by Tara Sue Me
“Mamma!” he called and then ran as quickly as his stubby legs could go, laughing as I swung him up in my arms.
“Did you help with the oatmeal, too?” I asked, smelling his hair to drink in his clean little boy scent and wrinkling my nose instead at the scent that met me.
“No,” Elizabeth said. “But Daddy let him throw the trash away.”
“Trash can’s his new favorite toy,” Nathaniel explained.
“That explains the smell.” I passed him to Nathaniel. “He needs a bath.”
“Linda will be here in about fifteen minutes. She’s going to keep them until tomorrow night.”
Had he made the arrangement with his aunt because he didn’t want them around for what he had in mind? The penthouse didn’t have a playroom. Before me, he’d never brought a woman to this space and we had never seen the need to add a special room. He’d always brought a toy bag with him when we stayed in the city.
I was more subdued as we all walked to the kitchen. Elizabeth chatted about the tea party she’d had last night and how Henry wanted to eat all the cookies. Of course at the word “cookie,” Henry pulled on Nathaniel’s leg and said, “Please.”
“Not so early in the day,” Nathaniel replied.
They all sat at the table with me while I ate and Nathaniel made sure I drank plenty of water. Even though he had been easygoing and lighthearted, there was an underlying tension between us. Faint, but there nonetheless. I might feel better physically after last night, but mentally there were still issues we had to deal with.
Nathaniel felt it too, I could tell. He was jovial and playful with the kids, but the tension in his jaw and the rigidity of his spine belied the front he put on. It was still noticeable when Linda came by. She didn’t question anything, but gave us each a quick hug before gathering the kids and heading out.
The silence that hit me when the door closed behind them was louder than the kids had been.
Nathaniel brushed my cheek. “Come to my office in ten minutes. You can leave the robe on if you prefer.”
What followed had to be the longest ten minutes of my life. After he left, I cleaned my bowl and tidied up the kitchen. With two minutes remaining, I slipped out of the robe and walked to his office wearing only my panties and a bra.
He stood leaning against his desk and nodded to the floor in the middle of the room. Everything felt so cold as I slid to my knees, bowed my head, and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
His office floor was made of wood and it didn’t take long for my knees to start aching. Within minutes, they hurt as much as my head. All of which he knew, I was certain.
“Look at me,” he finally said and I lifted my eyes to meet his troubled ones. “What happened last night scared the hell out of me. I can’t imagine how it made you feel. You went through something I never wanted you to experience and though neither one of us probably want to, we have to discuss it.” He nodded toward the chair across from his desk. “Go sit down.”
He remained standing, watching as I crossed the room to do his bidding.
“Even without your collar on, are you still my submissive?” he asked when I’d sat down.
“Yes, Sir.” I wasn’t wearing his collar, so I didn’t have to call him anything. Yet, somehow doing so seemed appropriate.
“When we go to a BDSM club together, who protects you?”
“You, Sir.”
“And how am I to protect you when I’m not there?”
“You can’t, Sir.”
“Exactly. Outside of the fact that you are mine and any Dominant wanting to interact with you has to obtain my permission, you are truly my only treasure, my beloved, my life. I would kill to keep you safe and I can’t do it if I’m not with you.”
Tears stung my eyes.
“If it hadn’t been for Jeff last night, you would have been assaulted. That man would have put his hands on you, hurt you, and done things I have nightmares about. And the entire time it was happening, I couldn’t stop him because I wouldn’t have known to.”
I sniffled. “I’m sorry, Sir. I understand I should have called.”
“You were wrapped up in yourself and didn’t think about the consequences your actions could have had.”
“Yes, Sir. I see that.”
He sighed. “I’m torn on what to do. I should cane you for going to a club without my permission. You know better. I understand that you didn’t know that woman was bringing you there. But let’s make one thing clear to start: You are not to interact with any Dom inside a club without getting my approval. You know this.”
I started trembling at the mention of a cane. I fucking hated those things when used for punishment. And he was right. I had known better.
“But you were nearly assaulted and I can’t find it within me to punish you corporally after such an incident.”
I waited for what seemed like hours. Based on past experiences, the tension between us wouldn’t go away until my actions had been dealt with. Our lives were governed by rules that were not followed by the world at large. They were there because it was what we needed. It didn’t mean they were always pleasant.
“Go stand and face the wall,” he finally said.
I swallowed a groan before he heard it. I hated standing against a wall. He’d had me do it only a handful of times before. But in looking over my options, I reminded myself it was better than the cane.
I rose to my feet before he could accuse me of stalling and walked to the back wall opposite his desk. It was possible he’d want to sit and observe me while I stood. On the way, I made certain not to look his way. He’d probably be standing with arms crossed, or wearing that cool, distant look. Probably both.
