Author: Tara Sue Me

Six years ago, when I was twenty-six, my mother got into a really bad situation over credit card debt, following her divorce with Dad. She owed so much, the bank threatened foreclosure on her house. They would have been well within their rights to do so. But Nathaniel West saved the day.

He was on the bank’s board of directors and convinced them to allow Mom a way to save her house and get out of debt. She died of heart disease two years later, but for those two years, every time his name was mentioned in the papers or on the news, she would retell the story of how he’d helped her. I knew he wasn’t the hard ass the world thought he was.

And when I heard about his more…delicate tastes, my fantasies started. And kept on. And kept on, until I knew I had to do something about them.

Which was why I found myself pulling into the driveway of his estate in a chauffeur-driven hired car at five forty-five that Friday afternoon. No luggage. No bags. Just my purse and cell phone.

A large golden retriever stood at the front door. He was a beautiful dog, with intense eyes that watched as I got out and made my way to the house.

“Good boy,” I said, holding my hand out. I wasn’t overly fond of dogs, but if Nathaniel had one, I needed to grow used to him.

The dog whined, walked toward me, and pushed his nose into my hand.

“Good boy,” I said again. “Who’s a good boy?”

He gave a short bark and rolled over so I could pet his belly. Okay, I thought, maybe dogs weren’t so bad.

“Apollo,” a smooth voice said from the front door. “Come.”

Apollo’s head lifted at his owner’s voice. He licked my face and trotted to stand beside Nathaniel.

“I see you’ve made Apollo’s acquaintance.” Nathaniel was dressed casually today—a light gray sweater and darker gray pants. The man could wear a paper bag and look good. It really wasn’t fair.

“Yes,” I said, standing and brushing imaginary dirt off my pants. “He’s a very sweet dog.”

“He’s not,” Nathaniel corrected. “Normally, he doesn’t take kindly to strange people. You’re very fortunate he didn’t bite you.”

I didn’t say anything. Nathaniel turned and walked into the house; he didn’t even look back to make sure I followed. I did, of course.

“We’ll have dinner tonight at the kitchen table,” he said as he led me through the foyer. I tried to take in the decor—a subtle mixture of the antique and contemporary—but it was hard to take my eyes off Nathaniel as he strode along in front of me.

We walked down a long hallway past several closed doors, and all the while he talked. “You can consider the kitchen table your free space. You’ll take the majority of your meals there, and when I join you, you may take it as an invitation to speak freely. Most of the time, you will serve me in the dining room, but I thought we should start the evening on a less formal basis. Is all this clear?”

“Yes, Master.”

He turned and there was ire in his eyes. “No. You have not yet earned the right to call me that. Until you do, you will address me as ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. West.’”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “Sorry, sir.”

He resumed walking.

Forms of address were a gray area, and I hadn’t known what to expect. At least he hadn’t seemed too upset.

He pulled a chair out from a finely carved table and waited for me to sit down. Silently, he sat across from me.

Dinner was already on the table and I waited for him to take a bite before I ate anything. It was delicious. Someone had baked chicken br**sts and topped them with a delectable honey almond sauce. There were also green beans and carrots, but I hardly noticed them, the chicken was so tasty.

It dawned on me, eventually, that there was no one else in the house, and dinner had been waiting. “Did you cook this?” I asked.

He inclined his head slightly. “I am a man of many talents, Abigail.”

I shifted in my seat and we resumed eating in silence. I was too nervous to say anything. We’d almost finished before he spoke again.

“I am pleased you do not find it necessary to fill the silence with endless chatter,” he said. “There are a few things I need to explain. Keep in mind, you can speak freely at this table.”

He stopped and waited for my response.

“Yes, sir.”

“You know from my checklist I’m a fairly conservative dom. I do not believe in public humiliation, will not participate in extreme pain play, and I do not share. Ever.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Although as a dom, I suppose I could change that at any time.”

“I understand, sir,” I said, remembering his checklist and the time I’d spent completing mine. I really hoped this weekend hadn’t been a mistake. My cell phone felt reassuring in my pocket; Felicia knew to call the police if I hadn’t checked in within the next hour.

“The other thing you should know,” he said, “is that I don’t kiss on the lips.”

“Like Pretty Woman?” I asked. “It’s too personal?”

“Pretty Woman?”

“You know, the movie?”

“No,” he said. “I’ve never seen it. I don’t kiss on the lips because it’s unnecessary.”

Unnecessary? Well, there went the fantasy about pulling him to me with my hands buried in that glorious hair.

I took a last bite of chicken as I thought more about what he’d said.

Across from me, Nathaniel continued talking. “I recognize that you’re a person with your own hopes, dreams, desires, wants, and opinions. You have put those things aside to submit to me this weekend. To put yourself in such a position demands respect and I do respect you. Everything I do to or for you, I do with you in mind. My rules on sleeping, eating, and exercise are for your benefit. My chastisement is for your betterment.” He ran a finger around the rim of his wineglass. “And any pleasure I give you—” the finger ran down the stem once and back up “—well, I don’t suppose you have any qualms concerning pleasure.”

