Bound and Determined (13 page)

one,” Alex said, dodging the issue in Sterling's opinion. “Okay, scratch that;

he'll hurt you, but you won't be doing anything but begging for more when it's

him doing it… And I want to see the marks when he dishes out your first

spanking—or is looking off-limits too?”

“I really don't have a clue,” Sterling said ruefully. “I think there are a lot of

questions I still need to ask. And about a million things I need to learn. I wish

there was a book or something.”

“I think there are,” Alex said. “No idea if they're any good, though.”

“I guess I could ask Owen if there are ones he recommends.” Suddenly

feeling overwhelmed by the things he didn't know, Sterling sighed and rubbed

his forehead. Was it possible to get a headache as a result of deferred orgasms?

Like the intellectual version of blue balls? Somehow he didn't think
that
was a

question he'd be asking Owen anytime soon.

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51

Alex gave a snort of laughter. “A reading list from the professor? Does that

count as homework? Maybe he'll make you write essays instead of spanking

you.”

Owen's voice, calm, measured, telling him that he'd missed a comma and

would have to start over and wouldn't get to come until the lines were written

perfectly… Kneeling in front of him, waiting as Owen looked at what he'd

written, tense and so fucking hard, needing Owen to read faster, tell him he

could jerk off… Okay, when he'd gotten to the point where that sounded hotter

than actual sex, he was in a bad way.

Aching with arousal, Sterling made some excuses and got off the phone,

only to wish a minute later he hadn't because then all he had left to do was

stare at the ceiling with the heel of his hand pressed to the base of his erection.

He counted slowly to one hundred, keeping his mind as blank as possible, then

a second time before his dick softened enough to be ignored.

Then he got up resolutely, sat at his scarred desk, and forced himself to

read five chapters of his Ancient Civ text, which was the dullest thing he could

come up with.

It was going to be a long four months.

52

Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

Chapter Five

Here we go again.

Sterling wasn't any less anxious and excited than he'd been when he'd

walked up to Owen's house the first time—in fact, he might have been
more

anxious and nervous. Because now he knew something was going to happen,

even if he didn't know what it would be exactly.

He also knew that he needed to get some answers to his questions, but he

wasn't sure if that would come before or after whatever else Owen had planned.

He'd followed Owen's instructions to the letter and knocked on the door

one minute early, just like he had the last time, in case the clock on his cell

phone was different from the one in Owen's house. That was one of those

things he couldn't have any control over, so he'd decided not to worry about it.

When Owen opened the door, Sterling smiled nervously. “Um. Hi.”

Owen smiled back at him, his expression welcoming, which maybe

shouldn't have been a surprise, because this time he was here because Owen

wanted him to be, not because he'd pushed for an invitation.

Once inside, Sterling took off his shoes and jacket and felt some of the

strain leave him. It was only the second time he'd hung his jacket in this closet,

but when so much about the night was going to be totally new and scary, he

would take his familiar and routine where he could get it.

“We'll go upstairs soon, but I want to talk to you first,” Owen said and led

Sterling into the living room. Like before, the curtains were drawn, but the only

light was from the fire burning steadily and a single lamp in the corner of the

room. “I'd like to start all our sessions like this for a while to give you the

chance to ask me about anything that's occurred to you.” Owen's faint smile

didn't disappear, but his next words seemed on the ominous side, even if

Sterling's conscience was—mostly—clear. “And anything that I need to know

about.”

“Okay.” Sterling didn't sit down; he wasn't sure if Owen was going to want

him to strip and kneel again. He had to hope he wouldn't get in trouble for not

doing it without being told. “Um, I do have some questions…more about how

we deal with this than how we do it. Because I figure the doing part is just me

doing what you tell me to do, but when I'm not here… I need to know if I can

talk about it—not with, you know, random people I meet on the street, but with

people I trust. And, like, Alex wants to know if he can see marks that you put

on me, and I didn't know what the answer would be—if that would be okay

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53

with you, I mean. Oh, and how far the not-coming thing goes, and—” He

realized that he was talking way too fast and stopped, cheeks burning. “I'm

sorry. I have to let you answer, don't I?”

“You can always e-mail or call me, you know,” Owen said gently, not

commenting on the way Sterling had just shown him exactly how nervous he

was. “I don't want you to feel that you have to wait to see me to ask your

questions—and, yes, the occasional pause for breath might be a good idea.” He

sat on the couch, grimaced, and reached behind him to extract a large,

overstuffed cushion, piped and dotted with buttons. “My mother had these all

over the place,” he told Sterling, “to the point where there was no room for

anyone to actually sit down.” He tossed it to the floor and pointed, not at it,

which was a relief because Sterling didn't think that he could kneel on it

without sliding off, but beside him on the couch. “Sit down, and I'll do my best

to answer your questions—and I have a few of my own, which you are
not
to

blush and stammer over when you answer them.”

Sterling nodded and sat. He didn't know what to do with his hands and

ended up clasping them together. It was hard not to fidget. “So this was your

parents' house?” he heard himself asking, even though it wouldn't have even

made an appearance on a list of questions he needed answers to.

“Yes. They died in a car accident three years ago and I… It didn't feel right

to just sell it.” Owen glanced around the room. “I've made some changes,

though…”

“Like the cushions.”

