Initiation (Master Class Book 1)

by Sierra Cartwright

  “I’m…glad we used them.”

  He continued to regard her, clearly waiting for her to go on.

  “They were intense. Almost too much. Well, they were extreme when you pulled on them.”

  He grinned, and she suddenly felt like prey.

  “And your pussy got wet,” he said, his voice as rich as cognac spilled on black velvet.

  She gulped. “True.”

  “Be brave, Jennifer.”

  “I already have been, Sir. More than ever before.”

  “We have a lot of the night left.”

  Even though his words sent a shiver of threat through her, she didn’t want their time together to end.

  He dropped the clamps and the blindfold into his bag, then zipped it shut before going to turn off the stereo. The silence echoed.

  Receiving a flogging to the sound of Gregorian chant music had allowed her to get out of her head and stop thinking. Then… Having sex to Muse had been incredible. The thrumming beat had given her courage that she’d never experienced before.

  But now, with no outside noise, she noticed the thump of her heartbeat and the frantic, desperate sound of her shallow breaths.

  “I want to look at your ass. I’ll follow you up the stairs,” he said.

  Was this what it was like to be a submissive? Subject to the Dom’s orders and desires? Having boundaries tested, maybe demolished? An illicit thrill tingled down her spine. If this was what it was like, she wanted more.

  “And I want to admire my handiwork, see if you need more stripes to remember me by.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was joking, and that created uncertainty that made her stomach pitch.

  “After you.”

  Jennifer gathered her flogger and the pile of their clothing, including his boots, then finally, his leather belt. She held everything against her chest as she climbed the stairs. Every sense seemed to be on hyperalert. She knew he was watching, making a judgment. It was exhilarating.

  “Your ass is a little red.”

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  “But you only have a few lingering marks. I’ll remedy that.”

  His words weren’t a question, and they were delivered matter-of-factly—almost as casual as observations about the weather.

  Once they were upstairs, he put his duffel bag near the door and said, “Let me get you something to drink.”

  She continued into the living room and placed their boots side-by-side on the floor before piling the rest of their things on the couch. His earlier words about existing in two different worlds filtered through her mind.

  In the window’s reflection, she watched him.

  Even though he moved with athletic grace, he took in the surroundings. Always a warrior. Always on guard.

  She stared, mesmerized.

  He collected a water bottle then placed it on the end table before moving in to wrap his arms around her. “Cold?”

  For a moment, she held herself away from him, but his grip was firm, relentless, and she relaxed, wondering if she could deny him anything.

  “That’s better.”

  The evening felt surreal. She’d gone from expecting a festive evening with friends to the most intimate, mind-expanding, fantasy-filled situation possible.

  He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, keeping her close until the chill subsided.

  “Come with me,” he said.

  Logan led her to the couch then wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. He left her long enough to flip the switch to ignite the fireplace. When he returned, he sat next to her, then uncapped the bottle of water and offered it to her.

  Until she’d taken a drink, she hadn’t realized how parched she’d been.

  He pulled her closer. This time, she went willingly, snuggling into his chest, breathing in warmth, comfort and security from him.

  “Does anything hurt?”

  “My nipples are a little tender. Not bad, though.”

  “And your back, thighs, buttocks?”

  “Hardly a twinge,” she confessed, unwilling to admit how much that disappointed her. In the movie she’d seen, the leading man had promised the star that she wouldn’t be able to sit for a week after he was done with her. And Jennifer wasn’t feeling the least bit uncomfortable.

  They stared at the flickering flames, and she said, “I’m curious about your scar.”

  “Are you?”

  She wondered if that was a way to dodge the question or an invitation to probe further. Since she was intrigued, she pressed on. “You’re a bit of a mystery. Even Noelle doesn’t know much.”

  “You asked about me.”

  Was that a note of triumph in his tone? “I like to know something about men I might sleep with.” In fact, she generally insisted on several dates before becoming intimate. Yet she found Logan trustworthy, perhaps because of his honesty. He hadn’t promised anything other than an evening of exploration, and she’d found that somewhat refreshing.

  “Yet we just scened.”

  She wiggled away, putting some distance between them before turning to face him. “I know Joe considers you a friend. Apparently there aren’t a lot of people he says that about. I’m guessing the same is true for you.”

  “Friends? A handful,” he conceded.

  “But those few?”

  “I’d risk my life for them.”

  She believed it. “And the scar?” she persisted.

  “Pushy for a sub, aren’t you?”

  “You flogged me, fucked me, said something about giving me some more stripes. I think that gives me a right.”

  “Does it?”

  “Doesn’t it?” she challenged, pulling her legs up onto the couch.

  He was quiet for so long she thought he might not answer. When he did, his voice was low, rough, containing a jagged edge of pain. “It was an explosion.”

  “When you were in the Middle East?”

  “You heard that from Joe or Noelle.”

  “Sort of. Noelle said you’d been in the Middle East, but she doesn’t know how you got the scar. So I’m guessing the explosion happened while you were over there.”

  “It did. There were four of us, going back to our compound. IED.” He traced the scar back and forth with his forefinger.

