The Dominant (8 page)

“Keep the gown on and wait in my room,” I said. “The way you did in my office.”

Ten minutes later, I entered my bedroom to find Abigail standing with her head down. I got hard just looking at her.

I circled her slowly. Walking around her, noting the faint tremor of her body. I walked to her back and lightly traced the
top of her gown, running my fingers over the very spot I’d wanted to touch earlier.

“You were spectacular tonight.” I leaned in and smelled her hair. Mmm. Ever so slowly, I took the pins from her wavy curls,
watching as they bounced down to brush her shoulders. “And my family will talk about nothing but you now.”

She was still trembling. Was she scared?

“You pleased me tonight, Abigail,” I said, my lips so close to her skin, I could almost taste her. “Now it’s my turn to please
you.”

I took her zipper and slid it down, then pushed the dress from her shoulders. I let myself kiss her, tasting the skin of her
back. It was sweet, with just a hint of salt. She was trembling still, but I knew they were tremors of anticipation now.

The gown dropped to the floor and I carried her to the bed. “Lie down.”

She did as told, and I crawled to her and slipped off her shoes. I met her eyes before I bent down to kiss her ankle. She
gasped.

As I trailed kisses up her leg, I remembered that no one had ever done this to her before. What the hell kind of men had she
dated that never took the time to give proper attention to her pussy? How had they contained themselves?

I reached up to remove her panties.

She put a hand on my head. “Don’t.”

I gritted my teeth, but reminded myself that this was new and she was scared. “Don’t tell me what to do, Abigail.”

With one move, I slid the panties down her legs and settled myself between her knees. She was already wet. Wet and swollen.

I stared at her, ready to show her just how much she’d pleased me. Show her how she’d be rewarded when she pleased me.

I started with a kiss on her clit and she nearly jumped off the bed. Steady. I blew gently across her clit and then placed
soft kisses up and down her slit. I took it slow and easy, waiting for her to get used to me. Wanting to savor the experience.
Wanting to bring her pleasure.

Gently, I took my fingers and spread her, opening her completely for my tongue. With one long sweep, I licked her entire opening.
She was delicious. Sweet as honey. I licked her again.

Mmmmm.

I pulled my lips from my teeth and nibbled on her gently. She was still sore—I needed to be gentle. Her legs started to close
around my head and I pushed her knees farther apart. “Don’t make me tie you up,” I told her.

I continued with my mouth, lapping up her wetness, drinking every drop she had. I shifted my eyes upward and saw her clutching
the comforter. Her legs shook as I nipped her swollen clit. She was enjoying herself—finally.

I doubled my efforts, slipping my tongue inside her while moving my hands up her body. I stroked her belly and made my way
up to her breasts, brushing her nipples. She let out a startled gasp—her body taut.

Yes, my lovely. Come for me.

I sucked her clit into my mouth, grazing it gently with my teeth as I did so, licking right where I knew she wanted it most.

“Oh . . .” She arched her back, pushing herself toward me.

I ran my hands back down her torso and wrapped my arms around her thighs, holding her to me as her orgasm shuddered throughout
her body.

She stayed motionless for several minutes, and I would have felt smug except I was hard as a rock. I sat up slowly and adjusted
my pants.

“I think it’s time for you to go to your room,” I whispered.

“What about you? Shouldn’t we . . .”

“I’m fine.”

“But it’s my place to serve you.”

She wanted to please me. How did she not know that she had pleased me all evening long? That I wanted this moment to be about
her? I wanted to show her our arrangement was more than her doing things for me—it was me taking care of her. She’d given
me the responsibility of knowing what she needed, and tonight she needed unreciprocated pleasure.

“No,” I said. “It’s your place to do as I say, and I say it’s time for you to go to your room.”

She didn’t argue again, but slid off the bed and made her way out, closing the door behind her as she went. I groaned. Apollo
was still out in the hall.

