A Dom to Love, Honor, and Obey [Masters of Submission 7] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Jan Bowles

  Sex toys were regularly incorporated into their lovemaking, and added a fun element. However, the more he grew to understand Andrea’s likes and dislikes, the more he came to the conclusion that his new lady was into the darker side of the BDSM scene, and drawn to personal humiliation in particular.

  Deep in thought, Zack placed his hands behind his head as he lay on the enormous bed. Andrea was out shopping for clothes, and like any woman that meant she’d be gone for a long time. He’d given her ten thousand dollars in cash, along with a new credit card, and instructed her to “go enjoy yourself.”

  She’d sunk to her knees and drained his balls dry before leaving, as a way of saying thank you to her Master, and then left with a cute sexy wiggle of that tight little ass, taking his Mercedes for the half-hour trip to the exclusive boutiques in uptown Boston.

  He crossed his ankles and took a deep breath. Her unique feminine scent still lingered in the bedroom, and he breathed it in, feeling his hard-on return. Andrea made his life complete. There was something missing before they met, but now he felt as though his full potential as a human being had been discovered.

  So why haven’t you told the girl you love her, dummy?

  She already knows. There’s no need to tell her.

  You can’t kid me. There isn’t a girl in the world that doesn’t long to have those three little words whispered sweetly in her ear.

  Shut the fuck up. I’ll do it when I’m good and ready. Now get off my case, man.

  I mean, the girl has repeatedly told you how much she loves and adores you.

  So?

  So she’s waiting for you to reciprocate her feelings. It’s all there in those beautiful hazel eyes, if only you look.

  I know. I know. Like I say, man, quit bugging me. I’ll do it when I’m good and ready, and not before.

  Andrea had become intrigued about his past, wanting to know every little detail about his childhood and upbringing. For some strange reason, she’d believed that he’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, when in fact nothing was further from the truth. Those pretty red lips had pouted petulantly with disbelief as he’d explained his childhood had been spent in a godforsaken apartment building in just about the most undesirable part of Detroit imaginable.

  He’d laughed out loud when she’d said, “No. I thought your parents came from a long dynasty of wealthy Americans.”

  Christ, how little she’d understood about his early years. To a large extent, he’d made his own luck, getting to where he was now with blood, sweat, endeavor, and a refusal to be beaten. His father had worked on the auto assembly lines at just about every car plant in Detroit, while his mom was no more than a simple housewife, a kind loving mother, but a woman with an extremely limited education. However, his father had always harbored aspirations, aspirations that he’d passed on to his only child—his son. At the age of thirty, when Zack was just a babe in his mother’s arms, his father went back to night school to get the education he’d been so sorely lacking.

  Thinking about it now, Zack was proud of his old man, because he hadn’t just drifted along like so many others. Instead, his father had taken the bull by the horns and got himself an education. An education that enabled him to become the important guy that Zack remembered before his untimely death from a heart attack at the age of sixty-six.

  That was some five years ago now, and his mother never really recovered from the shock of losing her partner in life. They’d been childhood sweethearts and married when his dad was eighteen and his mother barely sixteen, just kids themselves really. She died less than a year after his dad. The doctors said she had succumbed to a weakened respiratory system, but from the way she loved his father, Zack believed her heart had been irretrievably broken.

  Christ, he missed them both, dearly.

  At the age of thirty-three, his father had quit the relative security of the Detroit production lines and used every cent of their meager savings to start up a fledgling property development business. Dad told him later that it had been touch and go for many years, often believing he’d be forced back to the incessant noise and brain numbing tedium of the GM production line. However, his old man was no quitter, and with his mother’s support, the fledging business eventually began to make a small profit. Of course, Zack was just a kid at the time, and didn’t really understand the stresses and strains his parents were going through. The family moved to their first house when Zack was just eight years old, and he realized they were all moving up in the world. His father now mixed with different people, educated people, and his mother, try as she might, found it difficult to fit in with her elevated social status. To Zack she always seemed a little out of her depth, however much she smiled and tried to integrate with their new friends.

