Teaching Abby Page 29

  But I’m wrong. The moment I take the papers from her, Beck and Levi leaning over my shoulders, I know she can indeed make me happier. “Are you sure about this?” My hand is shaking. “You don’t have to do this. No one is asking you to. We can figure something else out. We’ve told you that a dozen times.”

  She shrugs, still smiling. “I’m positive.” She giggles as she spins around and crawls to the edge of the bed, rocking forward, her fucking amazing tits swaying under the silk of her slip.

  “Abby…” Beck breathes out.

  “Sweetness,” Levi adds as he sets the papers on the bedside table once again.

  She giggles again. “It’s what I want. It’s right. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

  I roll my eyes before lunging forward and pulling her off the bed so that she’s standing in the circle of our love. I kiss her face and neck and shoulders, fighting with two other mouths as we each show her our appreciation.

  It only takes a moment for all of us to fall onto the bed, ravaging her until she cries out from the number of mouths suckling every inch of her sweet body. I can’t wait to be inside her. None of us can. And we waste no time, each of us vying for position as we take turns tormenting her nipples, kissing her mouth, and thrusting into her tight warmth.

  She’s ours, and she has gone above and beyond to prove how much we mean to her.

  Two hours later, all of us spent and breathing heavily, she’s lying in my arms where I lean against the headboard. I glance at the papers once again. “Seattle University, huh? I’ve heard they have a good law school.”

  She smiles languidly, tracing a finger up and down my arm. “It’s not Harvard, but…”

  Levi lurches forward to tickle her side. “Hey there. I went to Seattle University. Don’t poke fun. It’s a good school. I turned out all right.”

  She squirms until he stops tickling her. Breathless, she’s still smiling. “That’s just the application, mind you. I still have to get in.”

  Beck chuckles. “Like they wouldn’t take you.”

  The smile on my face is so broad it hurts. I don’t care. I hope it stays that way for the rest of my life. I never thought I could find someone who could make me this happy. Someone who could convince me not all women are like Theresa. Someone who would love me like Abby does and share my love with two other men.

  I couldn’t be happier.

  I’d say I’m the luckiest man alive, but Beck and Levi would probably argue the point.

  “Thank you,” Abby whispers.

  “Thank you,” I respond. “You’ve given up so much for us.”

  She shakes her head. “You’re my everything. I gave up nothing. My life didn’t start until I stepped into your studio three months ago.”

  She still has a very full plate. It will take time to deal with her grandfather’s estate in Cambridge. Though Geraldine and Joseph accepted amazing retirement packages from her, I know the two of them will stick around and help ensure the home is taken care of until Abby decides what she wants to do with it. I have encouraged her not to make any rash decisions.

  And who knows? Maybe she’ll decide to go to Harvard next year after all. We could even move into that house temporarily if she wants. It might take some juggling to keep her private life out of the public eye, but we’ll manage.

  Together.

  We’re a unit.

  Inseparable.

  In love.

  Please enjoy the following excerpt from Leaving Roman, Surrender, Book Three.

  As I step through the enormous front doors of my home of three years, a heaviness weighs on my heart. This should be one of the most exciting days of my life.

  I’m surrounded by people who care about me, all of them smiling and congratulating me on my accomplishments. I’ve not only graduated from college in three years, but I’ve done so with honors. They’re all proud of me. I’m proud of myself.

  The ceremony was so uplifting. For two hours I was surrounded by my peers, hundreds of other graduates all laughing and slapping each other on the backs and talking about job interviews and bright futures.

  I felt like I fit in for every moment of the event. Like I was one of them. I even laughed with a group of girls as we stood in line to enter the stadium. I didn’t know them. My graduating class was huge. We were lined up by last names, waiting to go inside and take our seats.

  No one around me knew a thing about my private life or my personal preferences in the bedroom. I was just Lucy Neill, honors graduate with a degree in business. My hair might be longer than some, but that doesn’t raise eyebrows. My clothing is always more modest than the other women, but today no one could see what I was wearing. We were all in robes.

  I’m even wearing a touch of makeup today. Nothing over the top. Just a little mascara and some lip gloss. It’s all Master Roman has permitted me to wear, and I had to work on him for several days to get permission for this small concession.

  I close my eyes for a moment as we step into the entryway. I don’t need to see the dark-wood foyer with high ceilings that echoes as we step on the hardwood. What I need to do is breathe.

  I’m suffocating inside. Stressed in a way I can’t fully identify. It’s been growing for months now, me worrying about this day and what will happen now that I’ve graduated. I don’t even know what I want or why I’m out of sorts lately, but I am.

  No one’s waiting to greet us because the staff went with us to my graduation. Evelyn, our cook, has been preparing for my party this afternoon for days. I know she’s going to bustle off to the kitchen now and pull out the parts that needed refrigeration.

  Nancy and Weston, who run this house like a finely tuned string instrument, will also resume their duties now that we’re home.

  Also entering through the front doors are two of Master Roman’s oldest and closest friends, Claudia and Julius, and Julius’s housemates, Levi and Beck. These people are essentially my family. They’re all I have, and I love them so much.

