Cameron's Control (Novella #1): The Enthrall Sessions (Volume 4) by Vanessa Fewings, Louise Bohmer

frown proved she was wondering about that red door at the end and where it led.
    “This room is sacred,” I told her. “It belongs to us. And us alone. There will be no talk of the world outside while we are in here. Or anyone other than us. Do you understand?”
    She gave a nod.
    “You have a question?”
    She lowered her gaze.
    I neared her and rested a fingertip beneath her chin and raised her head to look at me. “You’re asking for proof of my love?”
    She gave off a mixture of nervousness and anticipation—swooning.  
    “Mia, while we are in here you are my property. In here, I own you. You will do what I tell you without hesitation. Am I making myself clear?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    A thrill ran up my spine to see her entering subspace.
    I pointed to her collar. “What does this mean?”
    She hesitated.
    “Mia.” I reached around her waist and ran my fingertips up her spine. “The sub who wears my collar will be worshiped, cherished, spoiled, nurtured, protected, punished, and pleasured beyond all understanding.”
    She trembled against me.
    “In here you are my property, yes, and you have every right to fear me. I am a stern master and will expect the very best from my sub.” I pointed upward. “Up there, out in the world, you will wear my collar. It represents you are mine. I will share everything I have with you. I will listen to you, anticipate your needs, and give you everything you want to be happy and fulfilled.”
    Her eyelashes flickered. “Your girlfriend?”
    I kissed her nose. “My lover. Everyone will know you are mine. Such a position carries status and power.”
    I could see in her eyes she wanted to know if we’d ever be more. We weren’t there yet, and I wasn’t sure we’d ever be. Mia’s fear of abandonment proved she needed the kind of reassurance only a proposal could carry.
    My passion was intense and it wasn’t the first time a woman needed reassurance that this level of emotion would endure—a physical relationship that fulfilled a woman entirely.   
    I’d once been told that after the time spent with me was over it felt like the equivalent of drowning for the sub. The reality of finding a master with my exact talents was rare apparently, leaving women starved of that which they’d be exposed to. Refusing to hold back on the blinding pleasure I’d bestowed on them didn’t exactly make it easy.
    The present moment drew me back.
    I reached up and unclipped Mia’s wrists, releasing her. “What do you desire?”
    Mia stepped away and scurried over toward her collar. She lifted it off the pillow and placed it around her neck. She returned to me and spun around for me to secure the catch.
    “Master.” She knelt before me.
    I moved away from her toward the light switch and dimmed the vault, setting the scene before strolling over to the walled wireless system. Hans Zimmer oozed from the surround sound speakers. A hypnotic, moody piece that filled the room with vibration.
    Making my way back to her, I rested a hand on the top of her head. “Stand.”
    I grabbed Mia’s bra and ripped it off her and it made her jolt. I knelt and did the same with her panties, leaving her naked and running a hand over the curve of her buttocks.
    From the corner trunk, I removed the long strands of fine, strong rope. Taking my time, dissolving into the ritual, I began the process of binding Mia, using intricate geometric patterns around her curves, having mastered the art of Shibari a long time ago. This ancient form of Japanese bondage was once reserved for beloved prisoners. The technique was so complex and time consuming it was reserved only for our most cherished.
    I weaved the last rope around her breasts. “Well done, kitten,” I said huskily.
    Mia swooned, that telltale soft blush on her chest proving she was rope drunk.
    I continued on, binding her wrists together and then reaching for the four golden link chains hanging from the ceiling.
    Clipping them methodically, two to her