The Training (Book 3: The Submissive Trilogy) (25 page)

I stood completely still and let my words sink in. I heard her sharp intake of breath.

“It’s a huge step for me to think that, Abby,” I said. “For me to allow myself to think that one day you and I will marry and have children. But it’s you who gave me the freedom to dream.” I turned and framed her face with my hands. “The wealth, the housekeeper, the salary I’m not taking this year? They’re nothing. They’re the insignificant things, Abby. Not you.
You
are the most significant part of my life.”

“Nathaniel,” she whispered.

“I love you,” I said. “And that’s all that matters. If you want to go grocery shopping and do the laundry, do it. If it’ll make you feel better to help with the utilities, help with them. But please,
please
, don’t ever lose sight of what you mean to me.”

She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” I kissed her eyelid. “Don’t apologize. Moving in with me, changing your entire way of life, of course it’s been stressful. It’s going to take some adjustment.”

“I didn’t handle it very well.”

“We’re here now, aren’t we?” I slipped my arms to her waist and drew her closer. “Isn’t that all that matters?”

She laid her head on my chest and sighed. “Yes.”

The weight of the week dissipated, leaving in its place a sense of joy and peace. The air around us was silent, and I allowed the old memories and doubts I had as a teenager to be replaced by the new dreams made possible by the woman I held.

She sighed. “I messed up our weekend.”

“What do you mean?” I murmured into her hair. Frankly, the weekend was going better than I imagined it would when I pulled into the driveway earlier.

“It’s past the time you normally collar me,” she said.

“I can collar you later tonight,” I said, shifting my plans for the weekend around in my head.

Her arms tightened around me. “Sounds good to me.”

“One more thing,” I said. “I need you to know that while I appreciate the fact that you want me to treat you the way I did my previous submissives, it won’t ever happen.”

I pulled back to catch her gaze and watched her wrinkle her forehead.

“You’re not one of my previous submissives,” I said. “I told you before that I cared for them, but it’s not the same as what I feel for you. Not even close.”

“I’ve never questioned that.”

“And yet you still asked me to treat you the same,” I reminded her. “Still asked me what I would do with them.”

“So tell me,” she said. “Would you have postponed your weekend play for them the same way you did tonight?”

I nodded. “If something was wrong between us, yes.” At the surprise in her eyes, I continued. “But I would never have thought to bring them up here, or to share with them what I shared with you. I’ve talked with Paul a lot about this, Abby, and you’re not the same as them. It doesn’t bother me to treat you differently. Don’t let it bother you.”

“I’ll try,” she whispered.

I pulled her to my chest. “Don’t compare yourself to them. You are completely different.
We
are completely different.”

We spent the next several hours exploring the expanse of the attic together. Every so often, one of us would catch the other looking outside at the oak tree and we’d share a smile.

He had told me to expect some sort of role-play, and on Sunday morning, I waited in the living room, reading. I hadn’t seen him since breakfast. He’d left the dining room shortly after eating, instructing me to dress in the outfit he had waiting in my closet.

I’d never worn garters before. The ones he laid out for me were black, and I’ll admit, made my legs look sexier than normal. It’d never occurred to me to wear such things, and I decided to plan a shopping trip with Felicia for sometime the next week.

I pulled absentmindedly at the skirt. It was ridiculously short and fell just past my upper thighs. I felt certain a glimpse of garter would peek out from the bottom whenever I walked. The jacket wasn’t much better; it was tight and barely covered my chest. There wasn’t even a blouse, just a black lace bra that showed when I moved the right way. I had to admit, though, just sitting and thinking about what he could have planned was a turn-on.

How would I know when he was ready? Would he come find me?

He would have to, right?

I thought back to Friday night. How he’d wanted to talk as much as I had and how he’d postponed our play until he made sure everything was right between us. It still put a silly grin on my face every time I thought about his mention of the tree house and how he wanted the same things I did.

