Finding Master Right

by Sparrow Beckett

  “I needed clarification on some of those, and after searching the Internet for figging I was too scared to look anything else up.” She stood by the doorway, looking at the floor. Her loose hair had fallen forward to obscure her features from his view, but the bits of her face he could see were crimson. “And there were other things where I didn’t know how I felt about them.”

  “That’s fine. You knew more than I thought you did.”

  “I called Janine a few times.”

  He chuckled. “The things you left blank probably aren’t things we’ll explore together anyway. Come sit in the chair next to me so we can talk.”

  She trailed over after ditching her purse by the door, and he managed not to be a complete pervert and ogle her breasts as they swayed free under her tight T-shirt.

  “Do we have to talk about it? Can’t you just give me a safeword and take it from there?”

  “Communication is important in BDSM. If I don’t know what you like, what you dislike, and what your triggers are, it’s hard for me to make our time together educational and pleasurable for you.” He felt as if he were giving a guest lecture at a college. He didn’t think he had a teaching fetish, but this was interesting.

  “Well, how come you don’t have to give me your checklist? Knowing you know all that stuff about me now is embarrassing.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed, Trouble. Our kinks line up a little too well, so don’t worry about me judging you. In the kink community, people are very accepting, even if you’re into things they aren’t.”

  “Your kink is not my kink, but your kink is okay?”

  “Exactly. See, you know things.”

  “Well, Janine tells me things, and I tend to remember the parts that sound important.” She sat in the chair next to his, staring at the blank television screen. “I still can’t believe I actually showed up today. I’ve been trying to psych myself up all week, but in the back of my mind I thought I’d chicken out.”

  Fear he understood. Some of his underlying tension melted away. Her eyes were still hidden mostly by hair, so he tucked a lock of it behind her ear. “So what made you get in your car and come over?”

  “I told myself I was going to the gym until I was sitting in your driveway. Ringing the doorbell was one of the hardest things I’ve done in my life.”

  “I respect that this is a struggle for you. It’s impressive that you came anyway. Hopefully it’ll help you answer some questions about yourself, if nothing else.” He flipped through her questionnaire again briefly then laid the papers aside. “This gives me enough information to work with for now. Do you have a safeword in mind?”

  “I thought Masters didn’t do safewords.”

  “I do. I watch carefully, too, though. With most people you can tell when they’re getting close to their limit. It’s never my intention to hurt someone past what they can bear. Leaving emotional scars isn’t one of my kinks.” He was a safe, sane, and consensual guy when it came to BDSM, but he knew some people who weren’t. They were generally the asshats who gave BDSM a bad name. Banner drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair once before he caught himself. A strong desire to move things along was making him impatient, but rushing her wouldn’t be fair. “Besides, you haven’t agreed to be my slave. But even if you did, with me you get a safeword.”

  Shit. Had he really just implied she might agree to be his slave at some point? It was as though he’d left a huge yet hanging over them. Nothing like making the girl uncomfortable by laying his cards on the table.

  “If I was eager to try being a slave, what would you do?”

  He smiled, wondering if his metaphorical fangs were evident. “We would need to have a long discussion about what that meant to both of us, and we’d have to see whether we were suitable for each other.”

  “So BDSM is all consensual, then?” Her eyebrows rose, as if she didn’t believe it.

  “In the mainstream BDSM community, yes. It may not always feel that way to the slave, but in reality the option to walk away is always there.” He let some of the darkness within him show in his expression. “Of course there are people who live on the fringes of BDSM who blur the lines.”

  “Do you blur the lines?”

  Deliberately he paused, enjoying the hint of apprehension he saw in her face. Being a bastard was fun, but since she didn’t know him well, he wasn’t sure how seriously she’d take it.

  “No. My slaves are free to leave me if that’s what they want.” The last few hadn’t really been slaves anyway, which had been frustrating for both parties.

  “Have a lot of slaves chosen to leave you?”

  “In the past few years I’ve ended relationships with a few women who told me they were slaves, but were actually submissives who thought slavery sounded dangerous and exciting. The reality wasn’t something they adjusted to very well.” Being asked to submit outside of the bedroom hadn’t gone over well. His old frustrations welled up, but dwelling on how difficult it was to find someone to suit him, someone who wanted what he wanted, didn’t fix the problem.

  She turned to look at him, her eyes round. “So you’re strict?”

  “Very.”

  “Are you going to punish me a lot?” She wet her lips.

  He could almost feel the smooth wooden handle of the tawse in his hand. Fuck. When he was around this girl his imagination was like live-streaming porn.

  “That depends on if you’re a good girl or a bad girl.”

  A small whimper escaped her, and the sound went straight to his groin.

  “Do you like pain, Kate, or is it the idea of being punished?”

  She took refuge in silence. Fair enough. She might not know yet.

  “Should my safeword be long, so there’s no confusion?” Kate finally asked.

  “It should be short and easy to remember. Something most people wouldn’t say in context.”

  “Wombat?”

  Banner chuckled. “Wombat? Will you remember that?”

  “Yes, will you?”

