Treasured Submission (6 page)

"Um, I wanted to return your book. Thank you for loaning it to me." Abigail attempted to shove it into his hand and he grinned. He took the book from her, only to open it and write something on the fly page.

Dean smiled down at her, holding it out. "Keep it, Abigail. I think you might find you can learn something from it if you actually take the time to read it and think about what it says."

Abigail blushed and started to shake her head but then nodded. "Thank you. It was… interesting."

Dean laughed softly, and reached out to place a finger under Abigail's chin, lifting it until he could look into her eyes. "No, Abigail. Thank you. I know this was difficult for you and I hope Sam appreciates the courage it took you to attend alone." He watched as her mouth opened, and waited to hear her deny his words. He was pleased when she closed her mouth again, her cheeks suffusing again with a soft pink flush. He spoke softly, "I don't know about your life, Abigail, but I do believe that you truly might be searching for something that has been missing. Please read the book and if you have any questions, or if you just want to talk about this, please give me a call or send me an email. Okay?"

Abby nodded, despite having no intention of ever speaking to this man again.

He smiled down at her. "Drive carefully."

Remaining silent, she nodded again and then broke eye contact, practically racing towards the door. She was in her car and halfway down the block before she was able to draw a deep breath.

Whew, what the hell is wrong with me? God, I stood there nodding like some plastic bobble-head doll!
Nothing had made her feel this way in as long as she could remember and she laughed, a bit shakily. What had happened to the strong, independent woman she had become out of necessity? Pouring herself into her work in order to support herself and follow her dreams hadn't given her the time nor the inclination to allow any sort of long-term relationship to develop. Despite the fact that she hadn't dated in quite a while, she wasn't some tongue-tied teenager. She couldn't believe that this strange man's touch and his words had affected her so greatly. Feeling uncomfortable and out of control for the first time in years, she pushed Dean out of her mind. As for the unexpected physical and emotional reactions she was having—well, those could be chalked up to the demonstrations of discipline that she had witnessed. No wonder the doors to the bookstore had been locked. God forbid a totally unsuspecting customer walked in to pick up the latest fiction, only to be confronted with bare butts being spanked, paddled and caned. That thought caused her to hope that Karen and Elaine were truly forgiven and that their bottoms would heal quickly. Picturing Elaine standing in some corner and
'thinking about being naughty
', had Abby shifting in her seat. Not willing to acknowledge that the thought of actually having to mimic the woman's submission was causing her body to heat up in certain places, she flushed. Despite Dean's assurances that sexual arousal was normal, she was still ashamed at her reaction. Shaking those thoughts free, she turned on the radio, singing along with the music, and concentrated on just getting home.

As she pulled into her driveway, she looked at her watch and saw that it was almost midnight. Though she had promised to call Sam to discuss the evening, and knew she had several tough, direct questions she needed to ask, it was far too late to have that discussion. Instead, she sent a text message stating she was safely home and asking that Sam call her the next day. Abigail hurried into the house and was met by her orange tabby cat, Cicero. She scooped him up, burying her face in his soft fur. Carrying him into her bedroom, she laid him on the bed before brushing her teeth and changing into her pajamas.

As she slid into the bed, pulling the quilt up to her neck, her eyes went to the chair where she had thrown her bag. Dean's book seemed to be calling her to pick it up. Thinking she should at least open it to read what Dean had inscribed, she began to push down the quilt, one leg moving out from under the sheets. Before her foot touched the floor, she remembered the explicit, perfectly focused illustrations she had seen, and her face heated. In fact, she was feeling a bit warm all over. With her leg safely back in the bed, she shoved the quilt down to the footboard and reached over to flip off the lamp.

Sleep remained elusive as her mind continued to replay the evening's events. Realizing that she was staring across the room to where the book was barely visible, she moaned and turned onto her side, facing away from the chair. When she did finally drop into sleep, it was to dream about spankings—but those in her dream were not those from any childhood memories. It wasn't her father or mother's lap that she was lying across.

She moaned in her sleep and rolled onto her other side, as if easing the pain in a well-spanked bottom. Cicero purred loudly as he curled up against the curve of her hip, and his soft heat had Abigail smiling in her dreams.

Abigail woke early, the sunlight streaming through the blinds straight into her eyes. She had forgotten to shut them before going to bed. It wasn't just the sun that pulled her from her dreams. Cicero was walking all over her, meowing for his breakfast—though the weight of him kneading against her breasts had her thinking he could stand to skip a few meals. Laughing, she scooped him up and put him off the bed. "Okay, buddy, just let me get up and I'll feed you." He meowed once more before stalking out of the room, his head held high, his fluffy tail twitching as if to say 'mission accomplished'. Abigail slipped out of bed and quickly made it, before going into the bathroom. Brushing her teeth, she thought about getting into the shower, but decided to take care of her cat and her own breakfast first.

