For the Sub

For the Sub

by Sierra Cartwright

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His heart wasn't in it... Dom Niles Malloy has locked his favourite flogger in a drawer and has all-but left the lifestyle, but then Brandy Hess shatters his solitude and shakes up his life, challenging him to fully live again.

What you see isn't what you get...

Though he was once a respected and well-known Dom, Niles Malloy rarely attends functions at the Den, and he has no interest in ever having another permanent relationship. He satisfies his occasional desire for kink by playing with subs who have no expectations.

Professional sub Brandy Hess has known Master Niles for years, and when he invites her to play with him, she accepts. But she's unprepared for the reaction she has to his intense brand of play. In their shared, emotionally intimate moments she sees the weariness in his features, and she has a dangerous and compelling urge to know him better.

Experience has taught her to never again settle for less than a man's complete commitment, yet when she runs into him outside their normal setting, neither can deny the potent and pulsing attraction. He's much, much deeper than she imagined, and she soon realises he's everything she wants and doesn't need in a man.

As she surrenders to him a second time, Brandy wonders if she's lost her sense of self-preservation. She's attracted to an enigma, a man with an edge, someone as remote as he is demanding, and her life will never be the same...

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781781848104
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group Ltd
Publication date: 11/08/2013
Series: Mastered , #5
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 178
Sales rank: 146,308
File size: 290 KB

About the Author

Sierra Cartwright was born in Manchester, England and raised in Colorado. Moving to the United States was nothing like her young imagination had concocted. She expected to see cowboys everywhere, and a covered wagon or two would have been really nice!

Now she writes novels as untamed as the Rockies, while spending a fair amount of time in Texas…where, it turns out, the Texas Rangers law officers don't ride horses to roundup the bad guys, or have six-shooters strapped to their sexy thighs as she expected. And she's yet to see a poster that says Wanted: Dead or Alive. (Can you tell she has a vivid imagination?)

Sierra wrote her first book at age nine, a fanfic episode of Star Trek when she was fifteen, and she completed her first romance novel at nineteen. She actually kissed William Shatner (Captain Kirk) on the cheek once, and she says that's her biggest claim to fame. Her adventure through the turmoil of trust has taught her that love is the greatest gift. Like her image of the Old West, her writing is untamed, and nothing is off-limits.

She invites you to take a walk on the wild side…but only if you dare.

Read an Excerpt


"Another drink, Sir?"

Startled out of his reverie by the softness of a woman's voice, Niles looked over the rim of his empty glass. Brandy, one of the house's submissives, stood in front of him, her legs close together, her shoulders pulled back in a sexy way that thrust her chest forward.

Had he been so lost in thought that he hadn't heard her approach? Or were her movements so graceful and perfect that she'd managed to silently cross the Den's patio?

Given her seductively high stilettos, he doubted the latter.

Her long blonde hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back. Tonight she wore a short, slinky black dress that covered everything, but she seemed more intriguing because of it. The material clung to her, highlighting her ample breasts, trim waist and curvy bottom. This woman — sub — appealed to every one of his masculine sensibilities.

Her legs were bare, and her black heels emphasised the feminine shape of her ankles. For a moment, he fantasised about placing her on her back, removing her shoes then stroking his fingers against her instep before applying a cane to the soles of her feet.

He shook his head to banish the image.

It had been years since he'd played with a woman in anything other than a detached way. In fact, it hadn't happened since the tragic death of his beautiful, accomplished wife and sub, Eleanor.

But right now, he was thinking about touching Brandy in a way meant for their mutual satisfaction.

"Sir?" she asked, tipping her head. "Master Niles?"

The motion swept her hair to the side, snaring his interest. The locks were long enough, he mused, to be used as part of a hot bondage scene.

"Would you prefer to be alone, Sir?"

"Actually, no." The answer surprised him.

A month ago, he'd declined the invitation to tonight's party. Every fall, Master Damien hosted a get-together for Doms and Dommes who had been members of the Den for at least seven years. It was a small, select group, and they gathered to play poker, sip the finest single malt on the planet, enjoy conversation and, if they chose, scene with house subs. Not many people availed themselves of the playrooms, however, as most were in relationships, and this exclusive gathering focused on socialising, which was not his strong suit.

