With This Collar (Mastered)

by Cartwright, Sierra

  She followed his meticulous instructions and didn’t make a single wrong turn. It was four minutes after the hour when she punched in the code for the underground parking garage. The red and white arm opened and she drove in. She turned down the radio. Even the light classical music was making it impossible to think. Actually, she knew, it was anticipation that was making it difficult to concentrate.

  When she reached the guest parking area, she saw him standing there, in the middle of a spot, his arms folded across his chest.

  Her heart missed a beat.

  Over the past month, she’d managed to convince herself that, when it came to Master Marcus, her imagination had been working overtime. There was no way he was as tall, as broad, as ruggedly handsome as she remembered.

  But he was. All that and more.

  Tonight he was all in black. Boots, jeans, belt, short-sleeved T-shirt. His short hair emphasised the angular planes of his face and the firm set of his mouth.

  He pointed to an empty slot next to where he stood. She manoeuvred the sports utility vehicle into place and gripped the steering wheel tightly for a few moments to regain her equilibrium. At home, in the comfort of her imagination, the idea of playing with him had tantalised her. But the reality of having him standing there, waiting, sucked the courage from her limbs.

  She turned the key to shut off the engine. Then, with false bravado, she stiffened her shoulders. She gathered her small purse and reached for the door handle.

  “Good evening,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m delighted you’re here.”

  She slid her palm against his, grateful for the assistance. His touch lit a flare inside her. Everything that had been dormant fired brightly. Nerve endings sizzled. No man had ever affected her like this, filling her with desire.

  “Keys?”

  His old-world manners made her feel as if she’d stepped back in time. She gave him the remote. He closed the door then pushed the pad to lock the vehicle. With firm tenderness, he cupped her elbow.

  “I thought I was supposed to walk behind you,” she said.

  “Your safety matters more than anything. And those shoes… Thank you for wearing them.”

  His appreciation thrilled her. She wanted to please him more.

  “Don’t overthink, Julia,” he advised as he navigated towards the elevator. “I’ll always make sure you know my expectations. They may shift around a bit depending on my whim, and I don’t expect you to be a mind reader. There are certain things it’s safe to assume, like how I want you to kneel and the fact that I expect you to call me Sir. Barring that, just do as you’re told.” He pushed the call button. “Clear?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She hadn’t remembered that husk in his voice affecting her quite so completely. It was as if there were a direct line between the sound and her arousal.

  He held her until she had entered the car, then he pushed the button for the fourth floor. The doors quietly slid shut. She leaned against the back wall for support.

  When they arrived, he indicated that she should precede him.

  The hallway they entered was well-lit, beautifully tiled, and had random abstract paintings on the walls.

  He’d left his door ajar, and he pushed it open, waiting for her to enter before closing and locking the door behind them.

  “Welcome,” he told her.

  She had been expecting an unimaginative leather-bound domain, maybe with some wood panelling, perhaps with a picture of a Labrador on the wall. This, though, was breath-taking.

  The condo was wide open, but not in an unfinished, loft-looking way. A sweeping metal and glass staircase dominated her vision. “This is stunning,” she said, slightly agog. A waterfall cascaded down one wall, falling into a shallow pool that contained water plants and koi.

  “Thank you. I wish I could take credit for all this, but I have a very creative team of designers working with me. I just wrote the cheque and tried not to interfere. Let me take your purse.”

  She uncurled her death grip from the handle, and he put the small bag on a nearby table. He deposited her keys in a copper bowl on the same table.

  “Let me show you around. I want you to feel comfortable.”

  He hadn’t asked for her coat. She wondered if he stayed up at night, thinking of ways to keep her guessing.

  She followed him into the great room.

  “The master bedroom and the playroom are both upstairs,” he said.

  Playroom? He had a designated place for that?

  “My office and a powder room are on this level.”

  A comfortable, white, sectional leather sofa faced a fireplace that had thoughtfully been left burning. A huge flat-screen television was mounted to the wall. Several large rugs strategically covered the polished wooden floors, adding warmth.

  “This is the highlight of the condo,” he said, walking towards the bank of windows.

  As they neared, she noticed that two of the panels were actually doors that led to a patio. No curtains or blinds obstructed the view of downtown.

  “Privacy windows,” he explained. “At night I make them translucent so no one can see in. This controls it.” He flipped a switch that looked like it controlled an overhead light.

  “I didn’t know something like that existed.”

  “They were ridiculously expensive, but I like being able to see out without feeling as if I were in a fishbowl.”

  “You’re right. Definitely the highlight.”

  He’d arranged another sofa and two chairs to take advantage of the skyscape.

  The kitchen was off to the left, and as she followed him into the space, she began to relax slightly.

  The counters were crafted from black granite, and the walls had a complementary backsplash. A pot rack hung from above, with copper-bottomed pans gleaming in the light. But the appliances were another shock. Rather than the requisite stainless steel, they were white with stainless accents.

