On His Terms

by Sierra Cartwright

  “You were going to have to work your way up to a larger plug, regardless. This just accelerates my timeline.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said, feeling miserable. When would she learn to keep her mouth shut?

  “Look at me, Chelsea.”

  She turned her head. Thankfully he had the plug behind his back.

  “You are here for training. Of course you’ll make mistakes, plenty of them. That’s to be expected. We only have two weeks together. We have to move forward every day in order to accomplish what you want. I don’t hold grudges. I don’t expect perfection.”

  His reassurance was all she needed to settle back down. “I understand, Sir. I’m ready.”

  “Good girl.”

  He moved, and she thrust out her rear again. She made a decision not to feel embarrassed. He was going to do this whether she protested or not. She could stall or use a safe word, but eventually his will would prevail. So why not get on with it?

  Although she hadn’t heard him squirt lube on the plug, it was slick against her anus. He pressed it against her. This one felt big, beastly. She whimpered. She should never have complained about the smaller one.

  He had only managed to insert it part of the way when he pulled it back out. “You can do this, Chelsea.”

  “Do what, Sir? Be torn asunder?”

  “Bear down,” he advised. He forced the thing in deeper.

  “I… Fuck this!”

  “Stop fighting me,” he said.

  “I’m trying to cooperate, Sir.”

  “In that case, relax your sphincter.”

  She wondered how many more times he could say the same thing with different words? And when would she finally listen?

  He worked the thing in, then eased it out, going a little deeper and farther each time. It was so much thicker than the other one. “I’m not sure I can manage this, Sir!”

  “You can,” he said, his tone both encouraging and soothing.

  She was afraid his determination was no match for her inability to take the plug’s girth. Feeling helpless, desperate for this to be over, she inched away from him, trying to escape.

  “Stick out your ass, Chelsea.” He reached forward and took hold of her left shoulder to hold her in place.

  She screamed when he stretched her ass even farther.

  “That’s it,” he said. “It’s going in. Now.”

  With his hand on her shoulder, he forced her backwards, and he shoved the plug deep.

  Tears swam in her eyes. She hated this. Hated him.

  “You’re there,” he said.

  Like she had with the previous one, she felt her anus relax around the stem of the plug after it was completely seated.

  “That looks hot, Chelsea.”

  His approval made everything worthwhile.

  “I really am looking forward to fucking you up the ass. Maybe even tomorrow.”

  She gulped for air, trying to steady her trembling body. He stroked his fingertips up and down her spine. She appreciated the luxurious calm that enveloped her.

  “How does the plug feel?” he asked.

  She hated to admit it, but now that it was in, it wasn’t too bad. In fact, the full sensation, compounded by the fact he liked the way it looked, made her feel slightly sexy. How was that possible?

  “Chelsea?”

  “It’s fine, Sir.”

  He squatted next to her and captured her face between his palms. “Did you want to thank me for putting it in you?”

  Maybe in another lifetime. She blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. “Thank you, Sir. I appreciate your patience.” When had she become such an adept liar?

  He smiled, as if he’d read her mind and knew she hadn’t been telling the truth. But that didn’t seem to matter as much to him as the fact she’d followed protocol. “In future, Chelsea, I expect not to have to remind you. Please express your gratitude on a continual basis. For my attention, for teaching you, for punishing you, for my patience, everything.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, entranced by the deep, rich depths of his eyes. She had never felt closer to him. “I know I am difficult, and I do appreciate you, more than you know. Thank you.”

  “Was the carrying on worth it?”

  “No, Sir. But it freaking hurt!”

  “Did that change anything?”

  “You know it didn’t, Sir.”

  “Next time, when it’s either a bigger plug or my cock, push back and open yourself. It may not be easy, but it will certainly be more pleasant. But know this, Chelsea, your tears and protests will never sway me.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you for that.” Her heart felt as if it might melt. In such a short time, this man had come to matter to her.

  He moved one hand from her face and smoothed her hair.

  It was as if no one knew her like he did. Because he demanded honesty, refused to allow games, didn’t let her get away with prevarication, held her accountable, pushed her through her feminine embarrassment, he’d seen aspects of her personality even she hadn’t known existed. There was a bratty part. She wasn’t proud of that. He’d also discovered fears she didn’t realise she had. For the first time with a man, she’d felt emotionally needy, and when she did, she didn’t have to ask him to hold her. Somehow he knew to do it.

  “The Dom who ends up with you will be one lucky man.”

  For a moment, she wished that man were him.

  Chapter Six

  “You may kneel back.”

  That quickly, he re-established his authority.

  He released her, and she shook her head to clear it. She’d be a fool to fall for him. He was her trainer. Nothing more. She concentrated deeply so she would please him.

  “Nice,” he said.

  It amazed her how much she loved hearing his approval. He stood near her, tall, masculine and for the moment, her entire world.

  “Shall we discuss your training schedule? We have only a short time together, and a number of things to cover. Of course we will spend a considerable amount of time on anal.”