Damien had pestered Niles to the point of annoyance.

Despite his reluctance, and tired of his own company after spending a week at home by himself, Niles had acquiesced.

But after half an hour of mindless white lies, telling his friends and acquaintances that he was well, he'd made his escape to the solitude of the patio. He'd dragged a chair close to the crackling fire pit to enjoy the sunset. Today had been a mild day, and summer was breathing her last gasps before surrendering to the inevitable shorter, colder, bleaker days.

Brandy, a natural submissive, rather than one who'd been trained for it, cast her gaze down at the ground before looking up him. "I never said thank you for what happened at the last Ladies' Night."

"No thanks necessary," he assured her. "Any Dom would have done the same thing."

Many times, there was an assumption among new Doms that subs wearing the house's purple wristband welcomed any attention. A first-time visitor had made that error with Brandy.

Master Damien had not served alcoholic beverages at Ladies' Night, opting for froufrou, sugar-laced umbrella drinks that the ladies seemed to like. But that hadn't stopped the guest from drinking before he'd arrived.

Even when Brandy had used the Den's safe word, the asshole had continued on, forcing her to her knees and shoving his dick in his mouth. Niles had noticed her distress and stepped in.

Truthfully he'd enjoyed throwing the wannabe Dom out of the front door. The physical altercation had dissipated some of the angst churning in his gut, emotion he hadn't been able to get rid of otherwise. If Master Damien or anyone else had witnessed the uppercut Niles had delivered to the guy's jaw, no one had mentioned it.

Seeing his bruised knuckles the next day had been satisfying, but not as rewarding as watching the current, exquisite expression of gratitude on Brandy's face.

He rolled the empty glass between his palms, keeping his hands busy so he didn't yield to the temptation to reach out and touch her.

Niles realised he knew little about her. He'd seen her around the Den for years. She was always unfailingly obedient, but she didn't stand out. No wonder Damien continued to have her at his events.

"If you'd like to go to one of the private rooms, Sir, I'm available."

His cock hardened. He met her gaze. Her blue eyes were wide open and she gave him a quick smile that slammed his solar plexus. Fuck. Why had he never appreciated how attractive she was? Maybe because she wasn't the type he usually went for.

At six feet tall, his wife had looked him in the eye when she had donned the heels he liked. She'd been runway-model thin, with deep brown eyes and raven hair styled in a sleek, no- nonsense bob.

The two women couldn't be any more different.

Suddenly, though, the thought of bending Brandy over, making her scream his name as she came, stoked every one of his dominant urges. Still, he didn't want to scene just because she had a misplaced sense of gratitude. "You owe me nothing."

"I think you misunderstood. It was an invitation, Sir." She linked her hands at her back.

Interesting. Brandy was well trained, a perfect sub. And if he wasn't mistaken, she'd tucked her hands out of sight so he couldn't see the way she was fidgeting.

"I'm afraid I was being bold," she said, still looking at the ground.

So she was nervous, and he understood why. Though she was often summoned to the dungeon, he was certain she initiated few, if any, of the scenes. "I respect a woman who asks for what she wants."

As he stood, he put down his glass. Brandy didn't glance up. He placed his forefinger beneath her chin and tipped her head back.

She smelt of cinnamon with a tangy undercurrent of arousal. The spicy scent intrigued him. He'd expected something more floral, in keeping with her femininity. For the first time since Eleanor had passed, he wanted to scene for pleasure. "I accept," he said.

Brandy smiled.

The slow, sensuous curve of her lips made something deep inside start to melt. "After you," he said.

She scooped up his glass and started towards the main house. Her hips swayed from side to side, not in an exaggerated movement, but with natural feminine grace. He was looking forward to getting her naked.

Responding to a male instinct as old as time, he placed his fingers against the small of her back.

Gregorio, the Den's caretaker, opened the patio doors for them.

"We'll be availing ourselves of one of the playrooms," Niles said.

Gregorio drew his dark eyebrows together. Obviously, he hadn't been expecting that news.

"Let me know if you need anything," Gregorio said. "You as well," he said to Brandy as he accepted the glass from her.

"I'll take good care of her," Niles promised.

"See that you do," Gregorio said.

He appreciated the way Master Damien and Gregorio ensured everyone's safety, but this time it rankled. Niles would do nothing to harm Brandy.

