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The Enticement, Page 10

Tara Sue Me

  thinking about it, even knowing it was only make-believe, hurt. How in the world must he have felt last night not knowing what was going on?

  Then I made myself explore the idea of how it would feel to know he was in danger and be unable do anything about it. The terror of knowing everything was fine would be only marginally lessened when the potential outcomes were considered. And those feelings would be only intensified with him. As a Dominant, it was part of who he was to be a protector.

  Then, to add insult to injury, I’d been drunk. That was another circumstance that was completely within my control. No one forced me to drink; I’d made the choice to continue.

  When I combined all those things together and looked at them objectively, I began to see outside of my perspective and understood his wrath and fear. And I hated the way my actions made him feel. One of my greatest joys was serving him: anticipating his needs and meeting them. Last night, even though it had not been my intention, I’d failed miserably. The problem was, I’d been distracted by the thrill of my new job and had let myself forget I was first and foremost his sub.

  Just as I had that heart-wrenching thought, I felt the surprising touch of his warm thumb wiping away tears I didn’t know were falling.

  “Why the tears, my lovely?” he asked. His voice was gentler than before.

  “I’ve realized how much pain I caused you last night.” I blinked away the wetness still gathering in the corners of my eyes. “And I know what I’ve imagined in no way comes close to what you actually felt, because you had to live it.”

  He brushed the other cheek. “I would give up all I have to keep you safe.”

  I nodded, unable to formulate words that could convey the true depth of just how sorry I was.

  “Look at me,” he said, cupping my chin in the palm of his hand. When I met his eyes, he continued. “You’re going to write lines.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Two hundred times: ‘I will not drink irresponsibly and I will not go to a club without being in the presence of my Master.’”

  I hated writing lines. It was humiliating because it made me feel like a ten-year-old. And the tediousness of it, the same one line two hundred times? But the reality was it sounded reasonable and he was really letting me off rather easy. The encounter I had must have really thrown him. “Yes, Sir.”

  “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. Don’t do that again.”

  “I won’t, Sir.” But I realized this didn’t feel right. I had really wronged him, and I needed to feel harsher consequences to be able to feel right with him again. “But, please, will you use the cane?”

  His lips parted in surprise. “What?”

  “I won’t feel like this is behind us if I just write lines. I need you to cane me. My offense was too serious for less.” Part of me was thinking I was certifiable to be begging for this, but deep inside I knew only that would let me move past last night. And I thought he probably would feel the same if he could get past his fear and upset.

  “You know you don’t have to do this?” he asked.

  I nodded. “I want to. I need it.”

  He studied me for a time before finally agreeing. “Three strokes of the cane.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “If I’m going to cane you, you’re to address me as Master.”

  I smiled despite the somber situation. “Yes, Master.” I freely took his love and support and, at times like this, took his pain. I knew from experience when it came to pain, feeling the physical would ease the emotional.

  “Underwear down to your ankles and hands against the wall.”

  I slid my panties down, baring myself in offering to him. Filling my lungs deeply, I put my hands on either side of my head. He’d had me stand like this the previous time he’d punished me with a cane. Sensual scenes were done lying down.

  “These will be hard and fast,” he warned. “Neither one of us will enjoy this.”

  “Thank you, Master.” I was glad he would go fast; at least that way it’d be over sooner.

  He didn’t reply, but took a step back. I braced myself, trying not to tense up even when I heard the thin reed whistle through the air. The first one landed on the fleshy part of my butt and I gasped at the bite it left. The second landed directly under it and I hadn’t caught my breath before the last and hardest fell under the second.

  I choked back a sob.

  “Hold position,” he said and I concentrated on not moving a muscle. His words were the only thing that could persuade me to do so. Without his command, I’d have reached behind me in an attempt to ease some of the ache left by the cane. I’d learned, though, that just as his role was to enforce our rules, so it was his role to ensure we made our way back together afterward.

  From behind me came the sound of movement, and within seconds he was at my side. His hands stroked leisurely, applying lotion across my skin. He didn’t say anything, but I felt his emotions in his touch. If taking pain from him eased my own, then accepting his tender massage allowed me to let everything go.

  “Turn around,” he whispered.

  Without hesitation, I turned. He put his hands on my shoulders and ran his hands down my sides. My body relaxed under his touch and he recognized the second it’d done so. His lips started at my cheek and inched their way down my neck. He cupped my breast and unclasped my bra. He bent low and eased my panties all the way down and off my legs.

