by Tara Sue Me
My knees ached. He wouldn’t mind if I stood up and stretched, would he? He’d never know and I’d hear him when he entered the house and could quickly get back into position. I wouldn’t even have to do it that long, just a quick stretch and roll of my shoulders.
Should I or shouldn’t I?
Another minute passed.
I should.
I lifted my head—and screamed.
Nathaniel was standing in front of me.
“Abigail.”
“Fuck, you scared me,” I said, my body shaking. How did he get into the house, much less the playroom, without me knowing?
“Obviously,” he said.
I straightened my posture and took a deep breath.
He walked with careful steps over to me. He simply stood quietly for several long seconds before saying, “Put your forehead to the floor with your ass in the air and remain like that so I can enjoy the sight of you.”
I was comfortable for about zero seconds. The position was humiliating; I knew how exposed I was. Behind me, he saw everything. I could hide nothing. To keep my mind off what he was looking at, I thought once more about the blog and the upcoming meeting.
Based on how the weekend went, I would have plenty of material to post. I wouldn’t have to resort to our past like I’d been known to do. The last three posts had been recycled from years ago. The downside to recycling posts was that he didn’t comment on them.
“You’re not with me, Abigail,” he said in warning.
He was right, so I cleared my mind of everything except him. I focused on what he needed and how to give it to him. At the moment, that was obedience. But thoughts of what he needed made me think of topics I could write about and it hit me that I’d have to find a way to fit blogging into my daily routine. It could no longer be something I did haphazardly.
I’d been a bit scattered since first receiving the e-mail. What I needed to do was create a schedule. Check e-mails only during specific times. I should probably set a schedule for writing, too. If the position proved to be what I hoped it might be, I needed to make sure everything was organized and balanced.
Behind me, Nathaniel sighed. “Move to the table. On your back.”
I stood up slowly, afraid if I moved too quickly I’d get dizzy from having my head down for so long. I didn’t look at Nathaniel as I crossed the room to the padded table. I knew I’d probably see disappointment in his eyes and I hated that more than anything.
I climbed onto the table, my body nearly sighing as it sank slightly into the supple leather. I closed my eyes and gave a tiny gasp as he blindfolded me.
“To help you concentrate.”
So it was that noticeable? I cringed inwardly that the weekend had gotten off to such a bad start and took a few deep breaths to clear my head. His hands swept over my shoulders and down my side. One of his fingers brushed a ticklish spot and I stifled a giggle. There were times he would tickle me during play, but I didn’t think this was one of them.
He made a noise deep in his throat and I stiffened. Maybe he’d wanted me to laugh. I wasn’t sure, and with the blindfold I couldn’t read his expression. I focused on his touch. He stroked over my hips, but didn’t go below my waist. He wasn’t gentle, so I didn’t think he was trying to be ticklish, but he wasn’t as rough as he sometimes got.
I jerked when his lips pressed against my hip bone and again when he gave it a light nip. Usually, it would have turned me on, but at the moment, I was too concerned I was doing something wrong.
Which was stupid, I told myself. He wanted me on the table ready for his use and that was what I was doing. The only wrong thing was being so worried and scattered. I tried to force myself to relax into his touch.
There are times your mind can come up with crazy stuff. On the table, trying to feel nothing but his touch, my brain came up with the most ludicrous thoughts:
Maybe you’re not submissive anymore.
You’re doing everything wrong.
This probably means you shouldn’t take the job.
I wasn’t sure how long I stayed on the table, lost in my own mind, imagining nonexistent mess-ups. But I knew the minute something was horribly, horribly off.
His hands started at my ankles and moved up the inner portion of my leg. Moving slowly and intently, he circled my thighs and then slid a finger into me. I couldn’t hold back the yelp that followed because it fucking hurt.
“You’re not the slightest bit aroused,” he said, sounding just as surprised as I was.
“I’m sorry, Master,” I choked out. “I don’t know what my problem is.”
He slid the blindfold from my eyes and I blinked in the soft light, finally focusing on his worried expression. “You think you should apologize?” he asked. “Why is it your fault I’m not turning you on?”
“The way you say it makes it sound like you’re doing something wrong.”
“Sit up,” he said, helping me get upright. “One of us doesn’t have to be doing something wrong. It could be any number of things and is probably a combination of several.”
“But—”
He placed a finger against my lips. “Stop. You shouldn’t need a reminder that it is wrong for you to argue with me in the playroom.”
“Sorry, Master.”
His lips brushed mine. “Let’s go for a jog together, clear our heads. Do you have something you can put together quickly for dinner?”
I ran through what I had in the refrigerator. “I have some tuna that won’t take long to cook. I’ll do that with a salad.”
“That sounds delicious.” His smile was easy now and my heart lightened. While I knew not to look for something or someone to place blame on for my lack of arousal, I couldn’t help but think that if I hadn’t been so distracted, the evening might have been different. But Nathaniel was aware I’d been distracted and he wasn’t placing blame.