With a nod towards the watchful Gregorio, Niles guided her through the kitchen then down the stairs that led to Damien's elaborate dungeon. "He's protective," Niles observed.

"I'm an employee and a friend," she said.

Niles owned a production company that often filmed at the Den, and he'd appeared in a number of their videos. He knew the rooms well, all the apparatus that was available and each of the implements he could apply to her body.

He stopped at the bar and snagged two bottles of water before asking Brandy if she had any preference on which room to enter.


Clearly she expected him to make the decisions. Under normal circumstances, he would. But this evening was anything but ordinary. "This was your suggestion," he told her. "So I'm betting you have an idea or two about what you'd like to have happen."

"In that case, Sir, first door on the right."

He nodded, pleased with her answer. Because of its sparseness, this was one of his favourite playrooms. A hook hung from the ceiling, and a chair stood off to one side, tucked beneath a padded bench. The far wall was dominated by crops, whips, floggers and a tawse handcrafted by Master Marcus. As with all the rooms, there was a small sink and counter, and a cupboard stocked with necessities, including wipes, lube, condoms and towels.

She entered ahead of him. He paused to seal them in relative privacy. At the Den, all rooms had a window cut into the door. Every interaction was observed by Gregorio or Master Damien, meaning there was no such thing as complete seclusion, a policy Niles endorsed.

When he turned, he saw her kneeling in the middle of the room, head bowed, hands on her thighs. The subs — male and female — that he professionally dominated were actors and models. Each act was scripted and choreographed, and each response was exploited to ensure maximum effect. Screaming, whimpering and begging were all expected from the participants — after all, no one wanted to pay money for a download in which the spankee was silent.

He was reminded that Brandy, too, submitted for a living, but there were no cameras, directors or second takes now. This was between two willing participants for no reason other than pleasure. "Stand, please," he said. "Hands over your head."

Niles drew her dress up, exposing her beautiful body, inch by perfect inch.

She wore a scrap of material that served as panties, and she had on a black shelf bra that lifted her breasts. "I'm a fortunate man tonight, Brandy."

"Thank you, Sir."

He offered her the garment. "Fold it and put it on the counter then return to me."

Wordlessly, she did as instructed. She stood in front of him, her legs spread slightly and her hands looped behind her back. The rapid rise and fall of her chest indicated she was not as relaxed as she appeared.

It might have been ego, but he liked to think that this might mean something to her. If it didn't, he could live with that. Passing an hour or two together would make the evening more pleasant than he'd anticipated. "I'd like you to leave on the heels for now."

"Of course, Sir."

As he unbuttoned his cuffs and folded back his shirtsleeves, he asked her, "How expensive are your panties?"

"Very," she said.

"Sorry in advance."

"Occupational hazard, Sir."

He crossed to one of the drawers and took out a pair of safety scissors. Almost every week, he cut the material from an actress. This, however, was different. She wouldn't be turning in an expense report for replacement lingerie. Well, not to his company.

She stood still as he slid the blunted end between her skin and lace. "Ask me to do it."

Brandy met his gaze. "Do it," she said. "Cut the panties off me, Sir."

He did. The useless scrap pooled to the floor. "I like a shaved pussy," he told her.

"I'm pleased you approve, Sir."

She'd given him a stock answer. Any sub, any time would reply with a variation of those words. From what he'd observed, her training had been complete, exquisite even. But something in the pit of his stomach yearned for more — demanded more — from her. Honesty. He wanted honesty.

Maybe, he told himself, this was the real her. But part of him wondered if she was different away from the Den.

Stupidly, belatedly, he looked at her left hand. No ring adorned her finger, not that that meant anything. "Remove your bra and drop it."

Without hesitation, she did so.

The room was silent, save the sound of his heartbeat and her shallow breaths. "Look at me and tell me what you want, pretty sub."

Their gazes collided.

"To please you," she said.

"Then stop with the expected bullshit."

She gasped. "I'm not sure what you mean, Master Niles."

"I think you do."

Over the course of several seconds, she licked her upper lip.

"Stalling?" he asked.

"No, Sir. I'm trying to figure you out," she replied.

"That might be the most truthful thing you've said yet."

