The Enticement: The Submissive Series

The Training

“Very passionate. . . . The characters are very easy to relate to and there is a depth to their feelings that is intriguing and engaging . . . intense and very, VERY H-O-T. Definitely worth reading!”

—Harlequin Junkie

“Written with a good sense of literary flow, keeping the story moving forward, keeping the characters balanced. . . . There is great emotion here . . . quite compelling.”

—Book Binge

“Hot and intense. . . . [I] look forward to Tara Sue Me’s future endeavors.”

—The Good, the Bad, and the Unread

“The story of Nathaniel and Abby continues, but with an interesting twist . . . fascinating.”

—Bookish Temptations

The Dominant

“I was blown away.”

—The Good, the Bad, and the Unread

“This was truly an amazing read, and I found myself staying up until three a.m. just to finish it.”

—Louisa’s Reviews

“Steamy . . . I was shocked at the depth of it!”

—Under the Covers

“I love it when an author writes from the male POV . . . completely worth it.”

—Bookish Temptations

The Submissive

“For those
Fifty Shades
fans pining for a little more spice on their
e-reader . . . the
Guardian
recommends Tara Sue Me’s Submissive Trilogy, starring handsome CEO Nathaniel West, a man on the prowl for a new Submissive, and the librarian Abby, who is yearning for something more.”

—Los Angeles Times

“This book is going to make you say ‘Fifty What of What?’ . . . [Me] is so talented and captivating.”

—Southern Fiction Review

“Very spicy . . . quite well written, and certainly entertaining.”

—Dear Author

“An interesting read.”

—The Book Cellar

“Wonderfully done, full of emotion and intensity . . . different from so many others out there.”

—The Good, the Bad, and the Unread

“I really enjoyed the
heck
out of it.”

—Under the Covers

Seduced by Fire

“Titillates and captivates from the very beginning.”

—
Romantic Times
(top pick)

“Creative use of conflict. The character development was excellent. . . . Long story short, I’m adding Tara Sue Me to the auto-buy list. . . . If you’re looking for an honest book about building trusting relationships while finding yourself, pick up
Seduced by Fire
.”

—That’s What I’m Talking About

“[Me] writes a well-flowing, easy-to-read book. . . . There are intense emotions and very expressive scenes . . . steamy.”

—Harlequin Junkie

“I am awed by Tara Sue Me . . . a very powerful book written with grace and style. The characters were brought to life with a love story that will leave you wanting for more.”

—Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews

“[An] erotic and edgy story line . . . that will end with a HEA (for now).”

—The Reading Cafe

“I can’t say enough good things about how Tara Sue Me was able to just let this story flow out of her. And let the reader come along for the ride. It was so well written. . . . This is the kind of erotic writing that makes the genre amazing.”

—Debbie’s Book Bag

“[Me’s] writing is always insightful and researched. She makes you want to be her characters. This book can draw you in like a moth to a flame.”

—Night Owl Reviews

The Submissive

The Dominant

The Training

Seduced by Fire

New American Library

Published by the Penguin Group

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First published by New American Library,

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Copyright © Tara Sue Me, 2015

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

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LIBRARY OF CON
GRESS CATALOGING-IN-
PUBLICATION DATA:

Me, Tara Sue.

The enticement / Tara Sue Me.

p. cm.—(The submissive series; [4])

ISBN 978-0-698-19048-1

1. Sexual dominance and submission—Fiction. 2. Man-woman relationships—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3613.E123E58 2015

813'.6—dc23 2014039100

P
UBLISHER
’
S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To my children:

I joke that by growing up, you make me feel old,
but the truth is, you keep me
young.

They say writing a book is like giving birth. They lie. I’ve had two children via C-section, and all I did was lie on a table. Writing a book is much harder. And they don’t give you drugs.

With that said, there are several awesome people without whom you either wouldn’t be holding this, or else what follows would be so horrific, you’d wish you weren’t.

Adam Simpson and the entire team at Simpsons Solicitors, I don’t care what anyone says about lawyers. Your calm professionalism is a balm in this crazy world. I’d say, “Let’s do it again,” but I never lie to anyone in the legal field.

Steve Axelrod, my agent and guide in this crazy, wonderful, terrible, frustrating, magnificent industry. I’ve heard it said writing is an art and publication is a business. Thank you for helping me balance both. I promise to never again bring up dino porn at lunch.

Rebecca Grace Allen, girl, I love you like no one’s business. Thank you for telling me you hated Nathaniel and DNF’d draft #3 so that by draft #5287, I could finally say, “Yes, this is it.” I’ll always save a seat for you at table #69.

