The Dominant (4 page)

“More. I need more.”

I circled the crop around her again and then slapped it against her clit. She couldn’t hold her response back, and she cried
out, pulling against the chains.

Her reaction surprised me. I never would have guessed how responsive she would be. How much she enjoyed what I was doing.
How she seemed to crave it.

I wanted to keep her in chains all night, to bring her to the edge of pleasure again and again before allowing her to fall
over. But I reminded myself how new she was to this, how she might question her response in the morning, and I knew I shouldn’t
push her too much.

“You look so good chained before me, pulling against my restraints, in my house, moaning and crying for my whip.” I trailed
the crop back up to her breast. “Your body is begging for release, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she moaned.

“And you’ll have it.” I slapped the crop against her clit once more because I couldn’t help myself. “But not tonight.”

I walked away and put the crop back on the table, took some salve from the drawer and placed it in my pocket. I heard the
chains rattle behind me.

Someone was just as sexually frustrated as I was.

“I’m going to unchain you now,” I said, walking back to her. “You will go straight to bed. You will sleep naked and you will
not touch yourself at all. There will be severe consequences if you disobey.” I undid the chains and removed the scarf. “Do
you understand?”

She swallowed. “Yes, sir,” she said, and I saw that she did.

“Good.” I took the salve from my pocket and opened it. I gently rubbed the ointment on one of her wrists and then the other.
I didn’t think she’d pulled too hard on the chains, but it was best to err on the side of caution.

“All done,” I said, once I finished. “You may go to your room.”

I watched her slim, nude figure walk out the door and knew I was done for. I’d do whatever it took to keep her with me.

I was going to do a bad thing.

And while I hated myself for it, I knew I’d do it anyway.

I was going to give Abigail a fake safe word.

I got up from my bed and started pacing. It was wrong. So very wrong. With my previous submissives, I had used the standard
green/yellow/red safe-word system. The relationship-ender safe word I planned to give Abigail was deceptive. And it was wrong.
So wrong, I’d be ostracized from the community if word got out.

But how would word get out? Abigail wasn’t going to tell anyone.

I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell anyone.

I’d never had a submissive use a safe word before. I told myself I could read Abigail’s signs easily, so I’d never push her
too far. I’d check in with her often. If you thought about it that way, who needed safe words anyway?

Safe, sane, consensual people.

But I could be safe, sane, and consensual without a safe word. I knew I could. And Abigail would think twice about using the
safe word if she thought she’d have to leave. It was the perfect way to ensure she stayed with me.

Yes, I decided, we’d be fine without safe words. Perfectly safe.

I walked over to my nightstand and opened the top drawer.
The leather box looked up at me and I lifted the lid off. The next day, I planned to offer Abigail my collar.

That would be another rule broken—I never collared a submissive before taking her. Never. What exactly was I doing by offering
my collar to Abigail without having her first?

I couldn’t answer that question. I only knew I was.

I held the choker in the palm of my hand and tried to imagine how it would look on her. How her long, delicate neck would
look with my collar around it. She would wear it all week, and even though the world would see it as just a pretty necklace,
she and I would know the truth—she was mine. I could treat her as I wanted. I could pleasure her as I wanted. She would pleasure
me as I wanted.

I set the collar back in its box and closed the drawer. To collar a submissive . . .

It had been more than a year since I had collared anyone. My relationship with Beth had ended right before I decided to date
Melanie. Beth had wanted more and I hadn’t. In the end, we’d decided to part ways. Not long after she left, Melanie called
and I thought, what the hell? Give a normal relationship a try.

As if anything with Melanie could be called normal. But by some odd twist of fate, Melanie decided she wanted to be dominated.
Or at least she thought she did.

“Tie me up, Nathaniel.”

“Spank me, Nathaniel.”

Our relationship was doomed from that first phone call. Melanie was as much a submissive as I was.

Collaring someone was significant to me. I was always monogamous once I collared a submissive. Monogamous for however long
the relationship lasted. I never shared my collared subs with other doms, and my subs never had to worry about me playing
with anyone else.

I sighed and sat on the bed, picked up the leather-bound volume
of
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall
by Anne Brontë and flipped through it. My eyes fell on a random passage:

How Helen must have felt when Arthur burned her painting supplies. Much as I would feel if Abigail were to leave.

Turpentine.

Turpentine in a fire.

