The Training (Book 3: The Submissive Trilogy) (26 page)

He
tsked
as he slid a long finger between my legs. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t a deterrent for you?”

My ass felt warm and sensitive from his spanking, and I bucked my hips trying to get his finger deeper. “I don’t know, Mr. West. Maybe you should punish me more.”

He collected the paddle from the desk. “If you insist, Ms. King.”

“I’m afraid it’s the only way I’ll learn my lesson.”

The paddle smacked against the skin of my ass, and I moaned.

“Here are the rules you’ll obey if you continue working for me.” As he spoke, he brought the paddle down over and over.

“You will dress appropriately.”

Smack.

“No more garters and ill-fitting outfits that show off your body.”

Smack.

“No more personal phone calls to your boyfriend during office hours.”

Smack.

“No more flirting with male employees. Including me.”

Smack.

“No more forgetfulness.”

Smack.

“And when I tell you to come to my office immediately, you’re to come to my office immediately.”

Smack.

“Am I understood, Ms. King?”

Smack.

Before I could answer, his hands were on me, teasing and tickling my swollen flesh.

Fuck me. Fuck me. Now.

He landed a slap to my ass, but with his hand instead of the paddle. “I asked you a question, Ms. King.”

Right. Right. Right.

“Uh,” I pretended to stammer. “What was the question again?”

He spanked me harder. “Do you understand how you are to act when you are in my employ?”

I shifted my legs, desperate for friction. “Yes, Mr. West. I understand.”

He sighed. “I should fire you anyway. I’ve never had to do anything like this before.”

The office fell into silence. The only sounds audible were the steady
tick, tick, tick
of a clock on his desk and the faint hum of a mini refrigerator in the corner.

I slowly lifted myself from the table and looked behind me. He’d moved back a few steps, but was smiling.

“You’ll probably have me arrested,” he said.

I unbound my wrists and dropped the belt to the floor. “I’d never have you arrested.”

He shook his head. “Treating you like that.”

“I needed it.”

“No,” he said. “There’s no excuse for the way I acted.”

“But I’ll be good now, Mr. West.” I reached behind my back and unclasped my bra. Slipped the straps from my shoulders. Dropped the flimsy garment to the floor. “Let me show you how good I can be.”

He adjusted his pants.

Yes.

“I just spanked you for that sort of behavior,” he said.

I shook my head. “I’m not flirting. I’m showing you what a good girl I am.” I hopped on his desk, biting the inside of my cheek at the slight tinge of discomfort. I scooted forward and brought my feet up to rest on the desk, bending and spreading my knees, making sure he saw exactly what he wanted. “Please, Mr. West.”

He moved closer, looking for all the world like a cat stalking its prey. “How good can you be?”

“Come find out. I’ll make it worth your while.”

He unbuttoned his pants as he walked. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“Oh, Mr. West,” I said, eyeing his cock. “You’re so much bigger than my boyfriend.”

A smile played on his lips. “Am I?”

“Yes,” I said. “But perhaps a wee bit smaller than my master.” I looked up and met his eyes. “He’s huge.”

He laughed softly and stepped out of his pants. With two short steps, he was before me, standing between my legs.

“Let’s get you out of this shirt, shall we?” I asked, my hands making quick work of the first two buttons. I grew impatient at the third, grabbed the material and jerked. “Oops,” I said as his buttons bounced off the desk and floor.

“You ripped my shirt, Ms. King,” he said. “I’ll have to spank you again.”

“I look forward to it, Mr. West.” I slipped the torn shirt from his shoulders, running my hands across his chest.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “You certainly look delicious.”

I leaned back, offering my breasts to him. “Why don’t you have a taste?”

He answered with action, dropping his head to my neck and running his tongue along the hollow there. His teeth nibbled their way down to one nipple and then the other. He suckled me gently, almost reverently, before trailing kisses back up and whispering in my ear. “Just as I thought. You’re delectable.”

I captured his head with my hands and did my own whispering, surprised at how easily the words came out. “You should taste my pussy.”

He bit my earlobe. “I’m shocked, Ms. King.” But he slid a finger between my open legs, dipping momentarily into me, and brought it back out. He licked it with the tip of his tongue. “Though, how very true.”

I pulled him to me, drawing pleasure from the feel of his chest against mine, his warmth surrounding me. I ran my nails lightly down his back. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me, Mr. West.”

He pulled my legs around his waist. “Then far be it for me to make you wait any longer.”

With one forceful thrust, he entered me, filling me completely. “Fuck, Ms. King.”

We didn’t talk anymore, focusing our attention on the movement of our bodies. Enjoying the way they pulled and pushed against the other. He growled low in my ear, and I responded with my own guttural moans.

Each thrust forced my hips to move along the hard wooden desk, and the feel of it, combined with the lingering ache of his spanking, drove me to work faster to my orgasm. He thrust
even quicker, even harder, sending currents of pleasure swirling through my body.

“Mr. West,” I gasped, tightening my legs around him.

“You were right, Ms. King,” he said with a powerful thrust, hitting a spot deep within me. “You are good.”

My need to release grew stronger, and I struggled to hold back until he gave permission.

“Can I?” I begged. “I’m going.”

