Signed, Sealed & Delivered

by Sierra Cartwright

  “Kneel up,” Ethan commanded.

  Her thighs trembling, Alana struggled to follow his order. She felt as if she’d been drugged.

  At David’s command, Celia got up, too. She slapped Alana on the rear before following her Master from the room.

  “That was entertaining,” Thomas said.

  “Indeed,” Ethan agreed. “Now, Alana, I want you upstairs.”

  She was to be banished?

  “My bedroom,” he clarified. “I’ve not finished with you yet.”

  Her head spun. Ethan wanted her alone in his bedroom? Had she died and gone to heaven?

  “Crawl up the stairs,” he told her.

  She blinked.

  “Hands and knees,” he clarified, “like a good little sub.”

  She stood and walked to the stairs, still plugged and gagged. And she was very much aware of him and Thomas as she went to the stairs and started to crawl up them.

  “I like that plug in your arse,” Thomas said.

  “Sexy,” Ethan agreed.

  She heard him on the stairs behind her. “Last door on the left. And keep crawling. I like the way your bum wiggles.”

  She did as instructed, and she figured there was no use getting embarrassed by his gazes or words. He would only push her past it, anyway. Just when she thought she couldn’t be any more humiliated than she’d already been, he dreamed up something new.

  In his room, she crawled to the foot of the bed and then knelt.

  “You’re learning fast,” he said.

  She basked in his approval.

  “Now crawl up on the bed. Arch your back, get your hips as high as possible, forehead on the mattress.”

  She cried out when he pulled out the plug. There was nothing gentle about his action.

  Before she could brace herself, he pushed it back in.

  All the way in, all the way out.

  She couldn’t take the pain, the sensation, the assault on her senses.

  She tossed her head back and forth, but he was relentless.

  Until, finally, he stopped. Alana froze. She remained perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe.

  Then she heard the rip of a condom wrapper. Surely…

  “Turn around and lube my cock,” he said.

  Her muscles feeling as though they were made of treacle, she turned around and took the tube of lubricant from him. She squirted a more-than liberal dose into her palm, and then she slid her hand up and down his thick cock, coating it.

  Because of the gag, she couldn’t ask what he intended to do, she could only guess. The problem was, she suspected she knew the answer, and she didn’t like it.

  “Back into position,” he said. “But this time, reach back and spread your arse cheeks.”

  Her guess was right. And she hated it. But she had to trust him, no matter how terrifying that was.

  Motions deliberate, she spread her anus wide for his penetration. He dragged her farther apart, obviously not satisfied with what she’d done.

  She felt the tip of penis at her anal opening. After having the plug there, she was a little raw. “Push back,” he told her.

  No worries. And she’d pull a couple of stars from the sky while she was at it.

  Breath strangling her, she moved back a bit, trying to accommodate the girth of his cock.

  “Push,” he told her again.

  He sunk into her anus in a single, powerful thrust. He stopped once he was buried as deep as he could get, and she felt his balls against her. A cold sweat broke out on her back. She’d never felt like this before.

  He moved his hands so that he grasped her hipbones.

  “Relax,” he told her.

  Forcing herself, she did, dragging in a few gulps of oxygen, then slowly releasing them.

  “Good.”

  He rode her hard. Anal penetration was a much more intense feeling than being taken vaginally. It licked at her insides like a fire.

  She expected him to ejaculate inside her, but he didn’t.

  Instead, he stopped and pulled out. “I want you on your back,” he said.

  Limbs shaky, mind whirling a dozen different directions, she moved onto her back.

  He pulled off his T-shirt and dropped it on the floor. For the first time, she really got a good, luxurious look at her trainer.

  He was a specimen and a half. She could hardly wait to tell her girlfriends. From his dark hair to intense grey eyes, to the hardened set of his jaw, chiselled pecs, well-defined biceps, and broad chest with a smattering of hair that arched downward to his crotch, which was devoid of any hair. His balls were full and drawn-in, and his cock jutted towards her.

  His thighs were powerfully muscular, and the puckered skin from his wound didn’t do anything except make him look slightly dangerous. “I’m going to fuck you,” he said. “I’ve wanted to do it all day.”

  She nodded, spreading her legs. She wanted this man.

  He entered her like he’d taken her from behind, with a single stroke that drove him home.

  Her vaginal muscles clenched around him as she tried to hold him tight.

  Bracing on his elbows, he cradled her head. He kissed her forehead, and she desperately wished her mouth was available so she could kiss him.

  “You’ve got the hottest pussy,” he told her. “I could fuck you all night.”

  She wanted that, desperately.

  He’d become more than a trainer to her. More than a Master to be obeyed. He’d become important to her. She wanted to please him, wanted to be with him.

  “Wrap your legs around my waist,” he said.

  She did, willingly surrendering.

  He thrust into her, and her pussy clutched as an orgasm built.

  “Go ahead,” he told her.

  She was lucky. Most Masters that she’d read about were into orgasm denial, but not him, not tonight. She came twice while he rode her.

  Then, finally, his large palms cradling her head, he came.

