Over the Line, 10th Anniversary: Mastered

Chapter One

Chapter One

Michael Dayton caught a whiff of spiced vanilla on the night air, and he turned his head to find the source.

The view of the woman passing by walloped him. He only managed a brief look at her face, not enough to make out her eye color, but on a primal level he noted the softness of her mouth and the sexy pout of her beautiful lips.

She kept moving in the direction of the Den’s firepit. Fascinated by her beauty, as well as her confidence, he didn’t look away. How could he? She was tiny, compact, with blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, the strands an untamed, riotous mass. She walked with determination, her hips swaying seductively as she navigated the uneven flagstone patio. Her grace was even more remarkable given the unyielding leather dress and her crazy-high heeled sandals. Even though the shoes added extra height, he doubted she’d reach his chin.

A need to protect flared in him. The sensation was as unexpected as it was unwelcome.

Several times a year, he attended BDSM play parties here at the Den, a mountain retreat owned by his friend Master Damien. On occasion, Michael scened, and he’d been sexually attracted to many of the subs he’d played with.

But he’d only had this kind of visceral reaction one other time in his three decades. Recklessly, he’d ignored his intuition and the warnings of others and had ended up married within three months.

A few years later, he and his bride had been in court, and he’d spent most of his inheritance to hold on to the Eagle’s Bend Ranch. The two thousand acres had been in his family for over eighty years. If he’d lost it to some scheming bitch, his father would have haunted him from the grave. The lessons Michael had learned while rebuilding his life and fortune had made him harder, smarter, and significantly more cautious.

He adjusted his cowboy hat and continued to look at the blonde. She had joined a group of people near the fire. Her figure-hugging dress did as much—and maybe more—to arouse him as her nudity would have.

Until this moment, he hadn’t missed having a woman in his bedroom, tied to his rustic four-poster bed, arms and legs spread wide as she lay there for him, willing and waiting. Last night he’d gone to bed alone after masturbating to ease the day’s tension. Tonight, he hoped things would be different. He was glad he hadn’t simply tossed away the invitation to the Den’s late-summer party.

As if sensing his scrutiny, she glanced over her shoulder. They made eye contact for less than five seconds, but it was enough, more than enough for him.

Nearby, a male voice flatly stated, “She’s trouble.”

Michael blinked and reluctantly turned toward the newcomer, Gregorio, the Den’s caretaker.

“Don’t go there,” Gregorio advised, coming to a stop in front of him.

But Michael was already thinking about her, despite the fact she didn’t resemble the women who generally caught his eye. He preferred a more rounded, feminine form—a woman who could withstand the rigors of ranch life as well as his Dominant demands.

“Her name’s Sydney,” Gregorio said.

Michael was aware of Gregorio’s voice, but his focus was elsewhere. Sydney. Unusual name. He let it roll around in his mind. How will it sound when I say it aloud as I command her to her knees?

“She used to dance nude in a cabaret in Vegas and has a boa constrictor as a pet. It killed her last Dom and dragged him out to the backyard. She’s on the run from the law. We heard she’s wanted in ten states and two Canadian provinces.” Gregorio snapped his fingers near Michael’s face, jarring him from his reverie. “You listening to me, Mike?”

“What?” He shook his head and looked at Gregorio.

“I figured you weren’t listening, otherwise you’d have decked me for calling you Mike.” Gregorio chuckled. “If you want to play, there are a number of subs here tonight—they’re wearing the house’s purple wristband. That means they’re available for a scene, they know the rules, and they follow them. Any one of them would be much better for you than Sydney.”

Gregorio, as Damien Lowell’s right-hand man, knew things. Gregorio understood human nature and, since he tracked all the membership applications, he had insider knowledge of everyone at the Den. He served as a house monitor and sometimes participated in scenes. Because he was so well respected, Doms and subs alike listened to him. Those who didn’t often regretted their decision.

For the first time, Michael wanted to ignore Gregorio’s unsolicited advice. “I didn’t see a collar around her neck.” He took in the people she was standing with. “And she doesn’t seem to be here with anyone.”

“She doesn’t have a Dom.”

“I’ll bite. What’s wrong with Sydney?”

“Other than the snake and the problems with the law?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Michael asked, taking a sip of his energy drink and looking back at her. A waiter approached with a tray full of sparkling water, and she snagged a flute. Her back was to him, and he couldn’t drag his gaze away from her shapely derriere. “Is she a Domme?” He’d bet money she wasn’t.