She moved down the hall into the kitchen. It was a cozy room, bright and welcoming, with sunny yellow cabinets and a pristine white trim. Abigail loved her house and had worked hard to be able to purchase it on her own. Grinding beans and filling the coffee machine with water, she immediately wished she had taken the time to preset it the previous evening. Having to wait for that first cup of coffee was an exercise in patience. Cicero received his morning kitty chow while her bagel toasted in the oven. Once the last drop of aromatic coffee dripped into the carafe, she filled her favorite mug. As she added a generous spoonful of sugar, as well as an even more generous amount of flavored creamer, she thought about Dean treating her to coffee the evening before. Smiling as she recalled telling him she was a coffee addict, she pushed open her back door and carefully carried her brimming mug and a plate with her toasted bagel out to the back porch. Settling into the soft cushions of her porch swing, her face showed her pleasure as she took her first sip of sweet coffee. Her yard was full of flowers and thick, green grass. It was always calming to sit on the swing and just relax before jumping into a new day. A few birds were bathing themselves in the birdbath, though Abby knew they'd quickly disappear if Cicero decided to join his owner on the swing. He loved to chase them away, though thankfully he'd never managed to catch one. Finishing both her bagel and her coffee, she headed back inside to pour another cup.

A buzzing sound caught her attention and she realized that it was her phone. Hurrying to her bedroom and her purse, Dean's book again captured her attention, before another sequence of buzzing made her remember what she was looking for. Pawing through the contents of the bag, she once again made herself a promise that she would clean out all the clutter. Just as she grabbed the phone, the buzzing stopped. "Figures," she muttered, shoving everything but the phone back into the bag. As she started to slide the book out of sight, she blushed. "Get a grip Abby, geeze…" Tucking the book under her arm, she carried both it and the phone out to the swing, along with her fresh mug of coffee. Activating the screen, she saw that Sam had just called. Abigail smiled as she pressed the speed dial and listened as the phone rang.

Sam sounded breathless answering the phone. "Hi, um how was the book review?"

Abigail's smile slipped just a bit as she said, "Glad you asked. I'd like to talk to you about it and—"

Sam interrupted her, "Sure, but, hey, can it wait? I'm on my way out the door and really need to get going." Abigail looked down at her watch and realized that it was getting late. Sam continued, "Can you to come to dinner tonight—about seven? We can talk about it then, okay?"

"Okay, should I bring anything?" Abigail asked.

"Nope—just come as you are," Sam said, and then disconnected. Abigail gave a small frown; Sam usually wasn't so rude on the phone, hanging up without a goodbye. Abby put down the phone and picked up her coffee. Tilting the mug to take a sip, she almost spilled it when a loud chirping sound startled her. After glancing at the phone and realizing that it was not the source, she looked up to see Cicero stalking around the birdbath. The birds had abandoned their morning bath and were now loudly scolding the frustrated cat from the safety of the trees. Shaking her head in amusement, Abby tucked her feet up under her and picked up the book. Before opening the cover, she looked around as if to reassure herself that no lurking feminists were about to attack her for her choice of reading material. She gave a small giggle and opened the book.

"
Abigail – I admire your desire to seek education and hope you continue to be brave enough to explore all the possibilities life has to offer. I hope you feel cherished and protected by that special someone who shares in the delights of discovery. Enjoy the journey for each step is a treasure – just as you are. Dean"

Abby smiled at the words of possibilities, discoveries and journeys—almost as if life were a huge adventure. Suddenly she felt a little unsettled. Had she lost the interest to explore? Was there even someone who wanted to explore with her? She realized that she didn't feel protected, much less cherished. Sure, she was loved by her family but didn't think his inscription was referring to family members. It had been years since any man had made her feel like a woman, and never had she felt as though a man considered her a treasure. Tearing her thoughts away from that path, she flipped to the next page.

Only an urgent need to visit the bathroom had her closing the book. Walking back into the house, Abby absently wondered how popular this way of life really was. According to the book, domestic discipline had been in practice since the beginning of time and was now finding its way back into many homes. If last night's audience was any indication, it was far more popular than she would have believed. Russell had said he and his wife had been living their entire lives practicing the lifestyle, and, well, the other attendees certainly seemed anxious to learn everything they could about the subject.

Without conscious thought, she stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower, her mind occupied with thoughts about what she had read. As she waited for the old pipes to deliver hot water to the shower, she used the bathroom and then stripped off her pajamas. With a soft giggle, she turned to look over her shoulder at her butt. She might be nearly thirty-five, but she thought she was in pretty good shape, her bottom nicely rounded—well, perhaps a trifle too rounded for her taste.

Standing naked in front of the full-length mirror, Abby really studied herself for the first time in a long time. She was a rather petite woman, standing at a little over five feet. Though not fat, she thought she could stand to lose a few pounds if she were being totally honest with herself. Her breasts were on the smallish side but were firm and tipped with dusky pink nipples that were even now puckered tightly as she critically examined herself. Her stomach was a little rounder than it had been in her youth, but she smiled thinking it was a price she would willingly pay in order to really enjoy life's culinary delights. Looking at her backside, she wondered how the pale skin compared to either Elaine or Karen's. Were their butts still red and swollen, or had they recovered and gone back to being as pale as hers? She decided that while Elaine's bottom was probably recovered, the wheals from the cane were still probably visible across Karen's cheeks. After all, the previous strokes had been evident from her earlier canings before Russell added new lines to her rear.

