This Time
ThisTime
A Total-E-Bound Publication
www.total-e-bound.com
This Time
ISBN # 978-1-906811-58-7
©Copyright Sierra Cartwright 2009
Cover Art by (artist name) ©Copyright March 2009
Edited by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2009 by Total-E-Bound Publishing 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-melting..
THIS TIME
Sierra Cartwright
Dedication
Especially for BAB! Couldn't have done it without you!
Thank you, thank you, thank you!
This Time
Chapter One
Helpless, naked, splayed and bound, Emily concentrated on her breathing. In. Out.
In…
She told herself to think about anything but what would happen next.
Her nerves were ragged, as if they’d been dragged across the wicked edge of the blade that glinted on the wall in front of her. Determinedly, she closed her eyes to block the image.
It didn’t help.
Nothing would.
He’d left her here on purpose, to think, to change her mind. Over the past year, she’d learned he acted only with deliberate intent.
She’d been a fool to leave…and a bigger one to return.
The fact he hadn’t sent her away when he’d set eyes on her two hours ago had shocked her. It had shocked him as well, she’d seen it in the steely depths of his grey eyes, the colour so dark and intense it reminded her of the North Sea during a brewing storm…
* * * *
Emily’s hand had frozen on the door knocker, the brass heavy and cold beneath the bite of England’s chilly autumn evening. It’d taken her a full five minutes, her back teeth chattering, to actually knock.
It’d taken his housekeeper at least that long again to answer.
“Agnes,” Emily said breathlessly.
“Dear me.” Agnes pressed her fingertips to the base of her throat. “You look half froze.”
“I’m here to see the master.”
Agnes swallowed deeply. She’d been kind to Emily, but that was before Emily had run away six months ago, sneaking out in the middle of the night with no word to anyone.
Emily watched indecision chase across the younger woman’s face. Duty and kindness collided, leaving a frown burrowed between Agnes’s brows.
Evidently obligation to Sir Sterling trumped her feelings for Emily. “Wait here.”
With that, Agnes closed the door.
Emily tucked her hands inside her pockets and huddled deeper into her coat, trying to keep out the vicious, humidity-laden wind. She waited. She paced. And she waited some more.
It was a test, she knew.
This time, she wouldn’t fail.
She’d sought him out once before. She’d dabbled in S&M and had found men who didn’t understand it, men who thought it was fantastic to have someone to boss around and fuck when the urge hit. And she wanted more.
She’d heard of Sir Sterling’s reputation at a club she had visited. He was legendary on the D/s scene. And she’d wanted to be trained by him. Nothing but the best for this educated princess.
“Emily.”
Sterling . Master. She hadn’t expected him to open the door.
Seeing him again after six months, so tall, so broad, so imposing, made her heart leap. He was stunningly, classically handsome. His jawbone was squared, and it had a hint of dark growth. He’d shaved, but not in the last few hours.
His hair was as black as a midnight moor and pulled back severely, secured by a slim string of leather.
He smelled fresh, a tease of aristocratic masculinity mingled with the outdoors of his land. She betrayed the emotion of raw need with her soft moan.
He always did that to her, made her forget sense and reason and training.
Her knees instinctively buckled to kneel in the threshold.
“I trust you have good reason to be here?” He paused and swept an insulting glance from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, bared in the peek-a-boo high heeled shoes. “Uninvited.”
The whiplash in his voice made her stand up straight.
Surely she hadn’t expected to be welcomed as the prodigal? Surely she hadn’t believed for a moment that he’d order her to strip and kneel for inspection? Or invite her into his bed?
Behind him, warmth and light beckoned.
Determination had carried her this far. She’d brazen it out. She’d tried to live without him, tried to go back to her safe little existence. But she’d been consumed by thoughts of him. She needed Sir Sterling. “I’m back.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and did the forbidden—looked directly into the steeled depths of his eyes. “I’m here to be the slave you want, the slave you demand.”
“That position has been filled.”
“You’re a liar,” she said. With a biting smile and terrified pulse, she added, “Master.”
“Insulting.” He quirked a brow. “That may not be in your best interest.”
“It was honest,” she corrected. “More honest than you just were.” At the worst, he would beat her and send her away. And that would leave her no deeper in the depths of misery than she was already living. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? What you demanded? Why you said I failed. I wouldn’t admit what I truly wanted. Well, I’m here. Admitting. Asking.”
He fisted a hand in her hair near her nape.
He’d moved fast, stunning her.
She refused to wince.
He dragged her closer to him. “Admitting what?”