He thrust again. “Yes.”

His head dropped to my shoulder, and I trembled as his teeth grazed my skin.

“Fuck,” I said. “Harder.”

His only response was a sharp nip to my shoulder, but that’s all it took. My climax shot through me, and I came hard. He continued his rhythm, his pace unrelenting as he drove himself to his own climax. The muscles of his back tightened under my hands, and I felt him release inside me.

With a soft sigh, he relaxed. “You have a job here for as long as you want, Ms. King.”

He left for China two weeks later on a Friday night. I drove with him to the airport, wanting to be with him as long as possible. He held my hand the entire way, and the long week apart stretched endlessly before us.

“It’ll be the longest we’ve been apart since March,” he said, staring at the road as we approached the airport.

It’s only a week. It’s only a week.

I wanted to cry just thinking about it.

“I wish I could go with you,” I whispered.

He lifted my hand to his lips, brushing my skin softly. “You’re doing what’s best for you and your career. I have the utmost respect for that.”

I blinked back a tear. “I love you.”

He kissed my hand again and his lips lingered as he inhaled the smell of me. “Abby,” he whispered, his breath as gentle as a caress. “I love you.”

The night before, we’d stayed up making love into the early
hours of the morning. He had been slow and reverent in his affection, taking his time and memorizing every detail of me. Even when he finally entered me, he moved unhurriedly, as if we had all the time in the world.

As the sun rose and we woke in each other’s arms, we came together again, but with a fierceness and urgency born of the knowledge we’d soon be separated for more than a week. Our hands and voices were hurried, and we pulled and pushed until at last we collapsed together, where we rested before finally forcing ourselves to leave the bed.

At the airport, I stayed with him until his pilot discreetly coughed and nodded toward his watch. Even then I stayed on airport property until the jet disappeared into the sky. Only then did I head to his car for the long, lonely ride back.

Once there, I stepped into the foyer and threw his keys on the table. I’d never stayed at Nathaniel’s house—
my house
, I corrected myself—alone before. I walked through rooms, checking the alarms, even though Nathaniel had done so before he left.

When I was satisfied I was safe, I made my way upstairs to our bedroom. It wasn’t until I passed the playroom that I remembered Nathaniel’s words from earlier that day.

I won’t be able to collar you this weekend
, he had said at lunch.
But I do have certain tasks for you.

He said he’d have envelopes waiting in the submissive bedroom.
Although I want you to sleep in our bedroom, if you wish.

Yes, I knew, I did wish to sleep in our bedroom. Even though he wouldn’t be in our bed, I could sleep with his pillow, and perhaps the sheets still carried his smell.

I stopped briefly in the small bedroom. A stack of envelopes waited for me. On top was a package wrapped in brown paper and labeled with his neat script.

I took a peek at the envelope underneath.

Since the package didn’t have a time on it, I carried it to our bedroom and placed it on the bed. I returned to it once I’d taken a long, hot shower. I’d decided to sleep in one of Nathaniel’s dress shirts, so I clambered up on the bed and tucked my legs under its hem, and then I slowly unwrapped the package.

It was a leather-bound journal.

I turned it to the first page, and my heart leapt when I found his inscription.

I ran a finger over the ink, somehow feeling closer to him with that simple act. I flipped through the empty pages. Christine told me she kept a journal, but I’d never gotten around to picking one up for myself.

Leave it to Nathaniel . . .

I reached for the envelope that had fallen out of the journal and lifted the flap. A single sheet of paper was inside.

Was he serious? It was like an assignment a teacher would give me.

Would he grade it?

If he felt I failed, would he punish me?

I giggled at the thought, but then remembered how scared I’d been the first time he suggested the party and decided writing my fears down might be a good idea. I reached across the bed to my nightstand and dug through the drawer before finally finding a pen trapped underneath a bag of toys.

It was surprising how freely the words came once I started writing. I felt unrestrained and uninhibited. I wrote without stopping, just putting down what came to mind and filling page after page with both my fears and what I hoped to accomplish.

When finished, I looked at the clock, surprised at how quickly time had passed. The flight to Hong Kong took sixteen
hours, so I didn’t expect to hear from Nathaniel anytime soon.

Yawning, I turned off the light and slipped under the covers. Apollo jumped up to rest beside me. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep the night before, but I drifted off within minutes.

I turned the envelope around in my hand, anxious to see what it held. Would it be another writing assignment? I slipped my finger under the flap and opened it.

I smiled at his words. He’d made a lot of progress in the last few months, and I loved seeing the funny, playful side of him.

I rubbed Apollo’s head and continued reading.

I took a quick glance at the next envelope.

Plenty of time to enjoy a few hours with Felicia.

I read the eight thirty letter again. I’d never spent much time exploring the playroom by myself. Nathaniel and I had gone through it together before he’d collared me, months ago, and cleanup was now my responsibility, but I still felt it was his domain.

Since I’d already showered and had breakfast, I went upstairs into the playroom. Once inside, I skipped over the whipping bench, padded table, and cross, making my way to the far wall. Handmade cabinets held a multitude of floggers. A few he had used—the rabbit fur and suede. He had others, of course, leather and some braided leather ones; they looked heavier and I wondered how they would feel.