Finding Master Right

by Sparrow Beckett

  She gave him a sly look. “Do you get a safeword too?”

  “Absolutely not. My safeword is no. There’s no such thing as dubious-consent domming. That’s taking topping from the bottom to the extreme.”

  “Huh?”

  He sat back and sighed. “‘Topping from the bottom’ is when the sub tries to manipulate the scene or relationship and take control.” Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I’ll bet you’d be pretty good at that.”

  She scowled.

  “I’ll warn you now though. I won’t tolerate it. You try that shit with me and you’ll end up getting punished. If you don’t want to go that far, then we’ll have to end the arrangement.”

  Still scowling, she asked, “So it’s your way or the highway?”

  He chuckled. “That’s the way this works, pet.”

  Mmmm. The way he said “pet” conjured up so many ideas . . .

  She pushed those dirty thoughts aside. What was she—a teenage boy? Focus.

  Was it worth it? Submitting to training, submitting to punishment if she wasn’t behaving to his standards? She shuddered, then hated herself for it. That should not be turning her on. She was philosophically opposed to this. A lesson on behaving more submissively, she could tolerate. Punishment and serious training was a stretch.

  But, he was hot, and it’d give her experience to work with. Maybe, at the end of this, she’d catch a great guy. She didn’t want to die alone. Her biological clock was ticking. This wasn’t just about sex . . . Okay, it was a lot about sex, but eventually, she wanted a man who was as good in the bedroom as he was in the kitchen and workplace too. Did Doms make good fathers?

  One step at a time. She gave her head a shake. “Okay. We’ll give it a try. So, what are you getting from this deal?”

  He shrugged. “I’m bored, and you’re interesting.”

  She waited for more, but he only stared at her. Was that it? Well, at least he hadn’t said he was doing it so he’d have something to go home and jerk off to. She grimaced. Even if it were true, she was glad he was too classy to say so.

  A moment later, his eyes turned heated, as if there was something more he wasn’t telling her. She was beginning to be able to read his body language. When he relaxed, he teased her with his eyes crinkled at the corners. When he snapped into predator mode, his body tensed, his gaze grew sharp. He didn’t look her over like a pervert on the street. Instead, he held eye contact in such a commanding way that it froze her in place without him needing to utter a word. She could tell he was very, very good at what he did. Someday, he’d make a slave girl very happy.

  For the next few hours, they talked about everything—their jobs, the checklist, stories from past partners. She was surprised how often he made her laugh, despite the stern look he often wore. He had a quiet humor that popped up at unexpected times.

  When it grew late and she started yawning, they made a plan to meet up later in the week to start their training.

  After he’d left, she crawled into bed, her body still humming with sexual tension. Her fantasy from earlier came back full force, now including more details about Banner: his smell, the way his arms flexed as he moved, the feel of his mouth on hers. She came loudly to the vision of herself on a leash, Banner holding the other end tightly in his fist.

  Chapter 4

  Rook stuffed his mouth with cotton candy, his black hair ruffling in the breeze coming from the roller coaster. He looked more relaxed than Banner had seen him in ages. The fair had been a good plan. Maybe mixing candy with rides wasn’t the best idea, but it was a sad state of affairs when a kid’s big brother couldn’t be a bad influence.

  And on the subject of bad influences . . . Banner’s mind drifted back to Kate and their deal, and he checked his phone.

  Nothing. He was starting to wonder if she was actually going to show up tomorrow. He’d sent a list of his expectations earlier in the week, and she hadn’t responded. Ambrose had insisted he send only one text, but her silence was tying him in knots. Should he make backup plans so he wouldn’t be sitting around alone, like a dork, when she didn’t show?

  “You need to find a nice girl and settle down and have a couple of kids,” Rook said. “That would make Mom happy.”

  Silence fell between them for a moment. Making their mother happy was a subject Rook brought up a lot. Definitely not something a teenager should be so worried about. Wasn’t he supposed to be working hard to piss her off?