I stood an inch from the wall with my hands by my side. Too late, I realized the spot I’d picked was under an air vent blowing cool air. Or maybe he’d known I’d pick that spot and that’s why he chose to have me join him here instead of in the living room. Who could ever tell with him?
The cool air danced along my exposed back, instantly making my skin pebble with gooseflesh. I wouldn’t get too cold, but it certainly wouldn’t be comfortable.
“You are to stand as still as possible,” he said. “And because you’ll probably be tempted to think only about how cold you are, I want you to think about how I felt when you walked into our house with a strange man. Then I want you to imagine how scared I was when I realized the danger you’d been in.”
If I knew him at all, once he allowed me to move, he’d ask me to write down the thoughts I’d had while I stood. Anytime before when I’d stood against a wall, he’d tell me how long he was going to have me stand.
“I haven’t decided how long you’ll be there,” he said as if reading my mind. “Time begins now,” he said.
At first it was difficult to think about anything other than the discomfort of the air temperature. But I focused on his warning and forced my mind to imagine his thoughts last night.
As I stood there, the image that kept coming to my mind was a picture of him arriving home with a strange woman after I knew he’d been out partying. The impact of that image gutted me. Just thinking about it, even knowing it was only make-believe, hurt. How in the world must he have felt last night not knowing what was going on?
Then I made myself explore the idea of how it would feel to know he was in danger and be unable do anything about it. The terror of knowing everything was fine would be only marginally lessened when the potential outcomes were considered. And those feelings would be only intensified with him. As a Dominant, it was part of who he was to be a protector.
Then, to add insult to injury, I’d been drunk. That was another circumstance that was completely within my control. No one forced me to drink; I’d made the choice to continue.
When I combined all those things together and looked at them obje
ctively, I began to see outside of my perspective and understood his wrath and fear. And I hated the way my actions made him feel. One of my greatest joys was serving him: anticipating his needs and meeting them. Last night, even though it had not been my intention, I’d failed miserably. The problem was, I’d been distracted by the thrill of my new job and had let myself forget I was first and foremost his sub.
Just as I had that heart-wrenching thought, I felt the surprising touch of his warm thumb wiping away tears I didn’t know were falling.
“Why the tears, my lovely?” he asked. His voice was gentler than before.
“I’ve realized how much pain I caused you last night.” I blinked away the wetness still gathering in the corners of my eyes. “And I know what I’ve imagined in no way comes close to what you actually felt, because you had to live it.”
He brushed the other cheek. “I would give up all I have to keep you safe.”
I nodded, unable to formulate words that could convey the true depth of just how sorry I was.
“Look at me,” he said, cupping my chin in the palm of his hand. When I met his eyes, he continued. “You’re going to write lines.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Two hundred times: ‘I will not drink irresponsibly and I will not go to a club without being in the presence of my Master.’”
I hated writing lines. It was humiliating because it made me feel like a ten-year-old. And the tediousness of it, the same one line two hundred times? But the reality was it sounded reasonable and he was really letting me off rather easy. The encounter I had must have really thrown him. “Yes, Sir.”
“I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. Don’t do that again.”
“I won’t, Sir.” But I realized this didn’t feel right. I had really wronged him, and I needed to feel harsher consequences to be able to feel right with him again. “But, please, will you use the cane?”
His lips parted in surprise. “What?”
“I won’t feel like this is behind us if I just write lines. I need you to cane me. My offense was too serious for less.” Part of me was thinking I was certifiable to be begging for this, but deep inside I knew only that would let me move past last night. And I thought he probably would feel the same if he could get past his fear and upset.
“You know you don’t have to do this?” he asked.
I nodded. “I want to. I need it.”
He studied me for a time before finally agreeing. “Three strokes of the cane.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“If I’m going to cane you, you’re to address me as Master.”
I smiled despite the somber situation. “Yes, Master.” I freely took his love and support and, at times like this, took his pain. I knew from experience when it came to pain, feeling the physical would ease the emotional.
“Underwear down to your ankles and hands against the wall.”
I slid my panties down, baring myself in offering to him. Filling my lungs deeply, I put my hands on either side of my head. He’d had me stand like this the previous time he’d punished me with a cane. Sensual scenes were done lying down.
“These will be hard and fast,” he warned. “Neither one of us will enjoy this.”
“Thank you, Master.” I was glad he would go fast; at least that way it’d be over sooner.
He didn’t reply, but took a step back. I braced myself, trying not to tense up even when I heard the thin reed whistle through the air. The first one landed on the fleshy part of my butt and I gasped at the bite it left. The second landed directly under it and I hadn’t caught my breath before the last and hardest fell under the second.
I choked back a sob.
“Hold position,” he said and I concentrated on not moving a muscle. His words were the only thing that could persuade me to do so. Without his command, I’d have reached behind me in an attempt to ease some of the ache left by the cane. I’d learned, though, that just as his role was to enforce our rules, so it was his role to ensure we made our way back together afterward.
