The Romantic Dominant (7 page)

She was waiting as he’d instructed, her crimson backside naked and inviting further punishment. Pulling a wooden spoon from a collection of kitchen utensils displayed in an antique copper urn, he moved across to her and tapped it against her bottom.

“When I give you an order I expect it to be obeyed immediately and without question. Do you understand, Abby?” he asked, purposely keeping his voice warm and tender, creating the father figure she so desperately wanted.

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Six on each cheek, then you will thank me for correcting you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Knowing her bottom was already tender, he walloped her hard enough to elicit yelps, but not so hard as to scare her; that would come later. The ease with which she was complying told him it would only take a few days to have her completely under his control. He continued, delivering the swats slowly and methodically, and when she kicked up a foot, he paused, caressing her punished behind.

“I know it hurts but you have to learn. This is all for your benefit. You do understand that, don’t you sweet Abby?”

“Yes, Sir,” she panted.

“Only a couple left. Don’t kick out again or I’ll to start over, and we don’t want that, do we?”

“No, Sir.”

The warmth and love he was offering was completely alien to him, but he had learned to flawlessly mimic such affection, and as he landed his final two smacks he smiled. In the days ahead he could drop his facade and the girl would be utterly helpless, completely dependent, and truly fearful of him.

“There, your punishment is over,” he purred, caressing her backside.

“Thank you so much, Sir, for correcting me, and helping to understand that I have to always obey you.”

“That’s exactly what I needed to hear, good girl,” he crooned, continuing to fondle her. “I’m going to take you back to your car, but you’re not allowed to wear panties until I tell you otherwise. When I ask you about it I’ll know if you’re lying and you know what will happen. I’ll expect you online at 7 p.m.”

She rose from the table, and he saw her puckered nipples touching the thin cotton of her shirt.

“Aren’t these cute,” he smiled, pinching lightly. “I want to feast on them next time I see you.”

“Oh, Sir,” she sighed, “that sounds wonderful.”

“Time to leave. I still have work to get to,” he lied.

She scooted ahead of him into the garage, her panties and bra in her hand,

“Oh, shoot,” she declared, as she saw her wallet and keys on the seat. “I left my bag in the living room.”

“I’ll get it,” he smiled, kissing her on the cheek. “I guess they fell out when I picked it up. You stay put, I want to think about you squirming on that hot bottom of yours.”

She sighed contentedly as she watched him disappear into the kitchen, but Connor was sniggering smugly; everything had gone according to plan.

Entering the living room he grabbed her phone and quickly installed a sophisticated chip that would allow him to listen to her calls, download her texts, and turn on a microphone allowing him to eavesdrop on everything happening around her.

Slut Abby, I am really looking forward to having you here. It will be so satisfying to finally get that Brazilian Bitch out of this house,
and striding from the room he hurriedly returned to his car.

Upstairs Gabriela was tied to a bed, gagged and blindfolded, and in spite of the scene that had played out in the living room she’d heard not a peep; she was at peace, lost in her fantasy.

Her marvelous Zander was tickling her naked body with a soft feather duster, whispering it between her legs as he nipped and sucked her nipples. Sliding it across her inner thighs, he made her moan as she wriggled, and when he moved his fingers into her soft sex, searching and exploring, she cried out in pleasure.

“What a wet girl you are,” he crooned. “So naughty, being so wet. What happens to naughty girls?”

“They get spanked,” she sighed.

“Then I must roll you over and spank you,” he whispered, his mouth at her ear.

Her ongoing fantasy freed her from her nightmare existence, and as it always did, it sent her into a soft, tranquil doze.

One day, Zander, one day I will be out of here and in your arms, I swear it,
she vowed as she drifted off.

After the initial shock of her abduction she had learned very quickly that Connor Matthews, though completely insane, was very easy to manipulate.

He enjoyed seeing her miserable and frightened, so that’s what she fed him. She pretended things bothered her when they didn’t, and if he truly hurt her she didn’t react. To her great relief he had remained completely oblivious to her machinations.

