YesMaster

  Yes, Master

  Darah Lace

  Tara Sherwood never dreamed she’d let a man put her in chains, call her pet and spank her into submission, or that she’d derive pleasure from punishment. But her future hangs in the balance and the choice is simple—walk away, or kneel at the Master’s feet.

  Inside Scoop: A morsel of decadence that will whet your appetite for whips, bondage and a Master of your own.

  A Romantica® BDSM erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  Yes, Master

  Darah Lace

  Chapter One

  The faint click of the closing door echoed off gray cinderblock walls, signaling Tara Sherwood’s last chance to change her mind. She bit her lip and lifted her gaze from the hard concrete floor, the same dull gray as the walls.

  He stood feet apart, arms folded over his bare chest. A bronzed chest carved to resemble the fine Grecian statues she’d studied as an art major in college. Oiled to glisten in the soft light that glowed from half a dozen wall sconces. Broad shoulders gave way to bulging biceps, each boasting a tattoo. His waist tapered to trim hips encased in low-slung black leather pants. An abundant ridge behind the fly sent her gaze skittering upward to his face.

  Dark eyes void of emotion stared down at her, nothing like Simon’s soft brown. Nor were they framed with gold-rimmed glasses or errant curls that gave her boyfriend’s chiseled features the sweet and gentle nerdy appeal she loved. This man looming over her kneeling and naked form wore his hair wet, slicked back, not a hair out of place, and his stern expression spoke of his penchant for control.

  She shivered, not from the cool air flowing from overhead vents but from the knowledge that she was about to give herself—her body and her will—to a master of pleasure.

  Closing her eyes, Tara willed her lungs to expand with air then slowly exhaled. No help. Her nerves were stretched to the extreme, every hair on her body dancing with excitement and anxiety. Simon was a good lover, better than good, damn great, actually. But her body had never responded this way to a mere glance.

  Probably fear of the unknown.

  Head bowed, she opened her eyes and once again focused on the floor. She didn’t know much about the BDSM world, but she’d researched enough to know a submissive never looked directly at her Master unless otherwise instructed.

  “Are you afraid?” The deep, sinful tone barely registered over the pounding in her ears.

  Was she supposed to respond? Wasn’t there something about not speaking without permission? Until she learned the punishment for breaking that particular rule, she dare not answer.

  Booted feet appeared before her and a pillow fell at her knees. “Put this under your knees.”

  Tara followed the command without hesitation and nearly groaned at the cushiony relief from the cold, hard concrete. She had been so intent on making a good impression, she hadn’t realized how much her knees were suffering. Tonight was her introduction into the lifestyle, and she so wanted to do this right, to learn how to please, but more than that, to be able to embrace a submissive role. Her future depended on it.

  Long fingers stroked her jaw then tipped her face upward. Habit made her want to meet his gaze. She’d been brought up to look into the eyes of those she conversed with. But a stronger urge to please kept her eyes lowered and locked on the spot just above his waistband. A ripple of abs as he shifted his weight to one foot drew her attention to the line of hair trailing from his bellybutton to the top of his pants.

  Saliva flooded her until-now parched mouth. She’d explored Simon’s treasure trail many times with kisses that eventually led to his ragged whisper of her name. Thoughts of sucking this man’s cock, long and thick and straining against the buttery-soft leather of his pants, hearing him cry out his release… She swallowed hard, wishing he’d give her permission. She wouldn’t have waited for Simon’s consent. She’d have taken the initiative, taken what she desired.

  He tilted her head higher and his thumb traced her bottom lip for a long moment. Was he thinking the same thing she was? Did he want her to blow him? If she looked into his eyes, would she see longing there? His grip on her chin tightened. “I asked if you are afraid. You will answer me.”

  The floodgate slammed shut and the Sahara took residence in her mouth. Shit. She’d made him angry. Simon never got angry. He was the most gentle man she’d ever met.

  Stop thinking of Simon!

