The Training (Book 3: The Submissive Trilogy) (11 page)

“Yes.” I laughed. “If I decide I want to spank you with a coat hanger.”

“Got it.”

I glanced down at my watch and then looked out the window. We were flying smoothly and our ascent had leveled off. I unbuckled my seat belt and stood.

Her collar rested on the table near my wet bar. I lifted it from the box. Her eyes followed my every move.

I held it out. “Come here, Abigail,” I said. “And show me how much you want to wear my collar.”

Paul and Christine lived in a modest two-story house. As I pulled into their driveway, I thought back, trying to remember how long it had been since I’d last visited them—two years maybe?

I looked out the corner of my eye to Abigail. She sat rigid and unmoving beside me. She’d been that way since leaving the car rental agency.

“Relax,” I said, stroking her knee. “They’re two normal people who happen to enjoy the same interests we do. I promise there is nothing to be scared of.”

She nodded and took a deep breath, but didn’t talk.

“Remember what I told you on the jet,” I said. “I want you to feel comfortable speaking this weekend, not only to me, but to them as well.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve really been looking forward to this. It’s just that now that it’s here . . .”

I patted her knee. “Everything will be fine.”

“Yes, Master,” she said, but unconvincingly.

“I don’t want a cookie cutter reply,” I warned her. “I want you to believe me.”

She didn’t say anything as I parked the car and got out to open her door. I knew there was little I could say to convince her. She’d have to learn herself that Paul and Christine’s house held nothing to fear.

Lights blazed throughout the house even though it was well after nine o’clock. Didn’t they have the baby? I thought I remembered Paul saying his mother-in-law wouldn’t keep Sam until the next day.

Then, as we approached the house, I heard it—the unmistakable sound of a baby’s high-pitched wailing.

“Looks like it may be a long night,” I said.

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it before speaking.

I raised an eyebrow at her and turned to ring the doorbell.

Paul opened the door, and the screams got louder. “Nathaniel,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.” He waved us into the house.

Once we were inside, he faced us again. “You must be Abby.” He reached out a hand to her. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s good to finally meet you.”

Her cheeks flushed just a bit. “I’ve heard a lot about you, as well.”

“Don’t believe any of it,” he said in a low, joking whisper. “Well, don’t believe all of it. Some of it’s probably true.”

“Believe every word of it,” Christine said, stepping into the foyer. “Every word of it and then some.” She laughed and hugged me. “How’s it going, Nathaniel?” Then she held out her hands. “Abby, welcome to our home. As you can see, Sam didn’t want to miss your arrival.”

“Consider it birth control,” Paul said.

Christine shot a dirty look at her husband before turning her attention back to us. “Come on inside. Need some help with your bags?”

“Nathaniel?” Paul said, jerking his head to the door. “I’ll help you get the bags inside.”

“And Abby and I will be waiting in the den,” Christine said. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked as the two of them left the room.

“She’s lovely,” Paul said, once they left and we were outside alone.

“She is, isn’t she?”

“Little jittery about this weekend?”

“Of course. But I have all faith in Christine. She’ll have her calmed down in no time.”

“Mmm,” he agreed. “She does have that effect.”

“I hope so. Abby didn’t talk the entire way from the airport.”

We collected the bags and started back inside.

“I’m putting the two of you in the guest room down the hall from our room,” he said. “I hope Sam doesn’t keep you up all night.”

“We’ll be fine.”

We made it back inside, and he set Abby’s suitcase by the door, excusing himself to step inside the den, where Abby and Christine talked quietly. He placed a hand on Christine’s shoulder, leaned down, and whispered something to her. Christine said something I couldn’t hear and got up to walk into the kitchen after placing a kiss on Paul’s cheek.

Paul motioned for me to join him in the den.

“Nathaniel and I are going to step into my office for a bit,” he told Abby. “I won’t keep him long.”

She nodded.

“We’ll be back shortly,” I told her. I knew Christine would make her feel at home, but I didn’t want to be gone from her side for long.

“Yes, sir,” she said with a quick glance to the floor.

It was the first time she’d called me ‘sir’ in the presence of someone else, and I wasn’t prepared for the fire that pounded through me. I fought the urge to jerk my head to the guest room and command her to meet me there. To take her hard and fast . . .

“Nathaniel?” Paul said.

Paul’s office hadn’t changed much since I’d last seen it. I noticed our checklists on his desk.

“Little light reading?” I asked, sitting down in a spare chair.

“Just in between bouts of colic.”

“What have you decided for tomorrow?”

“Well.” He picked up one list. “She looks to be rather adventuresome, even though she has limited experience. The thing that stood out to me, though, was her hard limit on canes.”

I nodded.

“I taught you about canes,” he said. “You’re an expert with them.”

Yes.

“I think I’ll use the cane on Christine tomorrow, show Abby they aren’t to be feared.”

Part of me thought it was a good idea, to show her how a cane could be wielded when not used for punishment. Paul could use the cane; then Abby and I could discuss it. Abby and Christine could discuss it.

But I remembered a conversation just weeks before, the fear in her eyes as she spoke about the case in Singapore, and I knew now was not the time to introduce her to canes. Not our second weekend of play.

“No,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow.

“It’s one of her hard limits,” I said. “And since we’re starting what will hopefully be a long-term, if not permanent, relationship, I want to move slowly.”

“Long-term, if not permanent,” he repeated.

“What?”

“It’s just hard to believe you’re the same man I flew to New York to help months ago.”

“I’ve had a lot of help,” I said. “A lot of forgiveness and a lot more love than I deserve.”

“Everyone deserves love. I’m glad you finally realized that. I’m glad Abby didn’t give up on you.”