“She’s a sub,” Gregorio said, giving the answer Michael wanted. “But one with no real interest in a relationship with a man.”

He blinked. “She’s gay?” Please God, no, not now that he was imagining her legs wrapped around his waist as he drove into her slick pussy.

“She likes men just fine. What I mean is, she’ll start playing, if a guy interests her. If he bores her, she bails.”

“Meaning she’ll leave in the middle of a scene?”

“It’s happened a handful of times.” Gregorio folded his arms across his chest. “She’s earned the name ‘the Brat’ around here.”

Something he could handle. “Challenging.”

Gregorio laughed. The sound was both ominous and sympathetic. “A few other Doms have felt the same way,” Gregorio said. “Sydney has a history of battering hearts and egos. Protects herself emotionally—with good reason. And she never plays with the same person twice.”

Water in hand, she walked around to the far side of the firepit and stood there alone. He responded to the unspoken cue. After finishing his beverage, he crumpled the can and passed it off to Gregorio. “Wish me luck.”

Gregorio shook his head. “You’ll need more than luck, my friend.”

Michael moved toward her.

Perhaps hearing his approach, she looked up and watched as he closed the distance.

“Evening, ma’am,” he said, as he stopped near her and tipped his hat.

“I was hoping you would be brave enough to come and talk to me,” she admitted with a smile that could roll his socks down. “I saw you talking with Gregorio. No doubt he tried to frighten you away with tales of how terrible I am.”

“And are you?”

“I suppose there could be some truth to it.” She shrugged easily. “But a good story is always entertaining, isn’t it?”

This close, she smelled potently dangerous—spiced vanilla blended with unadulterated pheromones. The combination created a cocktail he couldn’t get enough of. “Either way, not much scares me.”

“A man among men.”

“Michael Dayton. Master Michael.” Although the sun hadn’t completely vanished behind the distant mountain peaks, torches were being lit, adding to the ambience and catching streaks of red in her hair. He wanted to touch those strands, to curl them around his fist as he held her down and made her scream out his name.

“Sydney Wallace,” she said, returning the formality.

“May I call you Sydney?”

She rolled her glass between her palms. With a tease in her voice, she said, “I’m hoping you can be considerably more creative than that.”

He tipped back the brim of his hat to get a better look at her. She intrigued him. “So name calling is not on your limits list.”

A server, this one a woman in a French maid’s outfit that left nothing to the imagination, walked nearby. Though she was curvy with luscious bare breasts, he only had eyes for the woman he was with.

Sydney placed her glass on the tray. He appreciated the fact that she didn’t need something to toy with.

When they were alone again, she said, “I understand you’re divorced, Mr. Dayton. No kids. You have a ranch you’d like to protect from gold diggers. You scene every once in a while, and you’re not looking for a serious commitment.”

“Do you know my blood type?”

“No.” Her quick grin was engaging. “I only asked about the important stuff.”

“You found out a lot in a short amount of time.”

“I like being prepared. If I’m going to spend an hour with a man, I want to make sure the time is worth it. I don’t think it’s fair to either of us if there are false expectations.”

“You’re mistaken, Sydney.”

“About which part?”

“We’ll be spending more than an hour together. I can’t get you properly warmed up in under sixty minutes, and I intend to keep you on the edge, writhing for an orgasm for much, much longer than that.”

Her eyes widened, and for the first time he noticed how blue they were, a shade of ice, a shocking contradiction to the heat she radiated.

“That’s a bold statement, Michael.”

He captured her chin gently. “Find out for yourself. Let’s have an experiment here at the Den to see if we have chemistry. After that, we can head out to my ranch. It’s about forty-five minutes from here. Or if you’d prefer, we can go to your place. Wherever you feel most comfortable.”

Michael allowed his gaze to wander down her body, taking in her shapely, bare legs. Until now, he’d been a stockings man. “Are you wearing underwear?”

“I…”

With his index finger, he stroked her cheekbone. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes.”

“What kind?”

She hesitated for a moment, and he wondered if she was going to answer or whether she was going to run. He held her lightly enough that her movements weren’t restricted.

“Boy shorts,” she said.

“Please remove them for me.”

“Now?” She blinked. “Here?”

