He unloaded fixings for a spinach salad and a béchamel sauce that would go over penne.
“I didn’t have any other plans. I was going to get some work done.”
Shaking his head, he rounded the counter and took her briefcase. “Work will wait until Monday. Don’t worry. When you get to the office, more will be waiting for you.”
She didn’t move, but she did look down the hall anxiously. He remembered the fear in her voice when she’d called the night before, and he frowned. What if the call hadn’t been designed to get him over here? What if something had actually happened?
Abandoning the food preparations, he did a visual sweep of her apartment. He checked every room. She didn’t follow him, but she appeared vastly relieved when he returned with no news to report.
“Keith, I…I… You said…” She trailed off and licked her lips.
He put her briefcase in the hall closet and closed the door. “Get undressed. You can put your clothes in the laundry.”
She didn’t move, but he expected that. The first time a submissive must present herself naked to her Master was, in some ways, the most difficult step. He set a pot under the tap and turned the faucet on.
“I…I… You want me to eat dinner with no clothes on?”
Now he gave her all his attention. There could be no mistake in her mind about the way things would be. “Yes. You will be naked until I tell you to put on clothes. Should someone come to the door, I will allow you a bathrobe, and you may tell them you just got out of the shower. Or, if you’re sweaty, you can tell them you were about to get into the shower.”
Her eyes widened, her mouth formed a cute little circle, and a blush crept up her neck. “But you’re keeping your clothes on?”
He grinned. “Yes, Kitty Kat. I am the Master, and you are the slave. You exist to please me. It pleases me to have you naked. Now.”
THE STEEL IN his eyes thrilled Katrina to no end, as did the wicked way he said her name and the iniquity of what he’d told her to do. She’d known he required his submissives to be naked, so why did his order shock her so much?
Because I thought he would be different with me. And didn’t they need to talk first? At the munch, Kirk and one of the other submissives had talked a great deal about negotiating, debating how much say a sub should have in what could or couldn’t happen in a scene.
But she didn’t know what, exactly, any of that looked like. She reached for the remaining buttons on her blouse, intent on giving him an erotic eyeful. He watched for a moment, approval registering in his eyes, and then he turned away to attend to the pot filling with water behind him.
His apparent lack of excitement left her more than a little discomfited. Didn’t he want to see her undress for him this first time? Since he wasn’t paying attention, she sped up the process, stripping away her clothes with neat efficiency.
With equal efficiency, he extracted a cutting board from her cupboard and put it next to the sink. “Slice some squash and zucchini for the pasta.” He glanced her way, lifting a brow to ask for her response, but he didn’t seem to notice her nudity.
She nodded, her movement tight, and obeyed his order. Cutting food while wearing nothing had never been on her top-ten list of erotic fantasies. The man had no clue about the times when he should be romantic or appreciative.
He caught her arm as she slid past him. “Yes, Master.”
Surprised, she glanced up, momentarily forgetting her pique and her lack of clothing. “What?”
“When you answer me, you will reply with ‘Yes, Master.’ Failure to use terms of respect will result in punishment.”
She remembered that she’d already earned a punishment for turning her back to him in a display of willful disobedience. Not even his sex slave for ten minutes, and she’d already earned two punishments and nothing approaching sex. Dropping her gaze, she strove for a respectful attitude. “Yes, Master.”
He released her arm. “Thin slices. You know how I like them.”
Yes, she did know those little things about him. They’d done this ritual before, only then the silence had been broken by more than the sound of water washing vegetables or the rhythmic shick of the knife shaping dinner. And she hadn’t been naked.
She didn’t know if this new development was a good thing or a bad thing. Right now, it didn’t seem to be any sort of thing at all.
Chapter Three
A deep red cloth, a housewarming gift she rarely used, set the backdrop for the candlelit meal waiting on her dining room table. Keith had directed her to put together this romantic tableau, but nothing he’d said or done had acknowledged the changed circumstances of their relationship since he’d told her to undress. If he were the one walking around naked, she’d definitely have a problem keeping her eyes and her hands to herself.
How could he not notice?
From her position kneeling on the floor next to the table, she double-checked the details. Silver candleholders with red tapers. Knives, forks, spoons. Water and wineglasses, though he’d brought sparkling cider. She knew he never touched alcohol. His parents and his sisters were alcoholics. He wouldn’t take the chance he’d end up like them. Her best plates were piled high with steaming food that smelled sinfully delicious. Lunch had been a long time ago.
She heard him returning from down the hall and dropped her gaze to the floor, hoping she hadn’t noticeably altered her position. The idea of being punished didn’t really appeal to her, mostly because she didn’t know what it entailed. Ignorance was not bliss. She preferred to know what was coming so she could be mentally prepared.
He spread a towel on the cushioned seat of her chair. She watched as the powerful muscles in his thighs strained against the fabric of his pants.
Then he turned back to her suddenly, no doubt catching her not looking where he’d told her to look. He held out his hands. “Stand up.”