  “Rook, it’s not our job to make other people happy. Mom hasn’t gotten over missing Dad yet, and until that happens nothing much will cheer her up. Not counseling and not pills, although they help. She needs to decide she wants to live again, and we can’t force her to feel that way. Not even with a grandchild.”

  There were still days when she went to bed with “migraines” and didn’t get up again until the next morning. It was hard on all of them, but on Rook most of all. He had Banner and Meadow, but even siblings old enough to be parents weren’t a substitute for the real thing. At least Meadow lived with them and directed the household staff when need be, but she didn’t understand their little brother. He’d thought about moving the boy in with him, but a teenager living with a bachelor would be a lonely life.

  “Besides, I’m not responsible enough to be a father. Girls usually run screaming from me. I won’t be getting married anytime soon.”

  “Me neither.”

  “You might get married sooner than I do.”

  “Not unless they change the law.”

  Banner pinched his cheek and Rook swatted him away. “In a few years I’m sure the law will have changed. If it hasn’t we’ll all drive to another state for the wedding.”

  His brother was nodding, looking lost in thoughts too serious for a fourteen-year-old.

  “Did you tell Mom yet?”

  Rook pressed the toe of his Converse sneaker into the dirt. “She’s got enough to bring her down. She doesn’t need to deal with me coming out.”

  He put his arm around Rook’s shoulder and squeezed. His brother leaned into him.

  “Mom’s mental health isn’t your battle. Staying in the closet to protect her is sweet, but you deserve to be happy and out, if you want to be out.”

  “You gave up your dream job to follow in Dad’s footsteps and rot out children’s teeth.” He shrugged. “I’ve had a selfless role model.”

  Dreams. The thought brought Banner back to when he’d tried to make a living painting and selling his art. The starving artist thing had been great as he’d traveled through Europe, staying in hostels, but he wasn’t young anymore. Sure, he’d fallen in love with Sweden when he was there, and he’d hated leaving it to come home when his father’s health started waning, but he’d known he couldn’t do it forever.

  “Sometimes I think you’re as sad as Mom.” The boy eyed him, then stared off into the distance. “You just hide it better.”

  Banner grabbed the bag of cotton candy from Rook’s hand and untied it. He balled up the last two bites and shoved one into Rook’s mouth, then ate the other one.

  “Shh. You’ve got your own things to worry about. Quit worrying about everyone else.”

  Rook laughed around his mouthful of candy. He chewed, watching a rollercoaster as it swooped by, then turned back to Banner. “Meadow says I’m too sensitive, and that if I don’t toughen up I’ll never get a date.”

  Banner winked at him. “Well, I guess it’s good that Dylan doesn’t like going out much.”

  ***

  She was either late or not coming.

  The time they’d agreed on had come and gone, and he was still entirely alone—other than the hard-on that had been nagging at him on and off all day.

  There was a chance she was stuck in traffic. He checked his phone, but there was as much from her now as there’d been for the past few days. Nada. Maybe Janine had found someone for her, or maybe she’d come to her senses and realized messing around with Banner wasn’t a good idea.

  Why ha
d he let himself get so excited about a girl who wasn’t going to be permanent? Sure, he wanted to play with her, but there were plenty of other women who were willing to do that. Ones that were definitely submissive. Submissive was closer to slave than a vanilla girl was, right? So what was the big deal about training Kate?

  In his studio, he tried to paint, but he was too tense to work. Instead, he headed down to the home theater.

  He forced himself to sit on the couch and turn on the TV. He hated TV.

  Flip, flip, flip.

  Out of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of the T-shirt he was wearing. Suddenly, it annoyed him. He stalked off to his bedroom, slid open the doors to his walk-in closet, and rifled through the neatly folded shirts in their cubbies. When he found the one he wanted, he yanked the other one off over his head.

  Calm the fuck down.

  The doorbell rang. He froze. If it had been Ambrose coming to snoop, he’d have walked right in. The maid wouldn’t have bothered with doorbells either.