I stripped off my tux and made my way to my bathroom, where I turned the water on as hot as I could stand. I stood for several
long minutes just letting the water wash over me, replaying in my mind the sight of Abigail climaxing. I turned my face to
the showerhead and remembered how it had felt the night before when she came with me deep inside her.

I took myself with both hands and closed my eyes.

She was bound in the playroom, bent over the padded table. We had been playing for hours and were both panting for release
.

“
Are you ready, Abigail?” I asked, brushing her backside with my cock
.

“
If it pleases you,” she said, voice strained with need
.

I moved away from her so she would feel the cold air rush between us. “It pleases me for you to tell me what you want
.”

“
I want
. . .”

“
Tell me
.”

She pushed her butt toward me. “I want your cock
.”

I chuckled and leaned over her, pressing my chest to her back. “Of course you do. Tell me where you want it
.”

Still silence
.

I slapped her thigh. “Tell me or I’ll send you to your room with nothing
.”

“
In my ass,” she whispered
.

“
Louder.” I slapped her thigh harder. “I didn’t hear you
.”

“
Please, Master.” She spoke louder this time. “Please, fuck my ass
.”

“
As you wish,” I said, taking the lube and spreading it over my fingers. I lightly traced her opening before sliding first
one and then two fingers deep inside her. She pushed back, wanting more. Wanting me
.

“
Patience.” I stretched her gently. “You have to have patience
.”

When she was ready, I slowly slid the slick head of my cock into her, pushing against the resistance and entering her fully.
She moaned
.

“
Do you like my cock up your ass?” I withdrew and entered her again. “You’re so fucking tight this way.” I pulled out. “You
feel so fucking good
.”

She pushed back against me, bringing me deeper into her, and threw her head back
.

“
Just like that, Abigail,” I said, moving faster. “So deep. Feels so good
.”

She panted in pleasure
.

“
Fuck.” I thrust harder. “I’m coming. I’m going to fill up that pretty ass
.”

I released into my hand with a grunt.

After I dried off, I crept into the hallway, where Apollo was still sitting quietly. Abigail’s door was closed. I walked down
the stairs and to the library, Apollo by my side.

The library was one of my favorite rooms. It had been my parents’ favorite place in the house and I’d left it untouched since
their deaths. Something told me Abigail would like the library as well and I decided to show it to her next weekend.

But right then I needed to play the piano. I sat down at the bench and let my fingers run up and down the keys, playing scales.
Once I’d finished, I closed my eyes and imagined Abigail as she looked earlier—soft and yielding in my arms as we danced.
Back arched and head thrown back as I pleasured her. I imagined her and let my hands play out the melody that swirled around
in my head.

Abigail’s song.

Abby’s song.

Before I headed down to the gym the next morning, I took a minute to bring the whipping bench out of the playroom and into
my bedroom. I felt it necessary—thinking of Abigail as Abby last night had confirmed for me that I needed to set the relationship
right. I had been too generous—ignoring her slipups, hesitations, and attitudes. I’d never done that before and didn’t like
what I was allowing Abigail to get away with.

I decided to give her a subtle warning. I’d show her the whipping bench—a reminder that I was her dominant and of my expectations.
Perhaps it would be enough and a chastisement wouldn’t be necessary.

I took a plug from the playroom as well. My fantasy in the shower had further cemented my desire to show her the pleasure
I could bring her. Pleasure she would not expect. I put the plug in my dresser along with a bottle of lube.

At seven o’clock, Abigail served me breakfast in the dining room. She poured a delicious-looking sauce over perfectly cooked
French toast. I couldn’t wait to try a bite.

“Make yourself a plate and have a seat.” I ate while she went into the kitchen. Mmm . . . bananas. Damn, she could cook.

She sat back down at the table and started eating her own breakfast.

“I have plans for you today, Abigail. Plans to prepare you for my pleasure.”

For your pleasure.

