Page 62 of On His Terms

“Thank you, Sir. I’m better now.” Submission was uncharted territory. Playing at parties was nothing like being with Master Alexander.

“When you’re ready, stand and turn your back to me.”

Conscious of the way he watched her so intently, she stood. Since he hadn’t given instructions on what to do with her hands, she clenched them by her sides.

“Constricting any of your muscles will increase your mental discomfort. Uncurl your hands, Chelsea.”

He truly didn’t miss anything.

“I’m going to tighten the collar more than last time, to keep your chin a bit more rigid.”

Part of her wished he wouldn’t tell her his intentions. She gulped as he fastened it, and even Master Alexander’s breaths were sharper than before.

When he was finished, he said, “Face me.”

Slowly, she pivoted.

“Good.” He took a step back to look at her. He adjusted her collar slightly and moved hair back from her forehead. “Come with me,” he said.

He picked up the ever-present cane.

Curious, she followed him up the stairs and gripped the banister lightly to retain her equilibrium. She was more aware of her body than she’d ever been. With every step the plug jostled inside her. And the collar prevented her from looking around. She moved slowly, exaggeratedly, in a way that left her feeling utterly feminine.

He led the way into his bedroom. “Over there,” he said, pointing and stepping aside.

A cheval mirror was angled in the corner. “Sir?”

“I want you to see what I do,” he said.

Feeling somewhere between awkward and ridiculous, she moved toward the mirror. The room was reflected behind her, and she saw him drop the cane on the darkly masculine bedspread. “I don’t understand, Sir.”

He stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

Instead of looking at herself, she stared at his reflection. For the first time, she noticed a slight jagged scar above his right eyebrow.

“Look at how symmetrical your body appears with your head so straight and your shoulders back. See how open you appear. It’s that juxtaposition. You look more confident, which also makes you more appealing as a submissive.”

She looked at her reflection and scowled. All she noticed was her flaws—the extra weight around her hips and the swell of her belly. “The mirror and I are not best friends, Sir.”

Since he didn’t let go, she had no choice but to continue to stare, even though she hated to. Generally, she hurried through styling her hair, which consisted of scrunching the short, wet strands with a dollop of mousse. Then she slathered foundation on her face, applied a coat of mascara and walked away.

“I want you to see yourself through my eyes,” he prompted. “Look at your beauty.”

Instead, her gaze went to his reflection.

“Be proud of yourself. Now arch your back slightly so your chest sticks out farther.”

She did.

“Do you notice the difference?”

Looking at herself, she wrinkled her nose. “Maybe? Some.”

He frowned. “Don’t move.” Then he took off her collar. “Stand the way you usually do.”

She shook out her arms, drew her feet closer together, and allowed her shoulders to roll forward. Her chin lowered a bit, too.

“Now look again.”