The Dominant (2 page)

Abigail made an appointment for Tuesday afternoon at four. All day Monday I waited for Sara to tell me she had called and
canceled, but by Tuesday at one, I had accepted the fact that Abigail would probably show up. It made me restless.

I paced from my window to my desk and back again, remembering Abigail as I had last seen her—complete patience as she tutored
a high school student, laughing softly at something the teenager said. Then I pictured her as I would now allow myself to—as
my submissive, ready and willing to service me. To obey my every command.

I walked back to my desk and sat down. For the third time in the last hour, I pulled out the packet of information I’d prepared
for her and reread it. Triple-checked that everything was in order.

My cousin, Jackson, called at three thirty and kept me from going completely stir-crazy.

“Hey,” he said. “We still on for racquetball Saturday?”

I groaned. I had forgotten the promise I’d made to Jackson that we would have a rematch on Saturday. If Abigail agreed to
a weekend test, did I really want to leave her? On the other hand, maybe it would be good to get away from her for a few hours.
Give myself a break from what promised to be an intense weekend.

Jackson picked up on my hesitation. “It’s okay if you can’t. I can always go skydiving.”

The last time he went skydiving, it almost ended his career as quarterback, so I knew he was joking.

At least I hoped he was joking.

“Don’t blackmail me,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to bail out. I was just making sure my calendar was clear. I might have a date.”

“A date? Getting back on the horse after Pearl Girl?”

“That nickname is completely disrespectful to Melanie.” And he couldn’t be further from the truth. I’d had plenty of
horse rides
since Melanie.

“Just saying, I’m glad you dumped her ass.”

“Enough of me and my love life,” I said, because I didn’t think Jackson had any idea what my sex life was really like. “Who
are you bringing to your mom’s benefit?”

“No one at the moment. Thanks for the reminder,” he said with a touch of sarcasm.

We talked a bit more and eventually hung up after agreeing I’d meet him on Saturday for our racquetball rematch.

In many ways, Jackson was the brother I never had. My parents had been killed in a car accident when I was ten. My mother’s
sister, Linda, raised me afterward.

Todd Welling was the third member of my close-as-family group of friends, along with his wife, Elaina. Todd and his family
had lived next door to the Clarks while we were growing up. Elaina had lived nearby, and she and Todd had dated throughout
high school and during college. They married the month after she graduated. Todd was now a psychiatrist and Elaina a fashion
designer.

I envied Todd and Elaina the companionship they had with each other. The passion and love they felt was palpable. I had long
since given up on finding a relationship like theirs, but such was the life I lived.

To have Abigail as a sub would almost make up for it.

My phone gave a low double beep.

“Yes, Sara?” I looked at my watch—three forty-five. Abigail was punctual. Another positive.

“Ms. King is here, sir.”

“Thank you, Sara. I’ll let you know when I’m ready for her.” I disconnected.

I drank some water and looked over the pages one more time. All was ready. I picked up her application and reread it, although
I’m not sure why. I had it memorized.

When the clock read five after four, I called Sara and told her to send Abigail in.

I took a deep breath, opened a blank document on my computer, and started typing.

Nathaniel West is the world’s biggest fucking idiot
.

What the hell do you think you’re doing?

Idiot
.

Abigail opened the door and quietly stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

Big. Fucking. Idiot
.

You have no business having her here
.

This will go down as your worst mistake ever
.

She walked to the middle of my office, and from my peripheral vision, I saw her stand with her hands to her sides, feet spread
to the width of her shoulders.

Damn
.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn
.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn
.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck
.

Damn
.

I kept typing while I peeked at her. She took a deep breath. Her eyes were closed.

Pull it together, West
, I typed.
She’s here for you. To be your submissive. The least you can do is not be a complete pansy ass
.

You’ve done this many times. She wants to be your sub. You are a dom. She’s nothing new. Nothing special
.

It’s very, very simple, so stop trying to make it complicated
.

Give her what she wants. What she needs
.

Take what she’ll give
.

And some of what she doesn’t even know she has to offer
.

Typing helped clear my head. Very much like playing the piano. I wrote out a few more lines, took a deep breath, and looked
up.

“Abigail King,” I said.

She jumped. It was to be expected really. Her head was still down, but a faint tremor ran throughout her body. I wanted to
reach out and touch her, reassure her I would never harm her.

Instead, I picked up her application and the packet of papers I would give her if the meeting went well and tapped them together.

Her head was still down.

Very nice.

I pushed back from my desk and walked across the floor. Her tremor intensified, but just barely. I stood behind her and reached
out a hand. It was time to touch her and realize she was no more than a flesh-and-blood woman. Nothing more. Nothing less.

