by Ivy Nelson
They parted ways and Carrie went back to her office. When she got there, she tried to put her thoughts into a new story. Even looked up the research the paper already had on the black budget, but her mind kept drifting to what it would be like to play with Peter as his submissive. His size and intimidating stare alone made her think he could bring even the most defiant sub to heel if he wanted to. Defiant wasn’t a word she would use to describe herself as a bottom, but she certainly wasn’t compliant and obedient without question. It was part of why she didn’t identify as a submissive.
Eighteen years of living in Admiral Kevin Davenport’s house had sucked all the compliance and obedience out of her and driven her to little things like piercing her nose, dying her hair, and becoming a journalist. Lucky for her, her father was one of those old-fashioned men better known as a misogynist who didn’t think women belonged in the military, so there was never any pressure on her to follow in his footsteps. But he pushed her to go to law school, business school, or nursing school, something respectable. That’s how she ended up an art major. It wasn’t until she took a job on the school newspaper that she’d begun to pursue journalism much to her father’s dismay.
For years, she was wasn’t on speaking terms with the good Admiral, but now they spoke at holidays and exchanged monthly phone calls. He still wasn’t over the disappointment in her career choices or the fact that she remained unmarried, but the awards she’d won had softened the hard ass up a bit and he was still holding out hope that she would find a husband.
Carrie shook her head, trying to clear away the thoughts of her childhood and troubled relationship with her father and tried again to get back to work. Not that she knew what she was working on. There were other pieces she had in her idea folder, but nothing was jumping out at her. The trafficking ring had been right up her alley and she still intended to pursue it, just not on company time when her boss was thirty feet away.
As she idly scrolled through a research folder, her thoughts drifted back to Peter. A smile tugged at her lips as she thought of him in his Secret Service suit. It looked good on him, but she was partial to the all-black ensemble he wore at parties. Thinking of his attire, she realized she didn’t really know what his ass was like, and she was definitely an ass girl. Between the untucked button down he wore at parties, and the suit jacket he wore for work, she’d never gotten a good look. Fanning herself, she made a mental note to make sure he wore jeans on their adventure together.
With a smirk, she abandoned all hope of finding a story to write and set about planning their outing instead.
19
♥♥♥
Change of plans. Take a cab to Olivia’s bar. I’ll meet you there at eight.
Carrie stared at the text message. He was asking her to dinner at Olivia’s bar? First of all, she thought it was cute that he called it Olivia’s bar. Second, this was weird. She thought for sure he’d hated that place. What was he up to?
It was just after seven. If she left now, she would beat him and have time to visit with Olivia if she was working tonight. She shot him a message to let him know she liked his plan and then rode the elevator down and caught a cab.
As soon as she walked in, her pretty friend came running around the bar to give her a hug.
“Hey gorgeous. No sexy secret agent man tonight?” she teased.
Carrie gave her a shy smile when she pulled away. “He’s meeting me here in a little while, actually.”
Olivia’s mouth dropped open. “I was totally kidding babe. I’ve never known you to date a guy before. This is exciting.” She gave a little jump and clapped her hands.
Carrie felt herself blush and she tried to brush Olivia’s comment off as silly. Truth be told, she was right, dating wasn’t exactly something Carrie had done a lot of.
Not giving her bartender friend time to analyze anything further, Carrie said, “I’m going to take that corner booth over there. Can I get a whiskey sour while I wait? I think we’re having a serious conversation and I need some liquid courage.”
Olivia laughed and shooed Carrie to the table, promising to bring her an extra strong drink.
As she was setting the whiskey sour on the table, Peter came in and Carrie gave him a small wave. He had pulled his jacket off and he’d rolled up his sleeves. Where had he stashed his gun?
“Miss Davenport, starting the fun without me? I’m disappointed.” He winked at Olivia as he slid into the booth across from Carrie. Looking up at her he said, “I’ll have whatever the lady is having.”
When Olivia walked away, Carrie picked up her drink and twisted it in her hands.
“Hi,” Peter said.
“Hi. What are we doing here?” she asked.
“Having dinner.”
Carrie frowned. “This doesn’t strike me as your preferred dinner spot.”
He stretched an arm across the back of the booth and looked at her pointedly. “Maybe not, but I thought this conversation might be easier in a place you’re comfortable.”
“That sounds ominous.”
Olivia returned with his drink, but he barely glanced at her before returning his gaze to Carrie. “Not ominous. Hopefully tantalizing,” he said as he took a sip.
Carrie grinned. “I appreciate your consideration then. So how does this work?”
Leaning across the table he whispered loudly, “I think we just tell Olivia what we want to eat, and she brings it to us.”
She scowled. “Sarcasm does not look good on you. I mean, how does this conversation go? I assume you brought me here to negotiate.”
“You assume correctly. How do you normally negotiate with your play partners?”
Carrie shrugged. “I’ve never been great at it. I just pick a safeword, let them know my hard limits, and dive in.”