“That I need this. I need you. I need to be dominated.” Adrenaline became fuel. “I need to be mastered.” She looked him in the eye. “By you.”
“You went to someone else.”
Honesty. He’d demanded it. Until now, she’d had no idea how difficult that would truly be. “Yes. Several men.”
“Ah. And you want me to accept some other men’s leavings?” He let go of her hair.
She took a step to steady herself. “Bugger off. I am not any man’s leavings,” she said, “since I was the one to walk away.”
“You’ve got experience at that.”
Bravado was a mask to hide her fear and desperation. “I made a mistake in running away from you. I was a coward. And the fact that I’m here now proves I no longer am.” A gust of wind gnawed at her exposed earlobes. “It took courage, Sterling , to sub-let my flat, to take the train out here, fifty kilometres from nowhere.”
“Did you masturbate?”
A particular talent of his, she knew…keeping her off-kilter.
“Did you masturbate?” he repeated. “While you
were on the train? In the back of the taxi?” Instead of waiting for an answer, he grabbed her hand and raised it to his nose, inhaling deeply. Then he licked her first finger.
His tongue was warm, moist…the nip of his teeth painful, exquisitely painful.
Delighted terror shuddered through her.
“Emily…” And for a third time, he asked, “Did you masturbate?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“And you had a fantasy?”
“Of you tying me face down, spread open.” She had nothing to lose. Nothing left. She wanted this man. “I fantasised that you punished me for running away. That ultimately you accepted me back. Into your bed. Your arms.” She licked her lower lip. For all her seeming courage, she was scared witless. “Your life.”
He released her hand.
The lack of his touch made her bereft. But the absence of emotion in his chilled, grey eyes frightened her.
He turned away from her and entered the house.
Since he didn’t close the door in her face, she followed him, feeling unsteady, uncertain.
Sterling crossed to the fireplace in the parlour. Facing her, he propped an elbow on the mantel, the distance between them as much emotional as physical. “Tell me about him.”
She frowned. “Tell you—”
“Why did you go?”
Self-protectively, she crossed her arms across her chest. If they had been Master/slave, he would have never permitted that. She would be on her knees, legs spread, her breasts cupped in her palms in invitation. When he lifted his brows, she would pinch her own nipples, tug on her breasts, lifting them up and away from her body. She’d torture herself, fighting back arousal as he watched from a distance. If she were lucky, she’d see his erection strain against his trousers. “I needed to know.”
“And how did I stack up?”
Ego? From Sterling ? He was vulnerable?
Emily knew she had no choice except total honesty. Turning her hands palm up, she said, “That’s why I’m back. There is no other.”
“Details, Emily. All of them.”
“A friend—Dianna—introduced me to Marcus at the club. She told him I was…” She stopped herself. “Am a sub. A sub without a Master.” More than anything, Emily wanted to be near Sterling , not banished to the other side of the room. But she had no right to want anything else. He hadn’t tossed her to the curb like yesterday’s rubbish. “He rang my mobile and invited me out for a pint.”
“Invited?”
“Politely. While we were at the pub, he told me to spread my legs. He forced them apart farther. He touched me through my knickers.”
“Through your knickers, was it? Like a school boy, too naughty for his own good.”
She’d had the exact same thought at the time. He’d seemed amateurish.
“Show me.” Sterling pointed to a chair. “Take off your coat.”
She shucked her jacket and draped it over a nearby settee. Then she sat on the chair he’d indicated. At his nod, she spread her legs. Then wider. She pulled up her skirt slightly—she had been clever enough to wear a skirt rather than trousers.
“Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“Were you wet?”
Suddenly, she understood. This was to be part of her humiliation. She’d hidden from him, now he wanted her exposed in all ways. Telling him, showing him, what another man had demanded of her would cut through her defences.
“Emily?”
This Time
Chapter Two
“I was. At first. It was unknown, forbidden, new. Different.” She stroked her clit through the dampness of silk.
“Did he pinch your clit?” Sterling ’s voice held a casual note.
She knew this was anything but a polite conversation. It was a test. “No.”
“Did he make you remove your knickers?”
“Not until later. At my flat.”
“He allowed you to remain fully clothed in public?”
“Yes.”
“And how was that?”
“A relief.” Her gaze dropped. She exhaled. “A disappointment.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
She tipped her chin back to look at him. “I’m a sub. I didn’t want a date. I wanted a Dom.”
“Take off your knickers.”
Her heart thundered on a surge of joy.
“Without standing up,” he clarified.
