On His Terms by Sierra Cartwright

thoughts. It’s surprising to me, but I’m more focused at work, and I am feeling more creative.”
    “You realise I will be able to tell right away if you’re telling the truth about any of this.”
    She gritted her teeth. “Of course, Sir.”
    “And this is your last chance. I will not accept you back again after this.”
    Her heart leapt into her throat. “This means you are accepting me back?”
    “For two weeks,” he said. “And only if I see significant improvement in your attitude and proof that you’ve done what you said you have.”
    She refused to challenge him, another first for her. Instead, she said, “Thank you.” She ignored the fact her hand was shaking. Until he’d agreed, she hadn’t realised just how important his answer was. “Thank you, Sir.”
    “Do you remember where I live?”
    “It’s still programmed into my navigation system, Sir.”
    “Are you available to start tomorrow evening?”
    “I am, Sir.”
    “Very well. Six o’clock?”
    She tossed back the blankets and climbed from bed. “Is there anything specific I should wear?”
    “You’ll be naked the moment the door closes behind you, so it doesn’t matter.”
    When she didn’t respond right away, he asked, “Question?”
    “I presume you’ll open the door and then I’ll strip?” She started to pace, a habit she’d picked up since she’d started seeing him.
    “Let yourself in, remove your clothing, and wait by the fireplace.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “Have you been masturbating?”
    Heat chased through her body. “Not successfully,” she said. “I mean, I tried.” She stumbled through the admission while he remained silent. “I did, masturbate that is, with the showerhead.”
    “And you didn’t climax?”
    “No, Sir.”
    “Good. From here forward, you will come only when I give permission.”
    “I…” She trailed off and inhaled before saying, “Yes, Sir.”
    “Being good doesn’t come easy to you, does it, Chelsea?”
    “May I have permission to come tonight, Sir?”
    “Absolutely not.”
    Since he’d denied it, need crawled through her. Right now, she knew even the gentlest of touches against her clit would get her off. She could feel her pulse there, demanding. Confound him.
    “Don’t be late, Chelsea.”
    He said the last word with a soft inflection that made her heart stop. That had sounded personal, and her body reacted. “I will be there, Sir.”
    In bed, she couldn’t get comfortable, and she was certain he had planned it that way. She was aware of the ache in her pussy that a simple touch would vanquish. Her breasts felt full, and she desperately wanted to play with her nipples.
    She thumped her pillow into a different shape, and that didn’t help, either.
    Finally, half an hour later, in abject frustration, she climbed out of bed and went through her paces again, while wearing her pyjamas. If she took off her clothes, she would be tempted to touch herself.
    The act of thinking of her Dom rather than herself helped calm her.
    As always, sleep eluded her. She thought wryly about the posture collar. Having her hands secured seemed like the best way to resist temptation. So she would just have to use willpower.
    She turned on her side and shoved both hands beneath her head. She forced herself not to think about her upcoming time with Master Alexander, and instead, she counted sheep, something she hadn’t done since she was a child.
    It must have worked because the alarm dragged her to a groggy consciousness. She hit the snooze button often enough that she was running late for an appointment with a potential new client. The coffeemaker took too long and she glared at it, as if that would hurry it along.
    She was pouring the first cup when she remembered she still needed to practise her movements.
    With a frustrated sigh, she looked at the clock on the microwave. Since she’d done extra the day before, surely that put her ahead for today. She dragged a hand through her hair, wishing it