Table Of ContentCopyright
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
382 NE 191st Street #88329
Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Another Way
Copyright © 2011 by Anna Martin Cover Design by Taria Reed [email protected] All rights
reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without
the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other
inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 382 NE 191st Street #88329, Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
ISBN: 978-1-61372-160-5
Printed in the United States of America First Edition
September 2011
eBook edition available
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-161-2
Dedication
To Jennifer and Kira, who guided me through when the words wouldn’t come
and forgave me for my kinks.
And to John, who unknowingly supplied the soundtrack.
Tied up and twisted, the way I’d like to be,
For you, for me, come crash into me.
“Crash Into Me”
Dave Matthews Band
Chapter One
IT WAS 4 p.m. on a Friday, and I was at work when my phone chimed with a
familiar tune. The message was simple, and gave me no idea of what sort of
mood he might be in.
Will: 7 p.m.
That was it. Three characters, but they told me all I needed to know. For
the next hour I itched to leave my job in a downtown independent bookstore, and
I practically ran from the building when the clock ticked over to five o’clock.
As was our routine every Friday, I got into the house just as Adele was
leaving. I gave her a quick kiss as she trotted out of the door in a black pencil
skirt and a white blouse, her long, red hair bouncing in her ponytail. She loved
her job as a front of house manager in a nice French restaurant in the city; it was
a pretty small place, and she was almost as famous there as the food was. It was
Adele who practically kidnapped a chef when she was living in France a few
years ago and convinced him to relocate to America. She now ran his restaurant,
while Theo got to cook the food he grew up with. Everyone was happy.
Although… I had my secrets. As soon as Adele left, I went down to the
basement and spent twenty minutes on the treadmill, followed by twenty minutes
of a boxing program to loosen up my muscles and warm up, so to speak, for the
evening ahead. When that was done, I went up to our bedroom and set out some
nice clothes—in case I went out after—and took a shower, making sure I was
perfectly scrubbed all over.
He didn’t like it when I wore strong-smelling deodorants or aftershave, so I
used a scent-free antiperspirant and dressed in loose clothing. This routine was
familiar to me too. I left the house with twenty minutes to spare in order to travel
the ten minutes to his house.
After I’d parked outside, I went around to the back of the house and let
myself in, making sure to lock the door behind me, and went straight up the back
staircase to the attic, where I undressed and piled all of my clothes neatly by the
door.
Then I sat back on my heels, laced my fingers behind my neck, dropped
my head, and waited.
“Good evening, Jesse,” he said from behind me, and I heard the door click
shut. He must have been waiting for me to get into position. It was nice to think
that he was as anxious to start our session as I was.
“Good evening, Master,” I said softly, and I felt him come up behind me.
“I’ve missed you,” he said simply and ran his fingers through my hair. I
decided to break position and lean into his touch, just with my head, as he lightly
scratched my scalp and tugged on the roots of my hair. This was my way of
saying I missed you too.
It had been about two weeks since we saw each other last—circumstances
and family commitments had gotten in the way of our relationship. It wasn’t the
longest we’d ever gone without seeing each other, but it was pushing the
boundaries of how long we could cope. I needed him more frequently than once
every two weeks. If we got our way, it was usually two sessions a week.
“What shall we do with you tonight, I wonder?” he asked as he let go of
my hair and walked to the stereo. Both Master and I were fond of persistent rock
music playing in the background—something rough and edgy that created an
atmosphere up here.
I kept my eyes glued on the floor, even as I felt him come up behind me
with two padded cuffs and attach each of my wrists to the opposite elbow.
“Test them,” Master said, and I obediently tugged on the restraints. I
wasn’t going anywhere.
These cuffs were familiar to me; they were a light tan leather with white
sheepskin lining. They were my favorites because Master bought them for me,
and would never use them on anyone else. I caught sight of him as he moved,
and I couldn’t help the rush of blood that went straight to my cock. He was
wearing dark brown leather pants and a T-shirt that might once have been the
color of milky tea but had been washed out to the point where it was so thin you
could see straight through it.
