Book One – Her Master’s Pleasure
A tale of lust and everlasting love…
A willing slave to possession, punishment, pleasure…
Dreams of a manor where submission and dominance once ruled draws Faith to hypnotherapist Colin Danes. Potently virile, he’s instantly recognizable as her most cherished master from a past life. Desire smolders in his eyes, proving he’s never forgotten her.
Their carnal dance continues in the present and leads to their past when she was known as Eve. Through hypnotherapy, Colin brings her back to the Victorian era, a hidden estate where she eagerly submits to whatever he and her other noble masters crave. The exquisite discipline of the strap. Being bid on and mounted each night. Displayed and used for the enjoyment of all.
Most will take her. One will try to imprison her. Only he will be her true master in that life and this.
Eve was still bathing when he came for her. A man whose presence she’d frequently felt. A stranger who’d often rode past this cottage, his steed magnificent, a sorrel with a startling white mane and tail.
At those times, the man’s well-defined features, noble bearing, and the way he focused on her alone stood out. His gaze had lingered and possessed, warming her skin, calling to everything female within her, demanding her submission. She’d given it, not moving, scarcely drawing a breath, her work forgotten.
Nothing except him had mattered.
Not once had he spoken or made a demand. During his increasingly prolonged observations, he’d been content, or obliged, to do no more than look at her.
Now he held a rope in one gloved hand. The frayed ends swayed.
Eve’s belly fluttered.
He stepped past the doorway, his height requiring him to stoop to avoid striking his head. He wore no top hat. Snow dusted his dark hair and shoulders. His ankle-length cloak was quite luxurious, fine black wool lined with fur. His eveningwear included a dark coat cinched at the waist and trousers bearing the same shade. In color and purity, fresh milk couldn’t compete with his flawless white vest and cravat, tied perfectly about his throat.
He closed the door.
She suspected he wanted no interruption in what he intended to do.
He threw the bolt.
At the metal’s sharp clack and what would come, her pulse pounded fiercely.
The candles Mrs. Trumble had lit stopped flickering. The wind departed. A few stray snowflakes floated in the air.
The chill he’d brought inside didn’t register with Eve. Intense heat spread from her chest to her belly and cunt then to her neck. Her throat tightened. Even if she’d wanted to make a sound, she couldn’t have.
He stopped short of the tub.
His lushly lashed eyes were pure blue, more glorious than any sky.
He regarded her naked breasts. “Pull back your arms and arch your back. Present yourself to me.”
He stated his wishes quietly yet still commanded, his cultured voice smooth but also rough from arousal.
Unsteady with desire, Eve did as he wanted. She had no choice. She wanted none. With her back arched and her arms drawn back, she lifted her breasts in offering.
At a leisurely pace, he stared at the ripe globes and her taut nipples. He wandered from side to side. No angle pleased him for long.
Eve remained a silent, obedient witness to his brazen perusal. She craved and enjoyed the attention. Desire pulsed through her.
Her quick breaths caused Eve’s breasts to quiver. A small smile touched his sculpted lips.
A small smile touched his sculpted lips. He peered at what her bath hid from him: her legs and sex. The violet-scented water reflected the candles’ flames, the fire tinting it gold and orange. Those warm colors hardly matched the heat blazing within Eve.
He cleared his throat. “You know what to expect?”
Eve liked how his voice caught, his arousal evident. She nodded.
“All of it?”
She suspected not and shook her head.
He planted his hands on his lean hips as men do when they want to command attention. “From this moment forward, you’re never to cover yourself in the presence of any Master. Your openings are ours to use as we please. Every one of them. No exceptions. Whatever we require of you, no matter how demanding or indecent, you’re to obey with the greatest haste. You belong to us now. We have your agreement. Did you make it willingly?”
Eve had. A few days ago, she’d signed the document. Years before, Mrs. Trumble had taught Eve to read and write, educating and training her for her future Masters. “Yes, my lord.”
He grew solemn.
A rattling noise sounded behind him.
He glanced over. “What’s past the wall?”
“The Trumbles’ bedchamber.”
Another luxury in a cottage filled with such items. Numerous wax candles burned. The iron stove pinged and gave off more heat. A large cheval glass stood to the side. The mirror showed Eve’s reflection within it.
He removed his gloves then his cloak and hung the garment on a wall peg where nothing had ever been during Mrs. Trumble’s baths. It would have blocked the small hole her husband used to watch her.
Whenever Mrs. Trumble talked about those times, she’d blushed and tittered. “Being observed during one’s private moments is quite exciting. Brings me back to my time in the House of Lords.”
Tonight, she’d wanted to keep the hole open so she could watch what happened between Eve and her Master, a nobleman who was surely no more than five-and-twenty. With great ease, he’d made certain he was now alone with her.
She wanted nothing less.
He strode to the mirror and slung the rope over a ceiling beam. The ends dangled loose and presented a menacing yet inviting picture. “Leave the tub. Stand in front of me.”
Murmurs flowed from the Trumbles’ chamber. Eve wasn’t certain whether Mrs. Trumble or her husband spoke. Eager and anxious, she pushed to her feet. Water flowed over the tub. Drops plunked on the floor.
Being nude, defenseless, and observed closely heightened Eve’s senses. Wind whistled past the cottage and rattled the door. Burning wood popped in the iron stove. Her bare feet slapped the floor, marking her approach to her Master. As he’d demanded.
He towered over her. Eve scarcely reached his shoulder. He smelled like snow, sandalwood, tobacco, and leather. Male and intoxicating.
Her heart beat out of time.
He regarded her nakedness with a right he’d been born to and one she’d given him by willingly and wantonly signing away her freedom. He watched water drip from her hair to her breasts. Beads rolled to her nipples where the drops lingered briefly before falling away. Moisture streamed down her belly and became trapped in the dark curls between her legs. He viewed that part for so long a puddle formed at Eve’s feet.
His gaze owned her.
A pulse beat deep within her sheath. She longed for him to touch her.
He stepped back. “Hold out your hands. Press your wrists together.”
Anticipation constricted Eve’s throat.
He deftly tied her wrists with one end of the rope and pulled the other over the beam, lifting her arms above her head.
Fully vulnerable to his carnal desire, she suppressed a joyous cry and spoke without thinking. “Will you take me now?” If not, he could whip her.