“Maybe you’re the one who should be afraid,” he said quietly, “rather than me. Gregorio says you often bail out of scenes. I wondered at first if it was because Doms asked too much from you. But I’m thinking they probably didn’t ask enough. I’ve known you less than five minutes, but I’ve figured out you’re assertive. You know what you want, but I’m guessing you’re not always good at asking for it. Furthermore”—he leaned in closer—“I’m willing to bet you’re bored with anyone who isn’t as aggressive as you are. Am I wrong about that?”

She shivered. Since the Colorado evening was mild and they were standing near the fire, she couldn’t be cold. Clearly, he’d hit a nerve.

Surprising him, she met his gaze. “You’re right about the fact I get bored easily.” She curled her hand around his wrist. “And you’re wrong if you think I’m afraid of anything.”

“Fair enough. In that case, I told you to take off your panties.” He released his grip on her chin, and she let go of him. He remained where he was, physically and figuratively refusing to give her space.

He offered his arm, and she held on to it while precariously balancing on her high heels.

Finally, she straightened and looked at him as she dangled the pretty pink material from her index finger. Too late he realized he’d made a mistake by not asking to see them on her first. The material had probably stretched across her derriere, highlighting her butt cheeks perfectly.

He accepted the proffered underwear and stuffed the silk and lace confection into his pocket. Who would have suspected that she wore something so tantalizing beneath black leather? “What are your limits?”

“I haven’t found any,” she said.

“Then you’ve been playing with the wrong Doms.”

She shrugged. “That’s possible. But maybe I’m tougher than you think.”

“Perhaps.” He met her answer with a great deal of skepticism. Jane, his ex-wife, had let him believe she wanted things raw, but the moment his wedding band had been placed on her finger, the figurative collar had come off her throat. “Humiliation?”

“I don’t have a lot of experience with that.”

“No one has made you stand in a corner with your nose pressed to the wall and your panties around your ankles when you misbehaved?”

She stiffened.

Have I hit another nerve?

Her lips parted for a moment, just long enough for him to wonder how she tasted. He loved anticipation, enjoyed getting a woman so turned on she lost her inhibitions, but now, with Sydney, unfamiliar impatience nipped at him.

With an impish grin, she returned his volley. “I don’t misbehave.”

“Of course you do. Enough to be called the Brat.”

“Oh.” As if bored, she yawned. “That.”

“Scares some people away, no doubt.”

“But not you?”

“No. I understand that you’re looking for something you haven’t found.”

She heaved a soft sigh. “I’m not open to being psychoanalyzed. Since it’s unlikely we’ll see each other again, can we skip the bullshit and get to the good stuff?”

Before it formed, Michael quashed his smile. “I don’t rush. That’s the first thing you need to know, darlin’.”

“Really? You like wasting time?”

“You can be certain”—he leaned in a little closer, only to be electrified by the sexual vibes she radiated—“I’ll give you what you need, not just what you want.”

“That’s as unlikely as it is arrogant.”

“Find out for yourself,” he challenged.

She scooped up a handful of hair and eased it back from her forehead, revealing her annoyance. “I was hoping that since you’re a divorced man who doesn’t want to go through that nonsense again, you’d be fine with taking what I offered.”

“Ouch.”

“Do you want an apology for your tender male ego?”

“With me, you don’t have to watch your words. I prefer honesty.”

“Do you, indeed?”

“I’ll return the favor. I’m not against having a relationship. I’m not, in theory, against marriage.” Passing the land to his heirs would be nice. He had one sister, who had two girls, but neither of them had shown any interest in running the ranch on a long-term basis.

“Are you looking for something permanent now?” Trepidation wound through her tone.

“No.”

“Then if you’d like to play, I would, too.” Seductively, sexily, she placed her palm over his crotch.

Heat seared through the denim. Except for lovers he’d been with a long time, no woman had been so bold. He wanted to cave to his baser instincts and take her here, now. Instead, he captured her hand and moved it away.

She pulled back, breaking his grip. Feeling rejected? What man in his right mind would have stopped her?

“Don’t take it personally,” he said. “In the future, you may be welcome to do that. It’s not that I don’t want you. On the contrary, I want to be buried balls-deep in your hot pussy as you cry out my name.”

Her eyes opened wide. She seemed more intrigued than shocked. “What are we waiting for?”

“We need to clear up a few things.”

“Right. I have no STDs and no physical limitations. Oh, yes, and I have condoms in my purse—large.” She shot a quick, sassy grin. “And medium, just in case you need them.”

Do you eat men’s egos for breakfast, darlin’? Rather than replying, he changed the subject. “Why do you scene?”