  For three years they have each taken a role in nurturing me. I’m not a child, of course. I’m a grown woman. I was twenty-two the first time I stepped into this foyer. I’m twenty-five now. But I’m not their equals. Not even close.

  For one thing, they are all in their early forties. They have lived almost twice as long as me and have life experiences I’ve never dreamed of. They’re all wealthy, sophisticated, hard-working adults with busy lives and jobs.

  I’m…not. And if Master Roman has his way, I never will be. I’m his submissive. His little girl.

  And he is my Daddy.

  Our choices might not be conventional, but they work for us. The roles we play in our relationship have suited us for over three years. I enjoy being a little. It fills a hole I never knew I needed filling until I came here.

  These friends and employees of Master Roman know everything about our relationship. Every one of them is also in the lifestyle. The BDSM lifestyle, that is. None of them happen to have a little, but they each have their own kinks. They have a mutual respect, and that extends to me.

  No one in this house judges me or Master Roman. They understand perfectly that both Master Roman and I get what we need from our arrangement. They play their parts in our roles when they come to the house.

  It’s freeing. Liberating. Soothing.

  It works.

  Or it has worked for three years.

  I’ve had concerns about what my future looks like for a while now, and I haven’t brought those concerns to Master Roman. That’s my fault. I’m chicken. I don’t want to upset the perfect dynamic.

  But something has to change, and I’ve never been more aware of that than I am right now with my heart heavy, my chest tight, my breathing shallow.

  This party is for my graduation, and I’m about to rock the boat.

  I silently follow everyone through the enormous foyer and down the hallway to the library. As soon as I reach the threshold to the room, I lift my gaze and smile for the first time since we left the
ceremony.

  Nancy has outdone herself turning this room into a party. She’s managed to make it tasteful enough that no one would readily question the age of the guest, while also adding little touches that fit my role—a much younger girl.

  Streamers and balloons announce the year and the event. A sheet cake that Evelyn has made has my school colors and “Congratulations Graduate” written on it. Normal stuff. Fun. Exciting. It’s everything I never would’ve dreamed I’d have on a day I never imagined would’ve come either.

  Some of the decorations are a soft pink, the color Master Roman often dresses me in. The gifts on the table have a combination of wrapping that could go either way. College graduate. Twelve-year-old birthday party.

  What I want to do is enter this room with everyone else and spend one afternoon as nearly their equal. I can’t erase the age gap, but I can pretend to be an adult for a few hours. I almost look like anyone else my age on the outside. Almost.

  My hair is hanging loose down my back, the curls tamed as well as I could manage. I’m wearing an off-white pleated skirt that reaches just above my knees. I also have on a pale pink blouse with a V-neck that exposes a few inches of skin.

  Over the blouse is an off-white jacket that matches the skirt. And finally, I have on off-white pumps I know cost a fortune. I look professional. Perhaps most of my peers were wearing more revealing clothing, but I didn’t stand out any more than usual in my modest outfit.

  What my classmates didn’t know was that I wore full-cut panties like those of a young girl every day. On top of that, I’m wearing a training bra that matches my panties. If anyone ever saw these articles of clothing, they’d gasp.

  I’ve rarely cared about this concession. In fact, most days I enjoy it.

  Master Roman and I went around and around for weeks discussing what I would be permitted to wear when I began to venture outside his home to attend classes. Though I loved then and still love now dressing in whatever he chooses when I’m home, I want to blend in as well as possible when I’m in society.

  Bras have forever been a point of contention between us. I was never permitted to wear one at any time when I first accepted this role. Young girls my age in our role play don’t wear bras. I had a very difficult time ignoring the fact that my breasts were hanging free, my nipples rubbing against my dresses. I felt exposed. It was embarrassing, but it was also arousing.

  Master Roman knew that. That’s why he enforced the strict rule.

  When I started taking classes on campus, we battled. Eventually, he consented to the training bras, which provided me with a modicum of protection while at the same time prevented me from choosing clothing that would be in any way revealing.

  Win for Master Roman because he relaxed in the knowledge that no one would be overly ogling me, while also being assured I would never let a single person, male or female, see my undergarments.

  I got something out of this arrangement too. Sometimes I was grateful, and other times it was inconvenient. Because the truth was that wearing what Master Roman selected for me under my clothing kept me constantly aware of whose little girl I was when I wasn’t with him.

  It gave me comfort. It excited me when I thought of the naughty training bra and babyish panties. I usually came home squirming and aroused, a low-level stimulation that I carried with me all the time.

  Yes, we had an agreement. He chose my panties and bras. I chose my jeans and shirts and sweaters. His selections forced mine to be demure.

  It’s not as if I have large boobs. I don’t. They barely fill an A cup. They are high and pert. Nevertheless, after three years, I still feel exposed—and admittedly titillated—by having them loose under my clothes.

  I don’t have close friends at school. I don’t even want them. When I’m not at school, I’d always rather be with Master Roman.

  As I glance around the room set for my party, I know I’m at a crossroads. I’m wondering, as I have for months, where I fit in now. What will I do next?

