In the Zone

by Sierra Cartwright

  “Thank you, Sir,” she said, blinking.

  “Ah, you’re back with us.”

  She eased her head into an upright position.

  “I’ll get you out of your bonds,” he told her. He moved his hand to her shoulder, making sure she knew he was here, no matter what she needed. “And the clamps.”

  She winced but didn’t say anything. Now that she’d returned from that place deep inside her mind, he knew she’d be very much aware how badly her muscles ached, the pain radiating through her breasts, and the lingering effects of his beating. The bliss of the orgasm would help some, but he knew the power of the endorphins was limited.

  Remembering the dozens of people who were watching, he said, “If your partner has reached subspace, you’ll want to bring him or her back gently. If you get them to subspace, you must be more in control than you ever have been. Your sub will not register pain the way they normally do so it’s incumbent on you to pay close attention and not administer more than they can take. At times your sub may ask for more, but make sure you’re aware of where they are first.”

  He noticed the red marks on her chest. Jesus, she was hot. Just how long until they could escape from Zones?

  He decided to remove the clamps first. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He slowly moved his hand from her shoulder to cup her breast. She looked at him, her deep brown eyes darkened with desire and trust. Was there a more heady combination?

  He imprisoned her breast to keep her still while he released the clover.

  She grunted, but she didn’t complain. “Thank you, Sir.”

  The words were forced around a pained grunt. He said to the crowd, “Now that’s a well-trained sub.”

  “Hear, hear!” someone called.

  Nathaniel moved to her other breast and repeated the process. This time her head fell back and she dug her fingers into the cross. She swore softly but then remembered herself. “Thank you, Sir.” Her anguish radiated through the room.

  “I was hoping you’d mind your manners.”

  A few people chuckled.

  He motioned to a monitor. “Get me a blanket.”

  Nathaniel unfastened her from the cross in quick movements, and then he helped her move away, steadying her with his arms around her waist.

  “Please take a well-deserved bow,” he told her, knowing he was pushing her and wondering how obedient she really was. “Tell the audience thank you for watching.”

  She was unsteady on her high-heeled shoes, but she did as instructed. “Thank you all for attending our demonstration.” She did a little curtsy at the unseen attendees.

  As the crowd expressed their appreciation, he draped the blanket around her and led her away from the center of the stage.

  The houselights slowly brightened, and the spotlight dimmed. He asked a monitor to gather her clothing and to have Willow put it in Alani’s locker. Around them, the noise level raised as people stood, pushing back their chairs, and started talking.

  “You really did well,” he said against her ear.

  She leaned into him. He doubted the show of vulnerability would last, so he seized it.

  Unlike him, he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head.

  If she’d noticed, she pretended not to.

  With a raised brow, he drew Alani toward the stairs.

  When she appeared a bit tentative, he scooped her into his arms.

  “I can walk, Sir.”

  “I’m sure you can. I’ve decided otherwise.”

  She didn’t snuggle against him, not that he’d expected otherwise.

  He carried her to Marcus’s office and kicked the door closed behind him. He hooked a chair with his foot. Once he had the chair a couple of feet away from the desk, he sat, still holding on to Alani—his sub.

  Her breathing slowly returned to normal. “Will you fuck me?”

  “Later,” he said.

  “Now. Please. Let me ride you.”

  He was only human. “I can’t take advantage of you.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” she insisted. “I have to have your cock.”

  “Goddamn it.”

  “Fuck me,” she demanded.

  “I want to do this when we have more time.”

  “I want you now.”

  His cock had been hard for nearly twenty-four hours. “Do you want me to take out the plug?”

  She shook her head. “It’s small. I just want you in me. Please?”

  He was done for. He stood and placed her on the chair. After he grabbed a condom from his wallet, he kicked off his boots and removed his leather pants.

  He returned to her.

  “Let me be on top, Sir,” she said, standing and tossing aside the blanket.

  He sat, his cock thrusting straight up.

  “Sir has a beautiful dick.”

  “Get your ass over here.”

  She climbed into his lap to face him and lower herself over his cock. Jesus, she was hot and tight.

  Her internal muscles clenched him, and it was all he could do not to ejaculate instantly.

  She took charge, and for a moment, he let her. He loved the way she set the pace, the way she moved up and down on his cock.

  She leaned into him, the way she had after the scene, the way she never would unless she was feeling vulnerable.

  But a minute or two later, he needed to be in charge again.

  He curved his hands into her buttocks, supporting her as he moved her up and down on him. He controlled the depth and speed.

  “Sir, I need to come.”

  “You’re my sub,” he said. “Your cunt belongs to me. You don’t touch yourself without permission; you don’t come unless I tell you to.”

  “Sir!”

  Her body shuddered.

  Damn. He should have jacked off earlier today while he was in the shower. As it was, he was already on the edge. “Come,” he told her.

  She cried out, and she pulsed around him. Her cunt felt especially tight with the plug inserted in her rear. She bit his shoulder and pulled his hair. He’d never seen this unrestrained abandon from her. Instead of it annoying him, it thrilled him. Her wild streak—just for him—satisfied as nothing else could.

