Free On His Terms by Sierra Cartwright

show me your ass.”
    She drew her eyebrows together for only a second to indicate her confusion, then she turned and bent to grab her ankles.
    “Spread your cheeks.”
    She struggled a bit for balance as she complied.
    “I want you to put a small plug up there every morning while you shower and get ready for work.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “Kneel up.”
    Her motions were slow and somewhat exaggerated. “You’re struggling to do things, which tells me you haven’t been practising. And that makes me question your commitment. I prefer to see your motions be flawless and elegant.”
    “I apologise, Sir.”
    “No need. I’ll ensure you have plenty of time to practise, beginning now. Return to your former position, where you’re showing me your ass, and then kneel up. Then go from kneel up to showing me your ass. We’ll begin with twelve repetitions.” He took a seat in a wingback arm chair and watched.
    She’d turned on the fireplace, so a fine sheen of perspiration began to dot her back as she moved through the exercise.
    “Stop thinking,” he told her. “I shouldn’t be able to hear you at all.”
    She went through another couple, and she seemed more natural.
    “That’s much better. Do you feel the difference?”
    “Yes, Sir. I do.”
    By the end, her form began to suffer again. “When your training has finished, I expect you to be able to move with ease, from standing to kneeling, or from lying to kneeling. Any combination you can think of, such as from lying to showing your ass. Mix it up. Make sure you’re comfortable in your body. That means I require you to practise when we are not together. I recommend several times per day.”
    “I understand, Sir.”
    He stood. “We discussed your posture several times.”
    Her green eyes were wide, and a bit of fear danced in them. “Am I going to be punished, Sir?”
    “No. You will be instructed,” he said. “We will reinforce the lesson as many times as necessary. I prefer to punish you for flagrant disregard of the rules. For example, now that you know you are required to practise moving between your positions, not doing so is reason for punishment.” He picked up one of the items from the side table and showed it to her. “This is called a posture collar. It will keep your head and shoulders straight at all times. You will wear this tonight. Going forward, anytime you need correction, you’ll fetch it for me. Stand with your hands behind your back. Feet shoulder-width apart.”
    She didn’t blink as she stood in position.
    “This is one of my favourites. It’s strict, but not terribly uncomfortable.” He showed her the wide collar. “This is padded, for your chin to rest on.” He expected her to argue, but she remained silent. “Ready?”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    He wrapped the stiff leather around her throat then moved behind her to secure its two metal buckles. He checked the fit before tightening more. “How is that?”
    “Fine.”
    “Look down.”
    Instinctively she attempted to lower her chin. The collar restricted her movement.
    “How is it, now?” he asked.
    “Effective, Sir.”
    “There’s a mirror over there. Go.”
    She reached up to touch the collar’s three D-rings.
    “I can attach a leash or secure your wrists, or tie you to any number of things.”
    “It’s…it’s a bit frightening, Sir.”
    “Please tell me your safe word.” He was watching her reflection in the mirror, and he saw her wrinkle her nose.
    “Parsley.”
    “Use that word to stop the scene at any time. If you’re just a bit scared, you are welcome to ask to talk or use the word slow.” He took her shoulders and turned her to face him. Damn, she had beauty that appealed to him on a primal level. He wanted her. Her eyes hid nothing, and he saw a mixture of desire and trust beneath the apprehension. For a moment, before he harnessed his thoughts, he thought about fucking her hard, and her grabbing hold of him as she surrendered. She was not his, he reminded