by Abby Gordon
With that, she pulled the wrapping off and saw a note taped to the book. The words were typed.
Serena,
Do not be afraid of how the books make you feel.
I want you get in touch with a side of yourself that you haven't explored. The first book was to open your mind to different erotic possibilities. I hope this second book also arouses your senses even as it introduces you to my world.
I am a sexual dominant and feel quite confident that you are a sexual submissive. I want you to be my sexual submissive. A submissive is not a sex slave. I respect your intelligence and your accomplishments too much for that. I want you to fulfill your talents, Serena, even as you enjoy the many erotic lessons I have planned for you.
If you want nothing to do with this, then turn the wrapper inside out, tape the book up and put it in the recycling bin in the employee cafeteria during your lunch hour. I will not contact you again.
If the possibility of such a relationship intrigues you, however, then ask someone else to get lunch for you and avoid the cafeteria so there is no confusion. Just read the books and I will contact you. You will not know who I am at first. I realize this may be alarming, and I will do what I can to reassure you that your safety, as well as your pleasure, will always come first with me.
Respectfully,
A dominant
Hands shaking, Serena lifted the note and stared at the cover—a nude woman on her knees, with her hands bound by a cloth in front of her, a blindfold over her eyes, and a gold-link collar around her throat. And she was smiling. Over her head, in discreet silver letters—Rights and Responsibilities in a Dominant/Submissive Relationship.
Serena frowned. That didn't fit with anything she had ever heard about the lifestyle. Admittedly, what she had heard was innuendo and denunciations by her family, who collectively could have given the Puritans a run for their money, but that had been augmented by lurid stories and gossip from her college days. Turning the book over, the back cover described the book as a manual with a mix of erotic stories. Still of a mind to reject it, she opened it and found another note on the contents page.
Serena, I've crossed out the page numbers that are more extreme than I go and circled those that would apply to us. I've turned down pages to mark specific things I want you to experience. Dominant/submissive relationships are not all about whips and chains or whatever else you may have heard. That's sadomasochism and, like sex slaves, something I have never found of interest. The type of relationship I envision having with you is quite different, as you will discover by reading page eight.
Was there anything the man didn't think of? Now rather amused, Serena turned to page eight. Her eyes scanned the page, picking up key words and phrases—focus on physical discipline...submissives who have a career and interests of his/her own...agree upon submissive boundaries.
A slight frown formed between her eyes as she read about safe words and how the well-being of the submissive was the priority of the dominant. A submissive could refuse certain sex acts and punishments, but focused on the dominant's needs in return for protection. Communication and trust were key. Without those two things, the relationship wouldn't work.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Three
Serena frowned. In many ways, that one paragraph described a ‘normal’ relationship. A couple taking care of each other in and out of the home. Well, except for the punishment, discipline, and all. She shook her head. Okay, she understood that he didn't intend to beat her or anything. She snorted. As if she'd let anyone do that to her. But then, just what did it mean to be submissive? And what might this man want from her? Just sex? Or possibly, something more? Checking the turned-down corners, she skimmed over the marked sections.
After reading several paragraphs, she sat back in her chair and considered them. There was some physical discipline, mostly in the form of light spanking, if the submissive back-talked or broke their rules. There was some bondage, some use of sex toys, but mostly simple obedience. Hers to his commands. Serena realized she was indeed intrigued by the relationship the unknown Dominant outlined.
Closing her eyes, she groaned. That was it. She'd definitely lost her mind. How could she even consider such a thing? From the book she'd devoured the past two nights, she knew it was because she was tired of being a vanilla girl with a vanilla life. She had been willing to go on a blind date or meet a man at a bar, so how much farther down the spectrum was this? In many ways, this dominant was giving her all the power, at least initially, by giving her a way to stop all further communications.
Her eyes flew open. He'd gotten to her desk, into her desk. That meant he had to work in the building. That meant she probably knew this man! Then why go to all this trouble? Why not just ask her out? When he ‘communicated’ with her next, he had a few questions to answer.
