Free On His Terms by Sierra Cartwright Page A

himself ruthlessly. He’d screwed up once before. With Chelsea, he’d keep his emotional distance. “Return to the centre of the room and practise kneeling up from the inspect position. Do it ten times. You may use the rug.”
    “Thank you, Sir.”
    “You recalled your manners,” he said. “Kneeling on the hardwood was uncomfortable, wasn’t it?”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “So you understand that a rug is a luxury.”
    “I do.”
    “I’m glad you recognise that,” he said. “Always remember to thank your Dom when he or she allows you a comfort.”
    “I will. Thank you, again, Sir.”
    He released her. As she slowly walked towards the rug, her hips swayed seductively. The wide collar had changed her normal gait. Keeping her in it permanently was a definite consideration.
    On her bare feet, she crossed the room. He noticed she’d painted her toenails. If he remembered correctly, and it was possible he didn’t, they’d been a coral colour at the Den. Tonight they were a fire-engine red. He was taken aback by how erotic it looked. His preference was for mile-high heels, but this woman was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
    Forcing himself to focus, he picked up the rattan cane. She stumbled when she saw his approach. “I am not intending to use this for punishment,” he assured her. “I prefer canes for instruction or for sensual play. I do not rule it out for correction, if necessary, but I would not surprise you with it.”
    “I appreciate that, Sir.”
    “But you can repeat that one. The idea is for you to be able to do what you need to, despite distractions. Focus.” He stood close to her. He breathed in her scent, one that had haunted him since their night at the Den. Her body smelt slightly of vanilla, something light and fresh that could attract men from a ten-state region. But more intoxicating, it was layered with the heady scent of feminine arousal.
    Once she had finished the sequence, he said, “Extend your hands.” He attached fabric cuffs to her wrists then fastened those to the D-rings on her collar. “Another dozen.”
    “I won’t be able to balance as well, and my legs are getting a bit cramped.”
    “In that case, we’ll make it two dozen,” he amended.
    “I…”
    He cocked one eyebrow.
    She set her jaw and glared. “No.”
    He picked her up. She squirmed and squealed as he carried her to the chair. Since her arms were confined, manoeuvring her was more tricky than normal, but he managed to sit and get her body across his lap in a single, fluid move.
    “Sir!”
    “Generally I warm up a sub’s skin before striking her. But this is meant as instant behaviour correction. I do not tolerate defiance. Think about this the next time you choose to be wilful.” He reached for the tawse and used his legs to trap her lower body. He knew she was in an uncomfortable position, and being unable to brace her upper body had to be disconcerting. But he didn’t allow any of those thoughts to dissuade him. “You’ll receive eight spanks for your insolence, and you’ll be grateful it isn’t more.”
    She screamed as he laid the heavy forked leather strap across the backs of her thighs. He gave her no time to absorb the blow or reflect on it before laying it to her again and again.
    When he was finished, her ass and the backs of her legs were coloured an angry red. “Any questions?” he asked.
    “No.”
    “Anything else to add?”
    “Thank you, Sir.” Venom dripped from her voice.
    He helped her to stand. “Now, naughty sub, you can perform your exercise or you can get dressed and go home. I have no energy for someone who intends to waste my time.” Rather than let her go, he held her around the waist.
    Tears swam in her eyes, but he refused to let her emotion soften him. He’d spanked her hard to teach her a lesson.
    He released her long enough to stand himself, then he took her by the shoulders.
    “I hated that,” she said.
    “Because?”
    “It felt so impersonal, Sir.”
    “It