  The motion seemed so unconscious she wondered if he was aware of it.

  “Joe, Matt made it back alive. Matt wished he hadn’t, couldn’t deal with it. We brought Gary’s body back, but we left Matt’s spirit, his heart…whatever the fuck you want to call it…” He dropped his hand, curled it into a fist. “He killed himself almost two years later. He had a wife. A kid.”

  She sucked in a breath. But since words seemed inadequate, she remained silent.

  He was staring ahead, not paying attention, as if he were lost.

  “At Matt’s funeral, Joe and I made a pact to live fully, our way, no matter how lame, to honor Matt and Gary.” After several tense seconds, he looked at her. “I keep my hair short so the first thing I see every day is this scar. A reminder of that promise.”

  Jennifer felt slightly breathless. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “Sorry you asked?”

  “Not at all.” She shook her head and offered a wan smile. More fully, she understood what he meant about the different worlds. The things that he spoke of, she would never experience. “I wish I were capable of not being nosy.”

  “Don’t apologize for being who you are.”

  The timbre of his voice rumbled through her, and she snuggled closer to him again.

  In the companionable quiet, woven from the sharing of secrets, they watched the fire, saw clouds fill the sky, making it look mysterious outside.

  “I promised you a shower,” he said much later. “But it can wait. I want to get you hotter, wetter, dirtier first.”

  His shocking words shot heat into her cunt, leaving her feeling greedy. “When?” she asked, emboldened in a way she had never been before tonight.

  He plucked the bottl
e from her hand and the blanket from her shoulders, then said, “On your knees. Present my belt to me.”

  In his tone there was nothing but uncompromising authority. She searched his features and found no hint of the person who’d so tenderly held her moments ago. Instead, he was a Dom who expected to be obeyed. Shocked, she realized she liked both sides of him equally as well.

  Silently—since words would have lodged in her throat—she dug through the pile of their clothes until she found his belt.

  He continued to regard her, his fingers steepled.

  Once she held the leather by the buckle, she was uncertain what to do, how to proceed.

  “You’ve got good instincts. Trust them. You won’t disappoint me.”

  She folded the belt in half before kneeling in front of him. Remembering his instructions in the basement, she spread her thighs wide and leaned back slightly. Then she bowed her head, extended her hands palms up and focused her gaze on the floorboards.

  For a long time, he remained silent. It took all her concentration to remain where she was, knowing he was looking, thinking, perhaps planning what he intended to do to her.

  Finally, just when she was about to shift or say something to break the tension that was clawing through her, he said, “Exactly right.”

  She exhaled a slow, shuddering breath.

  He took the belt from her and said, “Now fetch my bag for me.”

  Aware of his gaze on her, she stood with as much grace as possible then went to grab his bag. She deposited it next to him.

  With a pleased nod, he instructed, “Over my knees.”

  He offered a hand, and she accepted. Even though her pulse skidded past every other beat, she drank reassurance from his strong grip.

  Within seconds, she was upended, off balance, reaching for the floor with her fingertips.

  “Legs farther apart.”

  Before she could get situated, he placed a finger at the entrance to her pussy and eased it inside her.

  Her vision swam.

  “How are you with anal?”

  “Oh my God…”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” He played with her pussy, sliding his finger in and out until she was wet and slippery.

  Then she felt him at her tightest hole, slowly pressing forward. She had a safe word and a word to get him to slow down. Since she was an anal virgin, she should use one of them. But she didn’t. Couldn’t.

  “It’ll be easier if you bear down instead of fighting.”

  She sucked in a breath, realizing he was coaching her, not asking permission.

  He removed his hand. At the sound of the zipper rasping, she froze. She cocked her head to the side to see him pull a small packet of lube from his bag.

  He tore off a corner. Then she felt the cool, viscous liquid on her skin.

  With his finger, he worked it in deeper and deeper.

  “Relax,” he suggested, his voice soothing.

  She wasn’t sure that was even possible.

  He swatted her right ass cheek hard, and she yelped, scooting away from him. But the distraction was enough to allow him to wrap one arm around her waist and drag her back into position while he forced his finger all the way in up to the knuckle.

  “Ow! Damn it. That’s uncomfortable.”

  “Enough complaining,” he snapped. “Unless you want two fingers up there.”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  He placed a second finger at her entrance.

  “Wait! One is fine. Thank you, Sir.”

  “Much better. Now ask me to finger-fuck your ass.”

  In response, she unintentionally clenched her buttocks.

  “Jennifer,” he warned.

  Defiance warred with desire.

  “Jennifer…”

  “Will you finger-fuck my ass, Sir?”

  “Since you asked so nice, of course, little sub.”

  But as he eased out, then back in, she was astounded by how turned on she was becoming.

  “Keep trusting me,” he encouraged.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “You know you do.”

  She decided not to safe word out.

  After half a dozen more leisurely strokes, he began to move faster and faster. Rationally she knew he only had one finger up there. It felt like so much more, igniting her nerve endings. “This—”

  He reached beneath her and squeezed an already tender nipple.