Serena realized she'd made up her mind. She nodded slowly. As crazy as it might sound, she would see just what this dominant wanted with her. If she didn't like the answers, then she would put his promise not to communicate with her to the test.
Feeling settled, she tucked the book and notes safely in her tote and closed the drawer. Starting her computer, she printed Keith's schedule and pulled out her notes from last night's conference call.
"'Morning, Serena,” Keith greeted her as he came in. He unlocked his door. “How's the day look?"
"Good morning,” she smiled, taking the paper from the printer. “Meetings as usual. Mark Hammond called to see if you were available at noon."
He scowled. Keith appreciated his Senior VP for Public Relations’ media savvy and ability to keep the company at the top of the list the Fortune 500 companies turned to for computer solutions, but lately something had been rubbing Keith the wrong way. After the conversation on Serena's birthday, Keith just didn't want to think that more of his perceptions of people were wrong.
Mark had left MacLauren Industries, run by his father and brothers, several years earlier saying the computer arena offered more of a challenge. Mark was still good friends with Keith's older brother Kevin. The brothers had had chilly relations for over ten years and hadn't spoken in months. The rift was public even if very few knew just what it was about. Briefly it crossed Keith's mind that Mark was a corporate spy, and dismissed it.
Shit, but he needed to focus! He realized Serena was waiting for a response from him. He tried to remember if Mark had mentioned anything the last time he'd seen him but couldn't.
"Any idea what it's about?"
Keith had quickly found that Serena, with her administrative contacts, gave him a leg up with his employees. Claire was Mark's assistant and her penchant for gossip meant she usually called Serena within seconds of her boss calling Keith. Serena would scribble a hasty note and hand it to him as he talked.
"Not this time,” she shook her head. “But then, I haven't had a chance to check with Claire."
Nodding, Keith gave her a tight smile.
"See what you can find out. And make it...” he glanced at his schedule. “Twelve-thirty. That way I can eat lunch today."
At the word ‘lunch,’ Serena's head jerked slightly. Get a grip.
"I'll call Claire,” she managed to reply.
Just after twelve, Keith rolled his sleeves down and buttoned the cuffs before pulling on his coat. It was time to see if Serena had made a decision. Given her reaction when he'd said ‘lunch’ earlier, he wasn't sure. Walking out of his office, he glanced at Serena.
"Mark still scheduled for twelve-thirty?"
"Yes,” she nodded, not having had a chance to confirm it sooner. “Claire has no idea what it could be about. She hasn't heard about any earth-shattering or eye-opening issues.” Serena smiled slightly. “She seemed rather miffed that she didn't have the information. Knowing Claire, she's doing everything possible to find out."
"Good,” he nodded. “I'm going to get some lunch. You need anything?"
"Oh, no,” she stammered. “That is, um, could you pick up a san
dwich for me?"
Bingo! Keith shouted mentally. He barely managed not to smile.
"Sure,” he replied. “What kind?"
"Chicken salad, please,” she said, reaching for her purse.
"Serena, I think I can manage a sandwich,” he drawled.
She turned and caught the twinkle in his eyes. Her jaw dropped as he winked at her and walked out.
"Who was that man and what did he do with my boss?” she muttered, shaking her head. “Well, whoever you are, I hope you're watching and see that I'm not in the cafeteria."
Wrapping her arms around her waist, she wondered what would happen next. A delicious feeling of anticipation ran up and down her back.
She was on the last few bites of her sandwich when Mark Hammond walked in.
"What's this?” his voice boomed out. His broad upper body leaned over her desk and Serena shrank back before she could stop herself. “He won't even let you leave your desk for lunch? Keith, what the hell is this?” he raised his voice more and projected it toward the partially open door. “You don't let..."