“Yes, Master.”

“Eat, Abigail. You can’t serve me on an empty stomach.”

She ate a bit more then, but not a lot. Not nearly enough. I slowed my eating down to match her pace. We both finished around
the same time, and she hopped up almost immediately to clear the table.

Yes, this will work fine. Just the sight of the whipping bench will be enough.

She walked back into the dining room and stood at my side. Her body trembled slightly.

“You have far too many clothes on,” I told her. “Go to my room and take them all off.”

While she went upstairs, I took Apollo outside. He nosed around the yard, caught the scent of something, and ran toward the
woods. I went back to the house. He would be fine outside for an hour or so.

When I walked into my room, Abigail stood naked, looking at the bench.

“It’s a whipping bench,” I said. She jumped at my voice. “I use it for chastisement, but it has other purposes as well.”

Don’t make me use it for chastisement.

She kept staring at it, perhaps trying to decide what my words meant.

“Step up,” I said. “And lie on your stomach.”

Get the feel of it, Abigail. Understand that I don’t want to use it for punishment, but that I will. Touch it. See that my
rules are real. That disobedience has consequences.

Then I will let you step down so I can pleasure you on my bed.

“Abigail,” I said with a sigh. “This is getting tiresome. Either do it or say your safe word. I won’t ask again.”

She wouldn’t use her safe word, would she? What if she did? I’d expected her to hesitate before stepping up to the bench,
but I assumed she would follow my order. What if I’d miscalculated? What would I do?

Before I could decide, she took a deep breath and stepped up, lying down as I’d commanded.

Yes.

I went to the dresser and took out the plug. I squirted lube on it and placed it beside her.

“Do you remember what I told you Friday night?” I looked over her naked body, laid out and waiting for me. My cock grew hard
against my pants.

I didn’t expect her to answer, of course, but I wanted her to know where I was headed. I watched her, looking for a sign or
movement to show she understood. But there was nothing. Perhaps I needed to refresh her memory. I put my hands on her waist
and ran them down to her ass. She tensed.

Yes, she understood.

“Relax.” I ran my hands up to her back, gently massaging her. She didn’t relax, of course. I stepped back and took my own
clothes off. As expected, she grew even tenser.

My experiment with the whipping bench was over. Perhaps she understood and I wouldn’t have to bring it out for chastisement.
Now it was time to move on to stage two of my plan.

But for a brief moment, as I looked her over, naked and bent over my whipping bench, I allowed myself to fantasize.

The rabbit fur flogger.

I would start with something simple for her first time. Soft and airy, it would lightly brush her thighs, her buttocks, her
lower back. I would ignite the fire within her, bring her to the very edge of pleasure, leave her there, and then finally,
finally, we would tumble over the edge together.

I took my cock in one hand and stroked it roughly, letting the
fantasy play out a bit longer in my head; then I let out a sigh. Someday. Someday soon, perhaps.

“Move to the bed, Abigail.”

She stumbled off the bench. Yes, she understood. She wouldn’t want to be on the bench again soon. I watched as she scrambled,
trembling and nervous, up on the bed.

I followed, taking her in my arms, dropping the plug beside her. “You have to relax. This won’t work if you don’t.”

I kissed her neck, and she grabbed on to me tightly. I worked my mouth down her neck, across her collarbone, and down her
torso. Slowly, the tension left her body as I trailed my lips over her. In this, I felt powerful—that I could affect her so.

I used my hands to ease her fear and my mouth to stoke her passion to a burning flame. She threw her head back.

Yes, like that.

I moved back up her body. “What I do, I do for your pleasure as much as mine. Trust me, Abigail.”

I will never lie to you. I need your trust too much. I need your trust to bring you the pleasure you crave. The pleasure you
deserve.

“I want the best for you,” I said against her belly. “Let me give it to you.”

She sighed as I brushed a finger against her, testing her wetness.