I brushed her long, dark hair to one side and leaned in close. “You have no references.” Because it was the truth and because
I wanted to see the pulse quicken at that delicate spot at the base of her throat.

Yes.

Just. Like. That.

I leaned closer, so my lips were almost to her throat. “I would have you know that I’m not interested in training a submissive.
My submissives have always been fully trained.”

Would she want to know why I was making an exception in
her case? Would my words have tipped her off that something was different about her?

Probably not. But they should have. This was not the way I normally operated. I was changing all the rules for her.

And she didn’t even know it.

I took her hair and pulled. “Are you sure this is what you want, Abigail? You need to be sure.”

A small part of me wanted her say no, to look up and leave. Never to return. But the biggest part of me wanted her to stay.
Wanted her.

She didn’t move. Didn’t leave.

I chuckled and walked back to my desk. We were both so stubborn. Maybe this would work after all.

Damn, I wanted it to work.

“Look at me, Abigail.”

Our eyes met for the first time. Hers were a deep brown and framed by thick lashes. I saw her every thought reflected in those
eyes. The nervousness, the hunger, the frank assessment as her gaze traveled over me.

I drummed my fingers on the desk. Her eyes darkened and she looked slightly embarrassed.

Ah, she was thinking dirty, dirty thoughts. And that made me smile—but enough of that for now.

“I’m not interested in why you decided to submit your application. If I select you and you are agreeable to my terms, your
past won’t matter.” Because the past was no more. What mattered was now. I tapped the two reports together. “I know what I
need to.”

She still didn’t move. Didn’t say anything.

“You have no training,” I said. “But you’re very good.”

I turned to the window. Darkness cloaked the street down below, but the light from my office made the window a mirror. I could
see everything Abigail did. She met my eyes for a second and then looked down.

We couldn’t have that.

“I rather like you, Abigail King. Although I don’t recall telling you to look away.”

Yes, I thought, when her eyes met mine once more. We were going to move forward.

I had her in my hands and I would not let her go.

“I think a weekend test is in order.” I turned from the window and loosened my tie. “If you agree, you will come to my estate
this Friday night at six exactly. I’ll have a car pick you up. We’ll have dinner and take it from there.”

I put the tie down and unbuttoned the top button of my shirt. She didn’t look the slightest bit uncomfortable—excited maybe,
but not uncomfortable.

“I have certain expectations of my submissives.” My submissive. Abigail King was well on her way to being mine. “You are to
get at least eight hours of sleep every Sunday through Thursday night. You will eat a balanced diet—I will have a meal plan
e-mailed to you. You will also run one mile, three times a week. Twice a week you will engage in strength and endurance training
at my gym. A membership will be created for you starting tomorrow. Do you have any concerns about any of this?”

She was silent.

Lovely.

“You may speak freely.”

She licked her lips, her pink tongue running around the edges of her mouth. The sight made my cock twitch.
Easy, now
, I thought.
Time for that later. Please, God, let there be time for that later
.

“I’m not the most . . . athletic, Mr. West. I’m not much of a runner.”

“You must learn not to let your weakness rule you, Abigail.” Since she had brought it up, I would help her.

I walked back to my desk and wrote down the name and number of the yoga instructor at the gym.

“Three times a week you will also attend yoga classes. They have these at the gym. Anything else?”

She shook her head.

“Very well. I will see you Friday night.” I held out the papers. “These will have everything you need know.”

She approached my desk and took the papers. Then she waited.

Perfection.

“You are excused.”

While I had never been a Boy Scout, I agreed wholeheartedly with their “Be prepared” motto. Preparation was half the reason
my business was so successful. It was partly why I’d never had a submissive use her safe word. If people were just more prepared,
the world as a whole would run smoother.

For that reason, I spent part of Wednesday afternoon at my favorite jewelers. If Abigail’s weekend test went well, I wanted
to be prepared with a collar. After seeing how well she did during her office test, I felt certain that it would.

I glanced over the offerings in the necklace display. My previous submissives had worn plain silver chokers, but I wanted
something more for Abigail.

“Mr. West,” the manager said, approaching me. “What can I help you with today?”

I wasn’t impressed with anything I saw. “I’m looking for a choker. Platinum. With diamonds, perhaps?”

The manager’s eyes lit with excitement. “I have just the thing. Arrived this morning, and I haven’t had a chance to put it
out yet.”

He scurried off, returning moments later with a leather-covered box. Inside was an exquisite choker made of two ropelike platinum
bands, intertwined, with diamonds embedded throughout.

I could easily picture it on Abigail.

My collar.

My submissive.

“Perfect,” I said to the manager.