  His father on the other hand, relished the new challenges that had opened up for him, and his business went from strength to strength, making Hank and Jenny Marshall extremely wealthy people by the time they reached their midforties. Wealthy enough to send their only child Zack to Harvard business school when the opportunity arose.

  Zack sighed as he lay on the bed. He had a lot to thank his parents for. His company, Marshall Aeronautical, would be just a dream without their contribution.

  Zack heard a noise downstairs, and he realized that Andrea had returned from her shopping trip sooner than expected. When he heard footsteps on the stairs, his heart lifted, swelling with pride.

  You do love her, you dumb bastard. You know it. I know it.

  When she entered the bedroom, she was so weighed down with designer shopping bags that Zack couldn’t help but laugh and point at the same time. “Got everything you need, princess?”

  Andrea saw the joke and joined in. “Just about. Five pairs of shoes. Three of which are Jimmy Choo, along with two designer dresses, and a load of sexy underwear, just for you.”

  “Sexy underwear, huh?” Zack felt his prick surge in his pants again. Just the thought of Andrea dressed in skimpy bra and panties, or a lacy red corset, was enough to give him a hard-on.

  She placed the bags on the floor and then joined him on the bed before kissing him on the lips. “You make me so happy, Zack. Before I met you I did all my clothes shopping at Target, and I’ve never paid more than seventy bucks for a dress my entire life. But with you as my new Master, I now shop at the same stores the film stars do. I have you to thank for that.”

  He kissed her right back. “That’s real good to hear, princess. But it’s not just my money that makes you happy, is it?”

  “Zack, please believe me when I say that even if you were the poorest man in the world, and I was dressed in rags, I’d still be the happiest woman alive, because it’s you that fills me with joy. Zack Marshall, the man, and not his millions.”

  Those were exactly the words he wanted to hear, because no guy liked to see himself as just as a meal ticket. Deep down he knew that Andrea was as far away from being a gold digger as was humanly possible.

  When she suggestively rolled onto her stomach, his immediate reaction was to slap her cute little ass, which was encased in a pair of tight denim jeans.

  “Ouch, that hurt.”

  “Ouch that hurt, what?”

  “Ouch that hurt, Master.”

  “Show me what you bought then.”

  With a girlish giggle, she jumped from the bed and ran to the selection of designer carrier bags that lay by the bedroom door. She then held them up and wiggled them around for his perusal. “What would you like to see first?”

  He thoughtfully stroked the stubble that covered his chin. “Well now, much as I like shoes, I’ve seen enough red stilettos to last me a lifetime, and the same goes for designer dresses. However, a man never tires of lingerie.” To emphasize his point, he pulled down his pants, exposing his rock-hard cock.

  She licked her lips. “Oh, Sir. Is that for me?”

  “Could be, if you’re a good girl.”

  Andrea giggled. “But I’m always a good girl. You know that.”

&n
bsp; “Liar. The number of times I’ve had to spank your bare ass in the last week shows that simply isn’t true, young lady.”

  She dipped into one of the bags, and pulled out a sexy leather bra complete with matching panties. She then mischievously placed them against her body before giving him that cutesy little girl look that he loved so much. “Like what you see, Sir?”

  He let out a low deep growl. “Oh, princess. You know I do.”

  “I also bought some suspenders. Six pairs. All different colors, including two pairs of fishnets.”

  His hard-on twitched as she spoke. “Oh, Andrea, you do it to me every time.”

  She smiled. “Do I, Sir? I don’t mean to.”

  He wagged a finger at her. “Don’t mean to, my ass. You know exactly which buttons to push. Anyway, leather has always been my favorite. So put them on. I want to see.”

  “Certainly, Sir.” Seductively undoing her blouse, she suddenly paused on the third button, and lifted her eyes to look directly at him. “You really like my breasts, don’t you, Zack?”

