When I glance up from my laptop, I notice Nate stalking back and forth wearing a hole into the carpet. “Babe, sit down,” my voice travels to him in a soft murmur. When he snaps his gaze to mine, I can see the startling brown that is mostly hidden when he’s stressed. Today is the first day of his new job. After allowing Asher to take over A&B Finance fully, Nathan decided to go into business with Mason and Carrick. Three headstrong men in one business will be one hell of a feat. Nate will be running the Los Angeles club, and since we moved four months ago, we’ve spent our time getting used to the area before the opening.

It’s so different from Chicago, the weather is incredible and my new job is perfect. As soon as we arrived, I applied for a position at one of the smaller boutique online magazines. Using a pseudonym, I write a weekly advice column on the lifestyle. I answer any questions people, especially submissives, have. When there’s a question I can’t advise on, Nathan helps me form a male perspective. I’m excited and delighted to be able to help someone who’s new and scared, just like I was.

By night, I write my columns, but by day, I work as a model for a lingerie company offering beautiful timeless underwear. It’s an elegant, yet sexy line and I’m proud to be the face of it. I don’t see myself doing it forever, but for now, I’m loving it.

“I’ve been on the phone for an hour with the supplier. He’s still trying to find the velvet I asked for,” Nate grunts in frustration. Rising from the seat, I pad over to him. Our office is at the back of the house, overlooking the infinity swimming pool and the Hollywood sign.

“Babe.” My hands find his shoulders bunched up and tense. “Look at me,” I order. We’ve slowly become more at ease with each other, working through our needs and wants. There are times he needs my control, but mostly, I’m under his. Which I love. Relinquishing everything to him is freeing.

His eyes meet mine, they burn through me, finding my soul and gripping it tightly. Immediately, I sink to my knees, looking at his bare feet on the soft white carpet. “Eva,” he whispers. We’ve played before over the past few weeks. But today he needs more. “I can’t—”

“You can, Master. Let me be your slut,” I utter the words he craves.

“Look at me,” he orders, immediately falling into his role. Lifting my eyes, I meet his, recognizing how they’ve darkened to almost black. Dark desire swims in depths of his gaze, pinning me in place. “If I take you now, I’ll fuck you. It will be brutal.”

“Do it. I told you, I want you. This,” I gesture between us. “Is us. It will always be us. I need you to use me, and you need me to relax.”

“Good girl. Go to the playroom, I want you on the floor beside the tower.” I nod. Rising without a word, I head to the room in question. On the upper level of our apartment, it sits, beckoning me. As soon as I step inside, I sigh in relief. Stripping off, I leave my clothes beside the door and kneel as requested beside the tower. The long steel pole is attached to the floor and ceiling. It has a spreader bar for my feet which keeps me open and exposed to Nate’s ministrations. The cuffs that are attached to it are to keep my hands close to my hips, but behind me and a collar which holds me firmly in place.  

The door clicks; his cologne wafts through the room, enveloping me in his scent. “Position yourself, sweet slut.” His command comes quickly.

I rise, stepping onto the metal plate with my limbs in place at the restraints. Nate is wearing a pair of charcoal sweats. They don’t hide the thick erection he’s sporting. He binds me to the metal pole. Once he’s happy with his work, he lifts the white wand and smiles at me.

“Orgasm torture is my favorite way to pass the time,” he murmurs, leaning in, allowing his mouth to tease my earlobe. His teeth graze the flesh sending a shudder through me. He attaches the wand to the clamp and places it on my clit. “If you make a noise, you’ll get double. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” I utter nervously. Some may think orgasms aren’t a form of torture, but when you’re forced to come ten or more times in a row, there’s nothing that can make you beg for more.

“Good girl.” The two words that leave me utterly his. He fastens the cuffs around my wrists, the collar slides around my neck, then my ankles get locked in place with thick black metal. Finally, he turns on the Wand, the soft vibration on my clit is incredible. Gently at first, but I know with seven settings I’ll soon be begging him to stop. I watch him move around the room exuding dominance as he goes. He picks his favorite flogger, stalks toward me and stops, legs spread, his chest heaving already. “You’re my special girl,” he tells me with admiration. “It’s been an adjustment after all the shit that happened… And you know why I’m so tense, sweet slut?”

He raises the leather, bringing it down on my tits, my stomach, and my legs while the wand teases my clit mercilessly. The pain and pleasure shoot through me causing me to whimper. My nerves are frayed in the best way, tingling through my body.

“Answer me!”

“No, Sir. I don’t know why you’re so tense,” I say quietly before he lashes me with a new round of swats causing me to moan and plead for more. My body trembles, needy and wet for him. When he finally drops the flogger, his lips find mine in a searing kiss, warming me, tempting me, taunting me. He breaks the kiss, meeting my gaze and I finally ask. “Tell me, please?”

He grins, turning the wand up two notches. The jolt to my clit is intense, breaking through the lust and sending me over the edge as my body pulses with an orgasm so strong I cry out in pleasure.

I feel my arousal dripping down my thighs, but I can’t do anything about it.

“You haven’t put my collar on,” he grunts, twisting up the wand another notch, and my hardened nub tingles as the tension leaves my body limp.

“I can’t… Please?”

“Can’t put the collar on?” he taunts. He knows what he’s doing. Torturing me with too much pleasure which doesn’t allow me to function properly. I can’t speak. I can’t think.

“No, I… Orgasm…” My words are mumbled, falling from my lips and not making sense. “Please?”

“Do you want me inside you, sweet slut?” he asks, his face close to mine, his fingers teasing my wet core. The buzzing on my clit hasn’t stopped and my mind feels blank. “Look at me,” he murmurs softly. He dips two fingers inside me. Our gazes lock—his black with lust, mine teary with need.

“Fuck me, Sir. Please?”

Swiftly, the buzzing stops, the clamp is moved somehow, and in seconds I’m filled beyond measure. Even though I’m drenched, feeling him enter me is like finding a piece of me that was missing. He completes the broken parts of me as I heal the shattered pieces of him.

Our bodies are fluid. Our mouths are glued in passion, yearning, and desire.

“Oh, God!” I cry out as his finger finds my puckered entrance, dipping inside me while his cock claims me.

“Tell me, Eva?”

“What? Please?”

“Tell me you’ll wear it?” He grunts with each thrust. Every word a drive, a plunge deeper, hitting my soul.

“Yes! Yes! Please, let me come!”

“Do it. Mark me, sweet slut. And I’ll keep you as mine.”

And I do. Our bodies lock, as do our hearts, and I know I’m forever branded to him.