"You're a Dom, a very experienced one." She took her time, making every word count. "I'm a sub."

"Is that why you approached me? Do you want me to treat you as if you're interchangeable with any actress on the planet? I assure you, I don't see you that way."

To her credit, she took her time in answering. He liked that she was deliberate.

"No. It's not."

"I don't have a script, Brandy. And if I did, I wouldn't follow it. I would rather you be real with me, and natural. I need you to open up." With the power of his will, he held her gaze captive. "I need to know about your limits, but even more, I want to know the things that quicken your pulse and the sensations that make you writhe in ecstasy. I demand your participation, but not your blind obedience. Those are my terms."

"You'll think I'm selfish."

"I'm willing to take the risk."

"In that case, Sir, I love any kind of flogging, but especially one on my pussy, followed by a long, hard fuck."

His cock throbbed at the passion in her words. When he orchestrated a shoot, he never had sex with the actors. He'd bring them off manually or with a toy, but he kept his dick in his pants. Over the years, that had added to his mystique. He wasn't interested in his reputation. He had one purpose — grow the company's revenues.

"The truth is, if you get into what we're doing, I get off." She paused and sighed, as if either trying to figure it out for herself or find words to explain what she meant to him. "The energy builds on itself." Her blue eyes lightened, radiating her inner enthusiasm. "I can scene with almost anyone and enjoy it as long as they do, too. I love my work at the Den."

Niles had underestimated her earlier. He'd figured Damien continued to have her at his events because she pleased his guests and didn't stand out, but she was more complex than that. Early in his business career, Niles had learnt that any employee with a heartfelt desire to please should be rewarded and retained. Damien had apparently reached the same conclusion, after all, even during times of economic hardship, the Den's membership had continued to grow, despite some hefty membership fees. "I'd be delighted to redden your cunt," he told her.

"Thank you, Sir."

Even though the answer was rote, her tone conveyed gratitude. He left her long enough to grab a pair of cuffs and to lower the hook. Without being told, she extended her arms. As he fastened the soft fabric around her wrists, he asked, "Do you want to use anything other than the club's safe word?"

"Halt is fine, Sir."

"Any slow word?"

"I can't imagine one will be necessary, Sir."

Niles was adept at pushing subs to the utmost limits. After all, that created the most compelling of all videos. But he also knew how to read a sub's non-verbal clues. He knew, often before they did, when they'd had enough. "Do you have any conditions or limits I need to be aware of?"

"I have no medical concerns. As far as limits, nothing that will leave a permanent scar."

He nodded and affixed the cuffs to the metal hook. "If at any time you're too uncomfortable, let me know," he said.

"Of course, Sir."

"Do you need a spreader bar for your legs?"

"That won't be necessary, Master Niles."

He knew she'd do anything he commanded, but he wanted her to be able to let go and surrender to his lash. "Would it make the experience easier or more pleasant?"

"Yes, Sir."

Already he was learning to look at her eyes for an answer. The depths were expressive and revealed more than her words and tone together. He saw her gratitude and anticipation. She was looking forward to this. He wondered if she often had the chance to just let go and enjoy herself. Since this was her job, it was her obligation to ensure the Den's guests had their needs met. Tonight, he wanted more than that for her. He was glad she'd approached him, rather than wait for another Dom to claim her.

Niles fetched a metal bar. As he knelt, she widened her stance to allow him to attach the straps to her ankles.

This close to her, he inhaled the unmistakable, sharp scent of female arousal. Unable to resist, he spread her labia. "You're already damp, pretty sub."

"Yes, Sir," she whispered.

He slipped a finger inside her hot pussy. She locked her knees. "It's okay to respond. In fact, I'd like it."

He pressed his thumb to her clit then pulled back.

"Nice, Sir."

He alternated between applying intense pressure and a glancing touch, keeping her off guard. She swayed in time to his fingering and the way he teased her clit.

"I'm getting wetter, Sir."

He backed off a bit. "Are you close to coming?"

"Yes, Master Niles."


Excerpted from "For the Sub"
by .
Copyright © 2013 Sierra Cartwright.
Excerpted by permission of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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For the Sub 4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 6 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book is the same as all the rest of hers and its only 150 pages long... I think she's running out of ideas to write about!
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
For the Sub is a good, easy read.