  After she settled, he lifted her again. “Squeeze me,” he told her.

  She contracted her muscles, drawing the cum out of his cock. He came with a loud grunt, and she took him all the way inside her, rocking her hips to get him deeper.

  The quick, passionate sex had been unexpected and rewarding.

  Barely a minute later, she pulled away from him. “Thank you for that, Sir. For the scene and for the fuck. I needed it.”

  Reluctantly he let her go.

  She wriggled off his lap and reached for the blanket to wrap herself up again. She brushed her wayward hair back from her face. “May I be excused, Sir? I’d like to make myself presentable and get back to work.”

  He was out of excuses to hold her. “Master Richard requested you again.”

  “I’ll do a good job, I promise.”

  “I asked another sub to fill in tonight.”

  Her mouth parted slightly.

  “I wanted to be sure you were properly retrained first.”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  Retraining her had nothing to do with his decision, and they both knew it. “I see, Sir. I’m sure you’ll let me know when you think I’m ready.”

  “Don’t think this gets you off the hook for later, Alani.”

  Chapter Seven

  Alani wondered how she would make it through the rest of the night.

  She grabbed a towel and body wash and headed for the showers, shoving her thoughts and emotions deep inside. There’d be time enough to think later, but then again, maybe she’d just try to pretend she was unaffected by Master Nathaniel’s overwhelming dominance.

  If she allowed a single thought of him to sneak into her mind, she’d be consumed. At the beginning of the night, when he’d said he want

ed her to play with him outside the club, he’d stunned her. She hadn’t even begun to deal with the implications of that before he’d turned her over his knee like a naughty girl and blistered her behind.

  And then there was the scene. The demonstration with Master Nathaniel had been incredible, searing her mentally as well as physically. Until tonight, she’d never known how much of a lifeline someone’s voice could be—how much she trusted him.

  It was what she’d searched for, wanted, dreamed of.

  The pain had been exquisite. It had been torturous, but she’d achieved subspace, if only for a few moments.

  She wasn’t a touchy-feely woman who liked aftercare. She’d learned to be self-reliant; she refused to be dependent on any man. The fact he liked to care for her was unwelcome and uncomfortable. The quick, raw sex had satisfied her, though, and it kept him from soothing and snuggling.

  Wishing she was in the shower at her apartment, she removed the plug and ran it under the water.

  She stayed in the shower as long as she possibly could before toweling off and heading back to her locker.

  She dressed as if she were donning armor. In a way, that was exactly what she was doing. The strong woman who emerged from the dressing room wasn’t the one who’d slowly entered.

  Thankfully she didn’t see Master Nathaniel again for the rest of the evening, but she knew that wouldn’t last. After all, she’d agreed to go home with him.

  She concentrated on pleasing her customers, being polite, and telling a couple of unattached doms that yes, she was available as a professional submissive. They’d just need to schedule a time with Willow.

  Once most of the patrons had left, she slipped back into the dressing room to gather her coat and purse.

  The very chicken part of her wanted to slip out the back door instead of dealing with Master Nathaniel.

  But that wasn’t her.

  After knotting her belt tighter than necessary, she walked toward the foyer.

  Her steps faltered and her heart stopped when she saw him leaning against the wall, one foot propped up. He wore a buttery-soft brown leather jacket that snuggled his body and made him look impossibly sexy. He had changed into jeans, and he still wore motorcycle boots and the all-out sexy T-shirt.

  He folded his arms across his broad chest, and focused his gaze on her, as if there were no other woman on the planet. “Ready?”

  Oh, God. Was she?

  He pushed away from the wall and moved toward her. “My vehicle is waiting.”

  She gave him her biggest, most fake smile.

  As she was coming to expect, he placed his fingers lightly in the small of her back. “I should follow you, Sir,” she said.

  “You should do as I wish,” he countered, as always.

  Once they were outside, he opened the passenger door for her. She didn’t really expect this treatment from any man, much less a dom.

  When they were on the interstate, he glanced at her. “You’re quiet. Have you changed your mind?”

  She thought about that for a second. Her sense of self-preservation told her to run hard and fast, lock herself in her apartment, turn off her phone, and refuse to deal with him. This man was dangerous. Already he’d given her what she most deeply desired, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d become emotionally entangled. She’d be a fool to proceed with any sort of relationship with Master Nathaniel.

  “Alani?”

  She was definitely a fool. Despite the risks, she wanted the potential rewards. “I haven’t changed my mind, Sir.”

  He exited onto westbound Sixth Avenue.

  As they drove toward his place, she realized how little she knew about him.

  His home wasn’t what she expected. She wasn’t sure what she’d pictured, but she hadn’t envisioned him in a quasi-suburban setting. The homes in this area were a bit older and smaller than some modern homes. They were set on large lots with lots of trees, and at least one of his neighbors had a horse. “A horse?” she asked.

  “And some have chickens. We have at least one person who raises honeybees.”

