The Master (21 page)

“Look at me, Sasha,” he said from a few feet before her.

His voice sounded a bit hoarse, which made no sense. He’d been talking all day and even up to a few minutes ago sounded normal. She lifted her head and her breath caught.

He was holding a collar.

Excitement surged through her veins and her heart pounded like she’d just finished a five-mile run. She blinked to make certain she looked at it right.

“It’s a training collar,” he explained. “Just for these two weeks.”

She kept her eyes on the collar as he stepped closer. It looked like a thin band of black leather.

“If I were collaring a slave, the collar would be locked around her neck and I alone would hold the key. This collar has a clasp, making it easily removable. Though we agreed on two weeks, there is nothing stopping you from walking out my door.”

Even as shocked and happy as she was to be offered a simple training collar from Cole, she didn’t miss the trace of emotion he’d been unable to hide while speaking. Having his collar
locked around her neck hadn’t stopped Kate from walking out of his door.

“I know you’re aware of the meaning behind a collar,” he said. “And though this one is only temporary, I think wearing it for these two weeks will be beneficial.”

He probably had a point. With a reminder of who she belonged to for this time, always there around her neck, she imagined it would be easier not to let her mind lead her into hesitation.

He reached down and cupped her cheek, so gently his thumb stroked her skin. “Will you wear my training collar, little one?”

Tears prickled her eyes over a
training
collar. She mentally scolded herself. It wasn’t even a real collar; it was temporary. But she’d never been collared before, even in a training sense, and she couldn’t keep the fears tamped down that this might be the only time anyone would ever offer her his collar.

“Yes, Sir. I will gladly wear your training collar,” she said, surprised by how husky her voice sounded.

He reached behind her and buckled the collar into place, dragging his fingertips along the leather’s edge and making her skin rise in goose bumps. She closed her eyes. Cole had just collared her and for that moment in time, she pretended it wasn’t only for two weeks.

“Your neck was made to display a Master’s collar,” he whispered. “Just as your body was made for his dominance. My collar looks good on you, slave.”

My collar.
It felt good, too. “Thank you, Sir.”

“I want you to stay in here in that position. Meditate on how wearing my training collar will help keep you in the proper mind-set. When you’re finished, you may put your clothes on
for an hour of free time before dinner. I’ll allow you clothes at dinner tonight, too.”

“One question, Sir.”

“Yes?”

“May I start on my writing assignment during my free time?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You may, but your free time is limited and it’ll probably be tomorrow night before you get more time to yourself.”

“I know. It’s just—” She paused for a second, then told herself to be bold. “I’d like to spend the evening with you instead of writing.”

“I’d much rather you spend the evening with me, too. So if you finish your assignment and I have a chance to look over it, maybe there’ll be some time to be together.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

•   •   •

T
he woman who joined him at the dinner table a few hours later appeared calm and content and nothing at all like the wounded submissive he’d first taken notice of. Sasha was strong now, physically and mentally, yes, but even more so because she believed in herself. While he was pleased with the transformation, he knew at the end of her training he’d need to let her go. She needed to see that she could be strong and confident with other Dominants, not just him.

She sat across from him with a smile. Fuck, she looked so good wearing a collar.

But not just any collar. His collar. Even if it was only for training.

She’d handed him her journal while he waited for dinner to be ready. Though he hadn’t had a chance to look over it, he had
the feeling there would be no errors or grammatical mistakes tonight. So far Sasha didn’t seem to be one who had to be taught something more than once.

He’d selected a shirt with a plunging neckline for her to wear tonight. He remembered how much fun it’d been to shop for her. How he imagined her in the clothes he bought. The shirt she currently had on gave him a nice view of her breasts, but even better, it showed off his collar. He loved the way the black leather wrapped around her throat.
Taken
, it said.
Claimed. Unavailable to you.

And yet to him it whispered something more.
Yours. Take me. Use me
.

