Page 8 of On His Terms

Her challenge would be the fact she wasn’t a true submissive, and her behavior proved it. As sure as sunrise, she hadn’t liked being bent over, her pert rear exposed to the world, while he’d greeted guests. Though he admired her commitment, his money was on her failing, no matter who she found to train her. She might enjoy whips, bondage, and blindfolds, but subjugating her will would be impossible.

Twisting her hands in front of her, she returned to him.

“Before we go any further, we need to get a few formalities out of the way.”

Around them, the party began in earnest. Evan C and his band moved into the sunroom and picked up microphones and the instruments that had been set up earlier. People spilled out onto the patios. One had a fire burning in a brick pit, another was warmed by propane heaters. Several people headed for the dungeon. And that left him all but alone in the living room with the headstrong Chelsea Barton.

“Does this mean you’re agreeing to train me?” she asked.

“Not at all.” He shook his head. “But I’m taking you up on the offer of spanking you, and we’ll go from there.”

“Just know that I’ll be trying to change your mind.”

Persistent. He grinned. “And I’ll be trying to convince you to give up your quest. You’re not a sub.”

“Deal.” She stuck out her hand.

The gesture startled him, but he accepted. As they shook, he noted the focused gleam in her blue eyes, making them steely. “First of all, you will address me as Sir. You may call me Master Alexander, but not Master.”

“What’s wrong with calling you Master?”

“It’s too confusing for someone as new as you. I’m not your Master. That speaks to a level of relationship we don’t have.”

“You underestimate how fast I learn.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded. “But that’s part of being a good sub.”

She scowled. “What is?”

“Following my rules, whether you like them or not, whether you agree with them or not.”

“So I have to do everything you want?”

“Of course.”

She swallowed hard.

“Within reason,” he amended with a grin. “We’ll use a safe word, and I need to be aware of your limits.”

“I really don’t know much about my limits,” she admitted. “No permanent scars or markings, I suppose.”

He respected that she hadn’t looked away. “Understood. We’ll learn about the rest of your limits together, then, through your safe word. Do you have one?”

“Parsley.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I hate the stuff.”

“And you’ll remember that during distress?”

“I remember to request it be left off my plate when I go out to eat. So yes, I’ll remember.”

“Very well. And if it works for you, we’ll use the word ‘slow’ if things are too much and you need a break.”

She nodded.

“The Den also has a safe word. Halt. Master Damien, Gregorio, or any guest will intervene if you use that word. Are you clear?”

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