From behind me came the sound of movement, and within seconds he was at my side. His hands stroked leisurely, applying lotion across my skin. He didn’t say anything, but I felt his emotions in his touch. If taking pain from him eased my own, then accepting his tender massage allowed me to let everything go.
“Turn around,” he whispered.
Without hesitation, I turned. He put his hands on my shoulders and ran his hands down my sides. My body relaxed under his touch and he recognized the second it’d done so. His lips started at my cheek and inched their way down my neck. He cupped my breast and unclasped my bra. He bent low and eased my panties all the way down and off my legs.
“Come with me,” he said, holding out his hand. I took it and we walked to our bedroom. Once there, he had me climb into bed while he undressed.
He slipped his shirt over his head. “I need you.” His pants joined the shirt on the floor and he crawled up on the bed facing me. “I need to show you what you mean to me.”
He took me in his arms and our joining was sensual and slow. His fingertips danced along my body, touching me everywhere, claiming every part of me. I was content to simply let my hands roam over whatever part of him was close.
His lips were soft as he tasted my skin and I sighed against him. But even though he was gentle, there was no weakness to be found. Every caress, every brush of his flesh across mine whispered one truth.
You are mine.
And my own confessed in return.
Yes. Always.
* * *
Later that afternoon, I was in the middle of writing my lines at the desk we had in the bedroom when Nathaniel popped his head in.
“Meagan’s here to see you,” he said.
My stomach fell to my ankles. I knew we had to talk, but did it have to be so soon?
“You spoke to her this morning,” I said.
“Yes,” he stated. “She’s waiting in the living room.”
I put my writing down and followed him. Instead of sitting on the couch, we found her pacing in front of the window. She turned when we entered, but didn’t say anything. She looked horrible, her complexion paler than normal and her forehead creased with worry.
“I’m going to go for a walk,” Nathaniel said. “To give you two some privacy.”
She waited until the door closed behind him to speak. “Abby. I am so sorry.”
The easy thing would have been to tell her it was okay and that everything was fine, but it wasn’t okay and everything wasn’t fine.
“That was a rotten thing to do last night,” I told her. “I was in a place I didn’t know, drinking, and I had no idea where you were.”
“It was completely irresponsible of me and there’s no excuse for it.”
I crossed my arms. “At least tell me why.”
She waved toward the couches and we sat down. She on one side and I on the other. “I only planned to dance, honestly. I had no intention of playing last night. After we had danced a few songs, I went to the bathroom. When I came out, Master V said he’d told you that we were going to a private room. I should have talked to you anyway. I should have. But it’d been . . .” She shook her head. “There’s no excuse. There’s not. And your husband was right to call me on it.”
My heart softened just a bit. Her voice shook and she certainly looked distraught.
“I can’t say I’m happy he called you,” I said. “But I understand why he did it.”
She didn’t speak for long seconds. Almost as if she was weighing what she’d say next. “Abby,” she finally said, “I totally understand if you don’t want anything to do with me, but please don’t let last night interfere with your work at the station. I’ll step aside and let someone else work with you.”
I sighed. I wasn’t sure if she was just saying that becaus
e she didn’t want to get in trouble or if she really cared. “I’ll be honest. I’m not happy with what happened last night, but I won’t let it affect my job. And I don’t want you to step aside, but it’s going to take some time for us to get back to where we were.”
For the first time since I’d seen her that day, she looked somewhat hopeful. “Thank you, Abby. I’ll make it up to you.”.
Chapter Seven
The next few weeks were crazy. Henry’s ear infection didn’t get any better, so no one was sleeping and I had to spend an entire day in New York taking him to a specialist. Nathaniel was trying to find someone to take over the running and management of his melanoma nonprofit and that required late nights in the city. One weekend, he actually had meetings on Saturday, so the kids, Apollo, and I stayed at the penthouse so we could spend time with him. Fortunately, Jeff had been able to get his security issues taken care of, so at least that was one less thing he had to worry about.
Evenings after the kids went to bed weren’t any better. I spent a lot of time online chatting with Meagan and working on my first few pieces. I had parts of about four potential blog postings and I stressed over them more than I should have. But the way I saw it, this was my introduction to a large number of people and I needed to write something that represented the best of me.
Three weeks after the incident, I’d just turned the computer off for the night when Nathaniel entered the library. He’d been swimming and his hair hadn’t dried yet, but he’d changed out of his swim trunks into his tan drawstring pants. After his laps in the pool, he must have been down to the wine cellar, because he had two wineglasses and a bottle of my favorite red.
“Finished?” he asked. He held out a glass and lifted an eyebrow. At my nod, he handed one to me and filled the glass.
“Thanks.” I took a sip. “Mmm, that’s good. Not quite finished, but I’m closer than I was.”
He tilted his head toward the couch and we sat down together. He twisted in his seat, facing me better. “I have a conference next month.”