He needed to keep that whispering voice in check. Technically, she was only his for the next thirteen days. Thirteen days.

And twelve nights.

“Dinner smells wonderful, Sir,” she said, shifting his focus away from his plans for the night.

“When you’re wearing clothes, you may call me Cole.”

“If it’s okay with you, I’m more comfortable using Sir all the time.”

She’d applied light makeup while dressing for dinner and her lips were full and red. It was rather hard to think about anything other than her mouth when she wore lipstick that color. Or if it wasn’t her mouth, it was whether or not her lipstick would stain his cock if she deep throated him.

She tilted her head as if waiting for a response.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Her laugh was musical. “I said, if it’s okay with you, I’m more comfortable using Sir all the time.”

“When we’re observing lower protocol, I don’t want you to
feel inhibited. I’ve found that it’s easier to remember if you’re able to use my given name.”

She leaned forward and he did the same instinctively. In a low voice, she explained, “I only have these two weeks to call you Sir. After that, you’ll just be Cole unless we’re with the group. Please let me call you Sir. I promise I won’t let it make me feel inhibited when I’m wearing clothes.”

It had “Bad Idea” written all over it. He should tell her no and insist she call him Cole. But it was such a little thing. She rarely asked for anything. Surely, he could give her this.

He reached across the table and took her hand. “All right, little one, if you want to use Sir, I won’t make you do otherwise.”

Her smile transformed her entire face and she beamed at him, like he’d just bought her the damn moon. Bloody hell. Was he that much of a jerk that allowing her to call him Sir could elicit such a response?

He tightened his grip on his fork. Time to change the subject. “How do you feel after your first few hours of slave training?”

“My mind’s fighting me more than I thought it would. I thought it’d be easy to stand down and let you take over, but it’s hard.”

“You’ve worked your entire life to be strong and self-sufficient. Of course it’s hard. And not everyone is cut out to be a full-time slave.”

A small smile danced on her lips. “I think it’s a bit early to make that call, don’t you?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. If you really hated it . . .”

She shook her head. “If I really hated it, I wouldn’t have accepted your training collar earlier.”

“Point taken.”

“I think I’ll give it another day, at least. I’d hate to make a decision without experiencing a complete night with you.”

The words left him. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Something flashed in her eyes, but she dropped her head to her plate before he could tell what.

Changing the subject, he brought her phone out of his pocket. “No one’s called or sent a text today. Do you need to get in touch with anyone?”

“No.” She scooped up rice on her fork. “I told my parents I was going to a work conference out of town and I’d call them when I could, but it probably wouldn’t be often.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You lied to your parents?”

“The other option was to tell them I was living with a man I’ve known less than a year so he could train me to be a slave and I probably wouldn’t be able to call very often seeing as how I’d have his dick in my mouth a good portion of the time.”

Her matter-of-fact statement was spoken so off-handedly, he choked on his wine. “Yes, I can see why you went with the first option.”

She shrugged. “I’m more than happy to tell them the truth, but they probably wouldn’t take it so well.”

“Are you close to your parents?”

“Not overly. They retired to Florida, so I usually only see them at Thanksgiving or Christmas.”

“Brothers or sisters?”

She took a bite of rice before replying. “Suddenly interested in my family?”

“I’m interested in how you became the woman you are today.”

Her gaze dropped to her plate, but he thought he saw the beginnings of a smile. He was certain of it when she looked up and he saw the delight in her eyes at his statement.

“I have an older brother,” she said.

“Uh-oh, should I be afraid?”

She laughed. “I won’t tell him if you don’t. He’s a car salesman in Dover. We aren’t all that close, but I see him more frequently than I do my parents. I had a very average and normal childhood. Graduated high school and went to college, where I met Julie.”

“College was where you also discovered your submissive tendencies.”

“Yes.”

“What made you stay in the lifestyle? As one of the group members, I mean. Why not just be a dabbler?”