Her cell phone had to be with her at all times so she was always reachable, but she had no privacy; the phone had been cloned and he listened to every conversation and read every text.

Hearing the voices of her loved ones was far more important to her than his eavesdropping, and in the first few weeks of her captivity she drew silent strength from hearing the voices of those she cared about, and though she’d been forced to tell them she was out of town, the short conversations had filled her heart and buoyed her spirits.

Slowly, however, the calls had simply stopped, except for her sister, who found Gabriela’s extended absence suspect.

“You’d better convince her,” Connor had warned.

But it was Zander she wanted to hear from most of all. She was convinced he would sense that something was horribly wrong, and somehow, some way, he would find her.

When he’d called weeks before and left a message he hadn’t used her name, so she’d been able to convince Connor she didn’t know who Zander was. In the dead of night she played his voicemail repeatedly, finding comfort in Zander’s warm confident voice and the memory of their brief time together. His last call just days before had thrilled her, and the timing was nothing short of astonishing. Gabriela was getting ready to make her getaway, but to be successful she would need him.

Being bound, gagged and blindfolded as she was, meant she could escape into her dreams about her Romantic Dominant, a man who had set her pulse racing from the moment they’d met, a man she was convinced would soon be riding to her rescue.

“W
hatever is being prepared in your kitchen smells divine,” Heather declared. “Your place is stunning Zander. It’s sleek and modern but very inviting, and that view, wow. That is definitely a million dollar view.”

“I do enjoy it,” Zander replied. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Are we having wine with dinner?” she asked, moving closer to the windows.

“I was planning on it but it’s not mandatory,” he grinned.

“Whatever you’re serving with our meal will be fine,” she laughed.

“We’re having Dover sole, so, chardonnay.”

“Sounds perfect,” she replied, still staring out the windows.

Zander walked to the bar and opened the white wine that had been chilling in its ice bucket, and moments later the chef’s assistant appeared from the kitchen carrying a platter of bite sized appetizers; thin strips of white toast hosting dollops of caviar with sour cream, and round rice wafers with salmon and cream cheese.

“Put it on the table please,” Zander directed. “I’ve always disliked attempting to hold hors d’oeuvres in one hand, and a drink in the other.”

“I agree,” Heather grinned, turning away from the windows and walking towards him. “Someone needs to invent something that would allow us to manage these things, maybe trays like the ones the cigarette girls use to have. That would leave our hands free.”

“A widget that leaves our hands free?” he winked. “That I’d be interested in.”

Heather shook her head.

“Zander Davis, really!” she scolded. “I know exactly where your mind just went.”

“I have no control over my mind. It does what it wants, doesn’t listen to me at all,” he declared. “Would you care to indulge?”

“Thank you, I most definitely would,” she replied, and sitting on the couch next to him she accepted the glass of wine and took a sip before reaching for one of the tempting treats.

They chatted and laughed, and a short time later dinner was served on the terrace, the cool night air warmed by overhead, outdoor heaters. Zander had requested the caterers set up small hurricane lamps, one of his favorite lighting effects for outside dining.

A young, attractive waitress served their main course, and as Zander had promised it was Dover Sole. With great aplomb she described in detail how the dish had been prepared, and not surprisingly it was light and delicious, the champagne sauce enhancing the flavor without overpowering the delicacy of the mild fish.

Baked Alaska was the dramatic dessert, and as the flames enveloped the meringue, Heather leaned back in her chair and shook her head.

“Zander, this is absolutely the most delightful dinner I’ve had in a very long time. I really appreciate the effort you made.”

She was feeling a little buzzed from the wine and Zander had grown even more attractive to her; his demeanor had been relaxed and easy, and his sense of humor completely endearing.

“It’s my pleasure. I really enjoy creating special occasions out of the mundane, and besides that I can’t cook.”

He could see the waitress was doing her best to suppress a giggle as she served the decadent dessert.

“It’s okay, Susie, you can laugh,” he chuckled. “I find it somewhat laughable myself, a man my age that can barely boil water.”

“Thank you, Mr. Davis, but chef would have my head.”

