Well, I was kneeling, naked, at his feet.

And we’d had the most amazing sex all day the day before.

“I’m very pleased with what you have discovered, my lovely,” he said. “And I want to discuss much of it with you, but for now—” He stood and walked to his cabinets. His bare feet padded as he went. “Your scene has inspired me, and I think you deserve a reward for that.”

He turned to face me, and I noticed he had the ball gag and a bell in his hands.

“Go to the table,” he said. “Just sit on it for now.”

I rose to my feet—he hadn’t told me to crawl—and walked to the table. Would he use all of my ideas or just some? I’d picked the gag over another toy, because I thought he’d use something else in addition. Though I’d also written about a new-to-me flogger, I knew he’d use it only if he wanted.

His footsteps sounded again as he walked toward me, but I kept my focus on his face. From the corner of my eye, I noted his shirtless chest and the items he still had in his hands.

“Open,” he said. Then he placed the gag in my mouth. He buckled it around my head, and I felt my heart pounding. The hard thump, thump, thump shook my body.

“Relax,” he said, stroking my hair. “You’re fine. Breathe through your nose.”

He let me sit for a few seconds, to acclimate myself to the feel of something in my mouth and getting used to breathing.

“Look at me,” he finally said, and then continued when I met his eyes. “You can’t speak your safe word now, so you need this.” He placed the bell in my hand. “If you need to yellow or red, drop this. Nod if you understand.”

I nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Now I want you to try it. Drop the bell.”

The bell fell from my hand and dropped to the floor with a ring and a thump. He bent down, picked it up, and placed it in my hand.

“Again,” he said, and again I dropped the bell.

The next time, he grabbed my wrists and held them behind my back. “Again,” he said. He was so close, I felt his chest against mine and his body between my legs. I dropped the bell again. He immediately let my wrists go.

Once the bell was in my hand again, he lifted my chin. “Do you feel comfortable with the bell? Nod for yes, shake your head for no.”

I nodded.

He leaned in close. “It turns me on so much to see you gagged for my pleasure,” he whispered, my chin still in his hand. “Excellent idea you had, Abigail.” His teeth grazed my earlobe. “Let’s try your next idea, why don’t we?”

Yes, I thought as he pulled me from the table and bent me over it. This is more like what I had in mind.

I looked down at my watch. Almost time to meet Nathaniel in the foyer.

It was the next Saturday and we were heading to a meeting of Nathaniel’s BDSM community friends. He said any new members had to attend a meeting prior to being allowed to the party. Since the party was later that night, we were attending the preparty meeting that afternoon.

My brain was running in all sorts of crazy circles, and my fingers itched to write in my journal, just to make sense of the thoughts floating around my head.

It wouldn’t do for me to be late meeting Nathaniel. All I needed was to give him a reason to punish me before we left. Although I’m sure everyone would know immediately what happened if I was unable to sit down.

I took one last look in the mirror. Nathaniel had picked out jeans and a T-shirt for me to wear. The tee had a V-neck, which showed off my collar, and my hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. I didn’t think I looked particularly like a submissive. Was that the point?

How did a submissive look anyway?

Would I be able to pick them out at the meeting? I was fairly certain they’d be more obvious at the party.

My party outfit remained in the closet in a zipped garment bag, and more than once I’d had to resist the urge to look at it. Nathaniel had told me there was to be no peeking until I was getting ready.

On the upside, I decided that at least meant I was wearing an outfit. My crazier imagined scenarios had me going to the party naked.

I heard Nathaniel return from taking Apollo out, and I ran downstairs to meet him.

I looked at him with a more critical eye. Would everyone know he was a dominant?

Crazy, I told myself. He knows all these people. They’ll all know who and what he is.

Which means—

“Abigail,” he said, a slight smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “Is there a reason you look like the cat who ate the canary?

I was certain his question only made my smile grow bigger. “Yes, Master. I just realized that everyone will know.”

He walked toward me. How was it possible he could look so damn good just walking? “Everyone will know what, my lovely?”

“What you do to me,” I said. “Sometimes it feels like we’re hiding from everyone. Even though Elaina, Todd, and Felicia know, it’s not the same. They’re different because they don’t participate.”

“And by being around those who do?” he questioned, coming to a stop in front of me.

“I can serve you freely,” I said. “I can show everyone how much I enjoy being yours.” I grinned. “I can’t wait.”

“You can’t wait,” he repeated. His hands came up to rest on my shoulders. “Not exactly the same mind frame of the submissive who had pages of fears last week.”

“Yes, Master,” I said, pressing my cheek against his hand as his fingers stroked my face. “Writing has helped. Thank you.”

“I just gave you the tools,” he said. “You had to discover everything else on your own.” He moved his other hand so that he cupped my face entirely. “I’m so proud of you.”

His lips were soft and light as they brushed against mine, and a shadow of yearning worked its way to my stomach. He must have felt it as well, because it wasn’t long before he deepened the kiss. While his every touch claimed me, there was something about a kiss from my master that stirred a longing deep in my soul.

