to obey, or you can walk out of the door. Make a decision.” He folded his arms across his chest.

  “I…”

  He saw the struggle in her gaze, and her blue eyes darkened with fear—fear he knew she’d never admit to feeling. He softened a bit and hoped she didn’t make him regret that decision. “What’s your safe word?”

  “Objection.”

  Of course it was. “How often have you used it?”

  “Rarely. About once or twice a scene.”

  “You use it during every scene?” he asked, stunned.

  “You sound shocked.”

  “I am,” he admitted. “The women who scene with me almost never safe word. In the last ten years a sub has only stopped a scene three times.”

  She drew her beautifully sculpted eyebrows together as she frowned. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  Gabriel wondered if he had the patience to play with her. At the very least, he should have asked for more money.

  “You’re not kidding,” she said.

  He shook his head.

  She regarded him for a few moments.

  He waited her out. He’d booked out the entire evening for her, so he had no other place to be, besides the bar, where he could likely find a warm, willing, compliant subbie to toy with. It surprised him that the thought didn’t appeal. He wanted to see where things would go with the fiery, determined Victoria.

  “When will Master Devon be free?”

  “Tomorrow,” he said.

  She sighed. “So, if I want to have an encounter tonight, I’m stuck with you?”

  He wondered if the cupboards were stocked with salve for his bruised ego. “No discounts on the payment,” he told her.

  “Has Master Devon at least instructed you on my preferences? I like only small amounts of pain, and then only after I’ve been properly warmed up. I don’t orgasm easily, so I need a lot of attention. Light alligator clips on my nipples help me get off. But anything more intense detracts from my pleasure.”

  She was bossy. Devon obviously had a hell of a lot more tolerance than Gabriel did.

  With no hint of a blush, she said, “I don’t do anal.”

  “Anything else, princess?”

  “Spankings,” she added. “I will not be put over someone’s knee like a naughty child.”

  “Run away now, little subbie.” Gabriel unfolded his arms and took a warning step in her direction. What little patience he had was quickly vanishing.

  “Until I get to know you better, which will not happen, no blindfolds or gags.”

  As he’d said, he’d read her file. When she’d signed up for this year’s cruise, she’d filled in a new hard limits list. None of this nonsense, except for the anal part, had been on the paperwork. This woman, strong and wilful, understood nothing about how he operated. “Fair warning, I intend to do all those things to you. And you will beg me to.”

  “You are arrogant, Mr Stone.”

  “Master Gabriel,” he corrected.

  “I will never allow—let alone beg—you to debase me.”

  “Debase?” he repeated. “Giving you an experience you’ll remember for the next year is hardly debasing, princess. And, as for begging, you will. I promise.”

  To her credit, she stood her ground even when he took a second step. He inhaled the scent of her, lilacs and femininity, laced with the potent mixture of arousal. Her mouth said one thing. Her body said another. “Last chance,” he said. “Walk out. Use your safe word. Or get on your knees. You have ten seconds to make a decision before I throw you out.”

  She didn’t move and she didn’t glance at the door. She moistened her lower lip, but she kept her chin back and her hands on her hipbones.

  By standing her ground, she was testing him, he knew, wondering if he were strong enough to truly dominate her. She obviously wanted to accept his challenge, but she refused to admit it to either of them.

  He knew her game, and he was willing to play it, for tonight. “Five seconds.”

  She did nothing.

  Clearly she wanted someone to take the decision out of her hands, so he did.

  He grabbed her, determined to force her to her compliance. With just as much determination, she resisted. She had to be half a foot shorter than him, and she weighed at least a hundred pounds less than he did. But the recalcitrant sub had surprising strength. “Right,” he said. He swept her from the ground, tossed her over his shoulder, and strode through the small office and into the Domination room. The space was equipped with everything needed for BDSM scenes, including running water.

  She pounded on his back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Giving you what you’re asking for.”

  She kicked and pummelled him.

  “Behave yourself,” he warned. He gave her shapely ass a sharp swat. He closed and locked the door, then carried her across to a kneeling bench and deposited her on the vinyl-covered pad.

