The_Submissive - Tara Sue Me (5 page)

“It looks very nice on you.” He took a pillow from the bed behind him and put it on the floor. “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 nodded.

“Good.” He continued, “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 non-profits. 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.”

My brain was fuzzy, I couldn’t think straight. “I have no questions.”

He leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “
I have no questions
…”

He wanted something, wanted me to say something. What was it?

“Say it, Abigail. You’ve earned it.”

The light dawned. “I have no questions, Master.”

“Yes. Very nice.” He pulled back, the excitement shining in his eyes once more. He went and stood behind the pillow and unbuttoned his jeans. “Now come and show me how happy you are to wear my collar.”

CHAPTER
SIX

Felicia had raised an eyebrow when I returned home on Sunday, but hadn’t said anything. I supposed as long as I made it home in one piece, she wouldn’t comment. She’d told me I was stupid once and in her mind that was enough warning. And she had other things to occupy her time—Jackson Clark called her that night to invite her to the black tie benefit. She had accepted and they’d talked every day since.

That same Sunday evening, while Felicia had been talking to Jackson, I’d also been busy. I sat down at my computer and pulled up my browsing history. I had to see the picture of
her
again. Had to see if she had my collar on. I drummed my fingers on the desk as I waited.
My collar.
Could it really be mine if countless other women had worn it? The page loaded. There was Nathaniel, but my eyes weren’t drawn to him, just to his date.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw she didn’t have the diamond choker on. Instead, she wore a strand of pearls. I cocked my head to the side. Would Nathaniel
have collared her with pearls? Frustrated, I shut the computer off.

Monday through Friday, I went to work as usual at one of New York’s public libraries, surrounded by books and the people who love them. Books usually soothe me. “Usually” being the operative word. Two days a week, I tutored teenagers in English and Literature. I enjoyed helping them, seeing the light in their eyes as they worked through an unusually hard problem or discovered a new skill—but on Wednesday one of my students had caught me fingering my collar. Just a simple, “Nice necklace, Ms. King” had me all a fluster. Nathaniel had forbidden me to take it off. I tried not to think of what the boy’s parents would say if they knew what I’d done last weekend. What I planned to do this weekend.

It’s not anyone’s business. My time is my time
, I thought with a nod of my head. Then it hit me—my time on the weekends wasn’t mine anymore. It was Nathaniel’s.

By Friday it had been a long week. Technically, it hadn’t even been a week since I’d seen him, just five days. But it felt like ten.

Nathaniel was waiting for me when I pulled up to his estate that night at six o’clock sharp. He’d set out plates of angel hair pasta with clam sauce.

“How was your week?” he asked when I’d swallowed my first bite.

“Long,” I said. No need to lie about it. “How was yours?”

He shrugged. Of course he wouldn’t admit to looking forward to the weekend. But even if he would, there was no way he had as many butterflies in his stomach as I did in mine.

What would we do tonight? Would he touch me? I remembered how his hands ran over my body on Sunday and I shuddered.

“Apollo killed a gopher.”

I nodded. It was insane, both of us sitting and eating dinner like we were just a normal couple. Like it was a normal Friday night. Like he hadn’t chained me up naked less than a week ago and whipped me with a riding crop. Like I hadn’t
liked
it. I shifted in my seat.

“My friend Todd’s wife, Elaina, brought a gown by earlier. They’re looking forward to meeting you.”

My head snapped up at that. “Your friends? Does everyone know about us?”

He twirled a strand of pasta around his fork and brought it to his mouth. That mouth. Those lips. I watched as he chewed and leisurely swallowed. Ugh. It was getting hot in the kitchen. I quickly ate a bite.

“They know you’re my date,” he said. “They don’t know about our agreement.”

Agreement. Yes, that was a nice way to put it. I concentrated on cutting my pasta. Across from me, Nathaniel ran a finger around the rim of his wineglass.
He was taunting me, playing me like a violin. And doing a masterful job.

“So do you plan to touch me this weekend or not?” I blurted out.

His finger stopped and his eyes narrowed. “Ask me the question in a more respectful manner, Abigail. Just because this is your table doesn’t mean you can talk to me any way you choose.”

My face heated.

He waited.

I dropped my head. “Will you touch me this weekend, Master?”

“Look at me.”

I did. His green eyes were blazing. “I plan to do more than touch you,” he said slowly. “I plan to fuck you. Hard and repeatedly.”

His words sent an electric shock from my head to the aching spot between my legs. There was a reason he was a master—he could do more with a few simple words than most men could do with their entire body.

