A Hard Bargain Read Online Free PDF

make me remove that too—just because he can—even though it offers me no protection apart from to my modesty. But he’ll have to bloody well tell me.
    “Sit down again, Miss Stone. It seems we’re not through talking yet.” His tone is less formal, slightly warmer.
    I hesitate, reach for my discarded top intending to pull it back on.
    “No, leave that. And turn around—I want to look at you.” His tone brooks no argument as he puts a stop to any notion of modesty, meager though it would be.
    I turn, and with some not inconsiderable effort manage to tilt my chin up and meet his gaze as I once more sit on the edge of the bed. Nicholas Hardisty is no longer straddling the chair, he’s leaning casually against the spanking bench, his arms folded, his iPhone in his right hand. He taps it against his left elbow, watching me thoughtfully. His eyes drop to my breasts and I resist the urge to cover myself. I draw some comfort from the fact that I have nice boobs. Well I think so. I only wear a size thirty-four bra, but I’m a curvy C cup. Nipples a little on the small side maybe, to the ungenerous eye, but with some careful attention… The look of appreciation in Nicholas Hardisty’s eyes suggests he’s not about to quarrel with my self-assessment. But still, he makes me wait.
    At last, he speaks to me again. “A D/s relationship is a contract, sure enough, but it’s not a financial one. And it’s not a series of experiences, something for thrill-seekers to spice up their sex lives with. Nothing wrong with that, of course, the occasional bit of kink to keep things interesting, but a BDSM lifestyle, a Dom/sub relationship, now that’s a whole lot more.” He strolls toward me, stops in front of me, then, amazingly, he crouches before me, looking up at me now. Our relative positions reversed, he goes on, his tone low and soft and incredibly gentle, “Submission, Miss Stone, is a state of mind. You give a Dom your submission because he’s earned it. You give it freely and willingly, it’s not a commodity to be bought or sold.”
    I make to reach for the phone, but he stills me again, just by raising a finger. Christ, the power in that raised finger—I can see his Dominant qualities plainly in that gesture. It doesn’t matter that he’s placed himself lower than me, that he’s looking up at me, there’s no doubt whatsoever who’s in charge here. And he hasn’t finished yet.
    “I know you were trying to buy, not sell, but the principle’s the same. Do you see that?”
    He waits, and I nod, hesitant, but I am beginning to see what he’s getting at.
    He continues with his explanation. “And I’m not for sale either. If I ever do decide to put my time into training a submissive, it’ll be because I like her, respect her, see potential in her and want to help bring it out. Not because she paid me a fucking great pile of money to show her the sights. And believe me, Miss Stone, any Dom who’d take your money is not one you want to learn from.”
    He stops, his eyes on mine, his gaze intent. He reaches up, takes my chin in his palm, holds my face still, connecting with me. He waits for a few moments, lets his words sink in. Then, “Is that all perfectly clear, Miss Stone? Do you understand now why your proposition would never work? It’s not a matter of telling you who else to approach. You need to give this up. Give it up now. Not everyone’s cut out for this lifestyle of ours. Submission needs to be in you, a good Dom can train you, develop your nature, hone your innate talents. But I think you’re a fairground rider, Miss Stone, a thrill seeker. My advice to you is to just have fun from time to time, but leave the serious stuff to others better suited to it.”
    He’s wrong. Wrong about me, I know it. I frown, shake my head, but he’s said all he’s going to say, given me all the free tuition I’m going to get it seems. He stands, towering over me as I continue to sit on the edge of the bed, drowning