Our jog together reminded me of how we used to be when I wore his collar every weekend. We knew each other so well now, our bodies automatically adjusted to the other’s speed. Granted, he could run a lot faster and farther than I could, so in reality he was probably the one adjusting his speed. I felt touched by his love when I thought about how he was doing that. It was a beautiful evening and we headed out at an easy pace. Apollo whined when we didn’t take him with us, but he was getting older and would hurt himself trying to keep up with us.
We jogged around the perimeter of our estate. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed running with Nathaniel. Every so often, I’d peek out of the corner of my eyes to watch him. There was such grace in the way he moved. Such strength in his legs.
He caught me one time and smiled. “I think I’ll have you jog naked next time.” I almost tripped over my feet and he reached out to steady me. “Careful.”
“What?”
“Have you jog naked. I’ve never had you do it. It might be fun.”
I snorted. “For you.”
“Exactly.”
We turned slightly and headed toward the flower garden. It was spring and we’d recently had some landscaping done, so many of the plants were small and new.
“Like little babies,” I said.
“The cleomes?”
“Yes, it’s like we have a little plant nursery.”
He didn’t say anything for several strides and then he surprised me with, “Are you pregnant?”
“Because I mentioned babies?” Honestly? Where had that come from?
“It just seemed strange bringing up babies in the middle of the garden.”
“It was just a metaphor.” I still didn’t make the connection. Unless he meant something more with his question. “Do you want a third child?”
We’d talked about it when I was pregnant with Henry and at the time, we’d decided to have only two. I really hadn’t given much thought to another child.
It hadn’t even registered in my mind that it would be something that could happen.
He slowed to a brisk walk and I followed. Good. The slower pace would give me time to think.
“I hadn’t thought about another child until right now,” he said. “I’m content with two. A third? I don’t know. That would give us odd numbers. We’d have to have four to even it all out.”
I laughed. “That’s seriously part of your thought process? Not which room we’ll put them in or if we’d have time for everyone or even if we would need a bigger car to fit five or anything like that, just that the number is odd?”
“My mind likes even numbers.” He spoke so matter-of-factly, I couldn’t tell if he was being serious. Sometimes his dry sense of humor threw me. But then he gave a little grin to show he was joking. At least a little bit.
“Then I’m going to say I don’t think so to child three, because I don’t think I could do four.” My mind still couldn’t wrap itself around three. Four? There were plenty of women who could do it. I didn’t think Felicia would have a problem, for instance, but I couldn’t get there. “The doctor visits alone would do me in. Can you imagine two more children with ear infections like Henry has had?”
“No. I honestly can’t.” His nose wrinkled up. “And the diapers.”
“Right? I’m looking forward to when Henry’s out of them and the entire house is potty trained.”
He laughed softly and reached for my hand. “That will be a wonderful day.”
We walked back to the house and it wasn’t until we stepped inside that I realized I hadn’t thought of the blog the entire time we were outside or jogging. Instead, I’d been caught up in spending time with Nathaniel, simply enjoying the evening with my Master. It wasn’t just the sex I missed when I didn’t wear his collar; it was everything about our D/s relationship.
Once inside, he stroked my cheek, told me he’d eat at seven, and went to take a shower. Since it was a bit late, I took mine in the bathroom attached to the old submissive bedroom I used so long ago. That way I could start dinner without being sweaty and having to wait for Nathaniel to finish.
While I prepared our supper, I tried to remember how long it’d been since I’d served him a meal while wearing his collar. I couldn’t recall. I pulled out my favorite china, a set I’d found in the attic right after our engagement. It was Japanese inspired and decorated with vibrant reds and blues. I assumed he would have me serve him in the dining room, so I prepared the table for one.
He entered the dining room at seven and his lips curved up slightly when he saw the china. “Very nice, Abigail.”
“Thank you, Master.”
I remained standing to his side while he ate and a feeling of peace and contentment washed over me. I needed this. It was part of who I was, of who we were. We had to make room in our schedules for it.
He suddenly pushed back from the table. “Come here, Abigail.”
I looked at his plate in shock. Was something wrong? Was the tuna raw or overcooked? It had looked good when I took it out of the oven.
“Here.” He patted his thigh. “Sit in my lap.”
Oh. Well, that was much better than burned or undercooked fish. I threw my shoulders back and climbed into his lap in as sultry a manner as I could. This would be more fun if I was naked. Or if he was. Or if we both were.
“Open.” He held a forkful of tuna to my mouth. I parted my lips and he slipped it inside. “Good, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Not bad,” I said, licking my lips. “Maybe a little heavy on the pepper.”
“Mmm.” He focused on my eyes. “I think it’s just right.”
“Thank you, Master.”
He fed me a bite of salad and a drop of Italian dressing landed on the corner of my mouth. I shifted to get his napkin, but he shook his head. He leaned forward and wiped it away with his thumb.
“May I, Master?” I asked, stilling his wrist with my hand.
“Yes.”
