Taming Lia

No running away this time, Lia. Submit fully or there’s no deal.

Leather, tats, whips and chains. Lia prides herself on taking whatever the most exacting Doms can mete out. She adores masochistic play, but her last attempt to find true submission made her cut and run.

Beau, an experienced bondage Master, attends an invitation-only play party at The Enclave compound. His single scene with the feisty masochist, Lia, is beyond intense. When he’s offered the chance to step in where other Doms have failed, Beau is intrigued.

But is Lia really up for another intensive experience like the one she’s so recently failed? She’s got six days to find out.

Publisher’s Note: While the reading experience will be enhanced by reading the books in The No Safeword Series in order, this book can be read as a stand-alone.


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Beau steered Lia out of the dungeon and up the stairs to his temporary quarters. As he dropped his new purchase onto the bed, she looked around the large suite with evident appreciation.

“I was in some of the Masters’ rooms when I was on bathroom scouring duty, but not this one. Master Julian has his boy, Hans, keep their room clean.”

She moved toward the dungeon space as if dragged by a magnetic field. “Nice,” she breathed, drawing out the word as she reached out to touch the St. Andrew’s cross. Made from gleaming stainless steel, it sported a sleek, minimalistic design.

“This cross is awesome.” Lia turned back toward him, her tongue flicking suggestively over her full lower lip. “Let’s try out the new snake whip,” she said in that low, husky voice of hers. In what seemed almost an afterthought, she added, “Sir.”

Beau was amused at his trainee’s decidedly unsubmissive behavior. Given the exacting standards of the trainee program, it was a wonder she’d lasted as long as she had her last time at The Enclave. Clearly, she still hadn’t learned her lesson.

He covered the distance between them in a few strides. Grabbing her by the throat, he glared down at her. He tightened his grip, enjoying the look of genuine fear in her eyes as he cut off her ability to breathe.

He let her go abruptly and she stumbled back, her hands flying to her throat as she sucked in a breath.

“It seems you’re confused about what training with me is going to entail,” he said. “So, I’ll spell it out more clearly for you. We are not scene partners, Lia. This is not going to be a week-long game where you use me to indulge your kinks and get your rocks off.”

She flushed, color blazing in her cheeks. “I didn’t think… I didn’t mean…”

Reaching down, he grabbed her nipples and used them to pull her closer. She gasped, her pupils dilating as she stared up at him.

“I have a question for you,” he said, his eyes drilling into hers. “Are you serious about connecting with your inner submissive or are you just wasting my time?”

Her color still high, her gaze slid from his.

“Look at me,” he commanded, waiting until she obeyed. “Now answer the question.”

“I do want to connect with my inner sub,” she said, her tone subdued. Her eyes filled with sudden tears, which she blinked away. “It’s just…”

“Go on,” he pressed, more gently now, though his fingers remained tight on her nipples.

“I’m not sure she’s in there,” she blurted.

Beau suppressed his sudden impulse to laugh, not out of malice, but at just how adorable she was. Releasing her, he took a step back. “Listen, Lia. I get it. Letting go is really hard, especially in situations that are new for you. I get the strong sense that you’re someone used to looking out for yourself at all times, even, or perhaps especially, in a D/s situation. While that might work fine for a scene, it’s not going to work in a training situation. This is a big ask—but I’m asking you to trust me. To put aside what you think you know about how this should go and let me guide you. You’re still free to express reservations or concerns if I ask something of you that confuses or scares you. But that’s it. You don’t get to direct me in any way. For the next six days, I’ll be the one to decide what you do and when you do it, 24/7, and my word is final.”

She swallowed visibly, making the knot at her throat rise and fall. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered with what seemed to be genuine contrition.

He barely permitted himself to acknowledge his relief. For whatever reason, he was already invested in her success. He wanted her to achieve her goal, but it was going to be on his terms or not at all.

“Good,” he said. “Stay where you are. Don’t move.”

Grabbing his gear bag, he unzipped it and took out several hanks of undyed Kinbaku rope. Returning to her, he set them on the nearby spanking bench.

“Place your arms behind your back in a box formation, gripping opposing elbows.”

Lia obeyed, her eyes on the rope, her nipples still red and engorged from his manhandling. Reaching for a hank of the sturdy, soft rope, he moved behind her. He wove the rope around her wrists, creating a pattern that confined her arms securely without being overly restrictive. He worked quickly but deliberately, each knot both purposeful and aesthetically pleasing.

