by Tara Sue Me
Nathaniel wouldn’t let me put it off forever though. I’d eaten most of my pancakes when he stood. “Living room in ten minutes,” he said and then walked into the bedroom.
I pushed the plate aside, unable to eat any more and ready to get it over with. Deciding I’d rather spend my time mentally preparing, I stood and walked to the middle of the living room and knelt.
He entered a few minutes later and I stayed as still as possible and waited for him to speak. His arms were crossed. It hit me then that there was a reason he didn’t follow me into the bedroom immediately last night. He’d been too angry and he would never punish me in anger. He had waited until morning when he’d calmed down. When we’d both calmed down. So he could talk and I could listen and understand.
“As your Dominant, I made a vow that I would never have another submissive service me. As your husband, I promised to never be with another woman. I have not, nor do I intend to, break either vow.” He walked to the bag where he’d packed his various toys and took out a heavy flogger. I winced. He’d used it before. “But that’s not why I’m going to punish you. This is for your attitude, disrespect, and calling me a liar. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
“I am not happy to be doing this.”
I’d called him on that once before, how I didn’t buy into the whole “this hurts me more than it hurts you” thing. He’d very calmly sat me down and explained so eloquently how he felt, I’d never doubted him again. I knew as he motioned me toward the window, he took no joy in what was coming.
“Face the window and hold on to the cords,” he said, walking to stand behind me. “It’s going to be hard and fast.”
By that time, I wanted it hard and fast. And painful. I needed the physical pain to help me release the emotional turmoil of the previous night. It was the only way I’d be able to forgive myself. It was so difficult to describe, even to myself, but I needed to cry. And I needed him to be the one to ensure it happened.
I took a cord in each hand, pressed my forehead against the curtains covering the window, and waited. I heard him take a deep breath and then he started. There was no warm-up, just stroke after stroke along my backside and upper thighs. The first blow made me gasp and tears filled my eyes by the fifth.
Unlike the way he normally flogged me, there was no pleasure, no blissful subspace to help me transform the pain into pleasure. As the flogger fell, it was as if he was giving me his pain. And giving me that pain allowed me to understand how I had hurt him. I took it willingly, knowing that when it was over, we’d both have found absolution.
Though the strokes were fast, the session itself was not and by the time he dropped the flogger, my backside felt like it was on fire and my face was soaked with tears. He oh so gently pried my fingers from the cords and lifted me into his arms. I buried my head in his chest. With determined steps, he carried me out of the living room and into the bedroom.
* * *
We left Delaware the next day. The tension from that one night lessened, but didn’t dissolve completely. That in and of itself was strange. Always before we’d found our footing following a discipline session. On top of that, before we took our seats on the jet back to New York, he took my collar off and, for the first time, I didn’t mourn its loss. I didn’t quite know what to do with that knowledge. Nathaniel seemed to be just as perplexed; he held the platinum choker for a few extra seconds, just looking at it.
I simply went to my seat and buckled myself in.
He sat down beside me. “Are we going to talk about this?”
I closed my eyes. “Not right now, I’m tired.”
“You can sleep if you want to, but we’re going to discuss it eventually.”
Maybe, I thought. But I was going to put it off for as long as possible. I wanted to think about things for myself before we discussed them as a couple.
When we arrived at home, the kids were waiting for us and there was no time for anything but hugs, kisses, and did-you-bring-me-anythings for the rest of the night. Nathaniel went into work early the next morning and I started writing blog posts.
Meagan called around ten thirty.
“Hey, girl,” she said. “How’d the week go?”
“It had its ups and downs.” I certainly wasn’t going to be writing or blogging about the incident with Charlene and what followed. I didn’t even feel like discussing it at the moment.
“Mmm,” she hummed and I had the feeling she wasn’t really paying attention. “Listen, I know you just got back from being out of town, but is there any way you could get here by this afternoon?”
“What?”
“There’s been some restructuring of the program. Hell, we’ve been in meetings for a solid two days. Nothing that concerns you, but your name came up last night and I said I’d see if you could come in.”
My heart pounded. Had it been a good thing when my name came up or was I being fired? Would they bring me in to fire me? Couldn’t they do that over the phone?
“What’s the deal with me coming in? Can’t I join through video or phone?”
Meagan spoke to someone, but it sounded muffled; she must have placed her hand over the phone. “The thing is, Mr. Black is leaving this evening for a trip to LA. He wants to see you before he goes.”
Mr. Black was CEO of NNN. To be honest, I was shocked he’d even heard my name. I knew him only by name and reputation. But I knew enough to realize that when he wanted a meeting with you, you didn’t just blow him off.
“Just for this afternoon?” I asked, trying to decide if I should remain in the city overnight. “No chance I’ll need to be there tomorrow?”
“I don’t think so. We’re all really keen on getting this taken care of and agreed upon by the time he leaves.”
“Give me twenty minutes. I’ll call you back.”
