Page 41 of On His Terms

They took her back in time, to the Den, to his home. How fascinating that she could have such monumentally different experiences, both where she’d been spanked.

Chelsea went back to her bedroom for a long, flowing swimsuit coverup. But with luck, no one else would be using the hot tub.

Other than a couple of teenage boys who were horsing around in the deep end of the pool, she had the area to herself.

After turning on the jets to drown out their noise, she removed the outer garment and sank in deep, letting the water bubble around her chest. Eventually, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back, wishing the earlier experience had been less confusing.

When she’d set her sights on landing Master Alexander as a trainer, she’d known it wouldn’t be easy, but she’d expected to at least enjoy the experience. During their two weeks together, she’d thought she’d have orgasms and thrilling sex, learn some useful skills, maybe get tied up, enjoy a few sexy spankings.

But she hadn’t expected the whole experience to be so much work, mentally as well as physically. Holding up her arms, kneeling, being restrained and spanked—all had taxed her body.

At the Den, he’d asked her about limits, and she’d truly believed she had few, if any. She was in charge of her thoughts, and nothing got to her.

But their scenes had confounded her.

Though she continually attempted to intellectualize the process of submission, the more she learned, the more there was to know.

Several more teens came down to the pool area, so she went back upstairs. As she showered, she took down the handheld showerhead and rinsed off.

At the Den, Master Alexander had been a spectacular lover. There’d been an intimacy about the way they interacted that she’d found lacking in previous relationships.

And now, away from distraction, she once again replayed the evening’s events, kneeling, being in the posture collar, having her hands secured, having his hand blaze across her ass. In retrospect, none of it had been awful. He’d ensured her safety and he’d talked to her the entire time.

She’d only started to spiral when she was swept up in her own thoughts.

How different would the evening have been if she hadn’t struggled against his orders or defied him?

Would Master Alexander have given her a shattering orgasm?

As she thought of him and his gorgeous face and amazing body, she moved the showerhead down her body, from her chest to her belly, then between her legs. She used one hand to spread her pussy.

Heaven help her. She craved his attention, his touch, gentle caresses, sex…

With a sigh, she continued to move the showerhead between her legs. Then she turned the dial so that the water pulsed, rather than sprayed, and she teased her clit with the warmth and the pressure.

The orgasm she’d wanted loomed out of reach, so she rose onto the balls of her feet and clenched her buttocks, striving for completion.

She needed pressure on her nipples, she realized. And with the way she was using the showerhead, there was no way to do that.

A minute or so later, she gave up in frustration. Until he’d introduced her to some nipple play, she’d been able to reach orgasm quickly.

In frustration, she shut off the water.

Nothing about today had gone the way she’d anticipated or hoped.

Once she’d dried off, she grabbed her purse and fished out the tube of arnica. The fact he’d given it to her showed he had been thinking of her, no matter what her mind had told her at the time.

Unsure what to do with that realization, she crossed to the bedroom to stand in front of the mirror, then she squirted cream onto her fingertip and dabbed it on the red mark.

Afterward, she debated what to do. Restless energy still filled her.

Instead of changing into her pajamas, she dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt and buried herself in housework, trying to ignore the truth that was nagging at her—part of her wanted to continue her training.

In life, she’d learned that mastery came from practice. Why had she expected submission to be any different?

She might decide he was right, that the lifestyle didn’t suit her and that an occasional scene satisfied her.

On the other hand, at the Den, there’d been transcendent moments when she’d experienced peace, when she’d stayed present instead of allowing her thoughts to gallop.