In His Cuffs

by Sierra Cartwright

  Maggie double-checked that the front door was secure and all office lights and equipment were turned off. At the top of the hour, she paused outside his door to drink in several breaths. Her body felt oxygen deprived, making her lightheaded. Then she knocked.

  “Come in.”

  She closed the door behind her but stood there, waiting for his instructions, still unsure how to act. Bend over the desk? Lift her skirt? Remove it?

  “Have a seat, Maggie.” When she perched on the edge of the chair, he asked, “You wanted to see me?”

  Of course he wasn’t going to make this easy. Then again, he hadn’t been privy to her thoughts and had no idea what she was going to say. “I came to ask if you’ll forgive my behaviour.”

  He braced his elbows on the arms of his chair and linked his fingers together, appearing at ease.

  “I’ve been thinking about our last conversation…” She was stumbling around and she hated it. After brushing her hair back from her face, she met his gaze. “What I mean is, damn it, Mr Tomlinson, I want to be with you. I accept your punishment and hope I can earn your forgiveness.”

  “You’re certain you know what you’re offering?”

  “To get my butt blistered,” she said wryly. “Mr Tomlinson.”

  “And after that?”

  “To be in a relationship with you”—she looked down, then back up—“as your submissive.”

  He nodded, not betraying his inner thoughts. Damn, he was not the man she’d spent a weekend with. At his house, although he’d set the rules, he’d been gentler, encouraging, even teasing. “To be clear, my punishment is meant to reinforce the behaviour I expect from you. It’s not because I am angry, it’s because you were willingly and wilfully disobedient.”

  “Yes, Mr Tomlinson.”

  “I know we discussed the fact that I would use separation as a way to punish you, but that doesn’t seem appropriate atonement in this case.”

  “I’ve already been separated, and it hurt,” she admitted.

  “Hurt us both,” he said.

  “I agree, Sir, that I still need to make amends.” Her stomach plummeted with her words.

  “I would normally administer ten stripes, but for two reasons, I decided on five. First of all, you’ve never been punished by me. And secondly, you were frank when I asked if you’d had any intention of telling me about the Hoskins deal.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “I have no expectations that you will properly comport yourself. You can take as long as you want between stripes, and I will wait for you to get back into position before administering the next one. Your safe word stops it, and you go home alone. You can use ‘eclipse’ as many times as you need to. I have all night.”

  The temperature in the room was frigid, chilled by the coldness in his eyes. She ached to have him look at her with tenderness again. “I understand, Mr Tomlinson.”

  He stood and shrugged out of his suit jacket. She watched, fascinated, as he draped it over the back of his chair. He unfastened his cufflinks and dropped them. A sense of foreboding descended over her as they clinked together then thudded onto the gleaming desktop. She didn’t blink as he rolled back his sleeves, exposing his forearms.

  “I have a cane in my coat closet. Please fetch it.”

  His tone, his actions, his command, made the world slow down. He’d inexorably placed her in a submissive frame of mind where nothing existed but the two of them, and pleasing him. At its base, it was that simple. And Mr Tomlinson didn’t demand more than he first offered.

  Her knees wobbled as she rose to get the long, thin rattan.

  He extended his hand and she cast her gaze at the floor as she offered it to him.

  “Clear off my desk,” he instructed. “You can put the items on the credenza, and close the blinds while you’re there.”

  She did as he instructed, moving aside the stress balls she was tempted to squeeze, then turned to see him test the cane in the air. Its sound rent the air and chilled her. No way could she endure five cuts from that horrible thing.

  “Plenty of subs have managed through history,” he told her as if reading her mind. He placed the cane on the desk then closed and locked his office door.

  “Strip.”

  The order surprised her. She’d expected to lift, even remove, her skirt, but hadn’t anticipated he’d want her naked.

  Her hands trembled as she removed her clothing, and she half-expected he’d help her undress. Instead, he watched her with a predatory gleam.

  She left her clothing in a pile on the credenza while he moved aside the visitor chairs.

  “On the desk,” he told her.

  Being bent over it would enable her to take it easier, and no doubt he’d reached the same conclusion.

  He didn’t offer her a hand, making it clear it was her choice at every point.

  Once she was in position, vulnerable, she trembled. His tone of voice was so very distant, and she felt lost and alone.

  “Ask me to punish you.”

  She looked back at him. The starkness on his face stunned her. His eyebrows were set in a narrow, resolved line. His chin jutted—there appeared to be no joy in this for him. And that pleased her. When he’d beaten her before, he’d appeared determined, but it had been softened by his intent to please and satisfy her.

  Maggie took comfort from his features. It was as if they were in this together. Neither of them wanted this, but they both understood it was necessary. “I promise to be more honest with you in future, Sir. Please, Master David, punish me.”

  Their gazes met.

  “Christ, Maggie. Do you know what you said?”

  “I acknowledged you as my Master, Mr Tomlinson.”

  “I’m honoured,” he told her. “Thank you for that. But it won’t make this easier on you.”