“Among other things,” Owen said. “I'm not as fond of rose pink as my

mother was, and yes, you can talk to Alex and I'd leave it up to your common

sense to know how much to share; no, he may
not
look at your well-spanked

ass when I get around to spanking it, and I'm not quite sure how there can be

any confusion about you being forbidden to come unless you have explicit

permission from me.” He raised his eyebrows. “Next?”

“How do you
do
that?” Sterling said, awed. He'd recovered from thinking

he was stupid and was, very reasonably, back to thinking he was smart, but it

was clear that Owen's IQ left his in the dust. “Um, no, that wasn't an actual

question. Uh, yeah. About the coming thing—I mean, I get that I'm not allowed

to jerk off, but I can, like, touch myself in the shower, right? To wash. And

what about—” It was very hard not to blush, but he thought he was managing

it. “Sometimes, when I haven't come in a while, I'll, you know, dream. Do I get

in trouble if that happens?”

He thought that he could see a gleam of amusement in Owen's eyes, but

there was no trace of it in Owen's voice when he replied. “Keeping yourself

clean is mandatory. And if you get hard from that—and you will—cold water is

a traditional solution to that problem. We'll deal with you waking up with a

smile on your face as it happens. It isn't something I'd punish you for, but if it

happens too often, I won't be pleased. It's your body, Sterling, and I expect you

to be able to control it and give me your best efforts to obey.”

54

Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

Owen slid his hand behind Sterling's neck, the warmth of his touch

soaking into Sterling's skin. The hairs on Sterling's arms stood up, and he

shivered, swallowing back a groan. It felt as if he hadn't been touched in weeks,

and when it was Owen doing it…

“You look so worried,” Owen said, his voice pitched low, a tickle in

Sterling's ear. “There's no need. I'm very pleased with you so far. You're

thinking about this and asking sensible questions.” His thumb began to move,

a slow, regular drag up and down that felt good—oh God, yes—but at the same

time was close to unbearable because Sterling wanted so much more. “Do you

have anything else to ask me?”

“Will you keep doing that?” Sterling asked before he could really think that

it might not be the best idea. “I don't—God, I just want you to touch me. Or to

be allowed to touch you. Can I? Please?” He looked at Owen beseechingly,

wanting in every molecule of his body.

Owen took his hand away, which was almost enough to bring Sterling off

the couch and to his knees,
begging
—God, yes, he'd beg, and if he'd had any

pride, any idea that he could handle whatever Owen gave him, it was gone now,

because he couldn't take this if Owen kept leaving him alone, untouched.

“We're going to go upstairs,” Owen said before Sterling could move. “And

you're going to get touched. It's time I got to know you.” He stood and held out

his hand. “Come with me.”

Sterling stood up and slipped his hand into Owen's, trying not to clutch it

too tightly. Every muscle in his body was taut with anticipation, and he

thought it was a miracle that he managed to follow Owen up the staircase

without tripping and falling on his face.
That
would have made a good

impression.

They went into what was clearly Owen's bedroom. The bed was neatly

made and—this shouldn't have come as a surprise—the headboard was one

that would be easy to tie people to. The fact that Sterling had even thought that

probably meant that he'd been watching too much BDSM porn, which seemed

to favor showing people who were tied up, sometimes facedown so they could

be spanked or beaten.

Sterling was hard; he didn't even know when that had happened.

“I'm not going to be getting out cuffs or a whip tonight,” Owen said

conversationally, as if he was commenting on the weather. He stood in front of

Sterling and began to unbutton Sterling's shirt, giving the rolled-up sleeves a

disapproving look but not commenting on them. “You're a long way off from

being ready for anything like that, and I wouldn't enjoy it because you'd be

tense and on edge. Tonight's all about getting you ready for more and trying

out some things. Think of it as taking small bites—appetizers, not a three-

course meal.”

He undid the last button of Sterling's shirt, which hung down, untucked,

over his jeans, and slid it back off Sterling's shoulders. “There's a chair over

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55

there. Put this over the back of it and finish undressing. Fold your clothes

neatly, please.”

Taking special care but also trying not to waste time, Sterling hung his

shirt over the chair and took off his slacks, folding them and setting them on

the chair's seat before removing his briefs and socks. It felt alien to be in a

stranger's—well, almost a stranger's—bedroom, completely naked, while Owen

was fully dressed.

Sterling wanted to cross his hands in front of him to hide his erection,

which was dumb because even if it
was
hidden, it wasn't like Owen wouldn't

know it was there. He couldn't help a glance downward at it, though—hard,

flushed at the tip, and with a drop of clear fluid beaded there, his dick was

fully with the program and ready to rock.

He just hoped it wasn't going to be disappointed.

Owen wasn't even looking at him, though; instead, he was getting

something out of the top drawer of a tall chest of drawers in a dark wood.

When he turned back to face Sterling, he was holding a wide strip of black silky

material. “This isn't to tie you in any way you can't get out of with a tug,” Owen

said, “but I want to see how you respond to it wrapped around your wrists.”

His gaze flickered over Sterling's erection. “You can end this with a single word;

that's always going to be the case, by the way, no matter what we're doing, but

I'll end it for you if you come, so don't.” He drew the silk through his hands,

playing with it absently. “Speaking of which, have you given any thought to