I saw them all consumed.

As absurd as it was, it was the perfect safe word.

I was wide-awake at five thirty the next morning and, after a quick shower, I went down to the kitchen to make breakfast.
Abigail had an important decision to make, and I would do what I could to make that decision easier.

At six thirty I heard her walking around upstairs. No doubt she wondered what I was up to.

Oh, Abigail, if you only knew what I have planned . . .

I probably should have told her the night before that I’d cook breakfast this morning, but I had been thinking of other things
and breakfast had not been one of them.

I set two places at the kitchen table, because I wanted Abigail to speak freely. I was certain she had questions. Questions
about the kissing, why I hadn’t had sex with her, what my thoughts and expectations were.

At seven o’clock she rushed into the kitchen to find me sitting at the table.

Today’s the day, Abigail. Today you become mine.

“Good morning, Abigail.” I waved at the seat across from me. “Did you sleep well?”

Her eyes were dark-rimmed. She hadn’t slept well at all, but she looked me squarely in the eyes—she’d obeyed my last command.

“No. Not really.”

“Go ahead and eat.”

She looked over the spread on the table and then looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Do you sleep?”

“On occasion.”

I watched her eat, enjoying the play of her jaw and the look of delight when she bit into a muffin.

Talk to me, I wanted to say. Ask me questions.

But if I asked her to talk, would she think me pushy? Would she be talking only because I was a dominant and I asked her to
talk?

Who knew? I’d have to try a different tactic.

“I’ve had a nice weekend, Abigail. I’d like to proceed with our relationship.”

She choked. “You would?”

Why did she find my words surprising? How could she not know how much she pleased me?

“I’m very pleased with you. You have an interesting demeanor and a willingness to learn.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I slipped back to yesterday, the way she looked spread out on my bed. Naked, flushed, and panting.

Once she wore my collar—

Stop it!

You have to ask first.

“You have an important decision to make today,” I said. “We
can discuss the details after breakfast and your shower. I’m sure you have a few questions for me.”

“Can I ask you something, sir?”

Had I not just told her to ask me questions?

“Of course,” I reassured her again. “This is your table.”

“How did you know I didn’t take a shower yesterday morning or this morning? Do you live here during the week, or do you have
a place in the city? How did—”

“One question at a time, Abigail,” I said and almost laughed. She
could
talk. “I am an extraordinarily observant man. Your hair didn’t look like it’d been washed yesterday. I guessed you didn’t
take a shower this morning because you rushed in here like you had a demon chasing you. I live here on weekends and have a
place in the city.”

“You didn’t ask if I followed your instructions last night.”

Right. I probably should have, even though I knew she had.

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

I took a sip of coffee. “I believe you.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t lie—your face is an open book.” She had to know that, though. “Never play poker. You’ll lose.”

“Can I ask another question?”

As many as you want
. “I’m still at the table.”

“Tell me about your family,” she said.

Really?
I wanted to ask.
Of all the things you could ask, you’re asking about my family?
But that was what she wanted, so I talked a bit about my parents, their deaths, and my aunt Linda. Abigail mentioned her
friend might be interested in Jackson and it caught me off guard. I’d assumed she’d read all the paperwork and had understood
that she wasn’t to discuss our arrangement with anyone, even her family or closest friends.

“How much did you tell your friend about me? I believe the
papers from Godwin were very clear concerning my stance on confidentiality,” I said in as even a tone as I could manage.

“It’s not that.” Her words rushed out. “Felicia’s my safety call; I had to tell her. But she understands. She won’t tell anyone
anything. Trust me. I’ve known her since grade school.”

“Your safety call?” That explained how her friend knew. “Is she in the lifestyle?”

“Quite the opposite, actually, but she knows I wanted this weekend, so she agreed to do it for me.”

I thought about the type of friend Felicia must be to support Abigail even though she didn’t agree with her decision. “Jackson
doesn’t know about my lifestyle and, yes, he’s single. I have a tendency to be a bit overprotective—he’s had to deal with
his share of gold-diggers.”

By the time she’d finished telling me about Felicia, I’d decided I would pass her name and number on to Jackson. He’d asked
if I knew of anyone, and Abigail’s friend sounded like she might be a good fit for him.

I didn’t want to discuss Jackson or Felicia, though. I wanted the conversation to return to us. “Getting back to what I said
earlier. I want you to wear my collar, Abigail. Please consider it while you shower. Meet me in my room in an hour and we’ll
discuss it further.”