He hadn’t moved from his spot near the fireplace. His arm was still stretched across the mantel. A drink, the glass half-full of a dark amber liquid, was near his fingertips.
She manoeuvred and wiggled, sliding silk down her thighs, over her knees, then letting the material slink to the hardwood floor.
“Pick them up.” When she did, he asked, “Are they wet?”
Emily nodded.
“Smell yourself on them.”
Her heart thundered. He understood what she wanted, what she needed. No one else did. No one. Looking at him, she silently followed orders, holding the material against her nose.
“Do you smell your orgasm?”
“Yes. I do,” she said, “Master.”
“Who gave you permission to orgasm?”
Breath seemed to freeze in her lungs. He was treating her like his slave. “No one. It shan’t happen again.”
“Disrespectful, slut.”
“Disrespectful,” she repeated. But he hadn’t sent her away. She kept holding onto that thought.
“Then, at your flat…” He trailed off, leading her back into the story about her disastrous experience with Marcus.
“I stripped.”
“Did he order you to?”
“No.”
“Ah. Then that’s a testament to your training.” He took a drink, draining his glass in a single swallow. “Or is it?”
“I was anticipating an order.”
“And in the absence of being told what to do?”
“Used past orders as a guideline.” She still held the damp silk near her nose.
“How did he react?”
She thought back to the awkwardness. She should have sent him away at that moment. “He wasn’t as experienced as I believed.”
Sterling raised a brow.
“He stared at me.”
“Take off your stockings.”
That wasn’t an order she would have anticipated. Sir Sterling was a sensual man. He liked the look of her body in demi-cup bra, stockings, garter belt and shoes. “May I stand?”
He shook his head.
Her skirt provided privacy that he didn’t usually afford.
Within moments, she dropped her lingerie on the floor.
“Stand.” When she did, he said, “Now your blouse.”
Her fingers shook, suddenly nerveless, as she slid each button through its hole. It had been months since he’d watched her disrobe. But this was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To be his? Subject to his every command?
The material pooled behind her.
“Brassiere.” He hadn’t moved a centimetre toward her. “And then the rest.”
She finished undressing and stood there, naked. At one time, she would have known exactly what he wanted her to do. Now, though, uncertainty was dictating her every action.
“Turn around.” He placed his empty glass on the mantel with a smart smack of crystal against marble. “Bend over and grab your ankles.”
Ordinarily, Emily enjoyed obeying his every command, displaying herself for him. But that was when she had on beautiful lingerie and high, spiky heels that accented the length of her calves. This…this wasn’t about making her feel sexy or arousing him, it was about making her feel exposed, about pushing her boundaries, about testing her.
Ungraceful in bare feet on the wooden floors, she followed orders, taking hold of the outside of her ankles. Her hair brushed the floor, her fringe fell in her eyes, and blood rushed into her head.
“Show me your cunt.”
With a shiver, she spread her
legs farther apart.
Instead of crossing to her, touching her, punishing her as she deserved, as she wanted, as she needed, he went to the far side of the room and rang the bell.
Agnes responded in slightly less than five seconds. The woman had clearly been watching Emily’s humiliation!
“Another snifter of brandy, if you please, Agnes. Oh, and take this one away.”
“Immediately, sir.” Agnes joined the master at the sideboard. But instead of scurrying away, she held the decanter against her chest and stared at Emily.
“Turn your feet more inward, Emily,” Sterling instructed.
Emily’s embarrassment was complete, standing there with her bare bum in the air, her private parts exposed to the serving girl.
“Much better, don’t you agree, Agnes?”
“Oh, aye, sir!”
Emily had never allowed another woman to so much as look at her at boarding school, and now…
When she spoke, Agnes’s voice was breathless, “The way her tiny hole puckers…”
“Indeed,” Sterling agreed. “Makes you want to put something in there, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, master. It does.” There was a huskiness to the woman’s voice. “Shall I fetch you anything else whilst I’m in the kitchen, sir?”
The implication hung in the air. Should she bring something to shove up Emily’s tight little hole? Her breath threatened to strangle her.
“Not for now. Thank you.”
The girl gave a little curtsey before hurrying away.
“Perhaps you’d like to have the servant service you.”
Oh my God, no. “Master?”
“Have you ever had a woman suck on your clit? Mount you with a strap-on cock?”
The room began to swim. She was getting dizzy with the lack of oxygen to her brain.
“Lick you from front to back while you writhe on the floor or while you stand there, bound by my will while she sweeps her tongue all over your delicious cunt?”
This Time Page 1