The enticement, p.13
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       The Enticement, p.13

         Part #5 of Submissive series by Tara Sue Me
 
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  “Yes,” Nathaniel said, slipping an arm around my waist. Obviously, he knew her type, too. “This is Abby.”

  “Hello, Charlene.” I didn’t say it was nice to meet her because it wasn’t and I told myself Nathaniel wouldn’t want me to lie.

  “Abby, I’ve been dying to meet Nathaniel’s wife. It’s almost as if he’s been hiding you.” She slapped his arm with her silver clutch. “What made you decide to come this time?”

  “Research. I’m a writer.”

  “Fascinating,” she said in a tone that told me she thought it just the opposite. “I do love your necklace, though. I’ve been wanting one like that. Where did you get it from?”

  My hand automatically drifted to my collar. I wasn’t expecting the question and I didn’t see any way to answer other than what I said. “Nathaniel gave it to me shortly after we met.”

  The hand at my waist tightened slightly. A subtle way for him to tell me he heard my use of his name. It wasn’t a situation I’d been in before and I didn’t know if or how he’d deal with it.

  But before me, Charlene’s eyes flashed with envy. “Fortunate woman.”

  I lifted my chin. “Very.”

  Her eyes darted around the room. “Excuse me, you two. I see someone I need to speak with.”

  “She wants you,” I told him as she crossed the floor to grab Daniel. I shot Julie a look of sympathy.

  “Yes. And you handled her well.” He pulled me toward his chest and whispered, “Except for the part when you used my name. How unfortunate there wasn’t a way to avoid it. Now you’ll spend the rest of the party thinking about the consequences.”

  My heart pounded in anticipation or trepidation, I couldn’t quite determine which. He let go of my waist and pointed toward the buffet in the corner.

  “Go grab us a plate,” he said. “I’ll get us a seat.”

  I said a silent prayer that no one would speak to me while I was getting our food. Fortunately, no one did and I found Nathaniel moments after filling a plate.

  He’d found us a love seat. It was secluded, but we would still be in view of the attendees. He took the plate while I sat down, and once seated, I put my hand on his knee. He fed me a few bites of stuffed mushrooms and as we ate, he pointed out a few people sharing snippets of his dealings with them.

  It was refreshing to have a few minutes of alone time with him, even if those minutes were technically shared with hundreds of others. As expected, it didn’t last long.

  “Nathaniel,” a man I didn’t know said, approaching us. “There you are!”

  “I’ll be right back.” Nathaniel handed me the plate. “We’re leaving in twenty.”

  * * *

  We were back in our suite twenty-five minutes later. In our absence, the lights had been dimmed and the bed turned down. But neither one of us was ready to sleep.

  “Kneel in the living room,” he said, taking off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. He didn’t take it off, even when he sat on the couch and watched me move into position.

  “What happened tonight, Abigail?”

  “I spoke your name, Master.”

  “Against the rules when you wear my collar and yet unavoidable considering the situation. I find myself in quite the quandary.”

  In the silence that followed his words, I tried to figure out what he’d do. He stood and walked to the bedroom. When he returned to the living room about half an hour later, he had a box in his hands. He gave it to me.

  “Open it.”

  It was a rather nondescript black box, about eight by eleven inches with no outward indication of what could possibly be inside. I carefully lifted the lid and peeked inside. A book?

  “Take out the first item and open it to where the bookmark is.”

  It was a book. A slim volume of Emily Dickinson poems, to be exact. I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but I flipped to the marked page.

  “Read the poem.”

  It was one I wasn’t familiar with and I read it for the first time out loud to him.

  When Katie walks, this simple pair accompany her side,

  When Katie runs unwearied they follow on the road,

  When Katie kneels, their loving hands still clasp her pious knee—

  Ah! Katie! Smile at Fortune, with two so knit to thee!

  I closed the book.

  “What’s the poem about, Abigail?”

  “Destiny, Master.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Tonight we’re going to let destiny decide your fate. There are five black envelopes in the box, and two red ones. Open one of the black ones and tell me what it says.”

  I picked one of the black envelopes at random. I couldn’t fathom what I’d find inside and I tore it open with excited fingers. My excitement died as I read the word printed on the card inside.

  “Cane.”

  Fuck. I still cringed when I remembered the time, not too long ago, when he’d given me three strokes. Damn that Charlene. I really wished he hadn’t given permission for me to talk with her.