  “Come with me,” he said, holding out his hand. I took it and we walked to our bedroom. Once there, he had me climb into bed while he undressed.

  He slipped his shirt over his head. “I need you.” His pants joined the shirt on the floor and he crawled up on the bed facing me. “I need to show you what you mean to me.”

  He took me in his arms and our joining was sensual and slow. His fingertips danced along my body, touching me everywhere, claiming every part of me. I was content to simply let my hands roam over whatever part of him was close.

  His lips were soft as he tasted my skin and I sighed against him. But even though he was gentle, there was no weakness to be found. Every caress, every brush of his flesh across mine whispered one truth.

  You are mine.

  And my own confessed in return.

  Yes. Always.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, I was in the middle of writing my lines at the desk we had in the bedroom when Nathaniel popped his head in.

  “Meagan’s here to see you,” he said.

  My stomach fell to my ankles. I knew we had to talk, but did it have to be so soon?

  “You spoke to her this morning,” I said.

  “Yes,” he stated. “She’s waiting in the living room.”

  I put my writing down and followed him. Instead of sitting on the couch, we found her pacing in front of the window. She turned when we entered, but didn’t say anything. She looked horrible, her complexion paler than normal and her forehead creased with worry.

  “I’m going to go for a walk,” Nathaniel said. “To give you two some privacy.”

  She waited until the door closed behind him to speak. “Abby. I am so sorry.”

  The easy thing would have been to tell her it was okay and that everything was fine, but it wasn’t okay and everything wasn’t fine.

  “That was a rotten thing to do last night,” I told her. “I was in a place I didn’t know, drinking, and I had no idea where you were.”

  “It was completely irresponsible of me and there’s no excuse for it.”

  I crossed my arms. “At least tell me why.”

  She waved toward the couches and we sat down. She on one side and I on the other. “I only planned to dance, honestly. I had no intention of playing last night. After we had danced a few songs, I went to the bathroom. When I came out, Master V said he’d told you that we were going to a private room. I should have talked to you anyway. I should have. But it’d been . . .” She shook her head. “There’s no excuse. There’s not. And your husband was righ
t to call me on it.”

  My heart softened just a bit. Her voice shook and she certainly looked distraught.

  “I can’t say I’m happy he called you,” I said. “But I understand why he did it.”

  She didn’t speak for long seconds. Almost as if she was weighing what she’d say next. “Abby,” she finally said, “I totally understand if you don’t want anything to do with me, but please don’t let last night interfere with your work at the station. I’ll step aside and let someone else work with you.”

  I sighed. I wasn’t sure if she was just saying that because she didn’t want to get in trouble or if she really cared. “I’ll be honest. I’m not happy with what happened last night, but I won’t let it affect my job. And I don’t want you to step aside, but it’s going to take some time for us to get back to where we were.”

  For the first time since I’d seen her that day, she looked somewhat hopeful. “Thank you, Abby. I’ll make it up to you.”.

  Chapter Seven

  The next few weeks were crazy. Henry’s ear infection didn’t get any better, so no one was sleeping and I had to spend an entire day in New York taking him to a specialist. Nathaniel was trying to find someone to take over the running and management of his melanoma nonprofit and that required late nights in the city. One weekend, he actually had meetings on Saturday, so the kids, Apollo, and I stayed at the penthouse so we could spend time with him. Fortunately, Jeff had been able to get his security issues taken care of, so at least that was one less thing he had to worry about.

  Evenings after the kids went to bed weren’t any better. I spent a lot of time online chatting with Meagan and working on my first few pieces. I had parts of about four potential blog postings and I stressed over them more than I should have. But the way I saw it, this was my introduction to a large number of people and I needed to write something that represented the best of me.

  Three weeks after the incident, I’d just turned the computer off for the night when Nathaniel entered the library. He’d been swimming and his hair hadn’t dried yet, but he’d changed out of his swim trunks into his tan drawstring pants. After his laps in the pool, he must have been down to the wine cellar, because he had two wineglasses and a bottle of my favorite red.

  “Finished?” he asked. He held out a glass and lifted an eyebrow. At my nod, he handed one to me and filled the glass.

  “Thanks.” I took a sip. “Mmm, that’s good. Not quite finished, but I’m closer than I was.”

  He tilted his head toward the couch and we sat down together. He twisted in his seat, facing me better. “I have a conference next month.”

  “I remember you mentioning it. Innovations in Finance and Banking. Delaware, right?” It didn’t sound interesting to me, but they had invited Nathaniel to be one of the speakers.