  “If you say any odd words while you’re with me, I’ll make sure you’re okay. I’ve had partners forget their safewords before and yell things like ‘tuna’ ‘cardigan’ ‘matchbox’ ‘ukulele.’ It gets the point across even if you don’t hit the right word.”

  She laughed, a true, beautiful sound that thrilled the ear.

  “Are you ready to start?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He quelled a shudder.

  “Call me Banner for now, okay? You’re not mine, and every time you call me that it makes me a little crazy.”

  “Crazy how?” Her lips parted, and he wished he could show her just how crazy.

  “For a moment I forget you’re not mine, and I don’t think you want that.”

  Kate nervously licked her dry lips. “Okay . . . Banner.” From her mouth, his name sounded oddly like a not-so-subtle Sir.

  He threw a blanket on the floor in front of him. “Kneel there. We’ll see what you need to work on in terms of posture.”

  Without hesitation, she folded herself into an attractive kneel on the small blanket. Her affect was a mixture of pride and self-consciousness. The graceful line of her neck begged for a collar.

  “Good. Most Dominants will prefer you to kneel with your knees open and your hands turned upward on your thighs.”

  “What do you prefer?”

  “Knees open, unless there’s company. Hands palms down on the submissive’s thighs. I find it more aesthetically pleasing.”

  Kate gathered her hair and put it behind her shoulder, then spread her knees and placed her hands palms down on her legs. The tilt of her head was challenging, so he took gentle hold of her jaw and waited until she went docile. Unable to resist, he let his fingertips brush her cheek before withdrawing his hand.

  She blinked rapidly for a moment, then went very still. Her green eyes became soft and bottomless for a moment before regaining their usual alertness.

  “Why did you hold my face like that?”
>
  “You looked like you were challenging me. Some Doms love that, but many don’t. You have to learn what your Dom will tolerate and work within those limits.” He rhythmically rubbed a thumb over her chin, just to see if it would work again. Kate’s eyes went dreamy and she relaxed into the pose. It was like a magic button. He smiled. “Likewise, if a Dominant cares deeply for you, he might adjust what he expects from you in small ways.”

  He slid his hand down to caress the side of her neck. The scoop neckline of her T-shirt tempted him to trace a finger over her collar bone. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her breathing slowed. A small shiver took her, and the peace in her expression arrested his attention.

  “You look very calm, Kate,” he whispered, dragging the tip of his finger over the softness of her exposed flesh. “Do you like how this feels?”

  “Yes, Banner,” she breathed.

  “When you talk to Doms, you have to try to remember this feeling. This is what you want from them. If you stay focused on this headspace, you might find yourself less tempted to scare them off.”

  The spell broke, and her eyelids snapped open. Her glare was eloquent. “So I always need to walk around feeling all dopey and stupid? If a Dom wants that from me, he needs to work for it. I’m not just going to automatically become a mindless sex doll every time a Dom ambles by, on the off chance he can get me into that headspace.”

  Before he realized what he was doing, he’d buried his fist in her hair. She gasped but didn’t try to get away.

  “Did I say you had to be a mindless sex doll?” he growled. “I said you need to remember what you like, so that you don’t lose track of what you’re after.”

  Kate’s eyes had lost focus again, and she angled her face toward his as though she wanted him to kiss her. How was he supposed to teach her anything from an objective standpoint if she was accidentally pushing all of his buttons? He tightened his fist in her hair, and she moaned.

  Fuck objective.

  He pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, “If you keep challenging a Dom, eventually, you’ll get more than you bargained for. I’m supposed to be teaching you things, not touching you. How are you going to learn if your sex drive keeps taking over?”

  Unable to stop himself, he brushed his lips against Kate’s. Soft, sensual . . . not that he’d forgotten the last time. She whined and tried to deepen the kiss, but he held her back by the hair and lightly traced her lips with his tongue. When he was ready, he kissed her, still restraining her by the hair. Her lips yielded under his. The nervous way she kissed him back, her tongue shyly meeting his, pushed him further into Dom space. He adjusted his grip in her hair, and she whimpered into his mouth. Would it be so wrong to throw her to her back and see just how willing she was?

  He broke the kiss off when he chose to, sat back in his chair slightly, and allowed her to inch closer until she was between his knees, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes.

  “Please.” The word was so quiet he thought for a moment that he’d imagined it.

  “Please what, Kate?”

  “Please show me what it’s like with you. Just once.” She was in a subby headspace, maybe for the first time in her life, and although he ached to have her, he wondered if it was the wrong thing to do.

  “I don’t think you’re ready for that.” He chuckled regretfully.

  She pressed her cheek to his knee but didn’t look away. “Please, Sir. I’ll do what you want. I’ll be good.”

  Sir? Fuck, that word from her lips, and her meaning it, shot straight to his cock. He untangled his gaze from hers and his hand from her long silky hair. Her sound of disappointment was adorable.

  “Fine. You want to play with me, little girl?”

  She seemed aware then, but more amused than worried. Had the submissiveness been real, or a ruse? Was this just about getting him into bed? God, this girl was messing with his instincts.

  “I have a safeword if I can’t handle it.”

