The Enticement: The Submissive Series (11 page)

“Really?” Her eyes grew big. “I read a blog on their site.”

I was dying to know if it was mine. “Which one? I know several of the writers.”

She shifted her weight from foot to foot and she glanced around the room. “Umm, one on women’s relationships.” She fingered her necklace and whispered, “It’s written by a submissive.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that took over my face. “Oh, well. That one’s mine.”

She squealed, drawing the attention of the men. Realizing what she’d done, she slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she said when Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Just girl talk.”

The men went back to their conversation and she took my hand and moved us several steps away. Nathaniel’s gaze followed me, but he quickly went back to his discussion.

“I love your blog,” Julie said in a whisper. “You’re really the Submissive Wife?”

“Yes.” I didn’t have a chance to say anything further because she kept right on talking.

“Everything you write is so realistic. I
feel
what you’re saying. Does that make sense?” She fingered her necklace. “This is probably too much information, but Daniel’s recently collared me, and reading you, it just gives me confidence. I don’t know any long-term couples. You and Nathaniel give me hope that Daniel and I can last.”

In her I saw myself so many years ago, when Nathaniel and I were just starting out. “Julie,” I said. “I’m going to tell you the truth like I wish someone had told me years ago. It’s hard. Really hard. And if you knew everything that was going to happen, you’d wonder if you wanted to do it.” I thought about the road Nathaniel and I had traveled so far. All the heartache and uncertainty of the early days of our relationship. But then I thought about the love, the joy, the completeness we brought each other. “But take it from me—it’s so worth it. If your Master is like mine, you’ll never be happier than you are at his feet and in his collar.”

“Thank you,” she said with tears in her eyes. “We had the stupidest fight last night and I hate it when we argue. It doesn’t happen a lot, but we’re both really hardheaded.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” I pointed to the necklace I now knew to be a collar. “Are you twenty-four/seven?”

“No, we’re not. Daniel’s only Dominant in the bedroom. I wear his collar all the time, though. I like it that way—it keeps us connected.”

“Like the ring I wear.” I held out my right hand so she could see the second ring Nathaniel gave me when we married. “He has one, too. I only wear his collar when we’re in role.”

Her gaze traveled from my ring to lock on my collar. “So, tonight . . .”

“Yes, all week actually.”

“Have you done a week before?”

“No.” I shot her a smile. “But I’m sure you’ll soon be able to read how it goes.”

She laughed. “I look forward to it.”

We talked for a few more minutes. Listening to her reminded me so much of myself. She told me how she was a florist and met Daniel when he happened to stop by her store the first of the year. It was that chance meeting that finally pushed her to explore her interest in submission.

“Your story is a little similar to mine,” I said. “Except for one area.”

“What’s that?”

“I made the first move with my Master.”

That hadn’t been what she was expecting to hear and I laughed at her surprised expression. She recovered quickly, though. “You should blog about how you two met and have your readers share their stories.”

“That’s actually a great idea.” Not only that, but if WNN was truly interested in doing a new women’s television show, that could be a topic for a show. I’d have to run it by Meagan.

“Thanks,” Julie said. “One little question, is there a reason you aren’t using Nathaniel’s given name?”

“I never say his name when I’m wearing his collar,” I explained. “It’s just a small way to help keep me in my headspace.”

She nodded. “Makes sense.”

Looking over her shoulder, I saw the men heading our way. “Looks like the guys have finished their conversation.”

Julie sighed as she watched the men coming toward us. “If that isn’t a fine-looking sight headed our way, I don’t know what is.”

Daniel walked up to Julie and slid his hand to rest on her lower back. She beamed up at him. Nathaniel’s fingers played with the hair at the nape of my neck.

“I told your husband I’d monopolized enough of his time,” Daniel said to me. “I know there are other people he’d like to speak with. But it was so nice to meet you both. Let’s try to do dinner while you’re in town.”

Nathaniel agreed and we said our good-byes.

“You and Julie appeared to hit it off,” he said when they were out of earshot.