Peter frowned. “That hardly seems prudent, Miss Davenport. How many bad experiences have you had doing it this way?”
Another shrug. “I don’t look at them as bad experiences. There have definitely been some that I don’t want to repeat, but it’s all an adventure.”
“I see,” he said with a frown. “Let’s start with your hard limits then. Just the ones you would give any other partner.”
“No sex, no making me beg for things or ask for swats, no honorifics, and no belts.” She held up a finger for each one she listed. “Obviously I’m open to sex with you considering the other night, I just rarely mix sex and kink.”
Peter nodded. “Interesting list. Let’s dive a little deeper. Please keep in mind, I’m not trying to change your limits and I’ll respect whatever you decide. However, I would like to ask you to consider your list from the perspective of a submissive. This sounds very much like a list of limits designed to keep a scene from veering into power exchange territory and given your play style, that makes perfect sense. But power exchange is exactly what we’re negotiating.”
Carrie had never examined her limits list that closely before, but Peter was right. “OK. That makes sense. I’ll consent to using honorifics, but I still don’t want to ask for punishment. It’s creepy as fuck and I’m not twelve.”
Peter chuckled. “Fair enough. What about begging for an orgasm?”
Carrie blushed considering the question she’d asked him the other night. “I can do that.”
“Good, now what about sex? Do you want to keep that off the table or are you still open to it?”
“I’m still open to it but I reserve the right to say no.”
“Sweetheart, you always have the right to say no.”
“Well, that was easy,” she said with a smile.
To her surprise, Peter tossed his head back and let out a loud laugh. “I hardly think we’re done, little one. I have no idea what makes you tick or what you’re into other than what I’ve watched from you. You also know nothing of me.”
Carrie looked down at her hands. “I told you I wasn’t good at negotiating.”
“Based on the limits you’ve given me so far, I could brand you, cut you, do
all manner of terrible things that I’m sure you don’t want.”
“Don’t be too sure. I’ve done cutting scenes before. No branding though.”
Peter chuckled. “This is what I’m talking about. This requires a much more detailed conversation.”
“I just don’t like to take the spontaneity and mystery out of a scene. That’s part of the adrenaline rush for me,” she confessed.
Peter picked up her hand and squeezed gently until she met his gaze. “Trust me little one. There will be plenty of mystery and adventure during our time together.”
The intensity of his eyes sent tendrils of heat through her body and she pulled her hand away.
“What are you looking for from me then?” she asked.
“Now there’s a lovely question,” he said with a wink. “Respect, honesty, obedience within our agreed upon limits and most of all trust that when I ask you to do something uncomfortable, it’s for a good reason.”
“Don’t you mean make me?” she asked her brows pulling together.
He shook his head. “No. I mean ask. I still believe in manners even when I’m in dominant mode. I can’t actually make you do anything. You’re a human being with agency and autonomy. You’ll obey me because you want to or at the very least because you trust me enough to make it worth your while.”
Carrie took a long drink as she contemplated his words. This was a completely different version of power exchange relationships than she’d seen before. Not that she had paid much attention to Dom/sub dynamics after she decided they weren’t for her.
“So, if you can’t make me do anything, what’s the point?”
Peter chuckled and leaned forward. “It’s not about force. Why do you think it is? What experiences have you had that make you think this is about forcing someone to their will?”
Carrie dropped her head, refusing to look him in the eye. It felt as if he was looking into the deepest parts of her soul and it unnerved her.
“No you don’t little one, look at me,” he commanded.
Carrie shook her head.
“If this is going to work, I need to understand where your head is at. You don’t have to tell me your deepest darkest secrets, but I do need to make sure I’m not stepping into a minefield that’s going to put you in a bad place mentally.”
His voice, though stern, was laced with concern. It was enough to convince Carrie to raise her head and look at him.
“It’s nothing like that. Not that bad anyway,” she said. “I had some early experiences in the lifestyle that didn’t exactly sit well with me. They reminded me of my control freak disciplinarian father and that’s not exactly sexy. I’ve mentioned I’m a control freak, right? That’s why power exchange doesn’t work for me.”
“It’s not all about control and I’m still willing to give this a try. I think you’ll have fun.” When he winked, her face warmed again. For some reason, she believed him.
“So, if you can’t make me do anything, what about punishment?”
“Another excellent question. Here’s the thing, if you deliberately disobey me for no other reason than you want to, then it’s clear you’re not committed to the partnership we’ve formed. In that instance, punishment or discipline wouldn’t work and there wouldn’t be any point to continuing. However, if there are other reasons for your disobedience or you simply make a mistake, that’s where discipline and correction are useful tools to set you back on the right track so we can continue having fun.”
It was weird to sit here and so freely talk about punishment. Her own experiences with being punished were not pleasant in any way. Pain was one thing, but being physically punished because of something she had done? That didn’t work for her and she’d had enough of her dad’s belt when she was a teenager.
“I see the worry on your face,” Peter said, interrupting her internal musings. “It’s twenty-four hours. I don’t think you have anything to be concerned about and you always have an out via your safeword.”