We’d spent hours in the attic, looking through old trunks, and each time he uncovered a new piece of furniture, it was as if he uncovered another part of himself. He’d eventually collared me, and for some reason our ritual felt more intense than normal. Later, when it was time to sleep, he invited me to share his bed, and turning him down never crossed my mind.

Lunch with Jackson and Felicia the day before had been wonderful. I’d rarely gone so long without seeing her, and she still had a glow about her. For once, I didn’t feel jealous that she shared a connection with Nathaniel that I didn’t. After our Friday-night talk, Nathaniel and I both felt more secure in our relationship, with where we were and where we wanted to eventually be.

I stood and walked to the bookshelves so I could put away the book I’d been pretending to read.

“What do you think, Apollo?” I asked. “Should I find something to do or give up?”

Apollo cocked his head to the side, gave a soft grumble, and rolled to his back. I took the hint. Belly rub it was.

My phone beeped with an incoming text.

“Sorry, Apollo,” I said, moving to the table beside the couch to get my phone. “It’s probably Felicia.”

But it wasn’t Felicia. It was Nathaniel. My heart pounded when I read the message.

My office. Now.

I stared at the message for entirely too long.

His office?

His office,
where
?

I went to the desk in the library first. Nothing. He wasn’t even in the library. He had an office across from the dining room he used when he worked at home.

I ran as quickly as the black, strappy shoes would let me, expecting to find the door shut. Instead, it stood open. I peeked inside, but again, the room was empty.

He didn’t mean his
office
office, did he? The one in the city?

There was nothing else he could mean, though.

I grabbed my purse and keys to his second car, rubbed Apollo on the head, and went to the garage. A note waited on the seat.

So much meaning in such a short note, I decided as I drove to his office. For one, I would be allowed to call him “Mr. West,” and for another, I was apparently late. The thought thrilled and titillated me.

I pulled into the parking garage across the street from his office and realized I would have to walk in public in the outfit he’ d picked out for me. I felt an odd combination of pride and excitement.

I scurried across the street to the tall building that housed his company.

“Yes, ma’am,” the weekend guard said when I made it to the front door.

I knew the weekday guard, spoke to him frequently anytime I visited Nathaniel at his office. This guy, though, wasn’t the older gentleman I recognized. This guy was young and unfamiliar.

“Ms. King to see Mr. West,” I said, tugging at my skirt. I wondered if he saw the garters when I walked inside and then mentally chastised myself.
Does it matter?

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Mr. West is expecting you. Said to send you right up.” He looked only at my eyes. His gaze didn’t drop to my outfit at all. “I need to see your identification.”

“What?” I asked. “Oh, right.” The weekend guy wouldn’t know me like the weekday guy would. I pulled my wallet out and flashed him my driver’s license.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, and then waved me through to the elevators.

Nathaniel’s office was on the top floor, and though I’d been inside his office multiple times, this time was different. This wasn’t a normal meet-you-for-lunch or it’s-time-for-our-yoga-class meeting.

Sara wasn’t at her normal place, of course, with it being a Sunday. The large wooden door of Nathaniel’s office was closed, and I stopped for a moment, unsure how to continue.

He would have heard the elevator ping when it arrived on the floor, wouldn’t he? Should I knock or text him? Maybe he’d open the door for me?

But he’d had me drive all the way to his office. Surely he wasn’t going to open the door for me.

I knocked.

His voice was low and commanding when he answered.

“Enter.”

I pushed the door open with a hesitant hand. He sat at his desk, thumbing through papers. At my entrance, he looked over the tops of them and scowled at me.

“Come in, Ms. King, and close the door.”

The door closed behind me with a loud click.

“You’re late,” he said.

I’d decided exactly which angle I was going to play on the way over, so I flipped my hair behind my shoulder and tilted my head.

I like you feisty
, he’d said two weeks ago.

He liked feisty? I’d be feisty.

“I wasn’t sure what time you wanted me, Mr. West,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t my summons say now?”

“Maybe. I really don’t remember.”

“That’s an ongoing problem of yours, isn’t it?” he asked. “Forgetfulness?”

I shrugged.