“She’s very friendly. Her story reminds me of mine a little bit. And the best part is”—I felt all giddy again just thinking about it—“she reads my blog!”

“Does she? That
is
exciting.” He spoke briefly to an older gentleman who called a greeting to him before turning back to me. “Is that the first time you’ve met a reader?”

“The first one who isn’t a friend or relative.”

He smiled and started to say something, but was interrupted by another business colleague. Though he was introverted by nature, I always enjoyed watching him in a setting like this one. There was a certain kind of pride in seeing him converse so eloquently and seeing the people who listened so intently. The feeling only grew when he’d turn my way and introduce me as his wife.

We slowly worked the room, because a lot of people ended up approaching him. I smiled and nodded for the most part because he didn’t give me permission to speak. I’d grown so used to being silent, I was caught off guard when he nodded after a woman our age approached.

“Nathaniel,” she said, shaking his hand.
She was tall and gorgeous, with honey-colored hair and long legs most women would kill for.

“Charlene,” Nathaniel said. “How nice to see you again.”

“Is this your wife? You must introduce me.” She spoke the last word while looking me up and down. It took me only two seconds of seeing how she acted around Nathaniel to recognize her type.

Bitch had eyes for my husband.

“Yes,” Nathaniel said, slipping an arm around my waist. Obviously, he knew her type, too. “This is Abby.”

“Hello, Charlene.” I didn’t say it was nice to meet her because it wasn’t and I told myself Nathaniel wouldn’t want me to lie.

“Abby, I’ve been dying to meet Nathaniel’s wife. It’s almost as if he’s been hiding you.” She slapped his arm with her silver clutch. “What made you decide to come this time?”

“Research. I’m a writer.”

“Fascinating,” she said in a tone that told me she thought it just the opposite. “I do love your necklace, though. I’ve been wanting one like that. Where did you get it from?”

My hand automatically drifted to my collar. I wasn’t expecting the question and I didn’t see any way to answer other than what I said. “Nathaniel gave it to me shortly after we met.”

The hand at my waist tightened slightly. A subtle way for him to tell me he heard my use of his name. It wasn’t a situation I’d been in before and I didn’t know if or how he’d deal with it.

But before me, Charlene’s eyes flashed with envy. “Fortunate woman.”

I lifted my chin. “Very.”

Her eyes darted around the room. “Excuse me, you two. I see someone I need to speak with.”

“She wants you,” I told him as she crossed the floor to grab Daniel. I shot Julie a look of sympathy.

“Yes. And you handled her well.” He pulled me toward his chest and whispered, “Except for the part when you used my name. How unfortunate there wasn’t a way to avoid it. Now you’ll spend the rest of the party thinking about the consequences.”

My heart pounded in anticipation or trepidation, I couldn’t quite determine which. He let go of my waist and pointed toward the buffet in the corner.

“Go grab us a plate,” he said. “I’ll get us a seat.”

I said a silent prayer that no one would speak to me while I was getting our food. Fortunately, no one did and I found Nathaniel moments after filling a plate.

He’d found us a love seat. It was secluded, but we would still be in view of the attendees. He took the plate while I sat down, and once seated, I put my hand on his knee. He fed me a few bites of stuffed mushrooms and as we ate, he pointed out a few people sharing snippets of his dealings with them.

It was refreshing to have a few minutes of alone time with him, even if those minutes were technically shared with hundreds of others. As expected, it didn’t last long.

“Nathaniel,” a man I didn’t know said, approaching us. “There you are!”

“I’ll be right back.” Nathaniel handed me the plate. “We’re leaving in twenty.”

*   *   *

W
e were back in our suite twenty-five minutes later. In our absence, the lights had been dimmed and the bed turned down. But neither one of us was ready to sleep.

“Kneel in the living room,” he said, taking off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. He didn’t take it off, even when he sat on the couch and watched me move into position.

“What happened tonight, Abigail?”

“I spoke your name, Master.”

“Against the rules when you wear my collar and yet unavoidable considering the situation. I find myself in quite the quandary.”