  She started to rise, but he was having none of it. He forced her down. He used a leather cuff attached to the bench to quickly fasten her wrist in place.

  “Release me,” she said over her shoulder, eyes flashing fire.

  “Submit,” he countered.

  “But—”

  “The time for talking is done, princess. The only thing that will end this is your safe word.”

  Disobeying his direct order, she stood. She was attached to the bench, so she wasn’t going far. He strode to the far wall and pulled down a crop.

  Her face drained of colour. “What are you going to do with that?”

  He walked behind her. She tugged on the wrist binding, doing an impertinent dance. He snagged her free wrist and firmly pressed the crop against the backs of her knees. She turned her head to look at him. She wanted to know where this was going—he could see it in the depths of her unblinking blue eyes. But, even more, she needed him to prove he was man enough to make her surrender.

  Challenge on.

  Despite her wriggling around, he smacked the backs of her legs. No way would he unleash the full power of the implement on her gorgeous, creamy skin, but he wasn’t averse to using a bit more power to win this battle of wills. “Yield, sub.”

  “I…”

  He gave her a second stripe.

  She gasped.

  “Kneel and put your other wrist on top of the bench.” He waited a moment to see if she’d use her safe word. When she didn’t, he laid the rattan to her again, slightly harder this time.

  He gave her no time to recover before he cropped her again.

  “Fine,” she said.

  He impatiently tapped the crop against the side of his leg. “Fine?”

  “I’ll kneel.” She glared at him, then flicked a glance to the crop. “Just don’t hit me with that thing again.”

  “Three seconds,” he said.

  She pushed it to at least four seconds, but she complied.

  Without being prompted, she placed her hand on top of the bench. Even if she couldn’t verbally admit she wanted this, her actions spoke volumes.

  He laid the crop on a nearby table and returned to her. She didn’t flinch as he secured her wrist in place.

  She tested the limits of her restraints.

  “Too tight?”

  “Physically, no.”

  “Emotionally?”

  From the look she shot him, one would never guess she was kneeling, strapped to a bench, her entire body exposed and waiting for his discipline.

  “Emotionally?” he repeated.

  “I don’t know you,” she said. “I wanted to play with Master Devon.”

  “And yet you’re here of your own free will.”

  “It doesn’t mean I like it.”

  “You’re free to leave.”

  “I know.”

  He softened towards her. She was fighting her fear, not submissively like he would have preferred, but she was trying. �
��Why do you engage with Master Devon or BDSM scenes?”

  “I’m not here to talk.”

  “Humour me.”

  “Is this eating into my time slot?”

  He knew the terms of her contract. “It’s a freebie.” He folded his arms across his chest and waited, making it clear he wasn’t moving on until she answered his question.

  “We could do this across a table with a cocktail.”

  “We can do this with you shackled and on your knees, as I prefer.”

  “I need a glass of wine.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t play with subs who’ve been drinking. If you still want a glass of wine later, I’ll treat you to one in the bar.”

  “You’re a monster.”

  He said nothing. By him establishing rules, by doing what he said he would, she would trust him faster.

  Finally she exhaled, blowing back those unruly wisps of blonde hair from her forehead. “I take only a few vacations a year. On the cruise, I have complete anonymity.”

  As beautiful as she was, as high-profile as she was, that wasn’t totally true. She would likely be recognisable almost anywhere she went in the world. But everyone aboard, including some politicians and entertainers, was required to sign a confidentiality agreement. No cameras were permitted. The organisers respected privacy.

  “I like small amounts of pain. I like giving up control.”

  He doubted that. But the exquisite sight of her on her knees, bound for him, made him wish it were true.

  “I don’t have a serious relationship,” she said. “And I don’t like playing at clubs. There’s too much exposure. And, believe it or not, it’s damn hard for me to find a man who’ll date me, put up with my hours and work demands, and spank my ass when I get home.”

  “I’d spank you when you got home, princess. You’d no doubt deserve it.”

  “Bastard.”

  Point proven. “What is it about the pain that you like?”

  “Could we just get on with this?”

  “I haven’t started the clock yet, and I like to know something about my subs before I play with them.”

  “I’m not your sub.”