  She swallowed again, a dry lump sticking in her throat. “N-no.”

  He acknowledged her answer with a grunt, as if he didn’t believe her. “Look at me.”

  Wary of his quiet command, she was equally surprised at the flutter it caused in her lower belly. And here she’d been afraid she wouldn’t like being told what to do. Who knew? She peered from beneath her lashes into his hypnotizing gaze.

  “You have nothing to fear from me.” His hand fell away and he took a step back. “Since you are a virgin sub, I’ll allow for your ignorance. There will be no punishment tonight. But if you return, I won’t be as lenient. Do you understand?”

  So he would go easy on her tonight. She wasn’t sure if she felt relief or disappointment. Maybe both. “Yes.”

  “It is my task to train you in the expected behavior of a submissive. At this moment, you may answer my questions freely and ask your own, but once the session begins, you will not speak unless I ask a question. You will, at all times, address me as Sir or Master. Do you understand?”

  Yes, she’d read something about addressing one’s Dom with respect. “Yes, Master.”

  He nodded his approval. “Nothing will take place that you don’t wish. While I maintain control of you, you maintain control of what is allowed. At any time you want to stop, you have but to use the safeword. Tonight, we’ll keep it simple. Green for everything is good. Yellow if you’re uncertain of the direction our play is headed but you don’t want to stop completely. Red ends the session. No and stop will have no effect. Do you understand?”

  It seemed simple enough. “Yes, Master.”

  For the first time since entering the room, he let his gaze drop below her face and roam the length of her body. Her nipples puckered beneath his perusal and she fought the urge to cover them. When he glanced lower, her pussy clenched and an altogether different flood trickled from her slit. She’d shaved, leaving her mound bare and her clit exposed.

  “Very nice.” Slowly, his attention returned to her face. “Do you have any questions before we begin?”

  She’d had a whole list of questions earlier, but at the moment, with him looking at her as if he wanted to eat her alive, her mind went blank. They’d have to wait until after. “No, Master.”

  He nodded again. “I have one for you.” He drew closer and she had to crane her neck to look up at him. “Do you trust me?”

  Trust him? This brooding stranger of a man? Yet as she searched his eyes, so mysteriously shadowed and now riddled with hunger, she could say without a doubt that she’d trust him with her very life.

  Tara lowered her gaze, falling into the role she was there to learn. “Yes, Master.”

  “Very well.” He crossed the room and out of her line of vision. A drawer opened and, after several long drawn-out moments, slid shut. He returned to stand in front of her. “Hold out your hands.”

  She obeyed without hesitation and something soft yet firm enclosed each wrist. A streak of pure fear rushed through her until his warm fingers captured hers.

  “Stand up.”

  As she rose, her legs wobbled, but she quickly found her footing. Able to see her hands now, she took in the black leather bands lined with sheepskin. Small silver rings dangled from each one. She didn’t have time to ponder what they were, though she could guess. Wrist cuffs?

  He tugged on her hands and she followed on
bare feet around a padded table. She’d had a chance earlier, before he arrived, to study the dungeon. Some sort of mesh, net-looking thing with straps hung in one corner. A sling maybe. She’d skimmed the pages of a bondage furniture store on the internet but hadn’t lingered, afraid Simon would catch her.

  But she identified a few items in the room. A St. Andrew’s Cross stood in one corner, a wooden horse nearby. A chest of drawers and cabinet lined one wall with a few chairs on either side. All the furniture was padded with red leather and stood out against the gray walls and floor. Black metal rings, some with silver chains, hung from every vacant spot on the walls.

  He stopped her in front of a bench at the far side of the dungeon and guided her onto the padded kneeler. The leather was cold on her knees and where the upper section touched her belly. A warm hand at her back nudged her forward. Her nipples tightened even before they made contact with the slick material. Her arms and head hung over the other side, her long blonde hair falling so that the tips brushed the floor.

  “Comfortable?” He squatted in front of her, still holding her hands.