  Behind her gag, she mumbled her thanks, her gratitude, her desire for this to go on and on.

  He unbuckled the gag and tossed it aside, then he moved next to her, holding her tight while she thanked him.

  She nuzzled against his neck, inhaling his masculine scent. Boldly, she placed a hand on his chest, feeling the fall and rise as he breathed.

  She felt safe, protected.

  This was post-coital bliss. She’d never experienced anything like the contentment that wrapped around her.

  He wasn’t like any other man she’d ever been with. He was an enigma, a wounded warrior, a force to be reckoned with. She was breaking a cardinal rule. She was falling for him.

  She wondered if she’d survive it, wondered if she’d survive him.

  * * * *

  “I think we should keep her,” Thomas said.

  “We don’t keep trainees,” Ethan responded, pouring a healthy dose of brandy into a snifter.

  He’d joined Thomas in the drawing room about an hour after his very satisfying sub had drifted off to sleep. She’d snuggled against him, as if totally trusting him. Her blonde hair had spread across his chest, and he’d tangled his hand in it while she slept.

  He’d been unaccountably restless. He’d wrapped her in a blanket, tucking its edges around her shoulders. Thoughts of her made him toss and turn. That was highly unusual for him. He slept like the dead, a trick he’d learned in the Army. You slept when you could as hard as you could.

  He was thinking things about her that he had no reason thinking about.

  Ethan had known shortly after Thomas had joined his staff that he needed the man in his life. Not just as an employee, but an integral part of his day-to-day living. He compensated him handsomely, but the cursed man just deposited his cheques into a joint account. Recently, he’d stop cashing them entirely, causing more than one argument.

  And damn it, Ethan was starting to think of Alana in a more long-term way. He wanted her in his bed when he woke. Hell, apart from the bed being so god-damn smal
l, he would enjoy waking up with both Alana and Thomas, all of them tangled.

  In a move very unusual for him, Ethan had thrown back the covers on his side of the bed and he’d gotten back up.

  Alana had turned over, and he’d smoothed back her hair and kissed her temple before slipping on a robe and coming back downstairs. He found Thomas reading the newspaper, sipping some of Ethan’s fine cognac. Good taste when the Master was abed.

  The scene struck him as very bucolic. Very normal. Very much the way he wanted his life.

  Thomas shook out the newspaper, folded it precisely along its creases, and put it down.

  “Maybe we should make an exception to the rule and keep this one.” Thomas stood and dragged over the ottoman. When Ethan sat, Thomas gently picked up Ethan’s leg and placed it on the ottoman.

  He parted Ethan’s robe and began to massage the place where the IED had taken its nasty toll. The rehab sessions were working. Three years ago, Ethan had been told he’d never walk again. And now, from time to time, he even managed without the cane. Part of that was due to Thomas’ diligence in making him adhere to the physical therapy and to his constant ministrations.

  All in all, Ethan was a very lucky man.

  He felt Thomas’ sure, deft touch, and he felt his cock, surprisingly, stir to life.

  “She’s getting to you, Ethan.”

  “You’re getting to me,” he corrected.

  “She’s a breath of fresh air.”

  “She’s a sub to be trained and disciplined. I’ll hear no more talk of her. We have a contract.”

  Thomas was nothing, if not persistent. “It will be quiet when she’s gone.”

  He grabbed his manservant, his friend, his lover by the hair. “It will be quiet when my cock is down your throat.”

  Thomas smiled. “Aye, it will.”

  He placed his brandy on a cocktail table. Then, with inexorable pressure, he forced Thomas’ head onto his cock. Something had to drive thoughts of alluring Alana with her tangled riot of hair and startling green eyes from his mind. God knew, nothing else had worked.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Are you ready?”

  Alana couldn’t believe it. The fortnight had flown past. She hated for the time to end. Last night, repeating the pattern of the last ten days or so, she’d gone to bed with Ethan, but she’d woken up with Ethan and Thomas.

  Now, Thomas had come to collect her from the room she’d been assigned on her first day.

  She was shaven and waxed. She’d had an enema, and she’d done it without being too much of a baby about it. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said.

  “Lie on the floor.”

  She did and as she’d been trained, spread her legs.

  With his fingertips, he skimmed the inside of her labia, inspecting for any stray hairs.

  He wouldn’t find any.

  About a week ago, he’d used a pair of tweezers to remove one she’d missed. That was a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget.

  “Turn over and present your arse.”

  She followed his orders with the same respect she gave to Ethan’s. This hunk of a man who’d collected her from the airport didn’t command her often, but when he did, there was no room for prevarication. He was as formidable as Ethan himself.

  She moved around, getting onto all fours, then she crossed her arms and rested her forehead on them. He spread her cheeks apart and checked for stray hair there, as well. “Very well done,” he said. “You’ve had an enema?”

  “Yes, Thomas.”

  “Ethan has instructed you to wait for him in the play room. You may stand.”

  Her mouth dried. This was the day he’d talked about, that he’d promised her, that had kept her awake at night.

  It was the culmination of all her training. A full-on assault of her senses would occur, testing her limits, and more importantly, Ethan’s training of her.