I kissed his thumb and then sucked it into my mouth, all the while keeping my eyes on his. His eyes had grown dark and his breath was ragged. I wanted him to kiss me, to touch me, something. But he inhaled deeply and pulled away.
“You need to eat,” he said.
I didn’t feel hungry at all, but lunch had been hurried. If I didn’t eat now, I’d be wide-awake at two in the morning with a growling stomach. He took his time feeding me and after a few bites, he put the fork down and held his wineglass to my lips.
Usually when he fed me while I wore his collar, we’d be in the playroom. Sitting at the dining room table felt slightly wanton. He shifted his hips and his erection pushed against my thigh. He ignored it, focusing his attention on ensuring that I ate. Bite after bite he fed me, giving me sips of wine in between. Being so close to him, sitting in his lap, I was acutely aware of every inch of him. The firmness of his thigh, the strength of chest, his warmth.
“I should fuck you on the table,” he said.
It was so easy to picture. He’d stand up and lay me down on top of the table. Maybe even pushing the dishes aside like they always did in the movies. I’d put on a dress for dinner and all he’d have to do is lift the hem to my waist. I didn’t have any underwear on. He could take me so easily. It would require hardly any effort for him to climb up along with me, or roughly grab my legs and pull me to the edge.
Please.
“Abigail.” His fingers danced along my upper thigh, dipping a bit lower to tease the hem of my skirt. He stroked my knee and ran his hand almost, but not quite, up my leg entirely. “Tell me. If I fingered you now, would you be wet?”
“Yes, Master.” I squirmed just a little, letting him know he should feel free to check.
“It would take nothing for me to lift you onto the table and have my way with you.” He whispered in my ear, “I’ve never had you on the dining room table.”
“That’s a travesty, Master. We should fix it.”
He ran his tongue along my earlobe and I shivered at the sensation. “That we should, my lovely. And we will. But not tonight.”
I gave a half whine. Why? Why when I wanted him so badly?
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.
Of course he did; at times it was as if I’d married a fucking mind reader.
“Your poker face is nonexistent,” he continued. “And trust me, I want it as badly as you do. But I’m going to make us both wait for it. It’ll make it so much better.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Or, at least, that’s what I recall you saying about why we shouldn’t have sex the month before our wedding.”
Damn his perfect memory. “Yes, Master. I remember. I also remember we both decided that going that long without sex wasn’t the best idea I ever had.”
“Then we’ll both sleep easy tonight knowing we won’t have to wait an entire month this time.”
Much to my surprise, I did sleep well that night. It was difficult to explain, but I often felt closer to him when I wore his collar. True to his word, we didn’t have sex at all. When I climbed into bed after him and he pulled me to him, I almost begged. Instead, I gave a sigh of contentment and focused on the feeling of his arms around me.
Protected.
Secure.
If I felt closer to him at times while in his collar, I also felt more protected. Not to say I didn’t feel that way during the week, but there was something about being in his collar. Branded as his and his alone, I knew he would go through hell and back to keep me safe.
He turned his head and kissed my hair.
I lifted my face. “Kiss me, Master.”
I knew from experience he would never deny me at least that much. He didn’t disappoint, pulling me close and pressing his lips to mine in a slow and sensual kiss that curled my toes.
I couldn’t wait for the next day.
Chapter Three
; The doorbell rang the following morning while I was in the bedroom getting ready. I’d served Nathaniel breakfast in the dining room, but unlike the previous night, he asked me to join him. With one last look in the mirror, I made my way into the hallway.
I ran into Nathaniel as he was heading down the stairs. When he saw me, he stopped.
“Lift the sweater.”
I dropped my eyes and lifted the hem of the sweater, allowing him just a glimpse of the lacy black corset underneath.
“Very nice,” he said, dragging a finger along the material over my belly. His voice and touch nearly left me in a puddle of desire. “Though I can’t wait to see you completely naked.”
“I feel the same, Master.”
He cupped the back of my neck, drawing me closer and running his fingers along the hair at the nape of my neck. “Feeling better today, my lovely?”
I lifted my head and met his eyes. They were dark with a desire that I felt all the way to my toes. “Yes, Master. Much.”
“Good.” He brushed his lips gently to mine and then took my hand as we made our way to the door.
Simon and Lynne stood on our porch. His left arm was around her shoulders and it took only a quick glance at her to see why. She looked like she’d jump out of her skin if anyone looked at her wrong.
“Simon,” Nathaniel said. “Welcome to our home.”
“Thank you,” the lanky man with sandy-colored hair said. “This is Lynne.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said and her eyes grew big, almost as if she expected him to whip out a flogger and handcuffs right there on the front porch. He lowered his voice and nudged me forward. “This is my wife, Abby.”
Being introduced to me seemed to relax her only a tiny bit. Her eyes were still wary and her muscles tense. Though in fairness, I no longer thought she’d take off running back to the car.
“Abby,” Nathaniel said, still using the voice he’d use to talk to a wild animal. “Why don’t you take Lynne into the kitchen while Simon and I talk in my office?”