  He pulled into a long driveway and turned off the engine. She reached for the door, but he said, “Wait. I will open your door for you.”

  She folded both hands in her lap and turned slightly to look at him. “Sir, I have to admit you’re confusing me. This isn’t how a typical Dom/sub relationship works.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you’ve experienced until now. You should know there’s no such thing as a typical relationship, either in the BDSM or vanilla world. What works for one couple wouldn’t work for another.”

  She bit her tongue. She wanted to argue, but she was strangely turned on by the fact he wouldn’t let her.

  “That said,” he continued, “the one thing that is constant, every couple has rules that work for them. Here’s my one inflexible rule: I’m in charge. This means I won’t allow you to top from the bottom. You don’t have to like anything I say. But you do have to obey or suffer the consequences.”

  The car’s interior light faded, leaving them in darkness. In this area of the neighborhood, there was no streetlamp. The car’s passenger compartment felt close, intimate.

  “I’m not an ogre,” he said. “Use your safe word anytime, or ask for permission to clarify something or discuss it. I don’t want you fearful. Do you understand?”

  “I do. Sir.”

  “It pleases me to open and close doors for you. And I expect you to walk a bit in front of me, never behind me, even if you’re on a leash.”

  “A leash, Sir?” Her mouth dried. No dom had ever leashed her.

  “Any questions or further arguments? If so, let’s hear them now. In future, you’ll be punished for not following my rules.”

  She was so stuck on the image of being leashed that there was no room for other thoughts. “No, Sir. None.”

  “We’re clear, then? I’m the dom, and you follow my rules? Do as you’re told, when you’re told, and we’ll be fine.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He nodded abruptly and exited the car.

  Waiting for him to come around for her was uncomfortable. She was an independent woman, accustomed to doing things for herself. Even at the club, she was on the management team. The submissive scenes she participated in were exactly that—scenes, not reality. Waiting on a man to open her door felt archaic as well as unnecessary.

  In a way, though, it reinforced her submission to him. Moments later, he opened her door.

  “It’s okay to let others do things for you,” he said. “It’s okay to be a woman. It’s okay to let others care for you.”

  She flashed a quick, fake smile. She tried to be graceful as she stepped out of the vehicle. He offered a hand, and the act of accepting his help made her very much aware of her femininity, of their size difference. She moved away from the car, and he closed the door. With his remote key fob, he locked the vehicle.

  “We’ll go in the back door,” he said. “Lift your coat and your skirt and hold them up. I want your ass exposed.”

  She froze. She wanted to ask about the neighbors, but she didn’t dare. There was little ambient light, and his home was set back from the road. With the way he’d parked the SUV, the driveway was blocked from passing vehicles.

  Even if that wasn’t the case, she was expected to follow his orders, even if they made her uncomfortable.

  The narrow path had neatly trimmed bushes on one side and solar lights on the other.

  She bared her bottom to him and walked up the narrow path.

  The night air was cool on her skin, raising goose bumps.

  As she neared the door he’d indicated, she exaggerated the sway of her hips. She might pay for the sass later, but it was fun right now.

  “Kneel while I open the door.”

  She lowered herself to the welcome mat. He reached over her with his keys.

  It seemed to take him forever to unlock the door and open it. He flicked on an interior light and then took her purse from her.

  By coming in the back door, they were entering the home through the kitchen.

  “Crawl,” he told her. “When you reach the middle of the floor, kneel up and remove your coat.”

  Earlier, at the club, she’d wondered how they would make the transition from work to home. She shouldn’t have worried. This man’s dominance was ingrained.

  He stood there, watching her.

  Her face heated with embarrassment. She told herself this was completely natural, but the way he watched her made her hyperaware of her every move.

  She crawled over the threshold. Now that she was here, totally alone with him, her normal bravado fled. She was aware of being more than just a masochist. And this moment he was forcing her to be a submissive—his sub.

  He followed her and closed them in, turning a dead bolt in finality.

  She continued across the floor, determined not to complain about the cold or the rough texture of the tiles.

  Alani barely had time to take in her surroundings—the stainless-steel appliances, poured concrete countertops, and the small table near the bay window—before he said, “Dawdling will earn you a time-out.”

  A time-out? Her first reaction was to bare her teeth. He had no freaking idea how uncomfortable it was to crawl on this unyielding surface. She wasn’t taking her time; she was trying not to bruise her knees.

  “I believe in the punishment fitting the crime,” he told her. “You want to take your time, put off the inevitable? Then you’ll get more time to think about it.”

  She stopped in the middle of the room, hating how well he seemed to know her.

  Making sure she didn’t stall, she knelt up, unknotted her belt, and then shrugged out of the coat. He took it from her and left the room without a word.

  Being alone in his kitchen unnerved her, and she suspected he knew that.

  She waited, like a good sub, her gaze downcast, for a few seconds. The sounds he made were in the distance, so she glanced around.

  As she might have guessed, his place was immaculate. There wasn’t even a glass out of place. Either he had a service come in or he kept things simple.

  She heard the sound of his footsteps coming closer, and she looked at the floor.

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