“We can’t have that,” he quipped. “Your head is much too pretty.”

“You’re very kind, Mr. Davis, thank you,” the young woman blushed. “Coffee and a selection of teas will be waiting inside on the table in the living room. If you require nothing further, we will be cleaning up and leaving shortly.”

“Heather, do you want anything else?” Zander asked.

“No, this was completely divine,” she sighed.

“I think that’s it. Please tell chef I’ll call him tomorrow sometime.”

“Yes, Mr. Davis. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

They watched her walk back inside, and as Zander took a mouthful of the crisp meringue and rich ice cream he rolled his eyes.

“Man that’s good,” he declared.

“Aren’t they going to clear the table?” Heather asked.

“No, I told them to leave after serving dessert. I’ll take the dishes in myself and leave them for the housekeeper. She’ll be here tomorrow.”

“You live very well,” Heather remarked.

“I’ve been fortunate, and I do enjoy my life. I have only one complaint,” Zander replied. “I don’t have a special someone to share it with.”

“You do tonight,” Heather softly suggested.

“I do?”

“Yes, if you want to.”

Her brown eyes were staring at him warmly, and there was no mistaking her sensuous invitation.

“I think I’d like that very much,” he smiled, and walking to her chair he helped her to her feet, “and I think I’d like to take our Baked Alaska into the bedroom.”

“Eat it in bed?” she whispered, her eyebrows rising in surprise.

He didn’t answer, but picked up her plate, and continuing to hold her hand he led her back inside towards the hallway to his bedroom. The sounds of the catering staff in the kitchen echoed in the air, and she paused.

“Shouldn’t we wait until they’ve gone?”

“If you’d be more comfortable,” he answered.

“I think I would, sorry,” she replied.

Turning around they walked back into the living room settling on the couch, and he placed the dessert on the table.

“I think I’d like some coffee,” she said, picking up the large French Press and pouring herself a cup. “Would you, Zander?”

“Sure.”

She sipped it thoughtfully, and as much as Zander wished he was able to preserve the feeling that had permeated the last few moments of their dinner, he could feel it slipping away.

“Sorry,” she said softly, sensing the change in his mood, “I just felt a bit weird.”

“That’s okay,” he smiled. “Tell me about your business. Is it working out for you? How long have you been there, three or four months now?”

“Believe it or not, five months. The time has gone by so fast.”

“It’s working for you then?”

“Yes, but it could work better,” she sighed.

“Really? How exactly?”

They could hear the sounds of the caterer wrapping things up, and moments later saw them discreetly leave.

“They’re gone,” she remarked.

“They are,” he smiled.

Leaning forward, she placed her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek.

“Zander,” she breathed, “would you like to take that dessert into the bedroom now?”

He stared down at the puddle in the plate. The ice cream had melted, and though he didn’t know why he sensed it was a harbinger of things to come. Dropping her arms away she wrapped her fingers around his hand.

“What was it you were saying about your business?” he asked casually, as they stood up and started toward the hallway.

“You want to hear about my business now?” she laughed.

“Yes,” he said, opening the bedroom door.

“My gosh, Zander, this is quite a room,” she declared.

Walking forward she stared around the room, surprised by the white fluffy bedspread and the white candle stands that stood tall and proud in the corners.

“Quite a room good, or quite a room bad?” he asked, touching the tablet to start the fire.

“Um, quite a room romantic,” she smiled, moving towards the windows. “It’s very, um, what’s the word, embracing?”

“How about, inviting?” he suggested watching her.

“Yes, inviting,” she agreed.

He switched off the lights, allowing the fire’s glow to fill the room, then walked up behind her. As she began to turn he placed his hands on her shoulders.

“No, stay just where you are,” he whispered, and moving her hair from the side of her neck pressed his lips against her skin.

“Mmmm, that feels so good,” she crooned.

“Close your eyes, I’m going to undress you.”

He heard a heavy sigh, and began to travel his hands across her body, lightly touching, feeling the bra cups holding her gloriously full breasts, then sliding his fingers to her hips, fondled her proud, round seat.