Accepting his help, she placed her hands in his and followed his order. Automatically her gaze lifted to meet his. As it had been the entire time they’d prepared the meal, his mouth was set in a tight slash, and his eyes glittered hard. She shivered at the repressed emotion there. Keith had always been intense, but he’d never been mean. She wasn’t sure what to expect from him tonight.
“I can see I definitely have my work cut out for me with you, Kitty Kat. I wasn’t gone a full minute, and you failed to follow a simple order.”
Katrina wouldn’t pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about. He’d been clear when he’d put her into position and told her exactly where to keep her gaze to avoid moving a muscle.
“I’m sorry, Master.”
He released her hands. Tangling one hand in the hair at her nape, he urged her head back. She didn’t know what to expect, but his gentle kiss took her by surprise. He moved his lips over hers, massaging and caressing, letting her know without words that he wasn’t disappointed with her behavior. Katrina instinctively understood that he wasn’t comfortable saying tender things, but demonstrating affection was a different thing altogether.
When he ended it, he rested his forehead against hers. “Apology accepted.” He closed his eyes, squeezing them tight and exhaling hard. She waited for him to say something more, but he only pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose and released her. “Sit. We’ll eat and talk. After dinner, I’ll ask you to reevaluate your request.”
Starving, she slid into her chair and dug in. Keith had cooked for her several times before, and she’d loved his food each time. He definitely had a culinary arts gift. Katrina was well versed in Italian dishes, but Keith seemed to know a little bit about everything.
“It’s delicious, Master. Thank you.” She congratulated herself on remembering to use his title. It wasn’t easy. She wasn’t used to saying a person’s name or title or whatever every time she said something to them.
“You’re welcome. Tell me what you’re expecting from this relationship.”
His direct question kept her on edge, which was probably his intent.
She stalled, not sure how to answer. Finally, she settled on an honest assessment. “I don’t really know. I know about D/s and bondage, but my understanding is largely theoretical. I thought you would show me what to expect.”
“Did you expect to be naked, eating dinner with me?” He inserted that question smoothly between bites of food.
Katrina shook her head. “I thought you’d wait until we were in the bedroom doing a scene.” She’d been to his house before when he’d been in a relationship. None of his girlfriends had ever been naked, and none of them had looked like they’d hastily dressed. Her knowledge about that preference came from her brother and from random comments one of Keith’s exes had made.
“I won’t keep you naked all the time.” Another forkful disappeared into his mouth. His eyebrows drew together. “Just most of the time. If we’re expecting company, you will be instructed to dress. I won’t pick out your clothing unless it’s lingerie or an outfit for a scene. I sometimes like to role-play in the dungeon.”
With her mind reeling at the way her life was going to change, she didn’t answer immediately. She thought while eating. It seemed to her that he hadn’t exerted overt dominance over any of his submissives in front of other people. If he wanted to pick out her lingerie, she had no problem with that. But she had no idea what he meant by role-playing. Did he have Princess Leia and Han Solo fantasies?
“Tell me about this role-play thing. I didn’t think you were into LARPing.”
He laughed. “It’s a sort of live-action role-play. Most of the time, you’ll end up bound or tied to something. You’ll inevitably end up as a sex slave.”
The fact of her nudity had slipped her mind, but now awareness returned. She sipped her cider and studied him over the rim of the glass. He’d shed his jacket, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. His shirtsleeves were rolled up as well. Despite the casual nature suggested by his attire, he exuded strength and confidence.
At last, she mustered enough courage to be direct. “As long as I’m the only sex slave there. I understand that training me doesn’t mean you’ll stop seeing your other submissives.” Though she wished it did. “I mostly have tame fantasies about you. Honestly, I don’t know what I’ll like. I think about being overpowered and held down. Spanked. Having my hair pulled.” In her fantasies, he was always the one topping her. “But I’ve never done any of those things with a Dom, so I don’t know if I’ll like the reality of it.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “So you’re asking me to show you different things to see what you’ll like and what you won’t?”
“Yes. I’d like that. Master.”
He grinned to acknowledge her belated use of his title, and she realized he didn’t mean for her to constantly use it, not in conversation. As a response to an order, especially when she was on her knees, but not all the time.
“Let’s start with the fact that I don’t deal with more than one submissive at a time. Then we’ll discuss punishment.”
Her heart beat faster at that admission, and his mention of punishment nearly sent her over the edge. She knew she had a couple coming, but that didn’t mean she relished them. It seemed she wasn’t one of those women who enjoyed the idea of being punished. Mostly she hated that she’d let him down with her rude behavior.
“Generally,” he continued as if he hadn’t noticed the heightening of her anxiety, “I want an apology, an admission of your mistake.”
That got her attention. She’d expected him to start with something a little violent, like a spanking, or something humiliating, like forcing her to lick his shoes. She’d have to draw a line before they got to that point. There was no way in hell she’d lick his shoes. That just wasn’t sanitary. She waited for him to continue, to drop the bomb, but he didn’t.
An apology from a submissive should be delivered on her knees. She slid from her chair and knelt next to him, her head bowed because she didn’t know if she could just apologize or if she had to wait for him to recognize her. She opted for the latter choice.