  “Yes, Master.”

  He attached a short chain at the bottom of the kneeling bench to each wrist cuff then moved behind her to secure her legs about mid-thigh with the same type of cuffs and chains. She was afraid to test the restraints, afraid panic would set in and she’d end the session before it even started. She could already feel the anxiety rising.

  Heavy footsteps to the cabinet, doors opening then closing and the rasp of her own shaky breathing were the only sounds in the room. She wished he’d talk to her, because she liked the sound of his deep voice and knew it would calm her.

  A loud pop across the room snapped her head up. The rest of her body jerked but remained immobile, proving the restraints worked and just how vulnerable she was. Oh god, what had she been thinking? She’d never even been spanked before much less whipped.

  He was beside her again, a warm hand on her back, smoothing the length of her spine. “Shh, shh, shh.” His palm slid along her hip and over the curve of ass. “It sounds worse than it feels.”

  Tara sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She trusted him. She had to, had to do this.

  Something tickled the opposite buttock. It felt like dozens of velvety fingers. No, not fingers. Strands of soft leather. She trembled as it shadowed the path of his hand down one thigh, over her calf and back up again then along her back. The tickling continued down her arms until he finally held it for her to see. And seeing the instrument he planned to use on her helped ease the panic.

  Funny, she should have been more afraid, not less. Maybe she wanted this more than she thought.

  “Do you know what this is, Tara?”

  The sound of her name made the moment seem more intimate and chased away the rest of her fear. “Yes, Master. A flogger.”

  “That’s right.” He shifted away and his voice drifted with him. “Which means you’ve done some research.” The flogger trailed down her back again. “That can sometimes be a good thing. Sometimes not. Until you experience something, it can be very frightening. Do you agree?”

  “Yes, Master.” Tara couldn’t see him, only the floor under the bench, but she could sense his presence. And she could smell him. Clean, a hint of soap.

  Now that she thought about it, the entire room smelled clean despite the ambience of a dungeon. She smiled, realizing she’d conjured the image of a medieval dungeon with straw on the floor, dirty walls seeping water and a foul odor. Too many afternoon movies.

  The sting of the flogger rocked into her ass before the sound of it striking flesh reached her ears. A high-pitched shriek escaped her lips. Her first instinct was to scream at him to stop, but the second blow stunned her to silence. She yanked on the wrist cuffs as the third struck her upper thigh. An unholy fear seized her.

  “Stop,” she rasped, but barely heard herself over the slap of the fourth lash meeting the flesh of her ass again. “Please, stop.”

  “If you really want me to stop, you have to use the safeword.” Still, he didn’t strike again. Instead, he stepped closer and laid his hand on her throbbing cheek.

  She flinched, not because it hurt. In fact, it drew her attention to the pulsing heat that began to thread its way deep into her core.

  “But I don’t think you want me to stop.” His thumb grazed the underside of the stinging globe, sending another thread of fire through her and igniting a spark of need. “Do you know how I can tell you don’t want me to stop?”

  “No, Master.” She bit her lip as his thumb slid between her legs and circled the mouth of her pussy. The spark burst into flame and her inner walls clenched.

  He bent over her, his breath hot against her ear. “Because your pussy is wet, dripping.” His teeth grazed her neck as a finger dipped inside to the second knuckle. She pushed against him, wanting more.

  Shock slammed into Tara like a Mack truck. She wanted more. Not just more of his finger. She wanted more of the flogger, the sting of the lash. Evidence of the pleasure it brought her trickled down her thighs. But how was she supposed to voice her needs? She had no problem voicing them to Simon.

  She waited for Master to ask her again if she wanted to stop but he remained silent, still pinning her to the bench with his solid chest, his nose nuzzling the sensitive spot behind her ear. And god, the rigid length of his cock against her ass. Then she remembered what he’d said about safewords. Red for stop. Yellow for uncertainty. And… “Green.”

