The Dom of My Dreams: A BDSM Novel (7 page)

“Yes, my pet,” he answered darkly, passion-filled eyes boring into mine.
 
“That’s what you’ll be called from here on in.
 
I shall train you and teach you obedience, just like I would to an animal, hence the sobriquet for you is ‘pet.’
 
You teach a pet tricks, you discipline a pet when it’s been bad, you own a pet and, in turn, your pet is loyal and devoted to you.
 
The word suits you, don’t you think?”
 
A slight smile curved his mouth before he turned serious again.
  
“I may choose to call you something else, perhaps my thing, or my slave, or even my whore.
 
But whatever I choose to call you—no matter how humiliating it may seem to you—you shall accept it without question.
 
I am, after all, your master, and I shall do with you what I please.
 
Understood?”

Mesmerized, I nodded.
 
If only he knew what his words did to me, how hot and tingly they made me.
 
And perhaps he did know.
 
Perhaps he’d always known that this was my secret fantasy.
 
Maybe dominant men had a sort of radar that allowed them to know which woman was submissive and which one was not—sort of like the radar Jeremy had when it came to spotting gay men.
 
Otherwise why did Seton pick
me
to be his sexual slave?
 
Why not one of the other women at Bookends AtoZ?
 
Why not Cheryl, the voluptuous managing editor, or Rosie, the pretty twenty-year-old receptionist?
 
Why me?
 
Why was
I
singled out?
 
There was nothing remarkable about me.
 
I was hideous compared to him.
 
I never uttered a single word to him whenever I ran into him at Starbucks.
 
Whatever his reason was for singling me out, I was glad he did.

“Good,” he said.
 
“Now close your eyes.”

I hesitated, my heart beating faster with fear and anticipation.
 
What would he do to me that required me to close my eyes?
 

“Close them,” he repeated, harsher this time.

I closed my eyes.
 

“Good pet,” he said approvingly, patting me softly on the head as if I were a dog.
 
“Now relax and don’t move.”

I heard him walk away, the sound of his shoes echoing on the hardwood floor.
 
Curious, I slid one eye open, hoping Seton wouldn’t catch me doing so, to see where he was going, but I saw nothing.
 
I heard his footsteps coming toward me, so I closed my eye again.

“You may open your eyes now, but when I tell you to keep them closed, you do as I say,” he warned.
 
“I expect to be obeyed at all times, or the consequences won’t be pleasant for you.”

I shuddered at the sharp tone in his voice.
 
Had he seen me peeking?
 
I hoped not!
 
I wanted to be obedient to him, wanted to experience being dominated in all that it entailed.
 
I wanted him to be proud of me.

I opened my eyes and noticed his gaze was now upon my feet.
 
He smiled as he squatted in front of me and softly smoothed his hand over my ankle with the bracelet.
 
“You look great in these heels,” he praised.
 
“Whorish heels.
 
They truly suit you.”
 

He looked up at me through thick lashes and flashed me a wolfish grin.
 
I blushed.

He laughed.
 
“Come now, Miss Fordham, you haven’t gone shy on me, have you?” he teased.
 

I shrugged and bit on my bottom lip.
 
I wasn’t shy, far from it, but with him I became someone else.
 
Someone I hadn’t known was in me.

“I must explain the ankle bracelet and matching toe ring to you,” Seton said, turning his gaze back to my anklet-clad foot.
 
“This is a Dominant’s version of a wedding ring.
 
At any rate, it is
my
version of the same.
 
During the entire course of our courtship, you shall wear these at all times, even when I am not with you.
 
The bracelet and ring signify my ownership and mastery over you, making you mine in both body and spirit.
 
Is that understood?”

I could only but nod.

Seton looked up at me and smiled.
 
It was a sweet, gentle smile, not a mocking, arrogant one, like the ones he usually gave me.
 
A soft expression passed over his handsome features.
 
I became breathless for a moment, and basked in the steadfast warmth of his gaze.
 

“Now close your eyes again,” he ordered softly.
 
“And no peeking.”

I closed my eyes and tried to relax.

Gently, his hands encircled my wrists, pulling them behind my back.
 
I heard the clasping of something on one wrist, then the other.
 
The clasps felt like cold metal.
 
Handcuffs.
 
He’d cuffed me to his chair.
 
His hands moved down to my feet and cuffed my ankles to the legs of the chair.
 
I was now completely immobile and totally at his mercy.

“Keep your eyes closed until I say otherwise,” he bit out, unnecessarily so, for I hadn’t opened them.

He tugged on the chain attached to my nipples, making me flinch.
 
The pain was a rather odd one—powerful, yet not entirely unpleasant.
 
It made my nipples ache with wanting.
 
I gasped, my body arching invitingly.

“You like that, my pet?” he asked huskily.

I nodded, bucking up my body as best I could under the tight restraints.