  He’d have to pay close attention to make sure he didn’t push her too far—safewords only worked if you remembered to use them.

  “Strip.”

  Kate’s jaw dropped for a moment, but she recovered quickly. “Just like that?”

  “What do you expect, dinner and a movie? You came here to see what submission was like and to have your little D/s adventure. I’m not going to play some sort of game where we pretend we don’t know what you want.”

  His tone seemed to take her aback, but he wasn’t one to mince words. If she was just there to get laid he wouldn’t waste his time.

  “I didn’t come here just to put a Dom notch in my belt.” Her face was scarlet. “I just—I’m a curious person. Janine has told me what Chris is like with her behind closed doors, and I was just wondering how the Master/slave dynamic was different.” She shifted where she knelt, and he wondered if her knees were getting sore.

  “Labels are labels. They mean different things to different people.” He rubbed his hand over the leather of the chair’s arm, wishing he dared to touch her again. They had to get this sorted out first. “Usually the Master/slave dynamic is deep—committed—and there’s a strong emotional bond. Often it’s twenty-four-seven. For the most part, slaves submit more fully to their Masters, but I’ve met couples that identify as Dom/sub that fit that description, and Masters with slaves where they’re not planning to stay together past training.”

  “So the differences between Dom/sub and Master/slave are nothing or everything, depending on the relationship?”

  He smiled grimly. “Exactly.”

  “But clearly, to you, there’s a big difference in the intensity of the bond and the level of obedience . . . and in the degree to which you expect to be worshipped?” The light sarcasm implied that she was teasing rather than judging.

  The smooth skin of her vulnerable throat was distracting. “Yes. As well as in the degree to which I cherish the woman who wears my collar.”

  Kate pressed her lips together and bit them. Was she going to laugh off the order or conveniently forget he’d issued it?

  “Is there something bothering you?”

  “Well, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. You commanded me to take my clothes off, but I don’t know if you actually want me to or if you were just showing me I’m not as ready to try things out as I think I am.” She was watching him, trying to read his expression, which he was keeping purposely impassive. “And plus, if I take my clothes off does that make me a slut? We just met a few days ago.”

  “When slaves are given a command, they obey. It’s not up to the slave to second-guess her Master; it’s only her responsibility to comply.”

  “So it makes me a good girl, not a slut?”

  “My good girl does slutty things when I tell her to. In return, the responsibility for that decision is mine.”

  She straightened and looked up at him from beneath her lashes.

  “Should I do it while I’m kneeling here or stand up, Banner?”

  His heart thumped emphatically. He hoped she couldn’t hear it.

  “It would probably be easier if you stood.” He leaned back in his chair, working on looking like a cocky bastard rather than letting her see that she’d caught him off guard.

  Kate placed a gentle hand on his knee to steady herself as she rose, and the intimacy of the gesture moved him from uncertainty to a more familiar self-assurance.

  She was hesitating so hard it looked painful. When she fiddled with the bottom edge of her T-shirt, stalling, he corrected her.

  “Look at me while you do it. I haven’t given you permission to look away.”

  “Yes, Sir.” When she moved to comply, her reluctance to disrobe made her movements slow, piquing his interest more than she had probably meant to. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m not usually this forward.”

  “Has anyone made you do this before?”

  “Undress while they watched me? Not like this. Maybe they watched when I undressed, but not so . . . intention
ally.” The shirt had just reached the bottom curve of her pert breasts, then slid upward to reveal hardened nipples.

  Banner drew a shaky breath. It didn’t matter that this was almost vanilla, his dick ached for her. Sure, her T-shirt had been skin tight, but naked was so much more interesting. She pulled the shirt over her head, threw it beside his chair, then slid her thumbs into the waistband of her yoga pants. He’d meant to keep her clothed for today, at least. He really had. But he couldn’t resist the temptation of seeing the lovely body her clothing always hinted at.

  “I’m not perfect,” she warned shyly.

  “Perfection bores me. Show me what isn’t perfect and I’ll give you my opinion.”

  “I have a big butt. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do.”

  “Show me.”

  She swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”

  He couldn’t bring himself to correct her for calling him “Sir” again. It sounded lovely coming from her mouth. “Turn your back to me and push your pants down all the way to your ankles.”

  She whimpered but turned her back, then started sliding the pants slowly down, baring herself to him inch by inch. To him her ass was round and perfect—the type that begged for a Master’s hand, or maybe his teeth. He adjusted his hard-on through his jeans as he watched her bend all the way over, then snap back up as though she were made of impatient elastics. She kicked her pants in the direction of her shirt then turned to face him, covering her pussy with her hand.

  “Did I say you were allowed to hide yourself from me?”

  “No, Sir.”

  He ignored her as she let her shielding hand fall away. Instead, he slid open the small side table drawer to retrieve the plain leather collar he’d bought for her, in case they ever reached this point. It was just to get her used to it, for now. This one meant nothing, other than that he had a collar fetish.

  “Kneel on the ottoman.” He pointed at the round leather platform, which could be used to prop his feet up or put refreshments on. It would serve a much more nefarious purpose today.