I decided to cook dinner for Abigail on Friday night. I wanted her to relax before we started anything. Give her a chance
to ask any questions or bring up concerns. I wanted her to be comfortable over the weekend—as comfortable as possible, anyway.

I prepared one of my favorite dishes and went over my plans for the weekend. I would not have penetrative sex with Abigail
yet. That could wait while I tried other things. And I would test my own control—to have her so near, so near and yet not
touch her.

I also made a new rule—I would not kiss her. It seemed only fair to make a new rule, since I was breaking so many others.

Part of me knew it was silly to think not kissing Abigail would somehow ensure I kept the proper emotional distance. But the
truth was, she wanted to be my submissive. She did not want me as a lover. As long as I went into the weekend remembering
our relationship would be sexual, and nothing more than that, I would be fine.

The car service pulled into my driveway at five forty-five.

I opened the door to find her on her knees, petting Apollo. I had expected Apollo to keep away from her, since he usually
shied away from strangers. How unusual for him to be drawn to her. Though they did say dogs had a sixth sense about people.

The fact that Apollo seemed to like her convinced me that the weekend was a good idea.

“Apollo,” I said. “Come.”

She hadn’t heard me open the door. That much was certain in the way her head jerked up. She smiled as Apollo licked her face.

“I see you’ve made Apollo’s acquaintance,” I said.

“Yes.” She stood up and brushed her pants. The setting sun made her hair and eyes look darker, more mysterious. “He’s a very
sweet dog.”

“He’s not. Normally, he doesn’t take kindly to strange people. You’re very fortunate he didn’t bite you.”

Apollo wouldn’t have bitten her, of course. I wouldn’t have left him outside alone if I thought he would bite. I wasn’t sure
why I said that. Maybe part of me wanted her to leave.

I led her into the house. “We’ll have dinner tonight at the kitchen table. You can consider the kitchen table your free space.
You’ll take the majority of your meals there, and when I join you, you may take it as an invitation to speak freely. Most
of the time, you will serve me in the dining room, but I thought we should start the evening on a less formal basis. Is all
this clear?”

“Yes, Master.”

I spun around, caught off guard by her slip. “No. You have not yet earned the right to call me that. Until you do, you will
address me as ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. West.’”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

I continued on, still surprised by her mistake. Hopefully, the rest of the weekend would go better.

I took her to the kitchen and waited for her to sit down. Her hands trembled when she pulled out her chair. She was nervous;
that was all. I could understand that.

But she was here. Here in my kitchen. Here to be my submissive.

The absurdity of it kept me quiet.

We ate in silence for several minutes. She devoured the chicken. I shifted in my seat at the sight of her at my table, enjoying
the food I’d made for her.

“Did you cook this?” she asked.

She speaks. Finally.

“I am a man of
many
talents, Abigail.” And I can’t wait to share them all with you.

She didn’t speak again.

“I am pleased you do not find it necessary to fill the silence with endless chatter,” I said when we were almost finished.
“There are a few things I need to explain. Keep in mind, you can speak freely at this table.”

I stopped and waited.

“Yes, sir.”

Good girl.

“You know from my checklist I’m a fairly conservative dom. I do not believe in public humiliation, will not participate in
extreme pain play, and I do not share. Ever.” As if I’d ever share Abigail with anyone if she were mine. “Although as a dom,
I suppose I could change that at any time.”

“I understand, sir.”

Do you?
I almost asked.

“The other thing you should know,” I said, “is that I don’t kiss on the lips.”

She looked puzzled by this. “Like
Pretty Woman
? It’s too personal?”

Yes, exactly. It’s too personal
. And I needed to keep the personal out of this as much as possible.

“
Pretty Woman
?”

“You know, the movie?”

“No. I’ve never seen it,” I said. “I don’t kiss on the lips because it’s unnecessary.”
Unnecessary for us. Ask me why
.

Though she looked upset, she just ate another bite of chicken, so I continued. “I recognize that you’re a person with your
own hopes, dreams, desires, wants, and opinions. You have put those things aside to submit to me this weekend. To put yourself
in such a position demands respect, and I do respect you. Everything I do to or for you, I do with you in mind. My rules on
sleeping, eating,
and exercise are for your benefit. My chastisement is for your betterment.” I ran a finger around the rim of my wineglass
and smiled inwardly at the way her eyes followed the movement. “And any pleasure I give you . . .”
I will give you pleasure, Abigail, know that now—much pleasure
. “Well, I don’t suppose you would have any qualms concerning pleasure.”

Yes. She understood. Her eyes grew dark and her breathing changed. I had her exactly where I wanted her.