  The tension leaving his body was palpable. “Your decision pleases me.” He nipped her neck then straightened. “And for that, you may have a reward.”

  A reward? More flogging?

  “Normally, I would restrict you from coming until I gave permission. But for the rest of the session, you may come whenever and as often as you’d like.”

  She got to come? That was her reward? Wasn’t that the objective?

  The bite of soft leather dissolved any disappointment in her reward. She focused on her breathing and tried to relax her muscles, to absorb the amazingly delicious sting that came with this blow and the next, but she couldn’t. The fire in her ass and thighs grew to a near-painful degree even as it spread to her cunt. Blood pounded in her ears and in her clit. If her legs hadn’t been restrained, she’d press them together to relieve the ache.

  The next strike slapped across her pussy and she felt as if lightning crashed through her core and streaked down her thighs. Another in the same place sent it zipping to her breasts. Still another racked her from head to toe. Her fingers flexed and sweat broke out on her brow.

  “You’ve had enough.”

  No! What? No! Please no! A sob tore from her throat. “Green!”

  He chuckled and tossed the flogger on the floor near her head. His hand caressed her tender flesh. “You liked it, didn’t you, pet?”

  Before tonight, Tara wouldn’t have liked being called anyone’s pet. And she damn sure would have thought the answer to his question would be an emphatic no. But her entire body trembled with the need for him to keep going. She squirmed against his hand and sighed. “Yes.”

  The fingers massaging her right cheek stilled. “Yes, what?”

  Oh god. She’d forgotten. “Yes, Master.”

  “That misstep would normally bring punishment, but I’m feeling generous.” His free hand slapped the cheek opposite the one he massaged.

  Pain arced through her. Pain so exquisite she moaned.

  “Look at that pretty pussy. Pink and wet. Dripping for me.” He gave her another swat. “You want me to fuck you.”

  It wasn’t a question but she wanted to scream, Yes, yes, fucking yes!

  His hand came down again, centering on her clit.

  “Oh my god!” Her pussy pulsed faster. She was close to orgasm.

  “I’m going to enjoy punishing you in the future. You’re very disobedient.”

  Shit! Shit! Shit! She bit her lip and whimpered, hoping he’d take it as both an apology and
a plea to continue. This was fucking crazy. Wanting to be spanked as if she were an errant child. Make that a fucking horny woman. Crazy as hell.

  Another blissful swat followed and her head began to lighten. One more in the same spot would do it.

  He bent near her ear again. “I wish you could see yourself. Your pussy weeping, begging for release.” His breath rushed in and out almost as fast as hers. “But I’m more selfish than I thought.”

  Lifting off her, he maneuvered behind her again. Something rough and wet touched the inside of her thigh.

  “Mmm, tastes so good.” His hot breath tickled just before his tongue took a long swipe up her right thigh to the rise of her outer fold. Her muscles melted into the table. He stopped halfway up the left thigh to nip and lick. And suck.

  Another moan and a slow trickle of cream rushed toward his bathing tongue.

  “That’s it, pet. Give me more.”

  How he managed to coax another flood of juices with only his words, she’d never know. And it frustrated the hell out of her. He purposely kept her from coming. At this rate, she never would. He’d said he wouldn’t punish her, but this sure felt like punishment to her.

  By the time he lapped his way to the crease of her left thigh, she was tied in euphoric knots and on the cusp of coming whether he touched her again or not. “Good girl.”

  Then his mouth covered her clit and, with one hard suck, her world few apart. She threw her head back, crying out as her orgasm spasmed through her entire body. Icy-hot liquid flowed in her veins, traveling in pulsing waves at the speed of light. With each draw of his lips, each grazing of teeth, a little more of her being shattered. Darkness crowded the corners of her mind, closing in until only the pleasure existed.

  Then that too faded and the room went black.

  Chapter Two

  Fingers at her wrist were the first sensation Tara felt as consciousness returned.

  “Pulse is stable.” A man’s muffled voice reached her ears.