  I suspect Master Roman wants me to return to spending my days at home as his little. He’s made it clear that I can work for him. That it would be a tremendous help if I joined his business and occupied the office attached to his where we could be together most of the time.

  I love Master Roman with all my heart. I’ve never doubted this for a moment. But I’m afraid I need more. I don’t think I can live as his little twenty-four seven forever. That scares me. Rocking the boat scares me. Hurting Master Roman’s feeling scares me.

  He has given me everything. I had nothing when I came to him. He has put a roof over my head, fed me, clothed me, nurtured me, and put me through college. I know he doesn’t feel like I owe him. Not at all. But it’s still hard to push boundaries I know he’s comfortable with anyway.

  His gaze comes to me, and I know it’s time. “Lucy, why are you still standing there? Go change. I set out clothes for you. Everyone’s hungry. We’ll be waiting on the guest of honor to start this party.”

  I swallow. There’s no doubt about his intentions. When I step foot in this home, I’m expected to go straight to my room and change into age-appropriate clothing that he has selected. Every single person in this room is fully aware of our dynamic. In fact, they have very infrequently seen me like this with my hair down, makeup on, and adult clothing.

  The only incidences when they have witnessed this outside role I play were when they happened to be here meeting with Master Roman when I came home from class. I always stop by his office first to properly greet him and his guests before I change.

  “Sir…” I swallow.

  He stiffens, his gaze narrowing in that way he has of making me think twice about defying him. It’s a look I rarely see because I’m a very well-behaved young girl. I prefer not to be punished because it usually involves standing in a corner for long periods of time being ignored. It also often includes a very pink, sore bottom that chafes under my panties. And worst of all, the part I hate most, is orgasm denial.

  For reasons I don’t question any longer, all of those things also arouse me, but I’d still rather remain in his good graces and have him smile at me approvingly any day of the week.

  “Lucy?” He slowly approaches me as the others move farther into the room. They’ve hushed their conversations, but they give us a bit of space as if knowing like I do that I’m about to face the unknown. It’s just as unknown to them. Defying Master Roman is not my usual modus operandi.

  Master Roman sets a hand on my shoulder and tips my chin back with his other hand. “What’s the problem?”

  I meet his gaze. “Could I please enjoy this party wearing what I have on?” It’s the hardest question I’ve ever asked for reasons that I can’t fathom. I should be able to talk to him. Come to him with any concern. Renegotiate.

  But I never do, so we’re not accustomed to this sort of thing. Neither of us. I’m the accommodating good girl who does as she’s told and is rewarded frequently with amazing sex and mind-altering orgasms.

  His brow lifts higher. “Of course not. You know the rules.”

  I swallow. I want to continue arguing, but for some reason I can’t. Not right now. Not in front of our guests. I never expected him to concede. It’s not as if it will kill me to do the status quo. But I had to try. I talked myself up to this. It opens a discourse for later. One I intend to continue. After I’ve spent half the evening in timeout with a burning ass that will sting every time my dress brushes against it.

  I’ve even wondered if I didn’t dream up this plot in order to anger the beast. Push his buttons. Shake up our relationship a bit.

  That might be partly true, but there’s no denying the fact that I also need to confront him and negotiate some changes.

  For now, I’ve done all I can do. He turned me down, just as I suspected. “Yes, Sir.” I lower my gaze, already falling into my role. If I could remain in this outfit, even with the undergarments that are incongruent with my business attire, I could at least get a feel for what it would
be like to be accepted as an adult in this crowd of his friends.

  The moment he denied my request, however, I slid into the place I normally occupy. My heartrate slows at the same time. It’s a comfortable role, me being his little girl. I might have panicked the first several times he introduced me to his friends, but they have never flinched in their acceptance. Over the years, I have ceased to be concerned either. I play the part of a younger girl, and everyone goes along with it, even the staff.

  It gives me something I never really had the opportunity to experience when I was a little girl. A carefree childhood with coloring books and dolls and free time. I missed out on that stage of life, and Master Roman offered it to me on a silver platter.

  He still does every day. And I still relax in the knowledge that I don’t have to worry about anything beyond my age. He takes care of me. He sees to all my needs, including the carnal ones. I’m the luckiest little girl alive.

  Why am I pushing this issue? Maybe I’ve been wrong to attempt to defy him. I’m not sure at all right now. But it niggles in my mind even while he stares down at me, his expression filled with silent reprimand.

  His voice lowers so that only I can hear him, but his tone is stern. “Go to your room. Take off these inappropriate clothes, and put them down the laundry shoot. Remove the makeup. Fix your hair. Leave on nothing but your panties. You may stand in the corner of your bedroom until I come up.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment as my current outfit disappears from my imagination, leaving me in little-girl panties and a training bra I’m not old enough to wear. His words affect me in the same way they always do. I’m irrationally aroused. My panties are wet. My nipples are tight and puckered against the thin cotton of my ridiculous adult-sized child’s pretend bra. The sort of thing little girls wear when they don’t need one yet. The sort of thing preteens wear to impress their friends and show their boobs are coming in. My breasts sway and dimple and abrade against my dresses. They heighten my arousal at all times. And that’s the goal.