  One end of the counter had several stools tucked underneath, great for conversing during a party, or maybe sitting for a quick, informal meal.

  A small alcove between the dining area and kitchen contained a large pot that she thought she recognised as being crafted by an artist from a New Mexico pueblo.

  The designers had incorporated all the elements creatively and functionally. His home felt modern and sleek, but homey at the same time. “Do you entertain often?”

  “No.”

  His answer was flat, not inviting further questions. But that didn’t dissuade her. “That’s a shame. This is a fabulous spot. You’ve told me you have a few playmates, but nothing serious.” She continued, “I’m curious what you want out of this…from me. Just another playmate? Or do you ever want something more serious?”

  He looked at her with a ferocious scowl. A meeker woman might have changed the subject, but she persisted. “You want me to tell you all my secrets, but you’re not willing to give up much in return. That’s not fair, whether you’re the Dom or not.”

  “I collared a woman once. Katarina. It turned out she was dependent on me for everything, her emotional as well as financial and sexual needs. It became too much of an obligation.”

  “So random women are easier to deal with than a full-time relationship. Isn’t that a little lonely?”

  “It can be, but I’m in no hurry to get back into another commitment.”

  “Are you scared of it?” she challenged.

  “Are you?” he countered.

  Was she? She liked to think of herself as courageous, but was she, really? “I’m not afraid of a relationship. I just refuse to enter into one with a man who is domineering, who wants things his way. I want a nice man.”

  “And your definition of a nice man is one who is a milquetoast? You’d be out of your mind with boredom in six months.”

  She refused to admit that he could be right about that. “I’m okay with being playmates,” she said. “Let’s not complicate things.”

  “Just beat you and fuck you and send yo
u home? Is that what you want, Julia?”

  “I think it’s what we both want, Sir.”

  “What you really want, Julia, is a man to tame you, a man who’s your equal.”

  “I want a man who treats me with respect, who values my opinion, who wants to be a partner.”

  “Which is why you need someone with a spine. Would you like a glass of wine? And before you ask, you are allowed one drink.”

  “Wine would be nice. Thank you.”

  He looked at her pointedly. “Open your coat.”

  Her mouth dried. She’d known that was coming, but here, in the kitchen, it took her off guard.

  Knowing better than to question his order, she reached for the belt. Her fingers shook a little as she worked to loosen the knots. She thought he might move in to help, but he simply turned his back to her and removed two glasses from a cupboard.

  He’d already decanted a bottle of red.

  “It’s a Cabernet,” he said. “Very drinkable. Does that suit you?”

  “You remembered I asked for red wine that night.”

  “I remember everything about you, Julia. There’s a closet near the front door. Hang up your coat. Then wait for me in the great room.”

  He didn’t turn back to face her.

  Once again, he’d unnerved her, doing the unexpected. It annoyed the hell out of her. It kept her guessing. And a secret part of her really did like it.

  As he poured the wine, she left the room and went through the motions of hanging up her coat somewhat mechanically. Standing in the foyer barely dressed reminded her of the nature of their relationship. She was here as a submissive, not as a guest.

  She wanted this, but uncertainty still wormed its way through her.

  Having the lights blazing with no window coverings left her feeling vaguely exposed, although she knew it was completely secure.

  In the great room, she debated what to do. Earlier he’d told her there were certain things that were safe to assume. Kneeling instead of sitting on the couch or standing near the window was probably in that category. But where? On a rug? Near the fire? In the middle of the room? By the window?

  In her head, she heard Master Marcus telling her not to overthink.

  Trusting her instincts, she opted for the fire.

  She took a couple of steadying breaths to centre herself and calm her thoughts. She knelt, thrust out her chest, spread her legs a little farther apart, then placed her hands behind her head and found a spot in front of the hearth to focus on. She was aware of the flames flickering in her peripheral vision.

  “Very nice.”

  She was startled, but she didn’t look up. He’d obviously been there, watching her internal struggle, doing nothing to intercede.

  “You’ve been practising.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Every day, including today?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He moved in closer until his boots filled her vision.

  More than ever, she tried to concentrate on her breathing.

  “Look at me.”

  She looked up. His arms were crossed over his chest. His legs were spread shoulder-width apart. He appeared so very powerful.

  “Tell me about the experience.”

  She’d forgotten how much he liked to talk and how much that irritated her. She’d been horny since they’d spoken on the phone. She wanted to get on with it and get her bottom warmed. “The first couple of days were difficult. I was making grocery lists in my head. Not literally. I mean I was thinking about dozens of things I needed to do. I considered it to be a waste of time, honestly. I also knew that you would never really know whether I had done it or not. But then…”

  “But then?” he prompted, still looking down at her.

  He hadn’t moved, and he was definitely in her personal space. She didn’t mind with him, though. This close, she was breathing in his scent, of man, of the outdoors, of leather and spice. “I figured you would ask. And I’m not a liar. I would have ended up telling you the truth. But it was more than that. I wanted the experience. I knew that kneeling would put me in a different mindset.”

