With This Collar (Mastered) Read online

  “It does. In BDSM circles, his house is known as the Devil’s Den.”

  “Seriously?”

  “He didn’t choose it. But since his name is Damien…” He trailed off.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “But it was easier to agree to meet out at the Den—outside of Denver—than to keep saying Damien’s place. Then somewhere along the line someone added Devil—the press, I believe during an exposé—and it stuck. Some of us long-term guests still call it the Den. The dungeon has a punishment horse, a St Andrew’s cross, stocks…”

  “Thumb screws?”

  “You could call it fully equipped.”

  She was so stunned she was unable to speak.

  “Would you like to see it?”

  “Good God, no.”

  “Pity. I’d love to see you on the cross.”

  “That, Mr Cavendish, will not happen.”

  “We’ll see.” He regarded her, and she did her best not to squirm. It was as if he saw through her words and into her darkest fantasies. “As Damien said, Ben and Lana will be back later.” He nodded towards the couple. “They’ll be performing a rose ceremony in private.”

  Lana and Ben picked up the roses they’d placed on the mantel. Even from across the room, Julia noticed both roses still had thorns. Ben’s was red, in full bloom. Lana’s was white, and barely beginning to open.

  Damien led the two from the room. Lana followed her husband, a couple of feet behind him.

  Julia finished the rest of her drink, then placed the empty glass on a server’s tray.

  “Another, ma’am?”

  “No, thanks.” She needed to get out of there. The entire evening had been too much. From Lana removing her gown and kneeling, to Ben locking a metal contraption around her neck, to servers who were dressed in little to nothing. And the house had a dungeon?

  “Be grateful you were invited,” Marcus told her. “Most times collaring ceremonies are closed to the outside world.”

  “Are you telling me I’m the only one here who feels as if she’s fallen down a rabbit hole?”

  “Probably, yes.”

  Behind him, a woman in spiky heels and a short, short skirt put a hand on her companion’s shoulder. Julia stared, wide-eyed, as the tall, broad man knelt. The woman then pulled something from her pocket and affixed it to a collar around the man’s neck.

  “Is that…” She trailed off, unable to complete her sentence.

  “A leash,” Marcus supplied, looking at the pair. He took another drink and looked at her over the rim of his glass.

  The woman walked from the room and the man trailed, on all fours, keeping some slack in his lead.

  “I need to go,” Julia said, shocked that she could find her tongue to speak. She’d never imagined something like this was possible.

  “Aren’t you in the least bit curious?”

  “About what? People behaving this way? I’m more disturbed than anything. Appalled, even.”

  “Those are some harsh words.”

  “I would never allow myself to be treated like that!”

  “Like what? Someone who is deeply cared for?”

  “If that’s how someone is treated when they’re being deeply cared for, count me out.”

  “Just a moment before you go issuing uneducated proclamations,” Marcus said, his tone unrelenting.

  This was a man accustomed to issuing orders and having them followed. She bristled, but she was also feeling seduced by his authority. The insinuation that she was judgemental rankled.

  “Did you see him protesting?” he asked. “Do you see anyone here being forced to do anything against their will?”

  “Did you see what just happened?” she countered. “That man was just put on a leash.”

  “He’s a big man. Do you suppose the woman with him, at least a hundred pounds lighter and six inches shorter, could have done that to him if he didn’t want to be leashed?”

  Julia scowled.

  “And, furthermore, you’d look beautiful leashed.”

  “I’m not ever—”

  “Don’t say things you may have to take back,” he interrupted smoothly.

  “That’s a pretty arrogant statement.”

  “Tell me your name,” he said, sidestepping her comment and defusing her indignation.

  They were having this kind of conversation, and they’d never been introduced. Could this event be any more surreal? “Julia Lyle,” she said finally.

  “Ms Lyle, the pleasure is mine.” He placed his drink on a nearby end table and extended his hand in greeting.