I drummed my fingertips on the table. The only thing to do was to see if Linda could keep the kids. I hated asking her to watch them again so soon after she’d already done so for a week, but the truth was she wouldn’t mind. Nathaniel and I had decided when the kids were born that we wouldn’t hire a nanny or au pair. Perhaps it was time to rethink that decision.
I called Linda and she said she would love to come over. She admitted she missed the kids already. I knew how she felt. But she also said the CEO wanting to meet me was only a good thing. She was also excited about the potential outcomes of the meeting and made me promise to call her as soon as it was over.
I only hoped Nathaniel would be as excited. I decided not to call him, but to leave a little early and stop by his office. It didn’t take long for me to shower and change. Linda had a key to the house, and by the time I’d finished getting ready, she’d let herself in and was playing with Henry. I tried to thank her again, but she waved it off, saying there was nothing she’d rather be doing.
Apollo padded over to the front door as I picked up my briefcase. He sat right under the doorknob and tilted his head as if saying, “Didn’t you just get back?”
“I’ll be back tonight,” I promised with a quick pat on his head. “It won’t be like the last time.”
He let out a big doggy sigh and lay down.
The ride into the city was uneventful, leaving me plenty of time to stop by Nathaniel’s office. The front desk clerk greeted me warmly and called to let Nathaniel’s admin know I was on my way up.
“Sara said Mr. West is in the employees’ gym,” he told me. “I’ll buzz you in.”
He usually worked out at home and I wondered why he was working out at the office. Working off extra tension?
When I found him, he was shirtless and doing push-ups. I glanced around the room, happy to see we were alone.
“Abby,” he said, standing up and wiping his face with a nearby towel. “Everything okay?”
For a split second I stood frozen, staring at his chest. Damn. He
should never wear a shirt.
“Meagan called,” I started by way of explanation. Meagan would never be one of Nathaniel’s favorite people after that infamous night at the BDSM club, but he put up with her because she was my boss.
“What did she have to say?” he asked, though I was certain that wasn’t the question he really wanted to ask. Or maybe it was. Nah, he probably wanted to know what I was doing in the city and where the kids were.
“Mr. Black wants to meet with me,” I said, enjoying the way his eyes grew wide with surprise at my statement.
“That’s great. You’re going to see him now?”
“Yes, he asked to meet this afternoon because he’s leaving for the West Coast later tonight.” I’d already decided I wasn’t going to ask permission. It was my job. My life. I wasn’t wearing his collar now. “Linda’s watching the kids.”
“Are you staying in the penthouse tonight or going back to the estate?” he asked.
“I’ll be heading back to the estate after. I’ve been away from home enough lately. I miss the kids.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
Our conversation was cordial enough, but it felt off. There was a weird lack of emotion in both of us. It made me sad how quickly things had changed between us.
“I’ll let you know how it goes,” I said, and then turned and walked out of the gym, hot tears filling my eyes.
* * *
Mr. Black was short, chubby, and balding. He seemed chronically short of breath, and I thought if he didn’t fall over dead from a heart attack sometime in the next few years, it’d be a medical miracle. If I’d seen him in a lineup, I never would have picked him as the CEO. Looks didn’t tell the complete story, however, because it became apparent as soon as I sat down across from him that his mind was sharp. He welcomed me and then proceeded to fill me in on the changes that would soon be implemented in the TV show and my relationship with it.
But as I listened to him, one thought popped into my head that I couldn’t shake.
Am I looking at Nathaniel in another ten years?
I tried to imagine the man I walked in on while he was doing push-ups earlier today becoming so busy that he didn’t have time to take care of himself, and he got this unhealthy. Was this what the demands of running a huge corporation meant? Would I be at risk to lose him? I couldn’t bear it. To raise the kids alone and to be without my soul mate?
“Everything all right, Mrs. West?” Mr. Black asked when he caught me staring at him. “You look pale.”
“I’m fine,” I assured him and realized I’d held my pen in a death grip. I wiggled my fingers. “Please, don’t let me interrupt.”
“I was just getting to your new proposed role.”
I sat up straighter in my chair and poised my pen to write.
“As you’re aware, your posts and cross posts from the Submissive Wife blog have some of the highest hit rates we’ve seen all year. We want to capitalize on that audience. We’d like for you to do a question and answer session, just ten minutes or so, at the end of the Monday night show.”
My pen froze. I blinked. “You want me to what?” I finally asked.
“We’d like for you to answer questions on the air once a week.” Meagan tapped him on the shoulder and they put their heads together and whispered for a few very long seconds. Didn’t really matter. I was so surprised by what he’d said, I doubted I’d have heard or understood anything they were talking about.
Me? On TV?
“I understand there may be a concern about privacy,” Mr. Black said. “I assure you, we don’t want you to do anything that would put you in an uncomfortable position. We can work out a way to ensure you are not identified.”