  “Harsh,” he said in agreement. “Open one of the red envelopes.”

  If I had to guess, there were numbers inside the two red ones. I studied them both intently as if in doing so I could somehow read the number inside. Of course, there was no way to tell that. With a heavy sigh, and cursing Charlene again, I slowly opened the one on the left.

  I had to read it twice to convince myself my eyes weren’t making up the words.

  “Well?” he asked, though I was certain my grin gave away which envelope I’d selected.

  “With orgasm.”

  His lust-filled eyes met mine and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Ah, the fates have smiled upon you. Go get undressed and meet me back here in ten minutes.”

  My legs shook just a bit as I rose to my feet. I couldn’t believe how close I’d come to being caned without an orgasm. Would he have really done it? I couldn’t imagine him changing his mind after he’d gone through all the trouble of creating the box and then having me open it.

  Or could it be that both envelopes had “with orgasm” inside? That seemed likely to be the case. Of course I wouldn’t know because he’d probably never tell me. He had a knack for messing with my mind.

  I made it back into the living room, naked, in under eight minutes. He stood by the dining room table and he’d changed as well. Or at least he’d completely taken his shirt off. He’d also placed a thick pad on top of the table and covered it with blankets.

  His face was unreadable as he took my hand and helped me get into position. Though the room was warm, I felt a bit cold and my body shook a bit.

  He put his hand on my shoulder blade. “You’re trembling. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, Master. I’m a bit chilly, but I know you’ll warm me up.”

  “Nothing would please me more.”

  A spicy orange scent filled the air and his warm hands massaged my favorite lotion along my back. He spent a long time working the tension from my body. I hadn’t realized how tight my back was until I relaxed under his touch.

  “Yes. That’s it,” he murmured.

  His hands moved to my backside and he switched from massage to a pleasurable percussion tapping. He eased his way slowly up along my spine, swept his fingers across the back of my neck, and worked his way back down, ending with a pass of his hand between my legs.

  “How are you feeling?” he whispered.

  “Green, Master.”

  He repeated the percussion pattern several more times. Each time, I sank deeper and deeper into my headspace. My hips jerked when he unexpectedly circled my clit. I thought he might start with the cane now; surely he knew from touching me how aroused I’d become. Instead, he increased the intensity of his taps, once more working his way up and down my back.

  I couldn’t stifle a moan when he started smacking my backside every so often.

  “You’re so damn wet.” He slid a finger inside me. “Going to feel so good to push my way inside.”


  But he didn’t stop. He kept tapping and smacking until I was desperate for something. Anything. I fought to keep from grinding against the table and bit the inside of my cheek when he slid two fingers deep inside me.

  Unexpectedly, the cane lightly struck my ass four times and I groaned.

  “Let me hear you, Abigail.” The cane tapped softly along my upper thighs. “Don’t keep anything from me tonight.”

  He went back to spanking me and I thought he wasn’t going to use the cane anymore when it came down harder across my ass. I grunted in pleasure.

  “Not any harder than that,” he said.

  Knowing that made the few strokes that followed even more pleasurable because I didn’t have any fear of them. My need for him to take me grew and nearly exploded when he started playing with my clit.

  “Damn, you’re soaked.” He slapped my ass. “So wicked. So ready to be fucked.”

  I whined. “Please, Master.”

  “No.” The cane landed again and immediately he pumped two fingers in and out of me. My hips jerked. “Who determines when you get fucked?”

  “You do, Master.” I hoped he decided soon. I almost begged him, but he shifted his fingers and all I could think about was keeping myself from orgasm. “Oh, shit.”

  “Not yet,” he warned. “Come without permission and I will turn this into a punishment session.”

  The evil bastard continued pumping his fingers and I panted in time with them.

  “Oh, oh, oh, fuck, oh.” I fisted the blanket.

  He slowed a bit. “I love to watch you squirm. Caught between obeying my order not to come and your body’s need for release.”

  He pulled his fingers out and ran them across one of the lines left behind by the cane. The feel of cool wetness against my heated flesh almost sent me over the edge.

  “Like that, naughty girl? Because I sure as hell do. Makes me so damn hard seeing my marks on your ass.”

  I wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer. To help, I started whispering the German alphabet backward.

  “In fact,” he said, not mentioning my urgent murmurings, “I’m going to take you from behind, so I can see these pretty marks while I fuck you.”