  “Yes, and I’d like for you to go with me.” He dropped his voice. “As my submissive.”

  “How long did you say it was?” I asked, my brain already running through everything that would need to be taken care of: the kids, Apollo, and, now that I was working, what to do about the posts that would be due.

  “A week.” He placed his wineglass on the table beside the couch. “And I want you to wear my collar the entire time.”

  “A week?” I asked, confused. Where had that come from?


  “But I thought . . . Wouldn’t you . . . Shouldn’t we?” I had so many random thoughts and questions, I couldn’t focus on one long enough to voice it. Why did he want to play for a week? Why bring it up now?

  “Let me reassure you, I have no interest in you being a twenty-four/seven submissive. But”—he shrugged—“the idea of you wearing my collar for a week, out of town? It holds a certain appeal.”

  Years ago, on our first visit to Paul and Christine’s, I’d mentioned to him I’d like to wear his collar for a week. He’d said then that while he wasn’t opposed to the idea, he felt our relationship was too new for that kind of extended play. Looking back, it had been the right decision. At that time, I hadn’t yet reached the point where I felt I could tell him everything.

  Now, though, I had no such problem and he was better at communication, too.

  “We never have gone for a week, have we?” I asked. He’d told me when I first brought it up that we’d revisit the idea of weeklong play once he believed our communication to be open enough.

  “No, we haven’t. I’m bringing it up now because I think time away from our normal routine is exactly what we need.”

  The idea of wearing his collar for a week still held an appeal for me, though it was in a general, vague sort of way. Knowing it could easily become a reality made my pulse quicken.

  “I confess, I’m a little apprehensive about it.” I took a sip of my wine. “I’m concerned on how I’ll handle it. My knees are out of practice and I’m used to telling you exactly how I feel anytime I want.”

  “Look, Abby, I have to be honest and ask, how’s not wearing my collar most of the time working out for you?” He traced my knee. “Because I have to confess, it’s not working that great for me. I can’t continue to push that side of me away.”

  That’s what we had been doing, I realized. We’d been pushing those needs aside. Maybe not intentionally, but there was always so much to do and we both felt the children came first. But that was a dangerous path to walk, to never take care of our own needs.

  And I allowed myself to admit, I missed wearing his collar. And the more I thought about it, the more and more wearing it for a week sounded good.

  “I don’t want to push our needs aside all the time, either,” I said. “Let’s do it. I’ll wear your collar for a week in Delaware.”

  * * *

  I spoke to Linda the next day and explained Nathaniel had a conference and wanted me to go with him.

  “To be honest,” I told her, “I can’t remember the last time we went away. Just the two of us.”

  “I understand, Abby. I remember vividly how crazy and tiring it is with little ones.”

  I loved Linda. Though no one could ever replace my mother, Linda always treated me as if I was one of her own. “Do you think you can keep the kids while we’re in Delaware?”

  “It won’t be a problem. Matter of fact, if you like, I can just stay at your estate. That way it’ll be easier on them and Apollo,” Linda said, proving again I had the world’s best in-laws.

  Note to self: Make sure Nathaniel locks the playroom and hides the key. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

  “It’ll be a joy to keep them. Though I always thought your first trip away together after Henry’s birth would be to your chalet. Not Delaware.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help but smile at the mention of the wedding present Nathaniel had given me. We hadn’t been to our honeymoon chalet in Switzerland since Henry was born. I wasn’t quite ready for my children to be in a country different from the one I was in.

  “We do need to visit there,” I said, looking out the window. Maybe in the fall we could take a long weekend and go. We hadn’t traveled much since Henry had been born.

  “Either way, just know I’m here if you need me.”

  I thanked her again and we said our good-byes and hung up. I couldn’t wait to tell Nathaniel everything was taken care of. My body shook with anticipation at the thought of wearing his collar for such a long time.

  Just the time we’d recently had together had been incredible; my body might not be able to physically handle the pleasure he’d have planned for a week.

  “That’s certainly an interesting expression on your face.” Nathaniel’s voice brought me back to the present and I spun around to greet him. He’d told me he’d be leaving the office and city early today, because we had a birthday party later in the afternoon for Maddox, Todd and Elaina’s son.

  He walked toward me with a sultry grin and kissed me softly. “Anything in particular you were thinking about?”

  “I was thinking about how I was looking forward to wearing y
our collar for a week.” My knees weakened at the lustful look in his eyes following my statement. I picked imaginary lint off his shirt. “Especially since Linda just agreed to watch the kids while we’re at your conference.”