  She wrinkled her nose, attempting to stay on even footing and not succumb to the emotion that was coming with every step she ventured deeper into submission. “I was afraid of that, Sir.”

  “As well as holding your tongue.” He smiled.

  She grimaced.

  “We’ll also work on being bound and restrained, service and how to take a beating. We’ve had some time apart. Is there anything you’d like to add to your limits list?”

  “No, there isn’t.”

  “Your Dom will expect you to be excellent at giving head, so you’ll spend time practising that, as well.”

  “I have my test results in my purse, Sir.”

  “I’ll give you mine, as well.”

  “Can I ask a question about that?”

  “Of course.”

  “We had sex at the Den…”

  “Would you prefer we didn’t fuck?”

  “No.” She chose her words. “I know you don’t want things to be confused, but I would like you to fuck me.”

  “That’s no hardship,” he assured her.

  “I also find it difficult when I’m naked and you’re dressed.”

  “At times, I do that just so you are aware of your nudity. I think about what I’m doing at every step, Chelsea. If I’m dressed while you’re naked, it’s intentional, and I have a reason for it.”

  “I understand, Sir.” And maybe she should be grateful, rather than pushing this. He was much less intimidating when he was clothed. She recalled his hot, muscular body, and rippled arm muscles. Yeah, much better if he stayed covered up.

  “Is there anything specific you’d like to learn or spend time on?”

  She was silent for a moment as she considered what she wanted to say. He expected her to reveal things that made her uncomfortable—that was part of the whole submission thing. She was accustomed to playing coy games with men, to teasing, to saying what they wanted to hear. But he’d proven he wante
d much more than that from her.

  “Chelsea?”

  The knowledge that they would part after two weeks gave her confidence. It didn’t matter what she said, since they wouldn’t have a relationship going forward. The honesty demanded of a D/s left her a bit breathless. “I want to be able to endure whatever my Dom wants with confidence.”

  He moved across the room to pick up the hated collar.

  “With your permission, I’d like to see how well you’re doing on your postures.”

  She suppressed a shudder. “Of course, Sir.”

  He raised a questioning brow.

  “I’ve been thinking, Sir. About this, about why I disliked it so much.” She paused and pressed her lips together.

  “I would like to understand,” he said.

  “Never mind.” She sighed. Admitting this to him was just too embarrassing.

  “Any insight you can share is helpful to me.”

  Just the sight of the black leather made coldness seep through her body. “It is more about the way you treated me than actually being restrained.”

  “The spanking? The tawse?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I deserved that.” She looked at him. She understood why he’d been such a big success in business, despite the Bartholomew deal, and why many of the firm’s big clients had stayed with them. With the way he focused so intently, he had a way of making people feel listened to and heard. He didn’t multitask. He gave his full attention. His gaze seemed to miss nothing. “It was the whole way you were…”

  He waited in silence, holding the collar in one large hand.

  “As if I meant nothing to you,” she whispered. She glanced down and found a knot in the hardwood to focus on.

  His touch gentle, he took her chin and tilted her head back. “Let me make this clear,” he said. “I’m your trainer.”

  She nodded, feeling miserable.

  “But I do not train subs unless I first like and respect them. If you sense distance from me, it is intentional. Doms are humans too, even male ones.”

  He cocked his head to one side in an apparent attempt at humour. She didn’t smile. There was too much tension coiled in her for that.

  Then he continued in the same serious vein. “We have failings. You may struggle with your feelings, and it’s my job to help you manage your emotional state, as well as my own. For your sake and mine, I always compartmentalise punishment. It is serious business and needs to be honoured as such. I do not strike a sub with anger, but rather with deliberate intention. I want you to feel my punishment to reinforce your lessons. But I am always seeing to your safety first and foremost. Make no mistake, Chelsea. There is nothing, nothing, impersonal about this to me.”

  Hearing those words released some of the angst she’d been holding on to. She wanted this to mean as much to him as it did to her.

  “Any questions?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Please, Chelsea, use your safe word or ask me to go slow if you need to. We can talk about anything at any time.”

  “Thank you, Sir. I think I am better now.” And she wished she’d been able to discuss it with him earlier. Then again, she hadn’t quite understood it herself. Submission was unchartered territory. Playing at parties was nothing like being with Master Alexander.

  “When you’re ready, stand and turn your back to me.”

  Conscious of the way he watched her so intently, she stood. Since he hadn’t given instructions on what to do with her hands, she clenched them by her sides.

  “Constricting any of your muscles will increase your mental discomfort. Uncurl your hands, Chelsea.”

  Did the man miss nothing?

  “I’m going to tighten the collar more than last time, to keep your chin a bit more rigid.”

  Part of her wished he wouldn’t tell her his intentions. She drew deep breaths as he fastened it, and she heard the sounds of his breathing, too.

  When he was finished, he said, “Face me.”

  “Good.” He took a step back to look at her. He adjusted her collar slightly and moved hair back from her forehead. “Come with me,” he said.

  He picked up the ever-present cane.