“Right,” I said. “So I’m not going to repay her by making her
watch a caning scene the second weekend she’s wearing my collar.”

“Good point,” he said. “Someone’s taught you well.”

“Fucking hell. Don’t go getting a big head.”

He laughed. “Remember one thing for me.”

“What’s that?”

“This is new to you,” he said. “New to Abby. Don’t try to make it exactly like your previous relationships. It’s not. It’s okay to change the rules or make new ones.”

“Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

He smiled. “I know you did.”

His words rang in my head an hour later as Abigail walked into the bedroom from the adjoining bathroom.

She looked around the room and then dropped her eyes to scan the floor, probably looking for where she was to sleep.

I’d thought many times over the last week how the night would go. What we would do as far as sleeping arrangements.

I turned the corner of the bed down. “I’d like for you to share my bed tonight, Abigail.”

Her eyes grew large.

“You’re free to turn me down, of course,” I said. “I did tell you to speak freely this weekend, and Paul gave me an air mattress for you to use.”

She swallowed audibly.

“I said I only rarely invited submissives to share my bed,” I said softly. “Not that I never did.”

That got her attention.

She walked to me and took my hand. “I’ll gladly share your bed tonight, Master.”

I couldn’t get my mind to settle and go to sleep.

Christine and Paul were nothing like I imagined them to be, not that I ever pictured exactly what I thought they would look like. I just envisioned something scarier.

With that in mind, I was woefully unprepared for the average-looking couple that welcomed me into their average-looking home. Paul was a few years older than us, was tall and well built, with dirty blond hair and beautiful blue eyes. Christine, on the other hand, was shorter, with shoulder-length brown hair and friendly-looking eyes that danced when she laughed.

I kept watching, searching in their demeanor for something, anything, to betray their relationship. Surely there would be a touch, a look, an action, and I would think,
Yes, now I can tell. Now it’s obvious.

Except there was nothing.

Nothing but Christine teasing her husband and giving him a
nasty look when he referenced their crying son as birth control. No subtle glance. No small but meaningful touch.

Just your average, everyday couple.

When the men left the den, Christine talked naturally—asking questions about how Nathaniel and I met. She knew about the wedding, and we talked, not only of Felicia and Jackson’s wedding, but of hers as well. Not surprisingly, our conversation eventually turned to Sam and the ups and downs of new motherhood. Not once did we talk about . . . well, what I thought we’d talk about.

The men eventually returned to the den, and Nathaniel and I went on to the guest room.

I rolled to my side, careful not to disturb Nathaniel. I was still surprised he’d asked me to share his bed and felt honored he’d done so. I knew, based on our prior conversations, that when he said he rarely shared his bed with a submissive, he meant fewer than four times.

Ever.

We hadn’t talked about the next day. How the day would go or what we’d do. I kept trying to think about how our time in the playroom would go—would it be strange to see Paul and Christine naked?

Paul and Christine’s guest room had a queen bed. For some reason, it felt odd. I wasn’t sure why—I had a queen bed in my apartment, and while we slept together more frequently in his king-sized bed, we did on occasion share my queen.

To keep my mind off the next day, I decided to think about beds. I wondered why beds were sized the way they were. Twin, queen, and king. Why not small, medium, and large? And why was twin the smallest?

I curled my knees up to my chest, and suddenly two arms came around me.

“You’re uncharacteristically restless tonight,” Nathaniel said, pulling me close.

“I’m sorry to disturb your sleep, sir.”

“Do you want to talk about something?”

“Not if it’ll keep you from sleep.”

He kissed the back of my neck. “I wouldn’t have asked if I was worried about losing sleep. Right now, my focus is you—making sure you’re comfortable. That you’re able to rest. I want you in the best frame of mind possible for tomorrow.”

I knew what his focus was. Knew how much time and attention went into planning our weekends. We were setting aside precious time for this visit. Time that would normally be ours, we were sharing.

He planned down to the tiniest detail how to best get me in the proper frame of mind, to help me relax and feel comfortable around his friends. He’d even invited me to his bed.

Since he told me to look at this weekend as library time, I ran my hands over his arms and enjoyed the strength in them, how comforting they felt around me.

“I feel better now,” I said.

“How so?”

“With you touching me. I know it sounds strange, but you’re always able to relax me with your touch.”

His arms tightened briefly. “I’m learning just as much as you. You looked a bit surprised when I invited you to bed. I feared maybe you wanted to sleep on the floor but didn’t want to disappoint me.”

I turned so I faced him. “I never want to disappoint you, but my reasons for sharing your bed tonight were completely selfish. I just felt more at ease sleeping with you tonight.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “What do you think of Paul and Christine?”

“They’re not at all what I thought.”

“Dare I ask what you thought?”

“Someone big and burly for Paul. Lots of body hair. Lots of black leather.” I yawned. “Maybe a mask.”

“You have the strangest imagination.”

“Someone reserved and quiet for Christine,” I said. “Mousy.”

“Christine is anything but mousy.” He traced the edge of my collar. “This does not leave you without free will. It does not make you a doormat. You know that here.” He tapped my head. “You need to get it here.” He laid his hand over my heart. “You are brave and strong and fierce.”

“It’s you,” I whispered, glad for the cover of darkness. “You let me be brave and strong and fierce.”

“You’ve only scratched the surface, my lovely.” His lips brushed my cheek. “I can’t wait for you to actually see it.”

“I’m nervous.”

“I know you are,” he said. “And tomorrow, even with your nerves, you will continue to be brave and strong and fierce. Because that’s what you are. It’s what I need from you, and it’s what you will give me.”