  She bucked, and he took advantage of that, shortening his strokes, relentlessly doing her.

  “Logan…” She didn’t know what she was asking for. “Master.”

  Before she could orgasm or even really sort out her physical responses, he stopped.

  Her breaths were ragged, and her mind felt the same.

  He grabbed an individually packaged alcohol swab from his bag and wiped his hand before saying, “Where was I?”

  “What?” she demanded, incredulous, trying to turn over so she could glare at him.

  Uncompromisingly, with a palm pressed against the middle of her back, he held her in place.

  “Are you serious?” Her empty cunt throbbed. And her ass burned slightly, not from the fingering, but from the sudden lack of attention. She felt ready to crawl out of her mind.

  “Oh, yes. Leaving you something to remember me by. How many stripes from my belt, Jennifer?”

  “How many?” she repeated. “What?”

  He rubbed her buttocks vigorously and squeezed her upper thighs.

  “Give me a number. More than two. Fewer than ten.”

  His commanding touch was enough to make her forget her protests.

  “I’ll give you more for stalling.” He dug his fingers into her flesh.

  “Four.” The word was more a gasp than anything.

  “Four it is.”

  Knowing what was coming terrified her and she tightened her muscles.

  She was learning that this man rarely did what she expected.

  Instead of feeling his belt, she was surprised when he stroked her butt cheeks, then delved between her thighs, compelling her to relax without ever uttering a word.

  With a soft sigh, she gave herself over to his ministrations.

  “That’s it,” he said.

  She’d never before experienced this kind of attention from a man, and a secret part of her loved it.

  The denied orgasm unfurled again, instantly making her wet and hungry.

  Her body jerked when the leather connected with her right buttock. She held her breath for a couple of beats, waiting for the pain to radiate, but it didn’t. Instead, it was a localized, broad stripe.

  She exhaled.

  “That was one,” he told her.

  Jennifer nodded. It hadn’t been nearly as bad as she’d expected.

  He delivered the second on her left buttock, harder this time, making the pain dig deeper inside her.

  “The last two will be a little more challenging.”

  Could he have possibly known that those words were enough to make her determined to endure it without complaint?

  The next stripe caught her across both buttocks, burning into her. She went rigid and her breath caught.

  Instantly, he rubbed her with his palm, and the pain receded, leaving behind a hot wave of lust. “Fuck,” she whispered.

  “Yeah. You understand.”

  Suddenly she did.

  When she’d seen the sexy BDSM movie, she’d been skeptical about a submissive’s ability to connect with a Dom through this kind of experience. Even when Noelle had assured her that it was indeed possible, Jennifer had still had doubts. But Logan erased them. It wasn’t just the physical act. It was mental, emotional, sexual. In this moment, nothing existed but Master Logan and her. He had hold of her, keeping her secure, comforting her even as he shoved her beyond all of her boundaries.

  It was dizzying. Terrifying. Addictive.

  “Ask me for the last one,” he said.

  “Yes, yes, yes. Please, Sir. Yes.” More.

 
; The final strike seared her. She screamed and dug her toes into the floor, trying to escape. He held her fast, making quick circular motions over her ass, helping to dissipate the pain.

  Then he plunged his hand between her legs and inserted two fingers deep into her pussy.

  “Come for me,” he urged.

  A million neurons seemed to fire at the same time, and she couldn’t deny him anything.

  She rocked back, wordlessly demanding he impale her deeper, and she ground herself against his hand.

  “So gorgeous,” he said.

  A shudder ripped through her, and she cried out as she climaxed. “Damn!”

  But he wasn’t done with her.

  Logan changed the tempo. Rather than the relentless pace, he teased her pussy. In less than a minute, she was ready again.

  “That’s it.”

  “I’m…” Lost. Shattered.

  She was still over his knees, fingers brushing the floor. Helpless. And she didn’t want the evening to end.

  “There’s more I want to give you. Take it?” he asked. “Always?”

  She didn’t think she’d be able to, but she whispered, “Yes.”

  Master Logan was as skilled as he was patient. Then he smacked her ass on a place she was already burning.

  The exquisite pain made her insides ripple, and he surged his fingers deeper in her, giving her what she needed to come hard.

  This time, her body went limp and sweat dotted the back of her neck.

  “Now it’s time for that shower I promised you.” He stood and offered his hand.

  She accepted.

  Logan continued to tug until she was in his arms. She rested her head near his heart, hearing the powerful thud beneath her ear.

  “If you think this means you’re done for the evening, you’re wrong.”

  She tipped back her head and looked at him. “I never expected otherwise.”

  His eyes became molten jade.

  Jennifer wasn’t sure how much more she could survive. But, as he held her, she realized she was willing to find out.

  Chapter Six

  “Down the hall. Second door on the right,” Logan told her, although he didn’t release his grip. He liked having her in his arms. Since Helen had left him, he’d been so caught up in running his detective business and outrunning his inner demons that he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed having a woman around. During the first few days he’d been alone, he’d told himself that a relationship was too much effort, that it interfered with his ability to do his job.