  Mindful of what he’d said about rudeness, she accepted. Shaking hands seemed so…normal, a polite societal construct that she could embrace and understand. It momentarily grounded her.

  He held her too long, though, and when she would have pulled away, he raised her hand and kissed it. He looked at her, imprisoning her gaze.

  Electricity lit up her nerve endings. Despite her reservations, she was attracted to this man. She’d dated her fair share of men, and she’d been in a couple of long-term relationships. Unfortunately, the last man she’d been involved with—Jason—had been rather domineering. At first, he’d been charming and wonderful. Over time, after she’d allowed him to move in, he’d tried to control her, choose her friends, isolate her from her family.

  The experience had left her determined not to let any man make decisions for her ever again.

  So why was she so attracted to Marcus Cavendish? Untamed energy beat in her when he touched her. Power exuded from him, and it was slightly intoxicating. He was dark and dangerous. In short, he was everything she shouldn’t want, everything she’d vowed to avoid. Yet she wanted to continue talking, despite the fact that her instinct urged her to run.

  “I’ve been a friend of Ben’s since college,” he said.

  “Has he always been this way?”

  “A Dominant? I suppose, yes. He was a natural leader, even in school. So that he would behave that way in a relationship makes perfect sense.”

  She extricated her hand. “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

  “Has Lana told you nothing about her lifestyle?”

  Julia shook her head. “I knew she and Ben were doing things she labelled as kinky, but I think she probably should have told me more, or else not invited me this evening.”

  “Everyone has heard about BDSM.”

  She nodded. “Of course. But it’s a bit different seeing it in person. I thought it was all about toy handcuffs, maybe a paddle.”

  “Let’s go somewhere a bit quieter.”

  She thought about it for a moment. If she were as smart as she liked to think she was, she’d go outside and get in her car, drive back to her normal life and normal job as a statistician in Denver, forget this event had ever happened, pretend she had never met the overwhelming Marcus Cavendish, and ignore the adrenaline urging her to follow wherever he led.

  But she wasn’t sure what had happened to the logical and linear part of her brain that made her such a good statistician. She was behaving like a female to his larger, commanding male. Biology. Her attraction was nothing more than basic biology.

  Without waiting for her response, Marcus took hold of her elbow and guided her into the sunroom. She knew she should have protested, but she didn’t—couldn’t.

  There were no other people in the room, and he continued to hold on to her until they stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling window. Since it was dark, she could only make out vague shadows. Being here, with him, felt intimate.

  Because she needed to for her sanity, she pulled away from him. She turned to face him, arms folded.

  He propped one foot on a window sill, obviously unconcerned by her hostile body language.

  “Some people do use handcuffs in the bedroom, like you said. Maybe a scarf as a blindfold. All that is well and good, if it works for the couple. Some of us prefer something more complex, something that’s as emotional as it is physical. To many people here, BDSM
is a much more serious construct, not just an occasional playtime in the bedroom. Some of us indulge twenty-four seven.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Every relationship between a Dominant and submissive has an agreed-upon power exchange. You heard Ben ask Lana if she willingly offered her submission. He didn’t demand her servitude. He didn’t threaten or compel her response. She gave it.”

  Julia waited.

  “In return, you heard Ben promise to care for her. They negotiated their agreement over time, then they asked trusted friends to witness their public vows. Lana gave him power. He didn’t take it.”

  “And I’m sure she can revoke it at any time,” she said, her tone tinged with sarcasm.

  “Actually, she can. Most subs and Doms have a safe word, or even a series of them. A sub will use an agreed-upon word or term if she or he is feeling scared or if something is too much to handle, either physically or emotionally. The most important thing is communication. Most relationships could benefit from having that kind of arrangement, something that’s discussed ahead of time. No person can be a Dominant without the other agreeing to be the submissive.”

  “It sounds like abuse to me.”