  “Yeah, of course I do. What kind of question is that?”

  “I mean, really like them to the point of adoration and worship.”

  “And why shouldn’t I? You have the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. Why the strange questions? You sound insecure.”

  He watched her visibly shudder before removing her blouse. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her perfect, uplifted tits were a joy to behold. Zack shook his head. “Oh, princess, how can you be insecure with a body like yours? You’re just perfect.”

  “And if for any reason I wasn’t perfect, Zack, what then?”

  Andrea was acting weird, and not for the first time, and he’d noticed this insecurity about her body raise its ugly head a couple of times now.

  “But you are perfect, honey.”

  She smiled, but to Zack’s eyes it looked a little forced, and she seemed to have lost the vitality she’d possessed in such abundance when she’d entered the bedroom barely ten minutes ago. Feeling slightly concerned there was something she wasn’t telling him, he watched her peel the super tight jeans and panties from her thighs before slipping into the leather lingerie.

  She looked at him again, and this time the slight sadness in her eyes was unmistakable. “I hope Sir likes what he sees.”

  “Of course he does. Now come over here to me, princess.”

  Andrea looked breathtakingly beautiful, and to his eyes she resembled Jane Fonda from the sixties classic Barbarella. He couldn’t help loving her more with each step that she took.

  Tell her you love her, Zack. Can’t you see how vulnerable she is at this very moment? Okay, okay. I will. That’s exactly what I’ll do.

  “Princess, I want to tell you something. Something I’ve been meaning to say for a long time.”

  “Yes, Zack?” She snuggled into his embrace.

  “I want to tell you…”

  Tell her you love her more than anything else in the world. How hard can it be?

  He saw expectation brighten those beautiful hazel eyes again.

  “Yes, Zack? What did you want to say to me?”

  Tell her idiot. Tell her. Why are you finding this so difficult? You’ve never loved a girl half as much as you love Andrea. So tell her. Let her know how you really feel.

  She laid her hand on his chest, and he saw desperation showing in her eyes. As though she knew what he was trying to say.

  “Tell me, Zack, please?”

  Shit, she’s rumbled me. Andrea knows what I’m thinking, and she’s longing to hear it.

  He coughed nervously. “Oh, it’s nothing, princess. It’s really not that important. I’ll tell you some other time.”

  You’re a fucking asshole, Zack. A prize fucking asshole. Had your chance, and you’ve fucking blown it.

  Shithead.

  “Oh, I see. It’s nothing.” She looked crestfallen, and he noticed her eyes were glassy. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to, Zack. Whatever it was, it obviously can’t be that important to you.”

  Andrea was close to tears, but still he couldn’t summon up the courage to say those three little words that she so desperately wanted to hear.

  Chapter Eight

  Andrea’s emotions were in turmoil as a whirlpool of unwanted thoughts threatened to engulf her. They’d been together for three months, and yet Zack still couldn’t find it in himself to tell her that he loved her. Why was it so hard for him to bare his soul? After all, she’d repeatedly expressed her feelings by telling him how much she loved and adored him. She figured it was a man thing, or more worryingly, the distinct possibility that Zack simply didn’t love her. This unwanted thought made her sad, inordinately so.

  She’d hoped her shopping spree in uptown Boston would raise her spirits, because retail therapy was supposed to do every girl the power of good. Spending more than fifteen thousand dollars of Zack’s money on designer clothes helped a little, but Andrea knew her happiness was only superficial at best.

  Already, that ephemeral glow, the sort that came with buying beautiful possessions was diminishing as the unpleasant realities of life started to crowd back in, making it difficult to think clearly.

  Zack tenderly feathered his fingers through her hair as she lay on the bed, letting her know that even if he didn’t love her, he was certainly very fond of her.

  Fond? Is that enough?

  No. I need his love. I crave his love. I’m nothing without it.

  “You’re very quiet, princess. Is everything okay?”

  She forced a smile. “I’m fine. Just fine, Zack.”

