Natural Submission: Book 1 of the Submission Series (33 page)

“There it is, that look again.” He said. “What are you thinking about when you give me that look Francine.” His brow wrinkled. “You remember what I said to you, the night we came back from
The Cay
don’t you?”

She smiled, all the shadows clearing from her face. “You said you loved me.”

“Yeah, and you didn't say anything.” he said. It was the only time she had ever seen him look...
insecure?

Immediately she responded like he was an idiot. “Of course I love you Karl!”

At once Karl felt everything in him ease and flow with relief. That night came back to him. He remembered giving her pleasure and holding her, and then, the
terrible
silence. Then they went upstairs and they had said goodnight. He was awake off and on all night...worried.

Then the last days, wondering. Now he could relax. He smiled liked a champion, and keep in mind he
was
an Olympic champion, he
knew
what that felt like.

Seeing the triumphant look on his face she was astounded into silence. That didn't last long.
How dense could one man be?
“
Karl,
I said it first!!”

“What?!” He said, still not connecting the dots.

“Remember that time in the cabin, when we were together? I asked you to be with me and you blew me off.” Recollecting that was almost so hurtful she almost couldn't get the words out. Seeing the clueless look on his face she could barely go on. “You
said
you couldn't commit to anyone and made a big deal out of the fact that I had to forget about you and so forth and so on!”

All of a sudden her phone rang from not far away, it was a distinctive ring tone. She ignored it. It rang again. “It’s...”

“I know who it is Francine.”

“We have that big order on those trees...”

“I know. You should get it.”

She walked over and picked it up. “Yeah, It’s me. No, it’s OK, I can talk... Are we still good for tomorrow?” She took the call down the hall into her office leaving Karl with this thoughts, her sneakers quiet on the floor.

 Karl wracked his brain trying to remember the conversation from months ago. Then before long like smell from a sewage plant it creeps over to him, he does remember. Like a bad dream it all comes back, that day not too long after she was captured by Armin and he got her back...

“Master, I don’t want
insurance
,”
she’s telling him, desperate to get through to him. “we should leave here together, that’s what I want!”
I want you Master K with me always, the words are unspoken, hanging in the air.

“Its got nothing to do with you Francine,” He tried to respond patiently, something inside his chest hurt at his own words, at the expression on her face, “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you.”
Or that you're not everything that’s sweet and lovely in this world
. He stopped himself. He
couldn’t
have this conversation, it’s was squeezing the breath from him. “I can’t be with anyone right now Francine.” He said not looking at her. “I promise if I could it would be you, our time together is almost over and then we won't be able to see each other any longer.”
I don’t know if I can keep you safe.
“We stick to the plan sub.”

He stopped, wanting to tell her everything. “They were going to send you away Francine, to someone, to someone very bad, who would have really hurt you and that night - that night on the road when you got that flat tire because you were trying to avoid that car, you were trying to avoid being hit-”

“How do you know that?” And then all of a sudden comprehension dawns. That terrible stormy night, the black pickup - You, that was you?”

“Yeah, I was the one who ran you off the road, but it was an accident Francine! I saw you get that flat, I should have gone back but I thought you’d be OK.” He paused before confessing, “ I thought I saw a
cop
stop,” he repeated, “and that you’d be OK, I didn't know he was...”
dirty.
The words hang in the air. Connecting the dots she rose in horror and shook her head she got up and stepped out onto the porch where she stood outside for a bit, in spite of the cold. The brisk air felt good against the tears on her hot face. It was the middle of the day, the sun was up and the wind, not too brisk, at least for the moment.

She didn't know how to process what he’d told her. On some level she knew what happened wasn’t his fault, but that he still feels responsible. She wanted to forgive him but she knew she’d need time. She also realized now, that one day he would leave, he wouldn't be back and he wouldn’t take her with him. Tears burn in her eyes and she couldn’t understand why she wasn’t “good enough”, does she even
want
to be good enough? Does she, should she, even want him?

Grabbing up her boots she left the back porch to find solace in her research.

...the present

Shit,
Karl still remembered that awful day. He was hoping they had moved passed that, but maybe not. He understood more now, why she’d used her safe word, why she wanted to go slow. He felt like an ass, she really had loved him for a long time.

* * *

Over the next couple of weeks Karl was the epitome of patience. To Francine it felt
crazy
good. The way he remembered her music taste and let her favorite songs play on the radio, the way he remembered to ask the servers for a straw with her beverages, the first time he opened the car door for her, every door for her.

And sometimes before letting her back in the car he'd pull her close for a kiss, pressing her between his body and the sporty BMW like he'd been looking at her all night and couldn't let her go without one more squeeze. The way he made sure to find her and kiss her before she went out to the gardens in the morning and then she often caught his eyes on her during the day from the porch or the house while talking on his cell or conducting business; reminding her of the cabin and when she'd collect her samples under his watchful gaze. The thought made her tremble, reminding her of the old mantra, sometimes the more things change.

The way she kept a mostly male workforce on it’s toes was extraordinary. When he asked her where she got that firm note in her voice when she wanted to tell her staff what to do, she confessed that when she started she would think back to when they first met and do her best impression of him at his most “Dom”, it took him a long time to stop laughing (He thought he recognized that asshole).