After she left the kitchen, I cleaned the dishes and went to my bedroom to prepare. When I heard Abigail in the shower, I
laid out a bathrobe with a matching bra and panty set on her bed.

She walked into the bedroom right on time. The silver color brought out the pale beauty of her skin, making her look luminous.
Her dark hair fell softly around her shoulders and her eyes glanced around the room.

She was nervous again.

“Have a seat,” I told her, and she sat down on the cushioned bench like a regal princess.

I took the collar from the box and faced her. “If you choose to wear this, you’ll be marked as mine.” I held the collar out,
wanting her to see. “Mine to do with as I wish. You will obey me and never question what I tell you to do. Your weekends are
mine to fill as I wish. Your body is mine to use as I wish. I will never be cruel or cause permanent harm, but I am not an
easy master, Abigail. I will have you do things you never thought possible, but I can also bring you a pleasure you never
imagined.”

I want you, I was saying. And I want to be yours.

“Do you understand?” I asked.

“I understand, sir.”

Even though I knew she didn’t, not completely, excitement started to pound through my veins. One more question to go . . .

“Will you wear this?”

She nodded again.

Fuck, yes. She wanted it.

I moved behind her, not wanting her to see how excited her answer made me. She was mine. She had agreed to be my submissive.
I fastened the collar around her neck and brushed her hair out of the way.

Damn, she looked good in my collar.

My collar.

I wanted to turn her around and crush my lips to hers, to tell her how much she pleased me, but again, I didn’t trust myself
to meet her eyes—and I had made that kissing rule.

“You look like a queen,” I said, and pushed the robe from her shoulders.

Damn, she felt good. Her skin was silky smooth, still a bit damp from her shower.

“And now you’re mine.” Wanting to prove my words, I slipped my hands into her bra and palmed her breasts, rejoicing in the
way her nipples hardened. “These are mine.”

My hands continued their course southward, sliding along her
sides. “Mine,” I said, because her entire body was mine. Pure lust shot through me, and I leaned in to kiss her neck and delight
in her taste.

I bit her. She moaned and trembled under my touch. “Mine,” I said.
Never forget it
.

My fingers reached their destination, and I pushed aside the flimsy satin material of her panties. “And this?” I slid a finger
into her. “All mine.”

Hell, yes, this was mine.

She was tight and wet and felt even better around my finger than I’d hoped. My cock hardened, and I slipped another finger
inside her. Tight and hot. I moved my fingers deeper—as deep as I could. She moaned and threw her head back.

Yes, Abigail. Feel what I can do to you.

I kept stroking until I felt her start to tighten around me; then I pulled out. “Even your orgasms are mine.” She might as
well understand that sooner rather than later.

She moaned in frustration.

“Soon,” I whispered. “Very soon. I promise.”

She reached up and touched the choker.

“It looks very nice on you.” I turned and took a pillow from the bed. Would she call me out on this next part, or would she
accept it? “Your safe word is
turpentine
. Say it and this ends immediately. You take the collar off, drive away, and never return. Otherwise, you will come here every
Friday. Sometimes you will arrive at six and we’ll have dinner in the kitchen. Other times, you’ll come at eight and head
straight to my room. My orders for sleep, food, and exercise remain. Do you understand?”

I held my breath.

She nodded.

“Good. I’m often invited to society functions. You will attend these with me. I have one such function next Saturday night—a
benefit for one of my aunt’s nonprofits. If you do not have a ball
gown, I will provide you with one. Is all this clear? Ask me if you have any questions.” Or tell me how crazy I was with that
safe word.

She bit her lip. “I have no questions.”

Mmmm. Her lip. I leaned close. “I have no questions . . .”

Say it. Let me hear you say it.

I need you to say it.

But she didn’t know what I was talking about.

“Say it, Abigail,” I whispered to her. “You’ve earned it.”

She leaned forward in understanding. “I have no questions, Master.”

Master. I could have groaned with the pleasure of hearing that word fall from her mouth.

“Yes. Very nice.” My cock was unbearably hard and pressed uncomfortably against my pants. I unbuttoned them. “Now come and
show me how happy you are to wear my collar.”

She slipped from the bench and knelt before me on the pillow. Her tongue darted out and ran around the outside of her lips.