He finally pulled back and gave me one last light kiss. “And I can’t wait to show everyone how much I enjoy being yours.”

Chapter Twenty-five

—ABBY—

The preparty meeting was being held at a community resource center in the city. Nathaniel had said not everyone attending the party would be at the meeting. The meeting would consist of a lecture of sorts on a predetermined topic, and I’d sign some paperwork afterward.

“We have to protect ourselves,” he said, explaining the paperwork. “Can’t have just anyone attending the party.”

I thought about Samantha and how she had been the one to tell me about Nathaniel. What a huge breach of protocol that must have been.

“It’s just as well Samantha isn’t in New York anymore,” he said, as if reading my mind. “I would have hated to have been the one to talk to her. Especially since it was her faux pas that brought you to me.” His tone and words told me how serious he was and how important he considered confidentiality.

We arrived at the center a little before three. Nathaniel led me into the building, his hand lightly resting at the small of my back. As always, his touch calmed me. Even though I was excited, I was still a bit nervous. Certainly, he felt the pulse of excitement running through me.

A middle-aged man waited in a doorway at the end of a short hall. He greeted Nathaniel warmly and nodded at me with a smile.

Normal, everyday people, I reminded myself. If I’d met that man in the grocery store, I wouldn’t have looked at him twice. Hell, I didn’t look twice at him now.

The room held a long conference table, with maybe fifteen people in attendance. My eyes did a quick sweep. There seemed to be an even number of men and women, though not everyone appeared to be paired up.

Of course, I told myself, not everyone would be in a couple. A group of three women stood in one corner, chatting. I noticed how one of them, a blonde, looked Nathaniel up and down. He seemed oblivious to her, but he nodded and smiled at several people. Almost everyone appeared to know him, but no one spoke directly to us.

He pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit down. It wasn’t until he was settled beside me that I looked around the room a bit more closely.

Sitting near the head of the table was the security guard from Nathaniel’s office—the one who had been there the weekend of our role-play. He caught my eye, winked, and gave a little smile.

I must have made some sort of noise because Nathaniel gently squeezed my knee under the table. I looked up and he shook his head. Not now, he mouthed.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying anything, but returned the smile and looked at the guy again.

He had longish black hair and sharp, angular cheekbones. He leaned back in his chair, fingers thumping on his knee, head nodding as if in rhythm to a beat only he heard. No one sat near him, and I noticed he didn’t wear a collar.

Dominant, I decided. Definitely dominant.

Knowing what he was and knowing what I needed in a relationship, I looked closer at him, trying to see if I felt any interest in him. He was nice enough to look at: he had a lean, muscular body, and a dark tattoo encircled his right arm. Outside of the appreciation I might have felt looking at a fine piece of art, I felt nothing. There was no spark, no longing, and no pull toward the man sitting at the head of the table.

I looked back at Nathaniel, however, and my whole body reacted. My pulse beat faster. My gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth, and I shivered remembering it on me earlier. He alone called to both my body and soul. No one else even came close.

I wondered, though, as I looked once more at the man at the head of the table, if his name had been one of the ones Nathaniel contemplated giving me when I left him earlier in the year. He’d said he couldn’t decide on anyone, and I wondered for the first time why. Was the dark-haired man cruel? Was there some defect in his character that made him undesirable as a dominant?

A rustle from the back of the room caught my attention, and I, along with everyone else, turned to watch the woman entering. She completely commanded the room. Even the security guard (I wished I’d at least looked at his name tag a few weeks ago so I knew what to call him) sat up straighter and gave her his full attention.

There was nothing noticeably remarkable about her. She was a large woman with nondescript hair, but her eyes were vivid and she moved with a dramatic grace. Her presence and command were undeniable.

Her name was Eve, she said, and she spoke with calm authority, welcoming everyone and giving a brief rundown of the day’s topic: rope types and usage.

It didn’t take long for my attention to wander away from her discussion on the pros and cons of natural fiber ropes versus synthetic fiber ropes. It wasn’t anything I’d ever have to make a call on, after all. I even noticed the blonde who had ogled Nathaniel stifle a yawn. She glanced toward us; I gave her a small smile and shifted closer to Nathaniel. His hand dropped down to my knee, and I thought back to the previous weekend, when he’d played out my written scenario.

The ball gag. The leather flogger that felt sharper against my skin than the suede. Nathaniel taking me, hard and fast, from behind. His command to kneel and kiss his feet in thanks afterward.

Gah.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

Focus, I told myself, and I forced my brain to concentrate on the many various elements that went into selecting a rope to tie someone up. Because, really, if you thought about it, who knew there was so much to think about?

When the talk was over and Eve had answered everyone’s questions, she dismissed us. Nathaniel stood up and pulled my chair out.

“Ready to fill out paperwork?” he asked.

When I confirmed I was, he led me over to the dark-haired dominant and requested the necessary papers. Then he left me alone to read and fill them out. He did so, I knew, to show that it was my choice. Had I not felt comfortable, we would leave, no questions asked.