“I can bring you pleasure, Abigail.” I pushed her knees apart and settled between them. “Pleasure like you’ve never imagined.”

I wanted to see her eyes this time. Wanted her looking in mine as I entered her. This was important. She needed to understand
this lesson. Needed to know that her pleasure and well-being were always at the forefront of my mind. And that when we were
together on my bed, there would be nothing but pleasure involved.

Though her eyes held too many questions I didn’t have answers
for, I forced myself to look into them as I pushed into her. It would be so easy to close my own eyes, to shut everything
off except the feel of her, tight and hot around me. But I couldn’t. She needed this link between us, this closeness as we
became one.

Her arms tightened around me and she looked up in wonder, running a hand down my back.

Yes.

“Let it go, Abigail.” Damn, she felt good. Felt good as she ran another hand down my back and felt good as my cock slid deeply
into her. “Fear has no place in my bed.”

Ever.

I drew her closer as my hips moved faster. “Yes, Abigail.” I thrust into her harder. “Feel what I can give you.” She started
to tighten around me. “Doesn’t it feel good?” I thrust again.

It was working. She left the fear behind, probably already forgetting what my plans were. I sat up and lifted her hips, thrusting
even deeper. She wrapped her legs around me, drawing me closer.

I took the plug from beside her knees and, as I entered her again, I slid it into her backside. She screamed through her climax,
setting off my own, and we fell into a tangled heap on the bed.

When my heart slowed down, I sat up and looked into her wide, questioning eyes.

“It’s a plug,” I said, still a little out of breath. “Wear it a few hours every day. It’ll stretch you. Help prepare you.”

She bit her lip.

“Trust me,” I said. She nodded, but I could see she didn’t quite believe me. I couldn’t do any more—the trust would have to
come in time.

I rolled off the bed and pulled on my pants. “I need to let Apollo inside. Let’s have lunch at the kitchen table.”

She didn’t talk much at lunch, but she had a better appetite than she’d had at breakfast. Perhaps my lesson had worked. I
looked ahead to the next few weeks and saw us falling into a comfortable routine. The start of any relationship had a few
rough patches, as the parties gradually grew more comfortable with each other, as they learned more about each other.

So Abigail didn’t talk much—that would come with time. I knew as time passed that it would only get easier for me to see her
as Abigail, to put aside my vision of Abby.

It had been a long time since I’d had to work through the details and hardships of a new relationship. I’d gone straight from
a long-term relationship with Beth to Melanie, whom I’d known forever. I didn’t see the need to count the pain-loving sub
I’d played with after Melanie but never collared—that relationship ended before it ever really started.

“Friday at six o’clock,” I told Abigail as she left. She nodded in understanding.

I invited Jackson over for dinner that night. The house seemed too quiet and I wanted some noise. Jackson was always good
for noise.

He talked incessantly as we ate, causing me to smile several times over little tidbits he shared about his team. Normally,
I zoned out when he talked about football, but this time I listened. Something was different about him, and I had a feeling
it was Felicia.

“How’s Felicia?” I asked as we sat down on my couch after dinner. Jackson flipped through the channels, trying to find the
day’s scores.

“Great.” He reached into his pocket and took out his phone. “That’s her now.” He read the message she’d texted. “She’s watching
a movie with your librarian.”

“Jackson, I swear to—”

“I know. I know.” He held up his hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t say it to her face.”

My eyes fell on the clock above my television as he texted Felicia back. Ten thirty-three.

Ten thirty-three?

I calculated the time in my head. Abigail normally woke at six o’clock to get ready for work. I knew that from her application.
If the movie stayed on until eleven, she would get only seven hours of sleep.

Fuck.

I felt my anger rise. The day I brought out the whipping bench to warn her, she reacted by breaking a rule and getting less
sleep than I demanded? What the hell?

I groaned as I thought ahead to the coming weekend, suddenly glad I had five days to prepare. Five days to prepare myself.