Cyndy Aleo, without you, this book would have no plot, and I would have no hair. Thank you for always shooting straight, telling it like it is, and saving room for me on your lap. I hope to one day have
just a touch
of your attitude, spunk, determination, and zero fucks to give.

Elle Mason, you make me smile. Your enthusiasm keeps me going, and though I hope no one ever reads our chats, I’d be hard-pressed to make it through the day without them. You’re my pixie-dust-covered twin pervert, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. P.S. DG called. He said he loved me more.

Fiona, you are a dear, sweet, beautiful soul. I truly hope our paths cross one day so we can meet.

Claire Zion, my editor beyond compare, you treat my words with kindness when needed and viciously cut them when they’re not. In short, you make my story beautiful and let it sing.

Eden Barber, your last-minute thoughts were just what I needed. I’ll forever be grateful you didn’t NANO.

Mr. Sue Me, only you have seen me at my most worst, but likewise, only you have seen me at my very best. I hope when it’s all said and done, there have been more of the latter. Thank you for saying, “You know, if you wanted to . . .”

And, you, if you’ve ever stood in line to see me or stopped by my table because no one else would, if you’ve ever sent me an e-mail telling me how much my story touched you or e-mailed me wanting your money back, if you’ve ever read my book, reviewed my book, hated my book, or loved my book, if you ever walked by my book and said, “Hello!” or saw it and whispered, “I can’t believe. . . .” THANK YOU from the bottom of my
heart.

T
here were times I felt I came alive only at night. When the world was quiet around me and the kids were asleep and for a few precious hours there was nothing but me and Nathaniel. Those sacred nights had become more and more infrequent lately, as there always seemed to be something else to do, but I often thought I could survive on the anticipation alone.

I checked in the bathroom mirror to make sure my face didn’t reflect the day’s stress. Satisfied, I pulled my hair out of the ponytail it’d been in all day and brushed it until it fell soft and loose around my shoulders. I threw the yoga pants and T-shirt I’d been wearing into the hamper. Before heading into the bedroom, I took the body lotion Nathaniel once said smelled like sin wrapped in silk and ran it over my arms and legs. I rummaged through my lingerie drawer and finally settled on a long opaque satin nightgown. Silver, of course, since that was his favorite color on me.

Most nights I didn’t take so long getting ready for bed, but tonight was different. When he’d gotten home, we’d chatted briefly
before our two kids interrupted us. I’d swallowed a laugh as four-year-old Elizabeth expressed her grief at not finding the purple crayon she insisted she had to have for the castle she was coloring. Not to be outdone, our eighteen-month-old son, Henry, kept his arms uplifted and repeated, “Dada! Dada! Dada!” until Nathaniel swept him into the air.

After that, the room was filled with Henry’s delighted shrieks. At least it was until Nathaniel caught a whiff of something.

“Again?” I asked. “I just changed him less than an hour ago.”

“Has to be the antibiotics,” Nathaniel said, which was probably true. Henry was desperately trying to get rid of recurrent ear infections, but the medication upset his stomach. “Come on, big guy, let’s get you changed.” As they walked away, he looked over his shoulder. “We need to talk later, Abigail.”

Abigail
.

Hearing my name from him like that stopped me in my tracks, lit my body with desire, and echoed in my brain throughout dinner, baths, and bedtime. As he, no doubt, knew it would. When he called me Abigail, it didn’t matter that I wore his collar only once a month or that sex was otherwise often hurried and infrequent. With just one word, my husband became my Master. And my body didn’t only respond; it begged for his dominance. Just thinking about the way he said it, in a tone of voice that managed to sound so matter-of-fact and commanding at the same time, sent shivers up and down my spine.

I walked down the stairs and found Nathaniel in the living room, reading. He looked up as I entered, his green eyes traveling over every inch of me. I took a seat beside him and my heart rate increased as he slipped a hand into my hair and pulled me close for a kiss.

“You smell incredible and you look sexy as hell,” he said against my lips.

“You’re not bad yourself,” I replied, running my fingers through his black hair. He’d changed out of his suit when he’d gotten home and throughout the evening had worn the old jeans that hugged his ass and a T-shirt that similarly hugged his abs—my favorite outfit for him.

He pulled away and settled his back against the couch. “I had a call today from Simon.”

“Oh?” Simon had moved into the area years ago and was part of our BDSM group. He, like Nathaniel, was a Dominant.

“He’s met someone online and she’s relatively inexperienced. He was wondering if they could come over on Saturday.”