She took her time thinking through his question. “I didn’t see the point in doing it halfway. I knew almost immediately that I was submissive, so it only made sense to seek out likeminded people.”

“You told me a few weeks ago that one of the things you liked about being a submissive was turning over control so you could just feel while knowing that you would be protected.”

She nodded.

“What makes you feel the most protected?”

“During a scene or outside of one?”

“Either.”

“Earlier today, after the kitchen island, when you took me to
your bedroom. That made me feel safe and protected. I mean, I know it’s aftercare and you have to do it, but I felt so secure with you holding me. It was as if nothing else and no one else could touch me.”

“It may be aftercare and I may do it regardless of the scene, but rest assured I got just as much out of holding you as you did.”

“I never understood that part of being a Dominant.”

“I can’t speak for every Dominant, but after a scene, I need to hold you. I need to feel you in my arms, so soft and satisfied and know that you’re okay. Know that we’re okay. When I hold you after a scene, it’s a way to reconnect and ensure our relationship grows. Plus, I’ve always found it’s easier to talk when you’re cuddled together.”

“You don’t strike me as the cuddling type.”

“Perhaps
cuddle
is the wrong word.”

“I didn’t think you ever picked the wrong word,” she teased, watching him carefully over the rim of her wineglass.

“All writers have editors.” He leaned back in his chair, enjoying the lighthearted conversation. “Let’s see. If I had to replace cuddle with another word, I’d say, ‘I’ve always found it’s easier to talk when you’re wrapped together skin-on-skin and so close your bodies speak in ways your mouth can’t.’”

The wineglass she’d been drinking from was now suspended halfway between the table and her lips.

“Sasha?” he asked.

“Uh, what?” She put the glass down. “I got lost somewhere between skin-on-skin and mouth.”

He laughed. It seemed it was always easier to laugh when Sasha was around. “I’ll help you clean up the kitchen and then we’ll see if we can find a movie to watch.”

•   •   •

S
he woke the next morning, not surprised to find the bed empty. He’d told her he was an early riser. What was surprising was that they hadn’t done anything the night before. When they made it to bed, he’d simply pulled her to him and whispered that they had plenty of time.

She stretched, still feeling the slight aches and pains of the day before. He’d told her what her morning routine was to be, so she scurried out of bed, made it, and freshened up in the bathroom.

Naked, she walked to the large picture window in the bedroom that overlooked the backyard. She took only a second to glance outside and in doing so, noticed Cole on the patio. Without looking to see if he was watching, she knelt down and started her new morning ritual of meditation.

She’d never meditated before, but Cole had told her all he expected was for her to spend time in quiet reflection and he’d let her know when her time was up. That she could do.

But on her knees, she discovered it was hard to still her mind. Numerous questions popped up, one after another: what were they going to do today, what was he doing outside, did she oversleep, what about breakfast?

Switching tactics, she focused on her breathing and took a deep breath in and slowly let it out. In her mind, she heard Cole’s voice praising her, “Good girl.” After a few cycles, her body settled into the quiet peacefulness she’d anticipated. She focused on Cole and how excited she was to be with him for the next few weeks.

The shuffle of footsteps worked their way into her consciousness. Cole was back; her time must be up. She waited in stillness for him to say something.

But he continued moving silently and he came to a stop in front of her. His feet were bare. That was the only part of him she saw with her head down. And still he didn’t say anything.

Finally, he moved. He shifted his feet so they were farther apart. In the next second, his jeans slid down around his ankles.

That probably meant what she thought it meant, but would he want her to assume or wait for instructions? She clenched her fists in exasperation. She didn’t know because he didn’t tell her.

He cupped her chin and lifted her head slightly so she was eye level with his erection. “Did you enjoy your quiet time this morning, little one?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes, Sir.” She licked her lips, hungry for the taste of him.

“Elaborate.”

“I first focused on my breathing and it was almost as if I heard you giving me instructions. Once my mind settled down, I was able to think about this week and seeing you. Serving you.”