  She nodded.

  He stepped aside.

  “You’re not coming?”

  “Later,” he said. “For now, you’re on your own.”

  Test one.

  They knew how much she hated to be ignored. Thomas wasn’t accompanying her, and Ethan wouldn’t be there when she got downstairs. “He’s diabolical,” she said.

  “You can’t even begin to imagine.”

  Giving into impulse, she rose onto her tiptoes. She kissed Thomas’ cheek. “You’ve made this more than bearable. Thank you.”

  “You have learned your manners,” he said.

  “Cheeky bastard.”

  He swatted her butt.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her naked self against his fully clothed, very masculine body. “Fuck me,” she said.

  “No chance in hell while Ethan is waiting. I like having my skin attached to my body.”

  “He’d flay you alive?” she teased.

  “Well, one could hope, I suppose.”

  She grinned. “I’m nervous.”

  “You should be.”

  Alana stuck out her tongue. “That wasn’t reassuring.”

  “Wasn’t meant to be.”

  She took a breath.

  “You’ve survived everything,” he reminded her. “Go on.”

  She kissed him on the lips. She felt his erection push against her stomach.

  “Alana,” he warned. Reaching behind him, he disentangled her hands.

  “I can’t entice you to be naughty?”

  “Oh, yes.” His eyes had darkened, his cock had hardened. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him. “But not when I’m following Ethan’s orders. Furthermore, you should stop stalling, as well. It is your lovely arse that’s on the line, after all.”

  Full of nerves, she went down the stairs.

  There was no trace of Ethan or Celia.

  Apart from Thomas, she could be all alone in the rambling manor.

  Her insides were a knotted mess when she reached the play room. The hated table had been pushed to one side, but in the middle of the room stood a large Saint Andrew’s Cross. Generally, they didn’t frighten her.

  She’d been strapped to one at the bondage club she’d visited in the past year. To tell the truth, she loved being spread wide for her Dominator’s pleasure. And since she was tied with leather or rope and she didn’t have to force herself to stay in position, it allowed her to really let go and enjoy her punishment.

  But that was different.

  At the club, there were very specific rules, and she’d been wearing some clothes. Not many, but her rear had been covered by a leather miniskirt. It had absorbed most of the blow from the belt Tony had used. And, because Tony was a little protective, she’d been wearing a thong beneath her skirt.

  Here, with Thomas and Ethan, she’d be allowed no clothes to lessen the impact of the punishment, and her cunt would be exposed and vulnerable, too.

  She knelt gracefully. She was still not as practiced as Celia, but her motions were a lot easier than the day she’d arrived almost two weeks ago.

  She kept glancing at the clock on the wall.

  Funny, she hadn’t noticed a clock the few other times they’d played in here. They’d probably had it installed so she was aware of the passing of time.

  They kept her waiting more than half an hour.

  She shifted positions.

  She considered going to find them, but she knew this was part of the test.

  After three quarters of an hour, she heard voices down the hallway.

  Her pulse picked up.

  Surely now…

  Another five minutes, and… Nothing.

  She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take without going mad.

  Every muscle screamed in protest, and her mind had started working on itself. They’d forgotten her. They never intended to come for her. They’d decided not to play with her. There was other, more important stuff to attend to, and she was at the bottom of the priority list.

  She’d give it another ten minutes, she decided,
before breaking her position.

  “Every single thing in this room is a test,” Ethan said.

  She looked up. She could read nothing in his eyes. He was as implacable as a stranger. This wasn’t the man who’d held her last night, this was her Master, and this was her greatest test.

  Alana was determined not to fail herself, and she was doubly determined not to fail him.

  “Please stand with your legs shoulder width apart and grab your ankles.”

  Meeting his gaze, she swallowed deeply and did as he said. Since her muscles were so tired from kneeling so long, standing was easier said than done.

  “Is your pussy wet?”

  Hanging upside down, she answered, “A little, Master.” She heard the click of his cane on the floor. Then, once he was behind her, he dipped a finger into her vagina.

  “You remember your safe word?”

  “Hacker.”

  “And your signal?”

  She showed him.

  He stroked her, making her more and more moist. Then he drew some of the dampness backwards, towards her anal whorl.

  Though she didn’t protest, this, too, was a test. She never liked the initial insertion of anything into her ass. It always felt uncomfortable.

  This was in her letter, she remembered.

  “Ask me to insert a finger in your anus.”

  He probed at her tightest hole, an entrance no one had ever penetrated until she’d come to England. “Please,” she breathed, offering trust as well as doing what she was told. “Fuck my ass with your finger.”

  “Good girl.”

  As always, his words of approval sent her soaring. They felt liberating, as if she were free to be who she wanted to be.

  Ethan understood her so completely.

  He drew moisture from her front and pulled it back, using it as lubricant to enter her anally.

  “If I were putting my cock in your rear,” he said, “we’d use lube. But since it’s just a finger…”

  She moaned when he tried to enter. “Fuck me,” she demanded. She expelled a breath, and he seized the opportunity, reading her perfectly.