“More attempts to psychoanalyze me?”

“If you’d like to play with me, you’ll answer my questions. You’ve thought about it, surely?”

“Regular sex is boring.”

“Hmm.”

“And I like to transcend my limits.”

When he nodded, she went on. “I thrive on physical challenges. I guide white water river rafting excursions. Completed a triathlon last week, and I’m competing in an upcoming mud race. You know, running up a mountain then doing obstacle courses, under barbed wire, over a wooden wall. My team is doing it for charity.”

He looked at her with a newfound respect. When he’d first seen her, he’d had an urge to protect and care for her. Even though he now knew she could hold her own, those instincts hadn’t vanished. “What’s your safe word?”

“Everest.”

Of course it is.

“You don’t need to know why.”

He figured he already knew, but he looked forward to her telling him about it at a later date. “How about a code for slowing down?”

“I don’t believe in that.”

“In that case, we’ll use the word caution.”

She sighed. “If I have to have one, how about we use the word turtle?”

He thumbed his hat. “You trying to insult me, brat?”

“Not at all.” Innocently, she made an invisible halo above her head. “That would be rude. I’m just saying that turtles are slow.”

Not only was she attractive, but quick-witted and intelligent. It had been a long time since a woman had appealed to him on multiple levels. “How do you feel about public play?”

She hesitated for a second. “I’ve never tried it.”

“Are you willing to?”

“I suppose.”

“I prefer a yes or no answer,” he told her. “Unless you’d rather talk about it?”

“No. I mean yes.”

Swiftly, he rebuked her. “Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir,”she dutifully repeated.

“Good girl.”

Though she gritted her teeth, she said nothing. Seemed his demand that she conform to courtesies had hit a nerve. “What kind of impact play do you prefer?”

Before he could ask further questions, she said, “I find an open-handed spanking to be really pleasurable. I also like belts.” She glanced at his waist.

Oh, yeah. He’d happily lay the leather across her sweet, sexy rear.

For a moment, she was quiet. A bit discombobulated, perhaps?

In that moment, an air of vulnerability ghosted through her eyes. But then she blinked and smiled. If he hadn’t been paying attention, he would have missed it.

“I’m also fine with a shoe or a ruler.” She rushed the words together, filling the sudden silence. “Anything, really. Feel free to be creative. I’m okay with a flogger, open to trying a bullwhip or cane. There isn’t a position I’m averse to, over the knee, or a table, or a bed. Standing, lying on top of a spanking bench. Did I miss anything?”

“The ‘Sir’ at the end of your sentence.”

“Of course. Sir.” She gave him another of her sunny smiles.

She seemed so guileless, he’d bet it would be difficult for some Doms to hold her accountable. “Clamps?”

She nodded. “Potentially.” Would the erotic pain help her get off?

“Anal plugs?”

She fidgeted then replied, “If you insisted, I’d try it.”

“No one has claimed your ass?” he asked, stunned.

“No.”

That he would be the first to place something up there made his erection press even harder against his jeans. He wanted to readjust his cock, but he reminded himself to focus on her. There were a few other things he needed to know before they got started. “Handcuffs?”

“Any kind of bondage,” she said.

“I haven’t lassoed a woman… Yet.”

Her eyes widened. “Sounds interesting.”

Michael was glad he’d ignored Gregorio’s advice. The thought of dragging a helpless Sydney toward him was a thrill. If she were barefoot and naked, it would be all the better. “I’m gathering you’re open to sex.”

“Like I said, I have protection with me. In assorted sizes. In addition to having nothing communicable, I’m on birth control. Anything else you need to know?”

“That will cover it,” he responded wryly. “Likewise, I have a clean bill of health, but I also believe in exercising caution. We’ll use condoms.”

When he said nothing else, she flipped her hair and turned away, heading toward the house.

“Where do you think you’re going, Sydney?”

She stopped and looked over her shoulder. With a puzzled frown, she said, “Inside.” After dampening her lips, she added, “I thought that was what you wanted.”

“Did I say so?”

“No.” She returned to stand in front of him. “I apologize.”

“I’m going to spank you over there.” He nodded toward a short metal fence in the distance.

It bordered the grassy area beyond the horseshoe pits, far enough away that they’d have some privacy. Still, since it was lit by numerous solar lights and torches, anyone who wanted to watch could.

She glanced around, and he waited patiently.

A small group had gathered on one side of the firepit. Some stood around high tables. Elsewhere, a woman sat on a porch swing while her male sub licked her boot.