That was fair and Carrie trusted him to respect the boundaries she gave him.
“OK. I’m still in then.”
Olivia came back to take their food order apologizing for the delay. After their meals arrived, they spent the next hour talking about various kinks they liked and disliked. Peter liked rope and orgasm control, and Carrie enjoyed leaving a scene with marks or a red ass. In the end, Carrie was feeling better about the deal she had made with him. Peter had a way of making even the simplest activities sound hot.
As she was finishing her second whiskey sour, the conversation seemed to be winding down. Then Peter asked the big question she had been waiting for.
“Now that we’ve negotiated, when do you want to do this?”
“I think I have an opening in about a year,” she teased.
“I know I said you wouldn’t need to be punished in just a twenty-four-hour window, but maybe I was wrong.” He folded his arms and leaned against the seat back with a raised eyebrow, waiting for her to give him a better answer.
“How about we start the day of the next party? Edith’s is coming up again next weekend. You could come with me.”
“That works for me. That’s my last day of work anyway.”
“When does the twenty-four hours start?” she asked.
“When would you like them to start?”
“Would as soon as we get to the party work?”
He scratched his chin for a moment then said, “I have a counteroffer. I would like you to be in the right mindset when we get to the party, so how about it starts at five that evening, and goes until five the following day?”
That actually made sense.
“OK. I accept.”
Peter’s face broke into the biggest panty melting grin she had seen yet.
Suddenly the bar felt too warm and she began to pick at a left-over French fry.
Peter reached across the table to take it from her then slid out of the booth and came around to sit next to her. When she looked up at him with wide eyes, he draped an arm around her shoulders and his other hand came to rest under her chin.
“I would very much like to kiss you,” he whispered. Her lips parted and she ran her tongue along them because they suddenly felt dry.
“May I kiss you little one?”
Carrie nodded and Peter pulled her closer before lowering his head to hers for the softest, sweetest kiss. It was night and day different from the previous kisses they had shared. Carrie groaned and tried to deepen the kiss, but Peter was fully in charge and he made it clear he wanted to go slow and gentle. She gave in to the sensation and enjoyed it. The tenderness of the kiss sent a tear sliding down Carrie’s cheek and she didn’t know why. Peter broke away and stared into her eyes, his thumb catching the lone teardrop.
“What is it?”
She shook her head, unable to find the words and laid her head on his shoulder.
After a few minutes relaxing against him, she leaned away from him so she could see his face.
“How would you feel about continuing where we left off the other night before you got called back to work?”
His hand rested under her chin and he pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m going to be a jerk and say no. Not because I don’t want to, but because I like the idea of making you wait until Friday. It will make it that much more fun.”
Even though she knew he was right, she stuck her lip out in a pout anyway.
Before he pulled away, he whispered, “You should know, I really like taking little girls who pout over my knee.”
• • •
Only six more hours, Peter thought as he stood outside Director Upwood’s door. In six hours, barring anything unfortunate happening, he would be off for the next thirty days and he was looking forward to it. His twenty-four hours as Carrie’s Dom would start soon and knowing that would make the day drag on. The supervisor for the next thirty days was reporting at three, and Peter planned to be gone by four, but even that felt like ages away.
With
a grin, he thought of the plans he was making for them. It was going to be a fun night as long as he could get her to relax into her role as a submissive. He hoped to show her that power exchange wasn’t as awful as she thought it was. The door to Director Upwood’s office flew open and Peter quickly reverted his expression back to neutral.
“Mercer, I need to make a last-minute trip to Chicago.”
“Chicago, Sir? What for?” He felt his heart drop. This could ruin his plans with Carrie.
“My oldest daughter has a recital. I want to go. I just found out about it this morning. Damn girl doesn’t talk to her old man enough.”
Something about this didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t stop the director from going to his daughter’s recital.
“When do you want to leave?”
“By noon.”
Damn it. That meant he would wind up in Chicago overnight instead of with Carrie. This job sucked sometimes.
“I’ll see what I can do to arrange it Sir.”
The director grunted his approval and retreated into his office again.
Peter got on his communicator and called for Agent Savko to join him outside the director’s office.
When the young agent arrived, Peter parked him in his place and went to the conference room they were still using as a base of operations. The room was empty, so he locked the door and pulled out his personal cell.
Carrie answered on the first ring.
“Good morning, good morning. How’s life at the Secret Service?” It sounded like she was bouncing up and down.
“How much coffee have you had?” he asked sternly.
“What’s it to ya?” she asked.
“I just don’t want you crashing in the middle of our scene tonight.” He winced. Technically he was calling to cancel their scene. Why did he say that? “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. Something has come up.”
“Bailing on me, are you?” Her voice still held a hint of teasing, but her tone had shifted, and he was sure he could hear disappointment.
Making a split decision he said, “I’m trying really hard to get out of it but Upwood has a last-minute trip out of town, and he wants to leave in two hours.”