  “I suspected as much, Master.” She grabbed hold of the far end of the desk. But that didn’t help. The first stripe landed on her buttocks, ricocheting through her body, making her scream and lose her grip. Fuck. She’d never felt anything like that before. Tears filled her eyes.

  She had no idea how long it took her to get back in position, but there was no doubt of the effectiveness of his cane.

  Master Tomlinson struck her again, and agony tore her from the inside out.

  She fought and struggled to right herself, telling herself over and over that she was almost halfway through.

  He didn’t speak to her as he placed the third below her buttocks.

  She fell forward, sobbing. She curled up into herself, knowing this was the first time she’d cried. He’d told her he’d have her in tears, and Master Damien had warned her as well. They’d all assumed it would be because of the beating. But it wasn’t. She was shattered by the emotional wedge that had been between them, devastated by his distance even now. She’d never liked to be pampered and cuddled, and now she needed it, needed him.

  He picked her up from the desk, carried her to a chair and held her while she sobbed. She felt as if she’d kept herself in a shell her whole life, refusing to experience everything it had to offer. And if she wanted to be with David, he wouldn’t allow her that luxury.

  David stroked her hair and soothed her.

  She appreciated the fact he cared about her enough to demand she meet him where he was, holding nothing back. She settled against him. This was the first time he’d touched her since he’d confronted her about her transgression. She never wanted to go this long without his tenderness again.

  Minutes dragged and shadows lengthened before she pulled back and said, “Can we get it over with?”

  “You can continue another day.”

  “Please, no.” He’d never let her shirk her duties, and having the remainder of the punishment looming in front of her would consume her thoughts. “I’m ready.”

  “You’re certain?”

  She didn’t want to leave the comfort of his chest, the protection of his arms. “Yes, Master.”

  Maggie made her way
to the desk. Its surface was marred by her tears and sweat. She feared it would be worse when they were finished.

  Now that he’d done his worst, broken her down, and shown her what to expect, she could manage the rest.

  This one caught her thighs and she sobbed, but didn’t scream, surrendering to the agony instead of fighting it. When they’d talked about a punishment spanking, she’d told him it would be difficult for her because her Dom would be distant and remote. That wasn’t the case. She knew this deepened what they shared. The way he’d cradled her had nurtured her. This lesson, she’d never forget, even though it wasn’t the one he’d intended to deliver.

  More than anything, she wanted things to be the way they had been at his house.

  This was a means to make that happen. In that regard, she looked forward to having it over.

  “Last one,” he told her when she offered herself to him.

  He seared her, and before she’d absorbed the impact, he was there, sitting on the desk, gathering her close. “Maggie mine.”

  She’d wondered if she’d hear those words again.

  He kissed her forehead and swiped away her tears. “We’ll go to your place,” he said. “I’ll drive you in your car. Mine should be safe enough in the parking garage.”

  David moved her to a chair and bundled her lingerie into her purse as he searched for her keys. He helped her back into her shoes, skirt and blouse then said, “Stay here.”

  Five minutes later, he was illegally parked in front of the building and helping her outside into the car.

  She barely remembered the drive home, or the shower, or him dabbing the bruise cream onto her skin before holding her beneath the covers.

  When the shock wore off, he was looking down at her. “I love you, Maggie mine,” he told her.

  “You…”

  “Yeah.” He stroked her forehead. “I love you. I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Oh, Master.”

  “Mr Tomlinson is fine, I’ve decided,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “You’re right, it’s ours. Though, from time-to-time, you’re welcome to call me Master.”

  “Will you do me a favour, Mr Tomlinson?”

  “Anything.”

  “Fuck me? I can’t bear it if you don’t.”

  “You’re up for it?”

  “Fucking fuck me, Master.”

  “Well, since you asked so nice.” He left the bed long enough to grab a condom from his wallet and something from her drawer. He cuffed her hands above her head then moved between her legs, cockhead poised to enter her pussy and said, “Tell me you love me, Maggie.”

  “It took me a while to figure it out, but I did, yesterday. I love you, Mr Tomlinson.”

  He claimed her mouth and demanded her surrender as he plunged into her cunt. He reached up and closed one hand around the cuffs, bringing them even closer.

  His thrust spoke of desperation, of claiming, of marking, and she wanted all that and more.

  Ending the kiss, he said, “Mine, Maggie.”

  “Yours, Master,” she replied with softness and surrender.

  “You’re moving in with me.”

  “Is that a request?”

  He drove into her. She lifted her hips and wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “What do you think?”

  She laughed. “I think you’re non-negotiable.”

  “Not true.”

  It was all she could do to keep her gaze focused on him when she wanted to close her eyes and surrender to the moment. But that would mean sealing out the sight of him with his revealingly blue eyes, dark hair and intense features. “Not true, Mr Tomlinson?”

  “I’m persuasive. I know you won’t be coerced, and your mind may be willing to resist me, but your flesh can be convinced.”

  “Is that right?” She loved this more temperate side of him. It made him richer and more complex.

  “Sunday morning lattes,” he said.

  “That’s unfair.”

  He slowly pumped inside her, filling her up.

  “Hot tub for two.”