He chuckled softly.
 
“You’re doing wonderful thus far, my pet.
 
I am quite pleased.”
  
His calloused fingertips traced my lips in a feather-light touch.
 
“My experiment is working beautifully.”

His experiment was working beautifully.
 
Did that mean he would want to spend more nights like this with me?

“Stay as you are.
 
Keep your eyes closed,” he said, his voice implacable, and I heard him walk away again.
 

Damn it, where was he going now?
 
I leaned sideways in the chair, stifling a sigh.
 
I was getting antsy.
 
I wanted him to fuck me, wanted him to make me come.
 
My pussy pulsed and wept—it wouldn’t take much effort on his part to make me come at this point.

Keeping my eyes closed, I made use of my other senses.
 
I heard some movement and dumping of things, but I couldn’t make out what he was doing.
 
Then, after a few minutes, I heard the tapping of keys.
 
Curious, I opened my eyes briefly and squinted at his desk.
 
Seton was there, typing at his laptop and frowning in concentration as he stared at the computer screen.
 
Books, notebooks and dictionaries were now piled up on his desk.
 
Apparently, he was writing his book.
 
I closed my eyes again and let out a loud, frustrated sigh, not caring if he heard me or not.
 

Great.
 
Just great.
 
I was supposed to sit there, with my eyes closed, my legs wide open, my wet cunt desperate for attention, and my hands and feet cuffed to the chair and listen as he typed at his laptop.
 
Was this what he had in mind?
 
Was this his idea of Domination and submission?
 
Were games like this common in this lifestyle?
 
I knew some form of torture, both mental and physical, was often used in D/s encounters, but this was way beyond torture to me!
 
I wanted him, damn it, but all he wanted to do was prolong my aching need for him.
 
For a few seconds, I entertained the thought of becoming rebellious and demand that he let go of me, but what good would that do me?
 
Besides, I was cuffed to the friggin’ chair—I was in no position to get cocky.

“You may open your eyes if you like,” Seton said, startling me.
 
His eyes were fixed on his laptop when I opened mine.
 
He wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to me.
 
This annoyed me, so I sighed loudly again.

I have no idea how long I sat there, waiting for him.
 
An hour had probably passed, but it felt like a torturous eternity.
 
A slight chill swept through my widespread legs, causing me to shiver.
 
A dull ache was coursing through my cuffed wrists.
 
My body was getting sore.
 
My butt felt numb from sitting in the same position for so long, and my nipples ached from accidentally pulling on the friggin’ chain every time I wiggled in my seat.
 
I wished there was some way for me to shift into a more comfortable position.
 
I sighed and cleared my throat several times, but Seton ignored me.
 
He appeared to be completely immersed in his work.
 
For all I knew, he had probably forgotten I was there.
 
Some authors have told me that they get so wrapped up in their writing that they often forget about the outside world and the people around them.
 
Only the story and its characters are real to them.
 
Everything else ceases to exist, and it takes them a while for their brains to seep back to reality.
 
If that was the case with Seton, then I was truly and utterly fucked, and not in the way I wanted to be.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take the discomfort any longer, the typing ceased.
 
Seton stepped away from his computer and sauntered over to me, his hands in his pockets, until he stood right in front of me.
 
One of his legs brushed lightly against my right knee.
 
My gaze drifted down to his trousers.
 
He was as hard as a rock.
 
Hee!
 
So, he hadn’t been oblivious to my presence after all!
 

I bit my bottom lip and lifted my gaze back to his face.
 
His eyes were half-closed, thick eyelashes covering emerald orbs.
 
His lips were slightly parted.
 
God, what luscious lips he had!
 
I desired nothing more at that moment than a kiss.
 
Just one kiss—like the one we shared earlier in the evening.
 

           
“You’ve been good, my pet,” he said, smiling.
 
“Quite obedient.
 
I like that.”

           
I sighed and cast a lustful glance down at his enormous bulge.

           
He chuckled softly.
 
“You want to say something, my pet?”

           
“I want you to fuck me,” I whimpered.
 
My nipples ached as if the chain had been pulled.
 
My cunt fluttered and clenched with need, and the sight of his hardness wasn’t helping matters.
 
I wanted him,
needed
him.
 
Right now.
 
Never mind the kiss.
 
Never mind anything else.
 
I only wanted him, wanted him like I’d never wanted anyone before in my life.
 
“Fuck me,” I pleaded.

           
Seton frowned.
 
“Fuck me, what?” he growled.

           
I bit my lip and sighed again.
 
“Fuck me, Sir.
 
Please.”

           
His smile returned, showing dimples and white teeth.
 
One of his hands left his pocket and cupped the rampant bulge in his pants.
 
He rubbed his protrusion with a strong, sensual motion that pushed the whole of his cock against the front of his pants.
 
The fabric clung tightly against his hardness, outlining the arresting shape.