  With unhurried movements, he headed for the door, pulling on his shirt as he went. Irritation and uncertainty were crowding him, but he slowed his breathing and tried to pretend none of this mattered to him.

  He opened the door, and there she was, in all of her innocent, vanilla glory.

  Kate looked up at him, her eyes wide and full of trepidation.

  “Come in, Kate. I was expecting you twenty minutes ago.”

  She stepped cautiously across the threshold, craning her head. “This is your house?”

  “Yes.”

  “It looks like a museum.”

  “It’s old.” Forget this polite shit. “Why are you late?”

  Kate’s smile trembled and fell away. “I-I’m sorry. I was going to say I got lost, or something, but I don’t want to start today out with a lie.” She bit her lip and looked down at her shoes. “I was scared. I didn’t sleep at all last night, and I didn’t have clothes like what you wanted me to wear, so I had to go shopping, but it took forever to find what I wanted.” Her voice quavered through the last of it.

  “Shh. Come in.” He felt like an ass. Why had he assumed she was playing a game with him? He’d dated a few subs who had tried head games with him, but she didn’t seem the type. He was too eager for this, and all the waiting and wondering had made him grumpy. Showing up at all was pretty ballsy of her.

  She stepped inside, and he closed and locked the door behind her, even though he didn’t usually bother. It would tell Ambrose he didn’t want to be disturbed, at least.

  “Take off your shoes and put them by the door.”

  “My shoes?”

  “And socks.”

  Although she quirked a brow at him, she still complied. Some Doms insisted their women wear heels for them, but he felt that bare feet set a better tone. Barefoot submissives tended to remember their place, even if the rest of their clothing stayed on.

  “Would you like a soda? Water?”

  “Nothing for now, thanks.”

  Back to small talk. He hated small talk. Small talk made him feel as if he were at work.

  “The house was built in the 1880’s. I’m having it slowly restored. The company doing it specializes in this kind of thing.”

  Kate walked across the foyer and turned back to look at the stained-glass window high above the door, then followed the light filtering through it to the pattern it made on the pale marble flooring.

  “Original?” She pointed at the window.

  “Yes. The artist knew what he was doing, luckily. I’m glad, because I doubt I could commission something so beautiful now.”

  “It’s Saint George?”

  “I assume so, because of the dragon.”

  She stood and stared at it, and while her eyes were busy, Banner looked her over. Yoga pants, T-shirt. Those she’d done. Lines under her clothes betrayed the bra and panties she’d worn despite his instructions not to, plus her hair was in a ponytail when he’d told her to wear it loose. It was pulled back so tightly from her face that it must have made her scalp ache. She looked like a sadistic primary school teacher on her way to her Saturday Pilates class.

  However, the way the yoga pants clung to her perfect ass was sinful. Whoever had dreamed up yoga pants must have used Kate’s ass as inspiration.

  So, how did one go about disciplining a vanilla girl who said she wanted to be submissive but dug in her heels?

  “Do you need a few minutes to finish getting ready?” Banner let his gaze meet hers and narrowed his eyes slightly.

  A pink tinge spread across her cheeks, and she averted her gaze. “Do I have to? I mean, I almost didn’t come because of that. Telling a person how to dress is kind of creepy. I’m a grown woman. I should be able to dress the way I like.”

  “Creepy? You better get used to it if you really want a Dom. They’ll expect you to follow their orders.”

  She nodded carefully, but her face betrayed her trepidation. “I’m trying to understand it all, but some parts seem so weird.” Chuckling, she added, “Other parts are totally hot.”

  He understood where she was coming from, but she’d have to learn to give in a little. Sometimes being a submissive was about stepping out of your comfort zone. That was something he’d have to explain as they went. For now, baby steps.

  He led her through the house. Occasionally, her whispering footsteps paused in his wake, and he waited while she gawked at the rooms or art that interested her before he continued on. Once she stopped to admire a landscape he’d painted years ago, but he didn’t tell her it was his work.