  “Does it?” He raised his eyebrows, and she squirmed beneath his scrutiny. “You’ve been friends with Lana for a long time, I assume. Since she met Ben, has she looked like an abused woman to you?”

  Actually, she’d been giddy. Julia, Lana and a few friends had been at a martini bar on Larimer Square celebrating Lana’s last days as a single woman when talk had turned to sex. Lana had been grinning and giggling as she had told stories about Ben spanking her and binding her wrists to their headboard.

  A couple of the other girls had admitted they’d done similar things, and that, scandalously, they’d enjoyed it. They’d encouraged Julia to loosen up and be a bit more adventurous. Honestly, she had been intrigued by the ideas. She just hadn’t been with a man she had wanted to try it with. That night, though, with her supercharged vibrator, she’d had a few wicked fantasies…

  “Julia?” he prompted.

  “I thought they just had an occasional wild evening. I didn’t know they did this…”

  He waited. “This?”

  “You know, doing everything he tells her.”

  “Despite what you may be thinking, he doesn’t just tell her what to do and have her jump to his bidding. Everything between them, everything, including punishment, is consensual. Ben will not beat Lana without her agreeing to it.”

  Julia shivered. “That’s horrible.”

  “Is it? I’d be willing to bet your friend has more orgasms in one night than you’ve likely had in the last six months.”

  “Excuse me?” Suddenly, she was pissed off. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Lucky guess,” he said. “But with your reactions tonight, you seem like a woman who has repressed sexual needs. You jump when I touch you. And when I use this tone…” He dropped his voice an octave or two. The sound sent little skitters of awareness up her spine. “You need the right man to set you free.”

  “Could you be any more insulting?” She tilted her chin, hoping to project a confidence and disinterest she was nowhere close to feeling. “Are you always such an overconfident jerk? Let me guess, that’s why you’re here alone.”

  He didn’t react, other than to smile. That infuriated her.

  “Come on, Julia. Admit it. You might be protesting, but only because you think you should. Deep down, you’re intrigued.”

  She curled her hands into fists at her side, more to keep him from seeing the way she was trembling than anything else. Damn him—he had snared her interest.

  “You’re wondering what it might be like to surrender to a man. More specifically, you’re wondering what it might be like to submit to me.”

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  “When Lana was talking about the things she and Ben do, you listened, maybe even fantasised about being spanked, feeling an unyielding palm on your ass cheeks, perhaps being tied up helplessly while you wondered what would happen next. And tonight, you pictured yourself in Lana’s place, kneeling in front of a roomful of people.”

  She coolly met his gaze and pretended her heart wasn’t racing. “You’re out of your mind. That will never happen.”

  “You want to be taken in hand. You want to have someone enforce the limits so that you can release your fear and freely experience everything.”

  She knew she should leave. Now. But she was fascinated, even as she was repelled.

  “How would you react if I dug my hand into your hair, dislodging those carefully placed pins, then tugged hard, forcing your head back and holding you tight for my kiss?”

  “You’ll never know, Mr Cavendish.” And if she persisted in her protests, neither would she.

  “No?”

  He dropped his foot from the window ledge and took a purposeful step towards her. Apparently unconcerned by her forceful words, or totally disbelieving them, he took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him.

  She stood her ground even though there were only inches separating them. The breadth of him filled her vision. His proximity overwhelmed her. If there had ever been a man to tempt her, it was this one.

  Gently he traced the column of her throat. “Your mouth says one thing,” he commented, “but your pulse betrays you. The way you bit your lower lip betrays you. The way you’re trembling betrays you.”

  “Maybe I don’t want you touching me.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed. “So tell me to stop.”

  It wasn’t just the scent of him that made her oh so aware of being a woman. It was also the seduction in his voice. He was speaking softly, so no one but her could hear him, and the rough gentleness made shivers dance down her spine.

  He moved his hand so he could stroke her cheekbone. Julia stood there, mesmerised.