I pushed my chair back, ready to proceed with the evening. “Are you finished with dinner?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I need to take Apollo outside. My room is upstairs, first door on the left. I will be there in fifteen minutes. You will
be waiting for me. Page five, first paragraph.”

I took Apollo outside to clear my head, to prepare myself as far as I could for what was about to happen in my bedroom. I
ran over my plan again in my mind. Abigail enjoyed giving oral sex—I knew that from her checklist. Since that was typically
one of my first acts with a sub, it only made sense to start our weekend out that way.

A submissive was reminded of her position and responsibilities while giving oral sex. On her knees at my feet, being used
for my pleasure. While I could use a submissive any way I wished, it was a responsibility I did not take lightly.

I pictured the bedroom the way I’d left it—lit candles everywhere, the pillow in the middle of the room, the nightgown I’d
purchased. Would I find her on her knees wearing the gown? That was my hope. Maybe I’d find her in the foyer, waiting to tell
me she’d changed her mind. That was my fear.

“Come on, Apollo.”

When we made it back into the house, I stopped at the laundry room and stripped off my sweater, placing it in the hamper for
my
housekeeper to take to the dry cleaner. Abigail wasn’t in the foyer, so I walked up the stairs, Apollo at my heels. I pointed
to the floor outside my bedroom door, and he plopped down with a sigh, head on his paws.

I stepped into the room and found her waiting. She had the gown on and knelt on the pillow.

Yes.

I closed the door. “Very nice, Abigail. You may stand.”

She rose slowly. The gown hit at her upper thigh, and the faint pink flush of her skin through the sheer material betrayed
her excitement.

“Strip the gown off and place it on the floor.”

She drew the gown over her head with trembling fingers. She was nervous, but her nipples were hard and her lips parted slightly.

“Look at me.” Once her eyes met mine—yes, she was as excited as I was—I removed my belt and walked closer to her. “What do
you think, Abigail? Shall I chastise you for your
master
remark?”

I snapped the belt and it landed on her upper thigh. I was not yet her master, and she needed to understand that.

One day soon, perhaps . . .

“Whatever you wish, sir,” she whispered.

Good answer.

“Whatever I wish?” I wished a lot of things, but for now . . .

I stood before her and unbuttoned my pants, slipped them down with my boxers. My erection sprang free. “On your knees.” I
waited, knowing she was looking. Which was fine. She needed to see.

“Service me with your mouth.”

She leaned forward, and my cock slipped past her lips. Her mouth was hot and wet, and I grew even harder. Fuck, she felt good.
I hit the back of her throat.

“All of it.” She could do it.

She would do it.

She hesitated, though, bringing her hands up to grasp the base of my cock, and I didn’t like hesitation.

“If you can’t take it in the mouth, you can’t have it anywhere else,” I said, because I knew exactly where she wanted it.
The thought made me thrust forward, and I slipped deeper into her throat. “Yes. Like that.”

I looked down, and the sight of Abigail on her knees, with my cock in her mouth, almost made me come. I wouldn’t last long.
“I like it hard and rough, and I’m not going to go easy on you just because you’re new.” I grabbed her hair. “Hold on tight.”

She wrapped her arms around my thighs, and I pulled out to thrust immediately back into her mouth.

I moved her head with my hands, fucking her mouth, hard and rough. Exactly the way I liked.

“Use your teeth,” I said, and she scraped my length as I moved in and out. Then she got into it, sucking me and running her
tongue around me.

“Yes,” I moaned, closing my eyes and using her even harder.

Yes.

Fuck.

My balls tightened, and I knew I was close. I held off, wanting to make the feeling last—the feel of her mouth on me, the
promise of my release begging me to let go, the high of being so close and not letting myself give in just yet.

She sucked harder, and I knew I couldn’t hold off much longer.

“Swallow it all,” I said, preparing her. “Swallow everything I give you.”

I released in several long spurts, but she took it all. Gulping it down, not missing a drop.

I pulled out, my breathing heavy, because, damn, she was good. “That, Abigail,” I said, “that is what I wish.” I pulled my
pants back on, noting how she waited for my next order.

I wanted to throw her on the bed and fuck her properly. I wanted to hold her hands above her head and pound into her over
and over until she was screaming with the pleasure I gave her. I wanted—

Enough!

She’d had enough for one night.

She needed time to get used to it. As much as she wanted this, she was still very new to my world. I could not and would not
forget that.

I waited until my breathing had calmed. “Your room is two doors down on the left,” I said. “You sleep in my bed by invitation
only. You are excused.”

She slipped the gown back on and gathered her clothing.

“I will take breakfast in the dining room at seven sharp.”