The silence weighed heavily on her nerves, and she struggled to keep her spine straight. From the corner of her eye, she saw his hand move closer. He touched her hair, smoothing it back from her face.
“Yes, slave?”
“I’m sorry for turning my back on you and for hesitating when you gave an order. Please forgive me, Master.” The apology was heartfelt. Katrina absolutely hated when anyone was upset with her. While she thrived on debate and argument in her professional life, she detested any kind of disagreement in her personal life.
“You’re forgiven. Now finish your dinner. After we clean this mess, we’re going to play.”
Cream flooded between her thighs. She’d wanted him to play with her for so long. For the past hour, she’d been near him while wearing absolutely nothing, but he hadn’t seemed to notice. She waited for her body to tingle in anticipation and her senses to attune to her Master, but that didn’t happen. His lack of response didn’t exactly make her feel sexy or desirable, but a quick glance at his lap as she shifted to return to her chair revealed that his nonchalant demeanor was a false front.
Now she felt a little tingly. The man was very good at hiding his reactions. She would have to keep that in mind, or else she was going to doubt his desire to be with her. He seemed to show his feelings only through his kisses.
They finished eating, and then they split the cleanup duties in the kitchen. As she dried her hands on a dish towel, she heard the chimes that indicated the buttons being pushed to start her dishwasher. And then his arms came down on either side of her, caging her against the counter with her back to him.
Warmth radiated from his body, and the strength of his presence put every nerve ending on alert. She’d always responded to his physicality, to the authority he commanded with his every look, his every move. She felt the flutter of his lips on the back of her shoulder, and she closed her eyes to luxuriate in his attention.
“Tonight you’re going to practice following directions. It won’t be easy. You’re going to have to trust me.”
She trusted Keith. It was Master she didn’t know so well. “Yes, Master.”
He smoothed his hand over the length of her hair, down her back, and stopped on her hip. “You’ll find some things painful or uncomfortable, perhaps embarrassing or humiliating. I want you to take as much as you can. I’ll help you. Only call yellow or red when it gets to be too much. Do you understand?”
The hand on her hip didn’t mitigate the unease he caused with his warning. She kept reminding herself that she wanted this. She wanted this with Keith. Thank goodness he’d agreed to initiate her into this world. She didn’t think she would have been able to go through with it if she’d been with Dustin.
“Yes, Master.”
He placed his hands on the fronts of her thighs, a light touch full of energy that zapped the strength from her knees. She leaned against him, and he didn’t stop her. Slowly he moved up her body, exploring her skin. Pausing long enough to glide his fingertips over the short, trimmed hair at her pubic mound, he left her wanting a more thorough investigation.
The journey continued over her stomach and ribs. At last he cupped her breasts. She wanted to reach behind her to wrap her arms around his neck, but he hadn’t instructed her to move, so she gripped the dish towel tightly. Her nipples had pebbled an hour ago, standing at attention to beg for his touch. Her breasts were small but sensitive.
He flicked his thumbs over her nipples, and she felt it all the way to her core. A whimpering sound purred in the back of her throat, and she fought the urge to lean all her weight against him.
For several long moments, he teased the rocklike peaks. Then he pinched them lightly between his thumbs and forefingers. “Have you ever worn clamps?”
Katrina shook her head. Sometimes she didn’t even like to have her breasts touched for too long. “I think they’re too sensitive.”
Behind her, his laugh rumbled against her back. “Oh
, my precious Kitty Kat, that’s what makes it fun. We’ll start light and work our way to something with more bite.”
Then he pinched them viciously, squeezing hard. She cried out and arched, trying to relieve the pressure, but it didn’t work. He kept up the torment, ignoring—or perhaps delighting in—evidence of her pain.
“Breathe, slave. Inhale. Exhale.”
She forced herself to follow his orders. Concentrating on her breathing did make it easier to bear.
“Beautiful. Now let go of that dish towel before you tear it in half.”
She looked down at the soft, absorbent fabric twisted in her hands, remembering it was there. It took some effort, which further took her mind away from the pain he caused, but she managed to release it.
“Keep breathing. Relax against me. Perfect. Now tell me what you feel.”
She took her time in analyzing the sensation. Something about this kind of agony slowed her mental processes. “It doesn’t hurt as bad when I breathe.”
“I know. Tell me what you feel, not what you don’t feel.” His voice sounded low in her consciousness, and she had no choice but to follow the hypnotic quality of it.
Another deep breath. His hands moved with her chest. “It’s starting to feel good. Weird good. It’s traveling down my arms.”
“What else?”
She wanted to shake her head, to refuse to tell him about the heat it sent straight to her core. It was like her nipple had a direct link to her pussy, only she’d never pushed the button hard enough to make the connection.
He squeezed harder, sending fresh waves throbbing through her system. She gasped loudly.
“Answer me, slave.”
“My…my… Between my legs.” A week ago, she never would have thought she’d be talking to him about anything happening between her legs while he manipulated her nipples, causing sensations she never could have imagined.
“Is your cunt wet, Kitty Kat? Just from this?”
She hated that word, but she forced herself to get over it. “Yes, Master.”
“Say it. Tell me your cunt is wet.”
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