Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
They were silent on the very short ride down a dirt road. Master Damon pulled up next to a small log cabin set among a copse of pine trees. Smoke was rising in a spiral from the chimney. A large stack of cut firewood was neatly stacked under an awning beside the front door.
Master Damon hopped out of the car and came around to the passenger side. He opened her door. “Go inside, strip and kneel near the front door while I grab our stuff.”
Heart beating fast, Ellen made her way through the still-falling snow to the door, which was unlocked. She entered, expecting a bare-bones cabin like her family had stayed in on camping trips.
She should have known better, this being an Enclave property. The door opened onto a living room with a sofa and several comfortable-looking chairs arranged around a stone fireplace. More cut wood was piled on the side of the hearth, along with small twigs and a stack of old newspaper for kindling.
The furniture was upholstered in warm, earthy tones, complementing the natural wood of the log walls. A small, round wooden table with two chairs stood near the kitchen, which was separated from the main area by a high counter.
Flames crackled in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the room. While there was no overhead light, polished brass lamps set on small tables around the perimeter of the room had been lit, lending to the cozy atmosphere of the space.
The only nod to BDSM was a steel domed bird cage tall enough to hold a person. It stood beside a small wardrobe. Ellen wondered if impact toys and rope might be hidden within.
There were two open doorways off the back of the space. Resisting her urge to explore, Ellen quickly slipped out of her coat and hung it on the peg rack by the door. She toed off her sneakers and placed them neatly beneath her coat. She just had time to kneel on the small throw rug near the door when it opened.
She glanced up through her lashes as Master Damon’s booted feet appeared.
“Nice place,” he said with evident appreciation as he set down his suitcase and dropped their bags. As he removed his jacket, she lowered her gaze.
“Come join me by the fire,” he directed, moving away from her.
Ellen rose and walked toward the grouping of furniture as Master Damon took a seat on the sofa. When she started to lower herself to the rug near his feet, he said, “No. Sit on the couch next to me. Let’s review the slave contract and see if we need to make any changes.”
“Yes, Sir.” Ellen settled herself next to Master Damon, pleased she sounded reasonably calm despite her fluttering nerves and dry mouth.
He moved a little closer so his jeans-clad thigh touched her bare one. Ellen resisted dueling impulses—the first to scoot away, the second to climb into his lap. Oblivious of her discomfiture, Master Damon reached into his pocket and withdrew his cell phone.
He tapped the screen and handed her the device. “Read through that. I downloaded it from The Enclave website. I made a few edits to personalize it to our specific situation, using our names and specifying the term of the contract to one week. Let me know if anything in this contract is objectionable, or if anything is missing. There’s a space at the bottom for your e-signature.”
Ellen’s hand trembled slightly as she accepted the phone.
An icy shiver of erotic fear dragged its finger along her spine as she read the terms of the contract that would shape her time with this man.
Slave Ellen exists solely for the pleasure of Master Damon…
Slave Ellen agrees to accept any punishment Master Damon chooses to inflict, whether earned or not…
I agree to give myself completely to Master Damon, and to accept his claim of ownership over my body for the duration of this contract. I understand that I will be commanded, trained and punished as a slave…
The words were thrilling to someone hardwired as she was. They whispered directly to her submissive soul. So why was she so damned nervous? The Enclave contract had been just as comprehensive.
But the focus had been on her training, not on serving a single Master. Sex had been used as a training tool, rather than specifically for the pleasure of her trainer. By serving the many, she’d been able to hold herself at something of an emotional remove. Perhaps even more importantly, she’d been surrounded by a support group of other submissives.
Come on, she silently admonished herself. This is what you signed up for—hardcore experiential slavery. Stop anticipating. Embrace the experience.
“So?” Master Damon said eventually. His dark hair had fallen into his eyes, making him look sexier than any guy had a right to. With a casual toss of his head, he shook it away. “Any comments or questions?”