  He captured her gaze, as if she were the only woman on the face of the planet. Despite her best intentions to prove him wrong, she dropped her hands to her sides.

  “Shall I keep going, Julia?” He imprisoned her chin. “Or have I offended your feminist sensibilities with my boldness?”

  None of the men she’d been with had evoked this kind of response from her. She’d had sex before—plenty of it—but she’d never been this aroused from something so simple. They’d been focused on their pleasure, rather than hers. Most of her boyfriends had performed the requisite foreplay, including eating her out, but none had taken this much time talking, looking, exploring.

  “You’re beautiful, Julia. I’d love to see you naked, helpless, supplicant, on your knees with your mouth open to receive my cock.”

  “I’ve told you that will never happen.” But… God. Her protests sounded hollow, even to herself. In truth, his words overwhelmed her, made her tremble. He wasn’t really saying these things to her, was he? She’d never enjoyed giving head, so she’d avoided it whenever possible. But heaven help her, she was so turned on.

  “I’m not insulting you. I’m encouraging you to embrace all of who you are. There’s no shame in being a submissive. In fact, it’s very powerful. You’re always in the driver’s seat. You always have the control.”

  Her heat beat madly. He couldn’t possibly be right.

  “You want it, too. Admit it.”

  “No…”

  His touch, commanding and compelling, felt as if it were everywhere at once. He ran his fingers across her nape, then pressed his palms against her back to draw her closer. He followed through on his earlier promise and dug his hand into her hair. She heard a series of soft clinks as pins dropped to the hardwood floor. Since her hair was such a riotous mess, she generally kept it pinned back or in a ponytail. But now, unconfined, it fell over her shoulders.

  Being unconstrained this way made her feel slightly wanton, and she leaned closer to him.

  “This will be consensual. Tomorrow, there will be no doubt you were a full participant in whatever happen
s tonight. Do you understand?”

  Excitement drugged her. She felt his forceful grip on her hair. Shockingly, the pain only added to the bombardment on her senses. She wanted more.

  “Ask me, Julia. Ask me to kiss you, to squeeze your nipples, to bring you off right here in the sunroom where anyone can see you surrender to me.”

  His words stunned her. She blinked, then stared at him.

  “Ask me,” he repeated. “Or tell me to release you.”

  Chapter Two

  Marcus hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath until she said, “Please.”

  Lord, this woman intoxicated him, appealing to him on a carnal level. She was tall for a woman. The top of her head reached his shoulder, meaning she had to be at least five-foot-seven. That also meant she was the perfect size to fit under his chin, in his arms. He could, and would, protect her. He could, and would, tie her down and fuck her, as long as she asked him to. He generally played with experienced women who were excited by the opportunity to scene with him. This evening was as unique for him as it was for Julia.

  He liked how feisty she was, with energy pulsing from her bright blue eyes. Her blonde hair fell wildly over her shoulders. He wondered if it ever stayed confined for long. Or was it more like her, desperately trying to break free? He wanted to chip away at her carefully constructed façade.

  “Please, what?” he asked. “Be specific. I can only give you what you want if you ask for it.”

  “I’ve never done this before.”

  “Begin now. Tell me.”

  “Please, I want you to kiss me.”

  That was definitely a good start.

  He fisted her hair still tighter and pulled back her head. Her eyes widened. He wasn’t sure if the reaction was from shock or from his painful grip. But she responded, parting her lips for him.

  Ruthlessly, he claimed her mouth, seeking her tongue. After only a moment’s hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Marcus’ cock had been hard from the moment he’d put his hands on her shoulders in the living room. In all the years he’d been involved in the BDSM community, he’d never been with a novice. And the rush was heady. Seeing her trepidation yield to curiosity made him want to push further. He wanted to send her home tonight with a taste of what her friend experienced. Julia had been so uptight during the ceremony that he felt it was his obligation to help soften her up a bit. And what better way than through an orgasm?