I realized I was gaping at him when he smiled and pushed himself away from the table.

“Are you finished with dinner?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” I said, knowing I wouldn’t be able to eat any more, my thoughts consumed by his remarks on pleasure.

“I need to take Apollo outside. My room is upstairs, first door on the left. I will be there in fifteen minutes. You will be waiting for me.” His green eyes gazed steadily at me. “Page five, first paragraph.”

I’m not sure how I made it up the stairs—every step felt like I wore iron shoes. But I only had fifteen minutes and I needed to be ready when he returned. At the top of the stairs, I sent Felicia a text saying that all was okay and I was staying, adding our agreed-upon secret code so she’d know it was really me.

I pushed open the door to Nathaniel’s room and gasped. Candles were everywhere. In the middle of the room was a large four-post bed made of heavy wood.

However, according to page five, first paragraph, the bed wasn’t my concern. I looked down. The pillow on the floor was.

Beside the pillow was a sheer nightgown. My hands shook as I changed. The gown barely skimmed my upper thighs and the gauzy material would show every part of my body. I folded my clothes and put them in a neat pile beside the door. All the while I was chanting to myself:

This is what you wanted.

This is what you wanted.

After repeating that about twenty times, I finally calmed down. I went to the pillow, knelt on it, and sat with my butt resting on my heels. I stared down at the floor and waited.

Nathaniel entered minutes later. I risked a peek and saw that he’d removed his sweater. His bare chest was muscular; he had the look of one who worked out frequently. His pants were still belted at the waist.

“Very nice, Abigail,” he said when he’d closed the bedroom door. “You may stand.”

I stood with my head down as he walked around me. Maybe in the candlelight he wouldn’t be able to see how badly I trembled.

“Strip the gown off and place it on the floor.”

Moving with as much grace as I could, I pulled it over my head and watched it flutter to the ground.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

He waited until my gaze met his and then he slowly removed his belt. He gathered it in one hand and walked around me again. “What do you think, Abigail, shall I chastise you for your ‘Master’ remark?” He snapped the belt and the leather tip struck me. I jumped.

“Whatever you wish, sir,” I managed to choke out, surprised by how turned on I felt.

“Whatever I wish?” He continued walking until he stood before me. He unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down. “On your knees.”

I dropped to my knees and had my first glance at Nathaniel naked. He was magnificent. Long, thick, and hard. Very long. Very thick. Very hard. The reality was so much better than the fantasy.

“Service me with your mouth.”

I leaned forward and took the tip of him past my lips. Slowly, I moved to take the rest of him in. He felt even larger in my mouth and I couldn’t help but think what it would feel like to take him inside my body in other ways.

“All of it,” he said when he reached the back of my throat.

I raised my hands to feel how much more I had left to go.

“If you can’t take it in the mouth, you can’t have it anywhere else.” He pushed forward and I relaxed my throat to take him the rest of the way. “Yes. Like that.”

I’d misjudged just how large he was. I made myself breathe through my nose. It wouldn’t do to pass out on him.

“I like it hard and rough and I’m not going to go easy on you just because you’re new.” He fisted his hands in my hair. “Hold on tight.”

I had just enough time to wrap my arms around his thighs before he pulled out and rammed himself back in my mouth. He pumped in and out several times.

“Use your teeth,” he said.

I pulled my lips back and scraped his length as he moved in and out. Once I got used to his size, I sucked a bit, and wrapped my tongue around him.

“Yes,” he moaned as he pounded into me harder.

I did this, I thought. I made him hard and had him moaning. It was my mouth. Me.

He started to twitch inside my mouth.

“Swallow it all,” he said, pumping in and out. “Swallow everything I give you.”

I nearly choked as he came, but shut my eyes in order to focus. Salty spurts shot down my throat, but I managed to swallow.

He pulled out, gasping. “That, Abigail,” he said with heavy breaths, “that is what I wish.”

I sat back on my heels as he pulled his pants on.

“Your room is two doors down on the left,” he said, calm once more. “You sleep in my bed by invitation only. You are excused.”

I pulled the gown back on and gathered my discarded clothing.

“I will take breakfast in the dining room at seven sharp,” Nathaniel said as I left the room. Apollo slipped in past me through the open door and curled up at the foot of Nathaniel’s bed.

Thirty minutes later, wide-awake and buried under the covers, I replayed the scene over and over in my mind. I thought of Nathaniel: his aloof manner, the calm way he issued commands, his absolute control. Not only had our encounter met my expectations, it had exceeded them.

I couldn’t wait for the rest of the weekend.


I overslept the next morning, waking with a start and cursing under my breath when I saw the time. Six-fifteen wouldn’t give me enough time to shower if I was going to have breakfast on the table by seven. I hurried into the adjoining bathroom and brushed my teeth. Barely looking in the mirror, I pulled a brush through my hair and made a sloppy ponytail.

I grabbed a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt out of the closet, surprised they fit until I remembered the papers I had filled out asked for my size. My gaze fell on the unmade bed as I stepped out the door. Leaving it crossed my mind briefly, but then I decided Nathaniel was probably a neat freak. I didn’t want to make him angry my first weekend.


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