Like the night before, she responded well to the bondage, visibly relaxing as he worked. Maybe this would be a way to reach her where The Enclave trainers had failed. Kinbaku was a different focus for her, something outside her normal realm of BDSM experience. Hopefully it would offer a new way for her to connect with her truer self.

When he was done, he tested the bonds for circulation. Satisfied, he retrieved another length of rope.

He used this one to bind her breasts, creating an intricate lattice design in a circle around each breast. Moving down, he crisscrossed her abdomen with the rope, cinching it snuggly around her waist.

Finally, he selected a short length of the rope. “Spread your legs to shoulder width,” he directed.

She obeyed, a dreamy, anticipatory expression on her face he recognized well. To her credit, she made no move or insinuation that implied she was expecting a scene. Hopefully, she was finally figuring out he meant business.

He positioned the rope between her legs, pulling it taut between her labia and along the crack of her pert little bottom. Her breath quickened and he again smelled the sweet, spicy scent of her arousal. Ignoring it, he tied each end to the rope belt cinching her waist. He made it taut so it would rub at her sex with each step she took.

He moved back to admire his handiwork. She looked hot as hell, her lovely body wrapped in his ropes, her jagged pink bangs falling in a curtain over one eye, her full lips softly parted. The tip of her pretty pink tongue had again appeared on her lower lip and, in spite of himself, his balls tightened at the sexy sight.

The horndog in him wanted to press her down to the ground, yank his jeans open and sink his shaft deep into her throat. The man in him knew that was a mistake and the Dom in him knew it was irresponsible.

Turning from her, he grabbed a small piece of rope from the bench and ordered, “Open your mouth.”

He placed the rope between her teeth as a makeshift gag and tied it off behind her head. Finally, he attached a rope leash to her training collar. He gave it a gentle tug.

“Let’s go.”

Lia did not like the gag and leash. It was humiliating, as if she were a muzzled dog being taken for a walk. But she couldn’t deny the calming and deeply erotic feelings engendered by being constrained so securely in the lovely linen rope.

It was tight around her body, but not painfully so. Her arms were completely immobilized behind her back, her breasts lifted and pressed together in their rope harness. The snug confines helped her to relinquish control, something that was never easy for her. The physical restraint in and of itself was stimulating, leading to heightened sensations and an increased sense of arousal.

The limited movement and lack of control made her more hyper-aware of her body and the sensations it experienced. Her nipples were throbbing, the feeling magnified by the restriction of blood flow caused by the ropes. Her clit pulsed against the rope between her legs, which was growing damp from her juices.

All the Masters at The Enclave had been as exacting as Beau, if not more so. They were just as quick to correct, to command and to control. She’d been bound and gagged more than once during her brief tenure at The Enclave, put on embarrassing display as yet another in the daily punishments she’d received for her inability to conform.

The one-on-one sessions with rotating Masters had been relatively brief and always impersonal. She was an object to be molded and trained, interchangeable with the other trainees. She’d been required to sexually service one and all of the Masters, occasionally subjected to forced orgasms along the way.

The exercises were designed to break her down and rebuild her into an ideal Enclave slave, something she’d thought she craved. But, instead of connecting with the serene inner sub that Lucia and Master Anthony continued to insist resided within her, she’d chafed at each new demand. She’d never been able to let go enough to truly submit.

She’d spent as much time away from the Masters as with them—doing chores, grooming, observing, hanging out with the other subs—basically being seen but not heard. When the day ended, she was relegated to her single bed in the slave quarters, while the Masters slept with their real partners two floors above.

Beau’s astonishing offer to work with her had rekindled a flame of hope. But it was a tiny flame, one easily snuffed. She didn’t have the conviction Lucia and Master Anthony seemed to have about her, despite how much she wanted it. In her heart of hearts, she still believed she was a lost cause.

But maybe, just maybe with Beau it would be different. The approach was certainly different. She’d signed up for intensive, one-on-one training with a single Dom whose sole focus was her. She wasn’t an interchangeable trainee. Already, in just the brief time she’d known the man, she felt both seen and heard.

Maybe he’d not only unlock the door to her deepest desires but fall madly in love with her in the process.


Where the hell had that come from?

Her ruminations were interrupted by the need to concentrate as he led her down the stairs by the rope leash. With her arms trussed behind her back, she had to focus to keep from stumbling. The annoying gag between her teeth was making her drool. She managed to swallow before too much slid down her chin.