"He bought my lunch, Mark,” Serena retorted, relieved her voice sounded calm to her ears. “I was waiting for a couple calls.” She inhaled sharply. Why was she even responding to him? She didn't owe him anything after what happened a year and a half ago. He would not intimidate her! “How is Penny?"
Mark gave her a blank stare.
"Excuse me?"
"Penny Davidson,” she prompted. “Your fiancee?"
"Oh, yes,” he smiled stiffly. “She's fine."
"Of course, she's fine,” Keith said from his doorway. “Mark, I've got a very tight schedule today. Why wouldn't you tell Serena what this was about?"
"She's an assistant, Keith,” Mark replied, shrugging. “Does it matter?"
"Yes, it does,” Keith frowned. “She's my assistant and that means I expect people to treat her with respect and give her the information she requests.” He gave Mark a stern look. “Is that clear?"
"Of course, of course,” he nodded. “Now,” he waved the folder in his hand. “How would you like to see something you'll love and want yesterday?"
"I can't imagine what that could be,” Keith murmured, stepping aside so Mark could precede him into the office.
Seeing Serena watching him, Keith opened and closed his hand twice, fingers spread. She grinned at the established signal and nodded as he closed the door.
Within five minutes, though, she heard Mark's raised voice. Looking up from her monitor, she watched the door. Sure enough, she could hear the low rumble of Keith's baritone.
"It wouldn't hurt my feelings if Mark got himself fired,” she muttered. “I'd toast to that with relish."
"Miss Serena Traydon?"
Her head swiveled to the hall door.
"Yes?” she frowned at the sight of the delivery man.
"Scott from West Side Florist,” he smiled, approaching the desk.
The office door was flung open and Mark stomped out. He turned around and waved his arms. Keith appeared, calm, resolute and confident. Serena was wary of Mark in this mood, but Keith's watchful eye was reassuring.
"Keith, you obviously don't understand how brilliant this is! Your father and Kevin thought it was revolutionary and—"
"I appreciate your enthusiasm, Mark,” Keith replied from the doorway. “But this is my company, not my father's.” He saw the delivery man. “Yes?"
"I have a delivery for Miss Traydon."
Keith gestured to Serena.
"Deliver it,” he told him.
Silently, the man brought his right hand from behind his back and set a crystal bud vase on her desk. A single, deep red rosebud captured their eyes. Serena gasped, her eyes widening in surprise.
"No card?” she glanced at the man.
"The clerk said you would know who it was from,” he said, slightly puzzled.
Her jaw went slack and realization hit her. The dominant. He knew she hadn't thrown out the book. He really had been watching and wasted no time in making sure she knew it. She recognized the crystal pattern and smiled. Whoever he was, he had high-end tastes. Leaning forward, she sniffed at the rose and closed her eyes.
"Now this is beauty,” she sighed.
"Well?” Mark said impatiently. “Who is it from?"
"A gentleman,” she murmured, smiling.
The thought of how that gentleman planned on being in her life forced the fiery heat of a blush to cover her face.
"Who is it from?” pressed Mark, stalking toward her desk.
The delivery man backed off.
"Thank you,” Serena whispered, smiling at him.
With a nod, he turned and hurried out.
"Serena, answer me!"
"I don't think she is required to tell you anything,” Keith came up behind Mark. When the other man whirled, Keith gave him a tight smile. “Especially when you use that tone of voice. You will treat her with respect, understood?"
"What?” Mark glanced at him. “What's wrong with my tone?"
"Plenty,” replied the CEO, shrugging. “You have a deplorable lack of respect when you address people who aren't at your level in the company. So,” he smiled slightly, glancing at Serena. “Should I talk to you the way you do to Serena?” Mark's mouth opened and closed. “After all, you're not at my level.” His gaze went to the woman who was trying to appreciate the rose while listening to the men. “Someone else miss your birthday?"
She shook her head.
"No,” she whispered. “No, he didn't. This is for something else."