Before getting pregnant with Henry, we’d started mentoring couples. Years ago, my weekend with Nathaniel’s old mentor and his wife, Paul and Christine, had helped me so much. I wanted to do the same for new submissives. But after getting pregnant and, in particular, after giving birth, there hadn’t been much mentoring going on.

Without thinking, I stroked my bare neck, missing the long, intense playroom sessions that lasted all weekend. These days they were just about as likely to happen as me getting forty-five uninterrupted minutes to make dinner.

“I’m probably the one in need of a mentor session,” I joked. “It’s so long between our scheduled dates.”

Nathaniel didn’t laugh. “I miss the way we used to be, Abby.”

“I know . . . me, too.”

He leaned forward and studied me silently for a few seconds. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. Just life happening.”

“I wonder when we decided ‘fine’ was an acceptable way to live?” He took my right hand and twisted the ring there. The one he’d given me on our wedding day that symbolized his dominance over me. “I wonder if once a month is enough? I miss
seeing you kneel before me, wearing only my collar, waiting for me to decide how I’ll use you.”

“Oh, Nathaniel.”

“Shhh.” His finger traced my lips and brushed the hollow of my throat. “You miss it, too. You know you do. The way you yield your body to me, longing for the release you know I’ll give.”

I didn’t even attempt to argue. I knew for a fact how many times I’d nearly begged him to take me over his knees and spank me during the week. The release I found with him was so soothing. Held tightly on my stomach across his lap. His free hand striking my ass over and over.

Other times I’d watch him move around the house and I’d remember how years ago, he’d be the one watching me. I recalled how his eyes would follow me until finally he’d get up and either force me to my knees or push me against a wall. His barely controlled lust kept me constantly ready for him.

“Show me I’m right. Show me how much you miss it.” He slipped his thumb inside my mouth. “Suck it like a good girl.”

My belly tightened as I drew his thumb into my mouth. I could deny him nothing when he touched me.

“That’s it,” he said. “Do it good enough and I’ll let you taste my dick. Do it really good and I’ll take you over my knees and bring out the strap.”

I opened my mouth in shock.

“Suck it, Abigail. I didn’t say to stop.” When I continued, he started talking once again. “You think I don’t know what you want? What you need? You’re due for a sound thrashing and a long, hard fuck.”

I moaned around his thumb and he slid his other hand to cup my breast, gently rubbing my nipple.

“That’s it, my lovely. Suck it. Think about how turned on
you’ll be when I drag you across my knee. Imagine me spanking your ass and fucking you with my fingers.”

I bucked my hips up, trying to get some pressure on my clit, but he tightened the hand at my face. “Be still. You haven’t earned my cock yet, much less an orgasm.”

I kept up my work on his thumb, sucking and licking, just as I would have if his cock was in my mouth. All the while, his fingertips fondled my breasts. It drove me mad that he wasn’t paying any attention to anything below my waist.

Finally, he slipped his thumb from my mouth. “I hope you don’t have anything else planned for tonight because I’m going to
fucking wear you out
.”

“Please,” I moaned.

A wicked look came over his expression. “But not just yet. First, I’m going to fuck that mouth and throat of yours. Then maybe I’ll take that sweet pussy. Or beat your ass. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Yes, Sir. Please. All of them.”

“Greedy girl.” He nodded to the floor.

I slowly rose to my feet and slipped the gown over my head.

“Very nice,” he said as I lowered myself before him in the middle of the room. “Spread your legs. Let me see how wet that greedy pussy is.”

It had been over three weeks since I’d knelt and I struggled a bit getting into position. The entire time he watched, sitting relaxed on the couch. The only sign he was affected was the growing bulge of his erection.

“Something to work on,” he said. “Your knees are still out of habit. Though I do see you’ve waxed.”

I held back a snort. Like I’d ever forget THAT again. “Yes, Sir.”

“Come get my cock out.”

I crawled over to him. Years ago I hated crawling. It still didn’t rank very high on my list of things I loved to do, but I knew how much he enjoyed watching and that alone made me hot when I did it.

I made my way over to him and knelt up between his legs. He leaned back into the couch, giving me room to move. I palmed him several times through the material of his pants, enjoying the way he grew harder.

“Take it out,” he said through clenched teeth. “Now.”

I worked my hands up to the button of his pants and undid it, then slowly took his zipper down. He lifted his hips, allowing me to slide his pants and boxer briefs off. I sat back on my heels once I had him naked from the waist down.

“All this for me, Sir?”

He stroked himself. “Every fucking inch. Be a good girl and give it a kiss. Just lightly on the tip and then hold still.”