Rubbing her hands over her unmarked flesh, Abigail stepped into the shower and purred as the hot water poured over her body. After lathering her body with her favorite body wash, she washed her hair and then flipped the lever to stop the shower flow, her action causing the water to now pour from the tub spigot. Taking a seat on the edge of the tub, she shaved her legs, deciding that today she might as well give herself some much needed attention. Once she was done, she wrapped a fluffy towel around her wet body before drying her hair.

After dressing in a pair of shorts and a blue t-shirt, she opened the cabinet containing her cosmetics and chose a color. She then spent several minutes carefully applying a deep red polish to both her fingernails and toenails, unable to remember the last time she had done so. Recapping the bottle, she looked up and smiled at her reflection. "Guess those women made you want to remember how it feels to feel feminine—at least a little bit," she said to the woman in the mirror. Gingerly sliding her feet into flip-flops, she returned to the kitchen.

Pouring her third cup of coffee, she picked up the mug carefully, not wanting to disturb her polish until it was dry. Though she saw the book on the table, she did not open it for fear of smudging her nails. Instead, she allowed her mind to drift back to what she had already read.

Dean was a very good writer. His style allowed the reader to feel as if he were speaking directly to him or to a group of friends. Clear, yet not overly detailed descriptions were used to set the stage for each of the points he asked his reader to consider. Looking down at the photo of him which graced the back cover of the book, Abby smiled, wondering exactly how he had gotten into the domestic discipline scene. Imagining him across his parent's laps, informing them of the proper positioning before he took his spanking, she giggled. There was nothing about the man she had met that allowed her to imagine him actually letting someone else be in control. As she sat in her cozy kitchen, she finally admitted that she had been interested in him last night and was growing more so the longer she read his book. She wondered if he was married, and decided he must be or else he couldn't have written with such authority. Trying to picture his wife, Abby decided she must be some meek little mousey woman who was always ready to flip up her skirt to take a spanking from her husband. Suddenly a sense of shame coursed through her at the bitchy thought. The shame increased when she realized that what she was feeling almost felt like jealousy. God, this wasn't high school! How could she be jealous of some woman she had never even met?

Abby felt her insides flutter as she imagined Dean's large hands descending on her tender skin. When her imagination had his hand both caressing and then spanking her bare ass, she blushed hotly at the image. "Whoa, okay, girl," she said as she stood. "You either need to forget all about this stuff or go find yourself a man, and soon." The sound of her delightful giggle was unfortunately shared with no one except for the orange cat. Putting her empty mug into the sink and leaving the book where it lay, Abby went on with her day.

Later in the afternoon, Abigail returned from her shopping, carrying the bags into the house. After putting away the groceries and slipping Cicero a treat that he really didn't need, she gathered her other bags and headed towards the bedroom. Glancing into her office, she felt an almost overwhelming desire to turn on her computer and work. She had new ideas about her current project and had decided to expand on her characters. Since she couldn't seem to stop thinking about all this discipline stuff, she thought she might find an outlet by weaving a few details, as well as a few spankings, into her latest novel. About to step into the office, she realized she was still holding her purchases, and a quick glance at the clock showed that it was almost six. "Sorry, babe," she told herself, feeling a twinge of disappointment. However, she knew that if she so much as turned on her laptop, she would disappear into her fictional world without a single thought to her responsibilities. Remembering that this evening's appointment was going to prove interesting, she turned and walked into her bedroom.

Her face showed her approval as she slipped the new dress over her head, buckling the thin belt around her waist. The dress reminded her of the one Julia Roberts had worn to the polo match in the movie,
Pretty Woman
. Instead of brown though, this dress was navy blue with tiny white dots. Abigail slipped her feet into her new sandals, admiring her red toenails, and turned to look in the mirror, smiling at the pretty woman gazing back at her. She couldn't remember the last time she had worn anything other than jeans and t-shirts, and decided it had to have been at the wedding almost a year earlier.

Thinking about husbands and wives, Abby realized that while she had felt an unwarranted surge of jealousy thinking about Dean's wife—a woman she had never laid eyes on, she had felt absolutely nothing seeing a hugely pregnant woman clinging to Nick's arm when she ran into the couple at the grocery store. Dean had introduced his wife and explained that they were visiting his family before their third child arrived. Abby hadn't felt a single ounce of jealousy. What did that say about her? Deciding that it said nothing more than she had made the right decision in ending her unhappy marriage, she forced herself back to the present.

Opening jars and tubes, she applied some light makeup and brushed her hair. Instead of her normal ponytail, she pulled her hair back from her face with a headband and considered herself ready. Making sure Cicero was safely inside with a bowl of food and fresh water, she gave him a final pat before picking up the book off the table and shoving it into her bag. She got into her car, anxious to see Sam and find out how anyone could confuse Dean Koonig with Dean Koontz.