He pushed back from the table. “Let’s get started, shall we? I want you naked and on my bed in fifteen minutes.”

CHAPTER
SEVEN

I was starting to see how Nathaniel worked. How he could turn me on with just a look. Make me long for his touch with a simple word or phrase.

Like now, as I waited on his bed. Driving me mad and he wasn’t even
in the room.
Dinner had been one long, drawn-out foreplay session. Watching him eat pasta, the way his fingers worked the wineglass. I was strung tight, ready, and nearly begging for him.

He hadn’t even touched me.

He walked into the room with slow, purposeful steps. The candlelight illuminated his bare chest and made his eyes look darker. Silently, he went to the foot of the bed and lifted a shackle.

My rational self whispered that I should be afraid. I should be shouting ‘turpentine’ at the top of my lungs. I should get out of the house and away from the man who had way too much control over my body and me.

Instead, I watched in suppressed excitement as he shackled me spread-eagle to the bed.

He spoke to me in that soft, seductive voice of his.
“I wasn’t going to do this tonight, but I can see you still don’t understand completely. You are mine and you are to do and behave as I tell you. The next time you speak disrespectfully to me, I will spank you. Nod if you understand.”

I nodded and tried not to show how much the idea turned me on.

“My last submissive could make me climax three times a night,” he said, and I wondered briefly if he was talking about the blonde. “I want to try for four.”

Four? Was that even possible?

From his pocket he drew out a black scarf. “And I want you totally at my mercy.”

I took a deep breath. I could do this. I wanted this. I stared into his dark green eyes and then he put the scarf in place and I couldn’t see anything.

I heard the slow metallic sound of a zipper and I knew he was taking his pants off. He was as naked as I was now. My heart raced.

Two large hands started at my shoulders and ran gently down my sides. He moved past my breasts without touching them and circled my bellybutton. One finger dipped lower and skimmed my entrance. I groaned.

“How long has it been, Abigail?” he asked. “Answer me.”

The last time I’d had sex? “Three years.”

I hoped he wouldn’t ask me any questions about why.
We were both finally naked and on his bed—I didn’t want to think about how none of my past boyfriends could satisfy me.

His finger dipped in again. I felt the bed shift as he leaned closer to me. “You’re not ready yet. You need to be ready, or else I won’t be able to ride you as hard as I want.”

I felt him pull back and then his mouth was at my neck, slowly kissing his way lower until he was at my breast. He circled his tongue around my nipple, blowing gently. Then his mouth closed over it and he sucked, rolling his tongue around the tip. I gasped when he scraped me with his teeth.

He moved to the other side, starting gently, but gradually increasing his force until it became too much. I lifted my chest toward him without shame. If he kept up, I’d climax from his mouth alone. He continued his assault on my nipples while dipping a hand lower. Roughly his fingers pressed against me, working their way down my body to where my legs were spread, open and waiting for him. His fingers rubbed harshly and I pushed against him, needing friction, needing something.

His fingers and mouth left, and I groaned as the cool air rushed in against my body. The bed shifted again and I felt him straddle me. His hard, thick length touched the valley between my breasts.

He thrust against me. “Do you think you’re ready,
Abigail? Because I’m tired of waiting. Are you ready?” He thrust again. “Answer me!”

“Yes, Master. Please. Yes.”

He lifted his hips and I felt his tip at my mouth. “Kiss my cock. Kiss it before it fucks you.”

I pressed my closed lips against him and that’s all I meant to do. Really. But I felt a drop of liquid at his tip and I couldn’t help it—I stuck my tongue out and licked it off.

Nathaniel drew in a sharp breath through his teeth and lightly slapped my cheek. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”

Some part of me rejoiced that I’d made a slight crack in his carefully controlled demeanor, but then he moved down my body and lifted my hips with one hand and I didn’t care about anything except what he was about to do. Every nerve ending I had tingled.

Slowly, he pressed into me and I groaned.

Yes!

He pushed more and I was stretched and filled. More than I’d ever been. He moved slowly, inching his way inside, until it got uncomfortable.

He wasn’t going to fit.

“Damn,” he said.

I sensed him move up. He took my hips in both hands and rocked back and forth, working his way in deeper.

“Move with me.”

I lifted my hips and felt him slide in another inch. We both moaned. He gave a rough push and thrust in completely.

Beneath the blindfold, my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

He pulled out a bit and slid back in. Testing. Teasing. But I was finished with teasing. I needed more. I lifted my hips when he pushed in again.

“You think you’re ready?” he asked. Before I could answer, he pulled almost all the way out, leaving me empty and wanting. He took a deep breath and slammed back into me, pulling out immediately.