  “Hmm…”

  “The freedom to scream as long and as loud as you like. Floggings, spankings, orgasms so powerful you can’t walk the next day.”

  “Master is trying for an unfair advantage.”

  “Any advantage,” he corrected. “And I cook dinner.”

  “Okay, you win. I’ll pack my bags.”

  “Bring your damn corset and the rest of your lingerie and toys.”

  “All of them?”

  “All of them,” he affirmed. “And we’ll also need some time to rework your employment contract.”

  Even though he was in her, she froze. “Sir?”

  “I want you as a partner, an equal. I want you to stay because you want to stay.”

  If her heart hadn’t been melting before, it would be now. He continued his rhythmic movement, mere inches from her face. This was the kind of intimate conversation she could get used to. But there was one thing bothering her. “My mother, Mr Tomlinson?”

  “Needs a good caning herself.”

  She laughed, and that made her pussy tighten.

  “She’ll get her bonus, but it will come from her efforts, not yours. She succeeds or fails on her own merits. Fair?”

  Habit made her want to protest, but she kept her mouth shut. He was not only being equitable, he was being more than fair.

  “Agreed, Maggie?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  He grinned and pulled out all the way before plunging back in.

  “I love the way your ginormous cock feels, Sir.”

  “Ginormous?”

  “Extraordinarily so.”

  He fucked her to completion, making sure she came before he did, always, always taking care of her.

  “One more thing, you’ll always be in my heart as well as my cuffs.”

  “Mr Tomlinson, Master, there’s no place I’d rather be.”

  Coming Soon from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

  Mastered: For the Sub

  Sierra Cartwright

  Released 8th November 2013

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  “Another drink, Sir?”

  Startled out of his reverie by the softness of a woman’s voice, Niles looked over the rim of his empty glass. Brandy, one of the house’s submissives, stood in front of him, her legs close together, her shoulders pulled back in a sexy way that thrust her chest forward.

  Had he been so lost in thought that he hadn’t heard her approach? Or were her movements so graceful and perfect that she’d managed to silently cross the Den’s patio?

  Given her seductively high stilettos, he doubted the latter.

  Her long blonde hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back. Tonight she wore a short, slinky black dress that covered everything, but seemed more intriguing because of it. The material clung to her, highlighting her ample breasts, trim waist and curvy bottom. This woman—sub—appealed to every one of his masculine sensibilities.

  Her legs were bare, and her black heels emphasised the feminine shape of her ankles. For a moment, he fantasised about placing her on her back, removing her shoes then stroking his fingers against her instep before applying a cane to the soles of her feet.

  He shook his head to banish the image.

  It had been years since he’d played with a woman in anything other than a detached way. In fact, it hadn’t happened since the tragic death of his beautiful, accomplished wife and sub, Eleanor.

  But right now, he was thinking about touching Brandy in a way meant for their mutual satisfaction.

  “Sir?” she asked, tipping her head. “Master Niles?”

  The motion swept her hair to the side, snaring his interest. The locks were long enough, he mused, to be used as part of a hot bondage scene.

  “Would you prefer to be alone, Sir?”

  “Actually, no.” The answer surprised him.

  A month ago, he’d decli
ned the invitation to tonight’s party. Every fall, Master Damien hosted a get-together for Doms and Dommes who had been members of the Den for at least seven years. It was a small, select group, and they gathered to play poker, sip the finest single malt on the planet, enjoy conversation, and if they chose, scene with house subs. Not many people availed themselves of the playrooms, however, as most were in relationships, and this exclusive gathering focused on socialising, which was not his long suit.

  Damien had pestered Niles to the point of annoyance.

  Despite his reluctance, and tired of his own company after spending a week at home by himself, Niles had acquiesced.

  But after half an hour of mindless white lies, assuring his friends and acquaintances that he was well, he’d made his escape to the solitude of the patio. He’d dragged a chair close to the crackling fire pit to enjoy the sunset. Today had been a mild day, and summer was breathing her last gasps before surrendering to the inevitable shorter, colder, bleaker days.

  Brandy, a natural submissive, rather than one who’d been trained for it, cast her gaze down at the ground before looking up him. “I never said thank you for what happened at the last Ladies’ Night.”

  “No thanks necessary,” he assured her. “Any Dom would have done the same thing.”

  Many times, there was an assumption among new Doms that subs wearing the house’s purple wristband welcomed any attention. A first-time visitor had made that error with Brandy.

  Master Damien had not served alcoholic beverages at Ladies’ Night, opting for frou-frou, sugar-laced umbrella drinks that the ladies seemed to like. But that hadn’t stopped the guest from drinking before he arrived.

  Even when Brandy had used the Den’s safe word, the asshole had continued on, forcing her to her knees and shoving his dick in his mouth. Niles had noticed her distress and stepped in.

  Truthfully he’d enjoyed throwing the wannabe Dom out the front door. The physical altercation had dissipated some of the angst churning in his gut, emotion he couldn’t get rid of otherwise. If Master Damien or anyone else had noticed the uppercut Niles had delivered to the guy’s jaw, no one had mentioned it.