Under His Control

Sold to a Master she shouldn’t want. Maybe he’s exactly what she needs…

When Ellen signs up for an Enclave binding auction, she hopes to be won by a Master who shares her happily-ever-after dreams. Instead, she’s paired with an ex-military special ops bad boy who is definitely all wrong for her, even if everything he does feels so right.

Damon has a dark past he’s never faced and a future with no place for love. A submissive who’s looking for Master Right should send him running for hills. But something about Ellen gets under his skin and just won’t quit. Fortunately, their Master/slave contract has a built-in escape clause. At the end of seven days, he will walk away, no strings attached. 

If only it were that easy…

Exclusive Excerpt Below!

Excerpt – Under His Control

Black boots appeared in Ellen’s line of vision.

She looked up from her kneeling position on the mat and forgot how to breathe.

His black T-shirt hugged broad shoulders and a muscular chest. A barbed-wire tattoo ringed his bulging right biceps. His hair was so dark it glinted blue in the dungeon light. It was tousled, curling at his neck, strands falling over his forehead and into his eyes. His jaw was square, his lips full, their curve at once sensual and cruel. Her eye was drawn to the scar that slashed his left cheek. It was a slender, silvery-white line that curved just below his left eye, tapering toward his mouth.

The exhaustion she’d felt from the culmination of the previous scenes fell away as the Dom shook the hair from his face with a toss of his head and regarded her from beneath heavy brows. Ice brushed her spine as his gaze burned slowly over every inch, every curve.

Master Damon was Ellen’s sixth and final scene partner of the evening. While each of the five other Doms bidding for her slave contract had been skilled and assured, none had penetrated the shield of her submissive poise. Yet, this Dom already had her just by showing up.

She stared back into gray-green eyes that were as cool and remote as a winter sea. A rush of liquid heat sluiced through her as he held her captive with his gaze. She had a ridiculous, completely unsubmissive impulse to close her knees and wrap her arms around her naked body.

He’s trouble, her mind whispered.

Bring it, her gut replied.

With a casual flick of his hand, he indicated she should stand.

Ellen willed herself to be calm as she rose slowly and gracefully from her knees. Damn it if her legs weren’t trembling. What the hell was happening here? Trying to ignore the heat coursing through her body and no doubt splashing over her cheeks, she stood straight, arms at her sides.

Still without speaking, he reached for her throat, his large hand easily spanning her jawline. His touch was firm, but she was able to breathe. With his other hand, he reached between her legs and cupped her bare sex.

A shudder ran through Ellen as he slid a hard finger inside her. She pressed her lips together to keep from moaning. Keeping his finger inside her, he ground his palm against her throbbing clit. In spite of her resolve, a low, feral moan escaped her lips before she could stop it.

A knowing smile lifted the corners of Master Damon’s lush mouth. There was a dangerous glint in his eye that both compelled her and frightened her.

When he pulled his hand from her sex, she had to bite her lower lip to keep from begging for its return. With the other hand still on her throat, he tightened his grip, this time cutting off her ability to breathe.    

Pressure built behind her face. Her nipples hardened to throbbing points as he held her transfixed with his cool, hard gaze. Black spots appeared before her eyes but she was too well trained to pull away.

Then all at once, Master Damon let her go. Ellen swayed as she sucked in a huge breath, heart pounding. His strong hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her. Still, he didn’t say a word. Christ, who was this guy?

Ellen couldn’t deny she’d been impressed with Master Damon’s experience in the scene and intrigued by his background, not to mention his gorgeous profile picture on The Enclave binding auction site. But when ranking his goals and objectives as they pertained to BDSM, he’d put finding a permanent partner dead last. By definition, this ranking had relegated him to the bottom of her list. Because, though the slave contract might only be for one week, Ellen was hoping it would turn into something more.

None of that mattered as Master Damon stared into her eyes as if he already owned her. She stared back, mesmerized. Then, finally, he spoke.

“What would you do for your Master, Ellen?” His voice was deep, her name like a caress in his mouth.

Ellen closed her eyes for a second, calling on her training as she calmed herself. She opened her eyes and met his gaze.

She pondered the question seriously. What would she do for the man who could fully claim her as his slave—not only her body and her obedience, but her very soul?

“Anything, Sir,” she answered with conviction.

He cocked a brow but said nothing in direct reply. Instead, he said, “Keep your eyes on me.”

The command was easy to obey, as there was nowhere else she’d rather look.

Before she could process what was happening, he lifted his hand and slapped her across the face with a hard palm. The force of the blow turned her head to the side.

She yelped with surprise as heat splashed over her cheek. Her eyes watered as she struggled to master her shock. At the same time, a deep, dark pleasure moved through her body. She could fly from a face slapping delivered by someone who knew what he was doing. And clearly, this man did.

“Eyes on me,” he reminded her, his words a command.

Blinking away tears, she refocused on his face.

The second slap landed as hard as the first.

Prepared this time, she managed to remain silent, though she couldn’t stop the single tear that rolled down her burning cheek. He flicked the tear away with his thumb and then slapped her again. The heat in her face was matched by the flame spreading through her loins.

There was a small stool in the corner of the scene station. Master Damon pulled it to the center of the mat and sat. He patted his knee. “Lie across my lap, hands behind your back.”

Ellen struggled to get control of her breathing. Wildly aroused by the face slapping, she was now being presented with her favorite kind of impact play. There was nothing she loved more than a bare-assed, skin-on-skin spanking.

As she moved to obey, she noticed Master Lawrence at her station, along with Master Mark and his sub, Jaime. There had been a rotating group of Enclave members at each of her previous scenes, no doubt observing how the potential partners interacted and how that might impact the ultimate selections.

Used to being on display, she put them out of her mind as she approached her scene partner. Heart pounding with anticipation, she draped herself over muscular, leather-clad thighs and brought her arms behind her back. The leather was cool and soft against her skin. She gripped her left wrist with her right hand as her feet found purchase on the mat.

Master Damon’s fingers lightly traced the welts left from the caning delivered earlier in the evening by another prospective Master. His feather-light touch sent an electric tingle over her skin.

Would he still spank her now that he’d seen the welts? She wanted to blurt out that they were superficial and probably looked worse than they felt, but of course, she held her tongue. Properly behaved subs did not speak unless spoken to or granted permission.

She got her answer as his large hand crashed hard over both cheeks. Before she could catch her breath, it came down again, this time catching the sweet spot where her thigh met her ass.

Then came a steady barrage of hard-handed, ass blistering blows. In spite of her resolve to remain still and quiet, Ellen was soon gasping and squirming as she struggled to process the nearly overwhelming erotic pain.

Pausing the spanking a moment, Master Damon gripped her wrists and pressed them gently against her lower back. “Slow your breathing,” he said. “Flow with the pain rather than fighting it.”

His words and his centering touch calmed her. She managed to draw in a deep breath and release it slowly.

“That’s it,” he crooned. “Good girl.”

His praise warmed her to her bones. But that didn’t mean the spanking didn’t still hurt like hell. In some ways it was harder to handle than a caning, probably because of the constancy of the blows, and the sting of his palm covering so much flesh at once.

But it was a good pain—a necessary pain. For Ellen wasn’t only wholly submissive, she was deeply masochistic as well. She craved erotic pain. And this particular Dom was giving her what might be the best spanking of her life.

As she fully settled into herself, the pain slowly morphed into something deeper and all-encompassing. Ellen relaxed against the Dom’s strong legs with a contented sigh as she drifted up and up into that lovely, sweet space where pleasure and pain intertwined into perfection…