  Curious, she followed him up the stairs and gripped the banister lightly to retain her equilibrium. She was more aware of her body than she’d ever been. With every step the plug jostled inside her. And the collar prevented her from looking around. The fact that she was nude made her feel overwhelmed. She moved slowly, and for some reason she’d never felt more feminine.

  He led the way into the master bedroom. “Over there,” he said, pointing and stepping aside.

  A cheval mirror was angled in the corner. “Sir?”

  “I want you to see what I do,” he said.

  Feeling somewhere between awkward and ridiculous, she moved towards the mirror. The room was reflected behind her, and she saw him drop the cane on the darkly masculine bedspread. “I don’t get it, Sir.”

  He stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

  Instead of looking at herself, she stared at his reflection. For the first time, she noticed a slight jagged scar above his right eyebrow.

  “Look at how symmetrical your body appears with your head so straight and your shoulders back. See how open you appear. It’s that juxtaposition. You appear more confident, which also makes you more appealing as a submissive.”

  She looked at her reflection and scowled. She noticed the flaws, the extra weight around her hips and the swell of her belly. “The mirror and I are not best friends, Sir,” she said. She shook her head at her reflection. Generally she hurried through styling her hair, which consisted of scrunching the short, wet strands with a dollop of mousse. Then she slathered foundation on her face, applied a coat of mascara and walked away.

  “Don’t be critical,” he said. “Be proud. Arch your back slightly so your chest sticks out further.”

  She did.

  “Do you notice the difference?”

  “That helps some,” she said.

  In the mirror, she saw him frown.

  “Don’t move,” he said. He removed the collar. “Stand the way you usually do.”

  She shook out her arms, drew her feet closer together, and allowed her shoulders to roll forward. Her chin lowered a bit, too.

  “Now look again.”

  “I get it.” The difference shocked her. Standing up straight did add a confident air. Without being instructed, she moved around, lifting her head, drawing her shoulder blades together, spreading her legs for balance. The plug continued to remind her of its presence, but she no longer found it as annoying. In fact, on some level, it appealed to her. Wearing it pleased him.

  “You’re beautiful in your submission, Chelsea.”

  She wrinkled her nose.

  “And arguing, even silently, doesn’t become you.”

  “Sorry, Sir.”

  “I’m going to put the collar back on you, and you can watch the changes in the mirror.”

  Part of her felt as if it were punishment to have to look at herself the whole time. After seeing the set of his jaw, she remained silent.

  “Smart girl,” he said.

  She was forced to lift her chin as he secured the collar and checked the fit. She had to admit that it made a difference in the way she stood.

  “Now because of your aversion to looking at yourself, I will put you through your paces in front of the mirror. I want you to watch yourself and correct any flaws.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Kneel up.”

  He stood to the side of her, cane held loosely in his right hand. She concentrated on each movement. The mirror made a huge difference, and she noticed that she was listing slightly to the left. She brought herself back to centre.

  “Perfect,” he said.

  She met his gaze in the glass. He was impossibly handsome, but so different from men she had ever been attracted to before. She preferred men who were a bit smaller than he was. He must be six-foot-
two, and it made her feel petite. She liked longer hair. And blond hair. She went for men with green or blue eyes, not the drownable brown like he had. Master Evan C was far more her type. So why did her heart quicken when she looked at Master Alexander?

  “Inspect.”

  Since he didn’t touch her, she knew he was just checking her positioning.

  “Legs farther apart.” With the cane, he tapped the inside of her right ankle. “Much better. Kneel up.”

  He made her go through every move no less than a dozen times. Through it all, she was aware of the dreaded plug’s presence.

  “Now stand with your hands folded loosely at your back.” When she did, he asked, “Do you recall how you insisted you didn’t want the cane to be used on your pussy?”

  She shuddered. “You’re not…” She couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. “You mean that night, at the Den?” She had hoped, prayed that he had forgotten that. “You said you might punish my pussy with it.”

  “Tonight I’m going to show you it can be pleasurable.”

  When she looked in the mirror, the sight of him holding the cane filled her vision.

  “I’m going to have you move through the positions again, but this time your wrists will be attached to the collar.”

  Did he say and do things in order to keep her guessing? She was expecting him to use the rattan on her, but instead he decided to cuff her.

  He waited, obviously giving her time to protest or sort through things mentally. She bit the tip of her tongue. Arguing would be futile, she knew. When he was determined, he won. Because of her previous reaction to being restrained, she knew she had to repeat the lesson. That was certainly incentive to master something without complaint. “Anything you say, Sir.” She wasn’t quite sure how she kept the sarcasm out of her voice, but somehow she managed.

  He placed the cane against the mirror where she couldn’t help but see it. Clearly he had a sadistic streak. He walked into his closet and returned with cuffs. Within seconds, he had her wrists attached to the D-rings on her collar.

  “Now, watch your reflection as you kneel back.”

  She was concentrating on him, and on what she was doing, so intently that the bondage didn’t upset her this time.