  “You didn’t mention you were rich.”

  “Does that make a difference?”

  “No.”

  Women always said that, but for some reason, with Kate it seemed true.

  They arrived in the home theater room, which was cozy and soundproof, although noise probably wouldn’t be an issue today. He turned to face Kate, but because she’d been rubbernecking around the room, she hadn’t noticed he’d halted. She stopped too close. Only inches away, she tipped her head back to look at his face. Lips parted, eyes wide, she looked surprised they’d almost collided.

  “Give me your BDSM checklist and the list of limits you have regarding your arrangement with me, then go finish getting ready in the bathroom across the hall.” He wondered if she’d obey, considering how reluctant she was when it came to other things.

  She drew a stack of papers from her purse and handed them over but stayed rooted in place instead of heading across the hall.

  “Do you need me to walk you there, Kate?”

  She fidgeted. “But I don’t want to. It’s demeaning and disturbing.”

  “Chances are your Dominant will tell you how to dress, at least sometimes. This will start getting you used to that idea. Is there a serious reason why you can’t comply? Is it a trigger for you?”

  She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “No, it’s just that I have trouble following instructions if I don’t have a reason. If it’s just that you’re a pervert, I’d prefer to know that now.”

  “It’s not my payment for teaching you, no, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s been my experience that when submissives aren’t allowed to wear underthings it makes them feel more sensual and helps them get into a submissive frame of mind. As for your hair being loose, that’s just because I’m a pervert.”

  A giggle escaped her before she sighed heavily and drew a pattern on the floor with her bare toe. The blue polish on her toenails was unexpected and adorable.

  Patience wasn’t going to be as effective with Kate as reasoning with her might be. She was new and he’d have to cut her some slack—a lot more than he’d give a girl he was actually involved with.

  “Let me put it this way to you, Kate . . . If giving this tiny bit of control to your Dom is too much for you, we might as well end this arrangement now. I can’t teach you anything if you’re balking at something this small.” He shrugged. “Maybe you’re not submissive at all, or ma
ybe you’re not strong enough to hand control over to someone else. It’s not something everyone is capable of doing.”

  Banner turned and walked to one of the room’s leather armchairs, then sat and began looking over the papers she’d filled out. If she refused to do this, he’d escort her to the door. It was true that he wanted her more than he’d wanted anyone in a long time, but this was going to be temporary at best. There was no way he’d let himself get any deeper into this if she wasn’t giving anything back. Admittedly, if he was just training her in the fundamentals of BDSM he’d go easier on her. However, if she was looking for a Dom, they had to find out if there was even a hint of submission in her first. If Kate just wanted to play at this, she’d picked the wrong man to indulge her.

  He pretended not to watch her as she stood there staring at him. Eventually, she walked out of the room, and he heard the bathroom door click shut.

  Teacher: one; difficult student: zero. Although gloating wasn’t his style, Banner permitted himself a small smile as he scanned the paper in his hand.

  When he reached the bottom of the page, he whistled low. Other than the hard limits on her checklist, she was willing to consider any amount of contact between them, up to and including sex. Well, that was going to make training her much more interesting.

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, he tried to think about maintaining a level of distance and concentrate on what she needed to learn.

  Focus, man. Ignore your dick.

  With iron will he pulled his gaze away from the words “up to and including sex” and flipped to the next page. At the top of the checklist was anal, beside which she’d drawn a shaky circle around the word “curious,” instead of circling a scaling number. Damn, an anal virgin? He groaned aloud, his cock now completely hard and bent at an awkward angle in his jeans.

  He’d leave that for her real Dom to do, right? He was a decent man. He could resist the temptation. In his mind, he pretended she’d circled “hard limit,” but his cock remained unconvinced. Who had taught the damn thing to read?

  Aw, hell. Their kinks lined up. She’d circled scaling numbers or the word “curious” beside all of his favorites and had marked “hard limit” beside all of the things that turned him off. Several items she’d left blank.