  Please, oh, please, oh, please.

  He chuckled and I realized I’d spoken out loud. “I’m going to carry you to the bedroom and then I want you on your hands and knees on the bed.”

  “Thank you. Yes, Master.”

  He scooped me up and carried me to bed. While I got into position, he stripped out of his remaining clothes and stood in front of me.

  “See this cock?”

  I licked my lips at the sight of it. “Yes, Master.”

  “I’m going to fuck you with it. Brace yourself on your forearms so I can do a thorough job.”

  I whimpered at his words, but dropped forward. He moved behind me and positioned my legs a bit wider.

  “Look at this greedy pussy.” He slid his thumbs inside, spreading me. “So hungry for its Master’s cock. Don’t worry. I won’t make you wait any longer.”

  His thumbs left, but in their place I felt his cock inch slowly inside me. He entered with slow, small thrusts, never making it in completely.

  Damn it all. Just do it already!

  “So damn needy,” he said, and I realized I’d been pushing my hips toward him. He gathered my hair in one hand and pulled back as he thrust hard, settling himself inside completely. “There we go. Take it.”

  “Yes,” I answered in a half hiss, half moan. “Please. More.”

  “Patience.” He waited a second and drove himself into me. He bottomed out and gave his hips a roll, hitting damn near every erogenous spot I had.

  “Oh, God. Master. Fuck!”

  He rolled his hips again, my hair still firmly held in his hand. “I like riding you this way. Your pussy impaled by my cock. Thrusting into you and looking at the marks my cane left. There’s just one thing . . . Can I go deeper?”

  He pulled out and thrust back into me. I could feel him press against my butt, but he lifted his hips and with a forward push managed to get more of his cock in. I moaned in pleasure/pain.

  “Ah, yes, I can,” he said, sounding quite pleased.

  “Oh, shit!” I gasped, balancing on the edge.

  “Need to come?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Come for me.” He moved his hips hard and fast.

  I bit the sheets as he worked his way in and out, trying to hang on just a little longer. But he slipped a finger between our bodies to tease my clit and with his next thrust, I pushed against him and let my release take over. I think he meant to hold off his own climax, but as soon as mine started, he let out a strangled cry and followed.

  Exhausted from travel, party, and the massive orgasm, I collapsed flat on the bed, breathing heavily.

  “Fucking hell,” he said, breathing just as hard and joining me on the bed.

  I wasn’t sure how much time passed as we stayed that way, entwined together in bed. He absentmindedly ran his fingers through my hair and I think I dozed for a few minutes. Always in the back of my mind I warned myself not to get too comfortable since he said I’d be sleeping on the floor. I wasn’t ready to head that way yet.

  “I have a question, Master.”

  “Mmm.” His eyes were closed and his reply was that of a thoroughly satisfied man and I smiled, pleased I had made him that way.

  “Who is Charlene?”

  “No one you should waste time thinking about.”

  “I didn’t like the way she looked at you.”

  He turned his head and opened one eye. “I don’t particularly care for it either, but I know who and what she is and she’s nothing to me.”

  He closed his eye again as if saying the conversation was over. But it still continued in my head. I didn’t like the woman. There was something about her that seemed dangerous, for lack of a better word. But Nathaniel probably had it all under control.

  A few minutes later, he leaned over and kissed me. “Go on and get your shower. I’ll take one when you get out.”

  Not quite ready to leave the bed, but knowing I’d feel better after I washed, I dragged myself to the bathroom. I turned the water on as hot as I could stand and took a long shower. The bathroom was completely filled with steam when I got out.

  Nathaniel had hung a long silk gown on the back of the door while I was bathing. I smiled, thinking that if I had to sleep on the floor, at least I’d look good doing so.

  I dried my hair and brushed my teeth before heading back to the bedroom. As expected, he’d taken the thick pad from the dining room table and made a small but comfortable-looking pallet.

  It’s just a way to reinforce roles, I told myself. I’ve had difficulties the last few weeks.

  He looked all sorts of sexy sitting on the edge of the bed. He hadn’t put his pants or shirt back on; he’d simply tugged on his boxer briefs. His lip quirked up. “Leave me any hot water?”

  I held up my thumb and forefinger so they almost touched. “Maybe a little.”

  He crooked his finger. “Come here.”

  The gown swished this way and that as I made my way toward him.
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