His hair was long and messy, as always, and through the windows that
were set in the ceiling, it shone all sorts of shades of red and mahogany in the
evening light. Master Will had a lean, athletic build that he’d earned
snowboarding in the Canadian mountains visible from his Seattle home—
through the windows in the ceiling, in fact, if one was standing at them.
Once I was secured, Master came around to my front and braced his hands
against my naked chest, helping me rise to my feet. Now that I was secured, he
cupped my face in his hands and brought his lips to mine.
The feel of his lips and his hot tongue probing my mouth was almost too
much for me. I rose up onto my toes to close the small gap that was created by
the height distance between us—he was wearing boots and I was barefoot. My
cock, which was hard already, began to ache in another familiar way, and I
wanted more. With him, there was always more.
“I would like to collar you tonight, Jesse. Would that be okay?” he asked
as he broke our kiss.
I nodded silently; he hadn’t given me permission to speak.
“Thank you,” Master said, accepting the gift of my submission. He walked
to the wall and selected a slim, tan leather collar—it matched the two restraining
my wrists.
When he was in front of me again, I dropped my head. We stood like this,
two equals until the moment that piece of leather wrapped around my neck, and
he buckled it at the back, gently smoothing my hair out of the way of the catch.
Then, until he decided to take it off again, I belonged to him.
This was a ritual that we’d developed. In the early days of our relationship,
I wasn’t comfortable with everything that our sessions entailed. So Will had set
up a few sessions where I wasn’t collared and I referred to him by his given
name or “Sir” and we worked on finding out our mutual limits. These days, I
rarely—if ever—denied his offer of collaring me, but he still gave me the choice,
and I appreciated that. It made my handing over of control to him even more
profound.
The collar helped me lose myself and go deeper into “subspace,” a state of
mind where I was more willing to hand over all control to my Master. I was
pulled into another kiss, but this time he held me steady and forced me to bend
backward, bend to his will as he dominated my mouth. I lived for these kisses,
the ones that forced me to accept my place in the hierarchy of the room, pushed
me into accepting the role I’d chosen. Because it surely wasn’t an easy one.
Master carefully helped me back down to my knees, and when I was
settled, he opened the front of those amazing brown leather pants and withdrew
his long, hard cock. It only took him raising one eyebrow at me and my mouth
was on him in an instant, sucking him into my mouth and licking around the
head, desperate for the taste and smell of him. Once I’d sucked off all his flavor,
I wanted his scent, and I took a deep breath, relaxing my throat and leaning in to
take him all the way into my mouth until my nose was buried in his short hairs
and his balls were tickling my chin. I used my tongue to lave him with attention
until he made that low sound in the back of his throat that I lived for, half moan
and half grunt—a warning.
He liked to come before we got deep into the session. I had asked him
about it once, and he said it helped him to stay in control if he’d already had one
orgasm. That made sense.
“Swallow,” he commanded, not that the word was really necessary. There
was no way I could escape his strong fingers in my hair, holding me in place as
his cock throbbed and shot his come straight into the back of my throat. I was
enthralled by the sensation and swallowed happily around him.
He softened in my mouth, and I licked him clean, then sat back on my
heels as he tucked himself away. There were no words of praise for my efforts;
instead, Master turned and went to prepare something else behind me. I
appreciated the moment. It gave me time to think.
I BECAME a submissive when I was still in college and in the process of
discovering my sexuality. One wild night at a BDSM-themed club got me
intrigued, and a few weeks, later I ran into one of the girls from the club in a
coffee house. She was a Domme, and after a few dates where words like “hard
limit” and “pain threshold” and “safeword” became part of my vocabulary, we
agreed to start a relationship.
Laura was only a few years older than me, but she held herself with a grace
that reminded me of the old movie stars of the early part of the century. She was
a lady in the truest sense of the word. She also prided herself on finding the
darkest recesses of someone’s soul and turning them over for inspection, poking
and prodding deep into their psyche and using that information to her advantage.
She never really hurt me, not even when she was lashing my skin with a crop or
a whip or a multi-tailed flogger. Not once did I ever use my safeword with her,
although she truly pushed me to the edge of my comfort zone, always backing
