Free The Romantic Dominant by Maggie Carpenter Page B

his hand would move under her skirt and he’d fondle her bottom, but even that had stopped. At the time she would close her eyes and imagine it was Zander caressing her, finding the idea of serving her handsome Dominant delightfully alluring. Escaping into her romantic fantasy, she’d been able tolerate the disgusting grope, pretending it was Zander’s tender, warm caress.
    The sound of the powerful Porsche engine abruptly stopped, and a moment later Connor marched through the kitchen door and headed straight to the table. Gabriela was already taking his plate from the oven, and she hurried across to place in front of him.
    “Permission to speak, Sir,” she said softly.
    “What?” he snapped.
    “It’s time for a grocery run, Sir.”
    “The list?”
    “Kale, apples, broccoli, milk, eggs, laundry detergent, bleach and there is only one steak left, Sir.”
    “You’ll leave at 3 and be home by 3:45. Every minute you’re late will be ten minutes on the bed.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “Don’t forget, you try anything and I’ll know about it, and that snot nosed brat will be the one who pays,” he snarled.
    “No, Sir, I won’t forget,” she replied, hoping the fabricated tremble in her voice was convincing.
    “Bring me the envelope,” he ordered.
    Every two weeks he would give her $200 in a white envelope, and every time she shopped or picked up his cleaning the money was paid out, the receipt placed in the envelope.
    It was kept in a kitchen drawer, and walking briskly she retrieved it and hurried it back to him, but he continued to eat, ignoring her until he’d finished, then leaning back in his chair he looked up at her. She was supposed to look away but she never did, and he had long since given up any attempts to make her obey the edict.
    “Table,” he snapped.
    Placing the envelope on the table next to him, she picked up his empty dish and cutlery and made her way to the dishwasher, then began to steam the milk for his coffee. When she returned he was holding two twenty dollar bills in his hand; the envelope was closed, sitting where she had placed it.
    This was a shift in their routine. Normally he would count the money, check the receipts, and hand the envelope back to her. She felt a small flip in her stomach; something was wrong.
    “Make this be enough,” he warned.
    “Yes, Sir,” she dutifully replied.
    “Remember, the cab picks you up at 3 p.m. and you’re to be home by 3:45.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “That means you tell the cabbie to pick you up at 3:35.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    He placed the two $20 notes in her hand, and stuffing them in the pocket of her skirt she stood quietly as he finished his coffee. Rising from the table he grabbed the envelope and started towards the garage to leave, but at the door he stopped and turned.
    “Open your shirt.”
    Her fingers hastily traveled down the buttons, flipping them open, exposing her naked breasts.
    “Take it off.”
    Pulling the shirt from the waistband of her skirt, she slipped down the sleeves and stood topless, holding the blouse in her hand.
    “Stay that way until you dress to leave,” he ordered, then pointed up at the camera positioned near the ceiling in the far corner of the room. “I’ll be watching.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    Turning on his heel he walked quickly through the door, and a moment later she heard the roar of the Porsche as he revved the engine. She knew the instruction to remove her shirt was simply his way of showing he still had control. To her it seemed feeble, but he needed to exert his authority like he needed to breath, and any demonstration of his power over her, no matter how small, mattered to him.
    There were cameras all over the house and she assumed he watched from his office, but she had always been intrigued by the large, flat screen TV in his bedroom. Knowing she may not have another chance, she was determined to find out if it doubled as a monitor in the home.
    Using a telephone book in the grocery store she had