  She wasn’t. In fact, she was anything but.

  Four days ago, and without Zack’s knowledge, she’d paid a visit to see Doctor Maralis, a specialist in genetics. This was a course of action she should have taken at least five years before. Only, fear and uncertainty of the unknown made her avoid the situation by telling herself she was just fine, even though deep down, she knew that nothing could be further from the truth.

  Her wonderful, loving mother was dead, along with both her Mom’s younger sisters—Aunt Olivia, and Aunt Ava.

  Suddenly finding it hard to breathe, she placed a hand to her chest. Her two older cousins, Samantha and Lauren had also passed on, bringing the unpalatable reality even closer to home. Andrea was frightened she’d go the same way if she didn’t face her demons, instead of continuing to run away from her destiny.

  Well, at least now she was doing just that, but the thought of what the clinical tests might reveal scared the shit clean out of her.

  Genetics were the new panacea of medicine, and she was in no doubt that great things could be achieved to enhance the lives of many human beings in the future. However, she hated the very sound of the word genetics, even disliked the way it looked on the written page, because on her mother’s side of the family, genetics had brought nothing but misery.

  Why? Because generation after generation of women from her mother’s side of the family had been born with a faulty gene. Years ago people knew nothing about genes, and just lived their lives as best they could. Sometimes people lived to a ripe old age, while others died early, those left behind rarely questioning the reasons why. Well, such was the march of science and medical progress that this faulty gene had now been identified.

  Goddamn it, the destructive little bastard even had a name—BRCA1.

  Andrea felt Zack’s hand feather through her hair again. “Something’s troubling you, princess. You can’t hide it from me. I can sense it.”

  She patted his hand. “I’m fine. Really I am.”

  If Zack couldn’t find it within him to tell her how much he loved and needed her, then she wasn’t of a mind to tell him of the frightening situation that faced her, especially if the likely consequences meant that he would love her even less as a result.

  BRCA1 was a genetic mutation that meant that the women that carried it had a stark choice. A choice that no woman should be forced to face, because an
y woman with this gene had an extremely high probability of contracting breast cancer.

  Of course, previous generations of women knew nothing of this, and just thought themselves to be unlucky. However, the relentless advance in genetics meant that the gene could now be detected, and although for her mother, aunts, and cousins it was too late to save them, she at least had the option to live.

  Andrea felt the tears start to well in her eyes as she laid her head on Zack’s shoulder. The word options sounds like a good thing to most people. You buy a car with options, and it means you get more, maybe an upgrade, such as a premium sound system or leather upholstery. The same rule applies when you take a vacation. Maybe you’re lucky enough to have the option of choosing between Tahiti or Barbados, or maybe the Cayman Islands rather than the Seychelles.

  Yeah, the word options sounds like a good deal to most people. Only, in her case her options sucked. Andrea hated the word options, almost as much as she hated the word genetics. The chances of her mother passing on the faulty gene were fifty-fifty. And if she happened to be unlucky, what exactly were her options then?

  Well, one option was to bury her head in the sand and do nothing. This would almost certainly lead to her contracting a very vigorous form of breast cancer—a sixty-five percent chance at the very least. It would kill her in very short order. The other option was just as unpalatable. She could opt for a double mastectomy, thus lowering, and if done quickly enough, almost eliminating the chances of getting this dreadful disease. Prophylactic surgery, or protective surgery, could lower her risk of developing breast cancer by as much as ninety percent.

  She was a woman, and like any woman, the thought of having no breasts was abhorrent, making her refuse to even consider it. Sure, there was the possibility of breast reconstruction, but even so, this would never look natural, and she figured she’d always feel less than a complete woman if she went down that route.

  Besides, Zack adored her breasts to the point of worship, and she couldn’t imagine how he’d react if she told him of the unenviable dilemma that faced her. If she knew for sure that he loved her, warts and all, then she’d feel more confident about telling him, but as he hadn’t done that, his actions only made her feel more vulnerable and unloved.