excerpt

How To Train Your Dom In Five Easy Steps coverEventually, Eddie pulled up alongside where Jeff was standing and rolled down his window. “Okay, I give up. Where do I park?”

Jeff cocked his thumb to indicate the way to turn at the end of the road. “Just up there and round the corner. I saw a few spaces as we drove in.”

“I hate reversing that far,” Eddie grumbled. “You could have bloody warned me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Fucking sadist.”

“Exactly.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkled, and somehow that made this even more fun, knowing he was playing at being pissed off. Jeff decided to try some orders now they were here.

“Park up and walk back to the house. I’ll be inside, but I’ll leave the door unlocked. Let yourself in and head over to the coffee table. I want you leaning over it, arse in the air.”

“Yes, Sir.” Eddie grinned, blatantly checking out Jeff’s crotch, and fuck it, Jeff was going to do the same. It wasn’t gay. It was just him making sure his sub was turned on. That was responsible Dom stuff, right?

In the glow of the streetlight, Jeff could just make out the bulge in Eddie’s jeans, proving he was as hard as Jeff was. That was good, wasn’t it? He thought it must be. After all, he’d be wanting his future female sub to feel turned on when he was doing his shit, so it made sense for Eddie to be horny when they were practising.

“Be quick about it,” Jeff growled and slapped his hand down on the roof of the Jag. “Don’t keep me waiting, bitch.”

Eddie revved the engine and reversed back with a squeal of wheels, like he was so keyed up he couldn’t manage to slip the clutch properly. Yeah. Jeff was having the right effect on him.

So far, so good. It just remained to be seen how it all went when a bit of pain was added into the mix.

Jeff let himself into the house and ran up the stairs, retrieving his suitcase of kink from the top of his wardrobe. Now he just had to quickly unpack the stuff and lay it out on the sofa, then hide the case so Eddie wouldn’t realise that was the full extent of his collection. Ever since speaking to bloody Sandi, he’d been increasingly self-conscious about how few tools of the trade he had. But the proper kit was bloody expensive, and he’d learnt the pitfalls of buying cheap tools the hard way. Nothing like having a trowel handle break on you when you were in the middle of building a wall to realise that you should have forked out the extra twenty quid and got yourself a professional-quality one.

But when he got downstairs, he spotted Eddie striding down the garden path through the front room window. “Fuck.” Jeff legged it through to the kitchen and plonked the case on the table. Hopefully, Eddie hadn’t seen him. It was always harder to spot people inside a house than it was to look out of the windows. Well, unless you had the lights on, in which case everything in your house was on display for any old potential burglar to check out.

Jeff unzipped the case and pulled out a paddle, a flogger, a tawse and a riding crop. He contemplated the dressage whip. It had stung like bloody buggery when Jeff had tried it out on his thigh. And Eddie had said he didn’t much like those kind of stinging implements.

Jeff added it to the bunch in his hand, along with the cane. Fuck it. Why not? Eddie said he could take all this stuff and enjoy it, hadn’t he? And something about getting a high even off the kind of pain he didn’t much enjoy at the time. Jeff had to stop feeling guilty about the prospect of hurting someone. Painsluts wanted to be hurt. That was part of the whole job description. And sadists enjoyed hurting them.

Right. He could do this.

“I hope you’re ready and in position, bitch,” Jeff called.

“Yes, Sir, right where you asked me to be.”

Jeff opened the kitchen door and got a prime view of naked backside bent over his table.

Fuck. He really wasn’t meant to find that sexy.

Jeff closed his eyes, trying to erase the memory of Eddie’s bare bum. Actually, as bums went, it hadn’t been a bad one—lots of smooth white skin and perky cheeks—but it hadn’t had the right shape. Women’s arses were rounder. Softer. They wobbled. Eddie’s had been kind of…

Jeff opened his eyes briefly. Firm, that was the word he was looking for. Muscular, even. He couldn’t bloody well erase the image from his head. Felt like it had been burned onto the back of his eyelids. At least Eddie had kept his legs together. Jeff didn’t think he’d have been able to cope with seeing his meat and two veg as well.