In the silence that followed his words, I tried to figure out what he’d do. He stood and walked to the bedroom. When he returned to the living room about half an hour later, he had a box in his hands. He gave it to me.

“Open it.”

It was a rather nondescript black box, about eight by eleven inches with no outward indication of what could possibly be inside. I carefully lifted the lid and peeked inside. A book?

“Take out the first item and open it to where the bookmark is.”

It was a book. A slim volume of Emily Dickinson poems, to be exact. I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but I flipped to the marked page.

“Read the poem.”

It was one I wasn’t familiar with and I read it for the first time out loud to him.

When Katie walks, this simple pair accompany her side,

When Katie runs unwearied they follow on the road,

When Katie kneels, their loving hands still clasp her pious knee
—

Ah! Katie! Smile at Fortune, with two so knit to thee!

I closed the book.

“What’s the poem about, Abigail?”

“Destiny, Master.”

“Yes,” he said. “Tonight we’re going to let destiny decide your fate. There are five black envelopes in the box, and two red ones. Open one of the black ones and tell me what it says.”

I picked one of the black envelopes at random. I couldn’t fathom what I’d find inside and I tore it open with excited fingers. My excitement died as I read the word printed on the card inside.

“Cane.”

Fuck. I still cringed when I remembered the time, not too long ago, when he’d given me three strokes. Damn that Charlene. I really wished he hadn’t given permission for me to talk with her.

“Harsh,” he said in agreement. “Open one of the red envelopes.”

If I had to guess, there were numbers inside the two red ones. I studied them both intently as if in doing so I could somehow read the number inside. Of course, there was no way to tell that. With a heavy sigh, and cursing Charlene again, I slowly opened the one on the left.

I had to read it twice to convince myself my eyes weren’t making up the words.

“Well?” he asked, though I was certain my grin gave away which envelope I’d selected.

“With orgasm.”

His lust-filled eyes met mine and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Ah, the fates have smiled upon you. Go get undressed and meet me back here in ten minutes.”

My legs shook just a bit as I rose to my feet. I couldn’t believe how close I’d come to being caned without an orgasm. Would he have really done it? I couldn’t imagine him changing his mind after he’d gone through all the trouble of creating the box and then having me open it.

Or could it be that both envelopes had “with orgasm” inside? That seemed likely to be the case. Of course I wouldn’t know because he’d probably never tell me. He had a knack for messing with my mind.

I made it back into the living room, naked, in under eight minutes. He stood by the dining room table and he’d changed as well. Or at least he’d completely taken his shirt off. He’d also
placed a thick pad on top of the table and covered it with blankets.

His face was unreadable as he took my hand and helped me get into position. Though the room was warm, I felt a bit cold and my body shook a bit.

He put his hand on my shoulder blade. “You’re trembling. Are you okay?”

“Yes, Master. I’m a bit chilly, but I know you’ll warm me up.”

“Nothing would please me more.”

A spicy orange scent filled the air and his warm hands massaged my favorite lotion along my back. He spent a long time working the tension from my body. I hadn’t realized how tight my back was until I relaxed under his touch.

“Yes. That’s it,” he murmured.

His hands moved to my backside and he switched from massage to a pleasurable percussion tapping. He eased his way slowly up along my spine, swept his fingers across the back of my neck, and worked his way back down, ending with a pass of his hand between my legs.

“How are you feeling?” he whispered.

“Green, Master.”

He repeated the percussion pattern several more times. Each time, I sank deeper and deeper into my headspace. My hips jerked when he unexpectedly circled my clit. I thought he might start with the cane now; surely he knew from touching me how aroused I’d become. Instead, he increased the intensity of his taps, once more working his way up and down my back.

I couldn’t stifle a moan when he started smacking my backside every so often.

“You’re so damn wet.” He slid a finger inside me. “Going to feel so good to push my way inside.”

But he didn’t stop. He kept tapping and smacking until I was
desperate for something. Anything. I fought to keep from grinding against the table and bit the inside of my cheek when he slid two fingers deep inside me.

Unexpectedly, the cane lightly struck my ass four times and I groaned.