When they got downstairs, he led her back into the living room. The crowd had thinned out some, no doubt moving into the dungeon to try out their new purchases. But there were still plenty of people milling about. Several of the resident slaves and trainees were scattered about the room, helping at the vendor tables or chatting with visitors.

All eyes seemed to be on her as Beau pulled her along behind him. She felt more exposed than if she’d been completely naked, and certainly more vulnerable.

The rope between her legs rubbed like fingers over her cunt. Despite her efforts to keep her mouth closed over the now soggy gag between her teeth, drool spilled down her chin and dripped onto her chest. Her nipples throbbed almost painfully in their confines, her bound arms forcing her to arch her back to keep her balance.

Beau finally stopped in front of Maria Stafford’s table. Lia had met the whip maker along with the other two at last night’s dinner. Around forty, she wore her shiny black hair in a bob that bracketed an angular, almost masculine face. Her wares included leather paddles, quirts and riding crops of various sizes.

She was chatting with someone who appeared to have just completed a purchase. The male trainee, Nick, stood beside her, naked save for his training collar. Lia couldn’t help but notice his well-muscled chest was reddened and stippled with marks no doubt created by Maria’s various crops and quirts. Lia’s skin tingled with both sympathy and desire.

He and Lia exchanged a glance, Nick lifting a blond brow as he looked her over. Again, she experienced a heightened sense of vulnerability at her predicament.

Once the customer moved away, Maria turned her attention to them. As the night before, she was dressed in a sheer blouse tucked into a black leather skirt, though today it was red rather than see-through white.

“Well, hello there,” she said to Beau with a predator’s smile. “I don’t recall seeing you last night at dinner. I would definitely have remembered.”

Hands off, Lia wanted to snarl.

She immediately squelched the impulse, which was absurd. She reminded herself sternly of what Beau had so bluntly informed her not ten minutes before. They were not hooking up. They weren’t even scene partners. He had agreed to have a try with the trainee dropout, nothing more.

“Is she yours?” Maria asked, her eyes raking Lia’s bound body.

“For the time being,” Beau replied.

“That’s top-notch rope work,” Maria said approvingly. “Shibari?”

“Similar,” Beau agreed with a nod. “Kinbaku.”

“Let me get a better look.” Maria moved around the table to stand directly in front of Lia. “I love her round little titties,” she said, still addressing Beau. “Is she for sale?”

No, I’m not for sale because I’m not owned, Lia wanted to snap. Instead, she bit down on the rope gag between her teeth.

“No,” Beau replied with a chuckle. “But feel free to touch.” Dropping the leash, he moved to stand just behind Lia, his body nearly but not quite touching hers.

The Domme reached out, catching Lia by her distended nipples. Lia drew in a sharp breath as Maria twisted them between her fingers, her long, blood-red nails poking into Lia’s flesh in the process. In spite of herself, a gush of moisture flooded her cunt, actually dampening her inner thighs.

“She’s certainly responsive,” Maria said with a sly laugh. Releasing her grip on one nipple, she cupped Lia’s roped cunt. “Soaking wet.”

Heat licking her cheeks, Lia took an instinctive step back. She bumped against Beau, who brought his arms loosely around her midriff with a laugh. “She is a randy little thing,” he agreed with a chuckle.

What the hell? Lia bit down on the rope gag to keep from blurting something that would get her in trouble.

Still painfully gripping one of Lia’s nipples, the Domme picked up a riding crop with a silver tipped handle, the leather dyed the same blood red as her lacquered fingernails. Looking past Lia to Beau, she asked, “May I?”

“By all means,” Beau agreed.

Taking a step back, Maria snapped the leather tongue against Lia’s sensitized nipple, pulling a gasp of pain from Lia’s lips. Before she could catch her breath, Maria smacked the other nipple just as hard.

Beau remained behind her, his hands now gripping her shoulders to keep her still. Lia panted against her gag as the rectangle of leather slapped against her tenderized breasts, covering every exposed inch of each bound globe. Unbidden tears pricked her eyelids at the relentless, stinging pain, one spilling down her cheek.

At the same time, her perverse cunt pulsed with need. She shifted, pressing her thighs together in an effort to ease the throb. It only made it worse, the rope rubbing against her clit with every movement she made.

When Maria finally set down the crop, Lia sagged in relief against Beau’s warm, strong body. But instead of wrapping her in a comforting embrace, as a lover might have, he let her go and moved to stand beside her.

“Nice,” he said, running a finger lightly over one reddened breast. He reached for the crop Maria had returned to the table. Picking it up, he flashed a grin at the whip maker. “I’ll take it.”

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