He set the papers down. “I’ve heard you are quite forgetful lately. That you’ve been otherwise occupied when you should be working.”

“I have a lot on my mind,” I said. “But I get my work done.”

He scanned the papers in front of him. “According to this, you make personal phone calls on company time.”

“One or two.”

“One or two an hour, perhaps,” he said. “Are you calling a man?”

I shifted my weight. “I call my boyfriend sometimes.”

He looked at me from head to toe and then motioned to my outfit. “Does your boyfriend know you dress this way?”

“Oh, no, Mr. West.” I played along, trying to pull the hem of
my skirt down. “My boyfriend doesn’t see me like this. I wore this at the request of my master.”

I thought maybe my admission would trip him up or that he would at least show some sort of acknowledgment. Instead he nodded. “Ah, I see,” he said. “You’re a kinky girl.”

I thought about the previous weekend and smiled. “Very.”

“I bet you like dressing this way,” he said. “Like showing your body off for your master.”

“Yes,” I said, running my hands over my hips and jutting my chest out just a tad.

“And I bet you like showing it off to other men as well, don’t you, Ms. King?” He pushed his chair back. “Like the security guard downstairs?”

“He was okay.” I ran my hands up my body, skirting the swell of my breasts. “But I was really more interested in what you thought, Mr. West.”

He stood up and walked to me, his eyes never leaving mine. “Is this the attitude your supervisor has to deal with?” he asked. “This inappropriate flirting?”

I gave him my best smile. “You never answered my question. What do you think of my outfit?”

He moved to stand behind me, and his hands came around my body to cup my breasts. “The jacket is too tight.” He pulled at the fabric and the buttons scattered to the floor. His voice was low and deep as his hands slid to my hips. “And the skirt is too short,” he whispered in my ear.

“Perhaps you would like them better off?” I asked, pushing back into his groin and smiling at the feel of his erection.

“Ms. King,” he said, as if in shock. “You do realize the gravity of your actions? I could fire you for your impertinence.” Those were his words, but his hands didn’t move from my body.

I spun to face him and batted my eyelashes. “But, Mr. West, I need this position.”

“I have no choice,” he said, and took a step backward. “I have to let you go. I can’t have this disrespectful, outlandish behavior distracting my other employees.”

I walked slowly toward him, slipping the tattered remnants of my outfit to the ground, stepping out of it. “Surely there’s something I can do.”

“I don’t know. It’s a very serious situation.”

“There has to be something.”

His gaze traveled up and down the length of my body. “There may be one thing.”

“I’ll do it,” I said. It was odd how the role-play bolstered my confidence, how it affected even the way I walked. My hips swayed as I approached him. I ran a finger down his chest. “Please.”

He turned and walked to his desk, slowly removing his belt as he went. When he stood to the side of his desk, he faced me, flexing the leather in his hands. “I don’t know if you’re up for this.”

Holy fuck. Is he going to spank me with his belt?

“I assure you I am, Mr. West.”

“Come here.”

I walked to his desk.

“Hold out your hands,” he said.

He took them and looped the belt around them, binding my wrists together. I didn’t struggle as he pushed me forward, and I rested my forearms on the desktop with my ass facing him.

Making sure I saw every move he made, he walked behind his desk and opened a drawer. I sucked in a breath when he withdrew a wooden paddle and placed it on the desk.

He has a paddle in his office?

In the span of a few shaky breaths, he’d moved behind me. His fingers nipped the skin of my thighs as he undid my garters. He roughly rubbed my ass through the scratchy lace of my panties before slipping his fingers under the waistband and slipping them over and down my hips, exposing me to him.

“You’ve been a very naughty employee, Ms. King,” he said. “I’m going to have to punish you.”

I wiggled my ass. “Whatever you think best, Mr. West.”

His hand came down on my backside with a satisfying smack. “I’m going to make sure you understand the consequences of your actions.” While he spoke, he continued spanking me. “You need to understand exactly what I expect from my employees. What is allowable. If you forget, I’ll be obligated to remind you again.”