Francine was in her office and at her computer one day, once again struggling with the long numbers and columns that made up the day to day finances. The numbers floated across the page mocking her; K was so good at this stuff. How he could keep all of his spreadsheets doing such a synchronized swim while keeping up with a Bluetooth conversation and several IM chats she had no idea. She let out another groan of frustration wanting to bang her head on the desk when she got another look at her totals.

She smiled, remembering back to the cabin when she realized how great “Master K” was at spreadsheets. She had peeked over his shoulder...

The numbers were in neat little rows. He was a conductor and they were doing an organized dance.

“What are you doing?” She had asked, ever curious about him in spite of herself.

“This is what I do Francine. I play with numbers.”

“Like, for a living?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

He had reached out and grabbed her and sat her on his lap. He inhaled her feminine vanilla fragrance and rubbed her soft firm body before returning to his keyboard. Her hair was soft and clean next to his face.

“So “Keith” you're like what? Bad boy done good? Trained on the street or something?”

The tapping paused - "or something." The tapping resumed. "Undergrad degree in finance from Harvard, MBA from Yale.” Oh, OK. Open mouth, insert foot-

She was quiet for a moment, but being Francine, it was a brief moment. “So this is what you do when your not....”

“...tying up pretty girls, yes.”

"And punishing them."

“Mmmm...” he simply said low in his throat.." Tap tap tap. After a moment. “Pleasuring them too.”

Taking that as her cue she squirmed to get up. “Stay here submissive.” he’d commanded. She had. He had wanted to "play" with her a bit after the "street" comment. Apparently that didn't go over too well with Harvard/Yale grads.
Touchy, touchy.

Playtime-
It had been so long. She crossed her legs hungrily. “Want me to take a look at it?” He was at her door, sexy as hell. His hair was longer now in the more relaxed “playboy” style she was starting to recognize, all decked out in one of his powder blue casual collared shirts and slate gray tailored slacks. He looked good enough to eat and seeing as how she was already damp was worried about the moment when she’d get a whiff of that damn cologne. He had started wearing it since he’d reappeared in her life and every time she smelled it it made her want to rub her legs together.

He had always been attractive, but
damn,
it was really hard for a girl to hold on to her “cookie” when he was sooo determined to “bring sexy back”. She remembered well what the consequences were for misbehaving in
that
song were.

Was she really ready for all that again? The building ache inside her came as an immediate answer. She flushed, guilty at her own lascivious thoughts, hoping he wouldn't notice her flushed face.

 A crunching sound from the doorway got her attention and caused her to look up back up. He was still standing in the doorway of her office crunching on a shiny red apple from the kitchen. She watched as his strong glossy white teeth crunched noisily into another bite. He was really behaving himself, but she wasn't fooled. He was a predator and she was living with him.

Well, she
could
still really use the help, she swallowed down her anxiety. She could keep her hormones under control, even be
professional.

Sure she could.

“Help yourself.” She said.

He came over, pulling up a black metal folding chair next to Francine’s plush leather one, moving with all of his beautiful athletic grace. Now that she knew so much about him she could really see his athletic past in the confident way that he moved and carried himself. He had run out early this morning to meet a business contact. He always chose his clothes very carefully. He was professional, but his tailored clothing complimented the muscles and planes a lifetime of intense workouts and discipline had given him, and she knew intimately what was under all of it.
Control Francine, your hormones! Show some restraint!

 She tried to hide her smile as he did his best to get comfortable in the hard folding chair, mn clearly used to his comforts. Except for her comfortable plush brown leather chair her office was not really decked out. She really didn't spend much time in her office and didn't really meet clients here. So it was not really what anyone could call organized; papers were piled up on her desk everywhere. Francine did
not
like this part of her business. She saw her accountant once a yeah, and even before owning a business had been lucky to get through that.

Setting down the apple, Karl began tapping his way through her files asking her pointed questions. “Why aren't you rounding up?”

“Does it matter?”she asked impatiently.

“Yes, it matters Francine. Every
penny
matters.” His expression grew impatient as he began opening and closing windows, manipulating spreadsheets, moving around the existing numbers.

“How much did you collect from Hartley Florist?” She told him.

“You have a record?” She turned to the untidy desk and began looking, and looking. He took another bite of apple, giving her one of his looks.
Oh no... that was the “Francine better give me what I want quick or I might start looking for my whip look...”,
he swallowed, and took another bite of apple - waiting.

“Here it is.”
Phew!

“Good.” He looked it over, smoothing out it’s creases with a pointed look at her and went back to her Mac. “Is this the Mac I bought you Angel?”

“Yes.” She said proudly.

“I’m glad you kept it, ‘cause someone's tried to hack you.”

“What?” asked Francine in shock.

“Yep. It happens to all of us, no biggie, but I can tell. You're running a successful business here. I don’t know how with all of this shoddy record keeping, but you are.” He crunched into the last bite of apple his eyes still on the screen his fingers still flying over the keys.
Let it slide Francine, let it slide. He’s helping you and he didn’t go for his whip, you’re coming out ahead here. “
Alright, here’s what we’re going to do.” He sat back, stretching his fingers thoughtfully before gathering her statements in a way that reflected more of Karl’s calm containment and less like Francine’s frantic confusion he said, “We’re going to go through this desk together and while you're showing me all of these documents I’m going to install the software my family uses on your Mac and set up your books for you. Then we’ll be able to do this from a shared document file, OK Francine? That way I can help you keep all of this in order and you can have more time with your flowers.”