Another evening at the Den.

“I think you need reminding that I prefer to be called Master Michael or Sir. When we play together, Sydney, I make the rules. I will be sure you understand them and agree with them, but once that happens, they will be enforced. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

“Do you agree to address me respectfully?”

“I do, Sir.”

“Good.” Satisfied, he nodded. “Please pull your dress up to your waist.”

She couldn’t have taken more time, but he didn’t complain. Watching her obey his wishes was its own reward. Sydney was softness and sensuality wrapped in a beautiful package.

“Ah,” he said when she was exposed to him. “Such a pretty little pussy. I like that it’s shaved.” He looked at her expectantly.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Interesting—since he’d drawn harsher boundaries, she seemed softer, more compliant. “Please put your hands behind your neck and bring your chest forward.”

Once she had, she asked, “Would you like me to take the dress off entirely, Sir?”

“I’d like you to do as you’re told. Nothing more. Are you able to comfortably spread your legs a little farther apart?”

After she was more open to him, he slid a hand between her legs. Her response delighted him. “You’re damp, Sydney.”

He kept his hand still, but she moved her hips a bit, sliding herself against him. “I generally won’t mind if you come without permission. In fact, the more you orgasm, the more I get into the scene.” He lowered his voice to an inviting purr. “But not tonight. Tonight, I want you more aroused than you’ve ever been.” After she released a tiny moan, he pulled his hand away. Without giving her a chance to react, he spanked her there.

Crying out, she pitched forward slightly. He caught her and held her against him, liking the way they fit together.

For a moment, she stayed there before drawing in a deep breath and moving away. “That was unexpected.”

“Turtle?”

“Hell no.” She shook her head. “More like that, please.”

“Stay where you are. I’ll be right back.”

He went inside. Brandy, a sub who regularly helped with house functions and parties, fetched him a blanket and two separate cuffs.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Sir.” She lowered her head.

When he returned, Sydney was still in the same place. She was shifting from side to side a bit nervously, but she’d yet to bail out of the scene. “Are you doing okay?”

“Feeling a little exposed,” she admitted. “Sir.”

“Seeing you when I came back outside pleased me.”

She exhaled. “Did it?” Her words were breathless.

“Indeed.” Was he affecting her as powerfully as she was impacting him? “Would you like to continue?”

“You don’t think that scared me off, do you? Sir?” The words were sassy and confident, but her voice wobbled, maybe betraying some nerves.

Interesting. “When you’re ready, walk over to the fence.” Then he scowled. “Are you okay in those shoes?”

“I could hike in them.”

We’ll see about that. “I’ll stay a step or two behind you so I can watch your bare buttocks move.”

The view was all he’d hoped for. Her every step was graceful, filled with sultry elegance. Despite her bravado, when she reached the edge of the paved patio, he took her elbow. After helping her over the uneven terrain, he draped the blanket over the top rail.

Without being told, she kicked off her shoes and leaned over the top rail, even remembering to spread her legs wide. Sydney Wallace definitely knew what she wanted. And, whether or not she recognized it, by having her beautifully curved ass upturned and waiting for his attention, she was also meeting his carnal needs.

“Use your safe word if it’s too much, your slow word if you’re uncomfortable or get a muscle cramp. We can get you readjusted.”

“Yes, Sir. I understand.”

“Your choice—I can secure your legs in place, or I can cuff your wrists.”

She answered unhesitatingly. “I’d prefer you fasten my ankles so I can’t get away, Sir.”

Which meant that sometimes she attempted to do just that. “I’ll expect you to keep your hands in place.”

“Anything you say, Sir.”

He crouched to attach the cuffs, and he inhaled the heady scent of her muskiness. Keeping her turned on without letting her come was going to be exquisitely rewarding.

To test the bonds, he trailed his fingers up the insides of her thighs. She squirmed and pulled and yet she helplessly remained where he wanted her. Sometime in the future, he’d stick a plug up her ass too, to intensify her sensations. “I’m going to warm you up with a few spanks.” He fed the words into her ear. “Then I’ll make you beg for more.”

“You sound sure of yourself, Sir,” she said, her voice muffled.

“I am, Sydney.”

“You know, Sir, I have never begged for anything in my entire life.”

“Tonight, brat, you will.” You’ve never been spanked by me. “I promise you.”

“We’ll see about that…” Then, after her challenge, she added a saucy, “Sir.”