  “And did it?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She was getting a slight cramp in her neck. “It became easier to stay in place. I think—hope—I’m more graceful from the practice.”

  “Tell me what you mean about mindset.”

  She resisted the temptation to look away. “We both know I’m not a true submissive.”

  “And what is a true sub?”

  “Someone who has always wanted to be dominated,” she said. “I think people must be born that way.”

  “I want to hear more. Please, have a seat on the couch.”

  That request seemed so normal after what they’d just shared. He stepped back, and she stood, bringing their bodies within inches of each other. She wanted to be touched, to be held and caressed, anything that allowed her to find some relief. But she also knew there’d be no playing until he said so. Letting him lead was much easier in her fantasies than it was in reality.

  He moved aside and she curled up on one end of the sofa. He offered her one of the glasses of red wine.

  “To your adventure,” he said, sitting closer than was comfortable for her. “To learning about yourself. To facing your fears. To new experiences, especially if they give you a new perspective.”

  “That’s a tall order, Sir.”

  “You can have it all. And more. It depends on how far you’re willing to colour outside your self-imposed lines.”

  They were almost breathing the same air. She could feel his heat and barely restrained power.

  She clinked her glass against his then took way too big of a sip.

  “Tell me,” he said. “You’ve been reading. I’d be surprised if you hadn’t talked to Lana. What questions do you have? What do you want?”

  She cupped her hands around the large goblet and turned a bit to face him. Thankfully he moved a few inches away, giving her a little room. “You told me about power exchanges that first night at the wedding, and I have to be honest that I’m not really sure what the difference is between a sub and a slave.” She paused. “I downloaded a sample contract. Other than a few things that scared me, I wouldn’t know what to put on a non-negotiable list.” She shook some hair back over her shoulders. “Truthfully? I had to search what some of the terms meant. And I don’t know exactly what I want.”

  He drank some wine then placed the glass back on a table. “You’ve heard my definition of a power exchange. You’ve read several others. Now tell me what your understanding is of how it works.”

  She’d never considered what it meant to her or what she wanted. “Basically, I think, you agree to only do to me what I agree to have you do to me.”

  He nodded. “So what’s your definition of a slave?”

  “I guess that’s a power exchange, too.”

  “But how is it different from being a sub?” he pressed.

  She frowned as she thought about it. Maths was so much easier than these kinds of question. “I guess the being collared. Agreeing to be a servant.” She paused and tried to clarify her thoughts. “It seems to me that it defines the relationship rather than being part of it.”

  “Go on.”

  “I have friends who play with handcuffs and blindfolds. So it’s something that adds occasional spice. It’s not something they do every night. But if you are collared, you wear that all the time. You have agreed to different rules.”

  “So are your friends who bring handcuffs and blindfolds into the bedroom submissive?”

  She ran her finger across the top of the glass. “I feel as if we’re bogged down in semantics.”

  “Stay with me,” he encouraged. “Are they submissive?”

  “No. I guess not.”

  “Why not?”

  “They probably don’t discuss rules and safety words in advance.”

  “Anything else?”

  Not only did he like to talk, he liked to explore the c
omplexity of seemingly simple ideas. His questions forced her to laser in on what she knew and on what she believed. In previous relationships, she hadn’t discussed sex or her opinions about it. She and the man she was with just did it and hoped for the best. Most times she got something humdrum.

  Challenging her brain was something that fed her passion. Having her beliefs questioned fired her up, made her really dig for what she believed in. She hadn’t expected to find an intellectual connection with a man she wanted to scene with. It made the experience even headier. “I think I get it.” She took another sip. “It’s the reason you made me kneel. When you submit, you transcend something within yourself. Adding kink to something that’s vanilla is fun.”

  “But…?”

  “Submission is different. You consent to do something because it pleases someone else.” Understanding dawned. “That’s the reason I knelt even when I really didn’t have to. Like I said, other than the fact I’m a really bad liar, you wouldn’t have known one way or another.” The next part was a bit harder to admit. “But you’d given a command because it pleased you to do so, or maybe because you thought or hoped I’d learn something from the experience.” She glanced at the floor before looking back up at him. “And I didn’t want to disappoint you, Sir.”

  He moved in a little closer. “Thank you.” With his knuckles, he brushed hair back from her face then traced her jaw bone. “That means a lot to me.”

  She closed her eyes and savoured the tenderness. The cramped muscles, her bad attitude, sore knees and relentless sexual thoughts were suddenly all worth it. She was glad she’d done it.

  “You’re a quick study,” he said. “Thoughtful.” He brushed the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “You understood it wasn’t a punishment, but rather an opportunity for you to learn something?”

  “I didn’t at the time. But I do now. Yes, Sir.”

  “And do you understand that you can be a submissive without giving up who you are? Through a power exchange? And that by holding onto your strength, you’re more appealing?”

  “Theoretically,” she said.

  “Have you given up who you are this week? Or have you simply grown in your understanding?”