"Only one rose?” Mark sneered. “You either weren't very good last night or he doesn't have much money."
"Mark,” glowered Keith. Shit, the florist had told him that one red rose was...
"Mark, you know little to nothing about crystal,” Serena said softly. Her fingers stroked the slender column. “And even less about me. This vase is, well, it's absolutely exquisite. And priceless. And for a man to send a single red rose to a woman..."
Claire and Debbie appeared in the doorway and saw the rosebud. Both squealed.
"Oh, my God!” they rushed forward. Their words tripped over each other. “It's gorgeous! My God, will you look at the vase! A single red rose! That is so romantic! Serena, who gave it to you?"
"She won't say,” Mark interjected. “And there is no card."
"A secret admirer?” Claire gasped. “Oh, my God! I love it!"
"Good thing I didn't call to set up a blind date for you,” Debbie commented. “Nice crystal. Impressive."
"A single red rosebud,” Claire sighed. “Oh, that is so romantic! Serena, ask him if he has a single brother. Or a cousin. I'll take a cousin."
"What about Paul?” Serena smiled, enjoying the attention.
Claire shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist.
"Please, Paul revealed his true colors last night."
"Uh-oh,” Serena frowned, glancing at Debbie who'd put an arm around her roommate. “Girls’ night with deep-dish pizza?"
"With extra cheese and sausage,” Debbie nodded. “We'll bring the wine and chick flicks."
"Right,” Serena nodded, studying Claire's still slightly red and swollen eyes. Beyond the girls, she caught Mark's sneering face while Keith seemed a bit unsettled by the personal drama in the office. “I'll order the pizza at six."
"Thanks, Rena,” whispered Claire. “But what about him?” she nodded at the rose.
"Well,” Serena murmured. “If he's made plans, then I'll explain that a friend needs me. Hopefully, he'll understand."
"You think he will?” was her doubtful question.
"I hope so.” Serena nibbled on her lower lip. She had no idea if he'd understand, but the dominant would have to accept that she supported her friends. That was simply part of who she was. “He seems to know and understand when I work late."
"Ask him if he has two brothers,” Debbie told her.
Serena smiled, then looked at Claire with growing concern.
; "About six-thirty? Or do you want to make it earlier?"
"So touching!” mocked Mark, striding out the door. “Claire, did you finish those letters?"
Claire inhaled sharply.
"No,” she muttered. “It was a little difficult since you didn't finish telling me what you wanted."
Keith stared at the empty doorway, and was even more surprised when Serena and Debbie made sympathetic noises toward Claire. With a new awareness, he wondered what else he had missed about Mark. What else had he missed as he worked to build up his company to show he didn't need support from the family corporation? As a result, he failed to pay attention to the type of people he'd hired. Had Mark been like this all along? How could he not have seen this? And this man was going to marry his cousin? Penny was barely twenty-two!
"Claire, you better head back,” Serena advised, her face suddenly pinched. “It looks like he's in one of those moods again."
"Those moods have come and never left,” Debbie muttered as Claire hurried out. “'Rena, I'm worried about her. Paul really hurt her..."
As if realizing Keith was still there, Debbie fell silent. Serena reached out and caught her hand.
"I know. We'll figure something out, Deb. Go on back."
With a reluctant nod, Debbie also left.
"What else have I missed?” Keith asked quietly.
"You sure you want to know?” Serena wondered, mildly surprised at his drawn expression.
"That man is engaged to my cousin,” he reminded her. “If he treats you and Claire this way in front of me, so sure that he'll get away with it, how is he with Penny behind closed doors?"
Serena stared at the rose. His primary concern was his cousin. It was something she could understand, but deep in her heart, some part of her died. She was just his assistant. That was the only reason he'd defended her.
"I thought you liked him."
"He's never been this way around me.” He shook his head. “Dammit! I've known the man six years! I should have a better idea of how he treats people."
