The Training

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.

I knew what information I’d be giving since Nathaniel had gone over what to expect and we’d discussed several aspects. Ground rules were laid out, and if I agreed, I was to sign the last page. The last page also collected details on the name I wanted to be called and other required information.

After I read and completed everything, I handed the dark-haired guy my paperwork.

He looked down at it, reading, before he addressed me. “Welcome, Abby,” he said, his eyes lit with amusement at something. “I’m Jonah.”

I shook his hand. “Hi, Jonah. Good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” he said, still smiling.

My face felt hot, and I blurted out the first thing coming to my head. “I thought you were a security guard.”

“I am a security guard,” he said. “But when Mr. West called Mistress Eve, I couldn’t refuse.”

That didn’t make a bit of sense to me. “Just doing a favor for another dominant?” I asked.

His head shook with a confident air. “I didn’t ask Mistress why. I don’t typically question her.” He laughed. “Unless, of course, I’m feeling particularly cheeky or want her to punish me.”

My mouth fell open. “You’re a submissive?”