“We can put you in a floppy hat and big sunglasses,” Meagan suggested. “Sell you as a lady of mystery. People would eat it with a spoon.”
“The questions wouldn’t be live, would they?” I asked. Holy shit, am I seriously thinking about accepting the position? “I’d get a list of them ahead of time, so I could do some research if necessary?”
“That won’t be a problem,” Black assured me. “One of your strong selling points is your realism. We don’t want you to answer anything without doing the necessary research.” He looked at his watch. “Unfortunately, I have to be on my way to California. Meagan, can you take over?”
Meagan jumped to her feet. “Yes, sir.”
I stood and shook his hand. “Nice meeting you. Safe travels.”
“I’m glad you’re on our team, Mrs. West,” he said, looking at me with intelligent eyes. “Let’s go one step higher, shall we? Think about it. Meagan will fill you in on the details.”
My mind was still stuck on: Me? On TV? But I managed to mumble something that sounded somewhat similar to “I’ll think about it.”
When the door closed behind him, I dropped into my seat. “Damn.”
Meagan leaned forward. “Well, what do you think?”
“I think I’m still in shock.”
“It’s a lot to take in. And I understand you’ll need to talk it over with your husband.” Her long platinum hair had been straightened today. Paired with the silver and black suit she wore, it looked like she should be the one getting in front of the camera.
“I don’t know anything about television,” I confessed.
“Abby, dear.” She walked over to me and pulled me up out of the chair. “That’s why you’ll be perfect. Come here.”
She led me to a picture window. We were about sixty stories high, making the people on the sidewalk look like Elizabeth’s play dolls. I could almost envision reaching down, picking one up, and carrying them to a new location altogether.
“You see all those people?” Meagan asked. “Take those that you see and multiply times one hundred—heck, say a thousand. That’s a hell of a lot of people. You know what most of them are looking for?”
“What?”
“Something real. They can smell the fake shit from two blocks away, but they’ll always be drawn in by the real thing.” She lightly punched my arm. “That’s you. You’re the real thing. I told you this when you started writing for the site and I’ll remind you again: people are drawn to you because they know real when they see it, when they read it, when they hear it, and when they feel it.”
“Live TV?” I imagined all the people below the window watching me on the air and almost hyperventilated. “Do you know how many ways I can mess that up?”
“You know we won’t let you do that.” She took me by the shoulders and spun me around to face her. I recognized the look in her eyes immediately and I remembered her once saying she topped women. “Focus on who you are, what you know, and who you can help. When you’re in your collar and your Master asks you to do something you’re not sure about, do you fret about messing it up or do you focus on him?”
“I force myself to focus on him.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes me leave doubt behind.”
She smiled. “Yes, and if you decide to do this, we’ll have a lot of mock situations and practice questions. We’ll go over the routine so many times, you’ll be sleep-talking your answers. You’ve got this. Trust me, okay?”
I let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”
“There you go,” she said. “Do you want to go see the set? You want to chill out in my office or just go home and think?”
It would be fun to visit the set, but I could always do that another day. And while it was nice of her to offer her office, I really wanted to get back home, throw on some comfortable clothes and think. Nathaniel would wonder how the meeting went; I needed to call him before I talked to Linda or anyone else about it. And I wanted to swing by Felicia and Jackson’s house, since I promised her I’d stop by.
“Thanks for the offers, but I think I’m going to go home. Get out of these shoes and do some thinkin
g.”
She gave me a quick hug. “Okay, call me if you have any questions.”
I had just reached for the doorknob when she called, “Abby.”
I turned.
“How’d the week go? With Nathaniel?”
I’d told her before we left that I’d planned to wear Nathaniel’s collar all week. She’d been interested, not only because of the pieces I could write when the week was over, but also as a switch. She’d told me the longest she’d ever worn a collar was a day.
I’d been so confused and hurt and angry. Now, with miles separating us, I felt only sad. I dropped my shoulders and exhaled.
“That good, huh?” Meagan asked.
I slowly turned to face her. “Parts of it were great. He pushed me more than he had before and I liked it. Not always when it was happening, but it was all good.” I wiped my forehead. It suddenly felt hot in the private conference room. “But toward the end, we got into a huge fight over the stupidest things. It was like we were looking for ways to get on each other’s nerves. And we succeeded.” I didn’t want to give her the details. It was enough to know we had fought.
She gave a low whistle and pointed to some empty chairs. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Arguing is never fun.”
We sat down. “Right,” I said. “And this morning, I had your call, so I’m here. He’s at work. And we still haven’t talked.”
“When you get home take it easy.” She patted my knee. “Take time for you, read or watch a movie. Then talk to your man.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m no expert, but I have been in the lifestyle for twelve years. To me it sounds like sub drop.”
“Sub drop?” The intense emotional and physical reaction a submissive experienced after a scene when the endorphins wore off? It didn’t make sense. “But he always does aftercare and I’ve been his submissive for years.”
“True, but have you ever had a week as intense as that one before?”