I licked my lips. I loved taking him orally. Loved everything about it. The way he felt. The way he tasted. The way he would moan, deep in his throat. Needless to say, I wasn’t thrilled about just giving him a little kiss.

With a sly smile I came up to my knees and bent my head, my dark hair falling around my face. Very slowly I lowered myself and kissed him the way he asked, remaining in place after.

“Now hold your hair back with both hands and keep your mouth open.”

My heart pounded. It’d been months since we’d had any sort of power play during the week. This felt so good in every way I realized we had to schedule more time.

“Now, Abigail. I don’t want your hair in the way of my view as I fuck that sassy mouth.”

“Sorry, Sir.”

I spread my knees wider for balance and, holding my hair
behind my head, I opened my mouth, offering it for his use. I thought he’d thrust himself up and into my mouth, but he surprised me by grasping my hands and pushing my head down.

I had only enough time to relax my throat before he filled it with his cock.

“Fuck, yes.” He pulled my head up and brought it back down. “Fuck.”

He started a punishing rhythm, working my head and eventually his hips, powerfully, as he used my mouth for his pleasure. He wasn’t soft and he wasn’t gentle, somehow knowing, as he usually did, that I didn’t need his tenderness. I needed my Master. And I needed him to take control away from me.

My eyes started to water as he hit the back of my throat. But even so, my own arousal grew and I shifted my hips trying to find a small measure of relief. Surely there was something. The edge of the couch. Part of his leg. Something.

“Fuck.” He yanked out of my mouth. “Got to stop.”

I halfheartedly got back into position on my knees. I really wanted to finish him off, to take him to the edge of his own control, and feel him lose himself in me. But, if he pulled back now, that could only mean he had more in store for us.

Which was why I didn’t understand when he pulled his clothes back on and tucked his still erect cock inside.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “Neither one of us is coming tonight.”

“What? What happened to your hoping I didn’t have plans? To wearing me out? To—”

He stopped me by putting a finger to my lips. “Stop right there or I’ll make good on my threat to beat your ass.”

I almost decided to say something. The small touch of dominance he’d given me wasn’t enough. Maybe goading him into a spanking would be worth it.

“You better wipe that thought out of your mind,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “There are better ways to get what you want.”

I knelt patiently and waited for him to explain.

“I’m going to ask Linda to keep the kids overnight Friday and bring them back Saturday evening.”

Linda was Nathaniel’s aunt. She and her husband had raised him after his parents died in a car accident when he was ten. I’d never met his uncle, who had passed away several years before we met. He also had a cousin, Jackson, who was like a brother to him. Jackson had fallen in love with my best friend, Felicia, when I introduced them, and they had married too.

“And,” he continued, “if you’re okay with it, I’ll call Simon and tell him we’re on for Saturday?”

“I think I’d like that,” I said. With the kids spending the night with Linda, Nathaniel and I could play a bit on Friday night, even before Simon came over with his girlfriend.

The smile on his face told me he knew how I’d answer. “I’ll call her in the morning and let you know. If she agrees, once she picks the kids up on Friday, you are to prepare yourself and wait in the playroom for me to get home. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then on Saturday, Simon and his submissive will come over.” He pulled me to him and whispered coarsely in my ear. “After, I’ll make good on my threat to wear you out. You won’t be able to move for three days without remembering the wicked things I did to your body. You’ll lose count of the number of times and ways I fucked you.”

I whimpered and tried to rub my legs together, desperate to ease the longing that pulsed between them.

“Not going to happen, so you better stop. Or else Simon and his submissive will watch as you’re punished.” He put a hand on my knee and squeezed. “Now, since you brought me to the edge,
I think it’s only fair that I reciprocate. Get on your hands and knees, presenting that needy pussy to me.”

I knew better than to argue. If I complained about not coming tonight, he might not let me come during the weekend, just to prove a point. I crawled back to the middle of the room to better position myself.

“Don’t look so put out,” he said with a smile.

“You’re evil. Did you know that?” I asked, while moving into position.

His laughter sent chills of anticipation down my spine. “Oh, Abby, you’ve yet to see just how truly evil I can be.”

*   *   *

I
shivered the next day, remembering that laugh and those words as I sat at my computer. Years ago, when I was a new submissive, Nathaniel had given me a journal to document my journey of sexual submission. I’d quickly filled that notebook with my thoughts and questions, and even my fantasies. When I filled a second, I’d suggested to Nathaniel that I keep the journal online as a blog.

I’d expected him to say no, but instead he agreed with me. His only request had been that I never wrote anything that could lead back to either one of us or our family. In the beginning he’d simply read my posts, but now it had grown to the point where he commented on them as well. My readers always liked it when he did.