She waited for him to become an unofficial dictator, ordering her around and forcing her to see his way on any and all things. But that never happened. It was quite the opposite. Chase doted on her in every way possible. He gave no indication he wanted to run her life any more or less than he had before. He valued her opinion and didn’t always have to be right. If he had strong feelings on a topic, however, she better be able to sway him. That was the hitch: If he said no and he meant it, he expected her to abide by it. Not doing so resulted in ramifications that were quick, effective, and came with the voice. She wanted to avoid that.

But he rarely said no. He was usually so indulgent, she felt childish for not going along with him. The pedestal that he put her on was high, and he still was able to shine down on her from it. In turn, she wanted to make him happy. But what do you give the man who has everything, including the ability to make a woman willingly submit to corporal punishment?

“I just hired a manager,” Amanda told him one evening when he came to pick her up.

“A very wise decision.” He couldn’t help beaming.

“I’m glad you think so,” she replied. “Since you’re the one trying so hard to get me to leave the place, it’s only fair you pay half his salary.”

“Angel, I’ll pay all of it. Best money I ever spent.”

She originally was going to hire Liam to take over for Nicki, but he was just so skilled. And the former NYU graduate had such panache. It was a good fit that seemed to come at the right time. He walked in off the street within an hour of Amanda placing the ad online. Nicki was still making her arrangements but took immediate time off to make her West Coast audition and check out the lay of the land. Amanda put Liam on the books the day they interviewed. He worked well with Eric, who looked a little too pleased as the weeks wore on and Nicki struggled to find Eric a roommate, working almost all her regular hours when she returned.

Amanda continued to work when Chase was in town, but she went on the road with him more. They began to play their own kinky versions of beer-swilling games, started innocently enough when he came into the Creek and she bought him a beer, ordering his postgame favorite, Heineken.

“Give him a Heiney, Eric,” she said, smiling at Chase, delighting in the coincidence.

From that moment on, whenever the word in any format or context was mentioned, they would share a quick look and have a brief stare-down. She started dropping words with intentional double meanings—words like discipline, punish, and disobedient, words Chase immediately picked up on, no matter how innocuously she introduced them. “That’s a punishing rain, don’t you think?” she would ask . They were always said in public but never directly connected to avoid drawing attention. Amanda presented a gracious and reserved picture. It was the way she was raised. She was generally more of an observer and still getting used to the attention. So she got to work on her timing, which was excellent. But she never under any circumstances could bring herself to say the word spank.

Sometimes Chase forced her to say it by refusing to do it until she did; a sensual power struggle he was certain he’d win, and for which they would both be rewarded.


SHE WENT BACK TO DOING research, this time not about him, but them. And the amount of information to be found was mind-boggling. There were videos, chat rooms, and stories written about role-playing, age-playing, and domestic discipline. People had parties to meet and greet. There were entire communities dedicated to it. Some of it was frightening at first. People told stories with corresponding photos of being tied up and essentially whipped with all sorts of implements, leaving welts, cuts, and bruises. Some took it a step further and introduced additional body parts to the mix. Others got trussed up and shackled to contraptions. There were videos with sessions lasting extended periods of time. Chase was nothing like any of that, but came closest to the domestic stuff. And he didn’t like it when she cried, even when that was his intention. When she started crying, the spanking was over. What she found was, when they were doing it for fun, she could take a lot before actually crying. She tried throwing in some role-play scenarios, and while he admired her braided pigtails, the little plaid skirt, the white button-down blouse with the matching cotton panties and knee socks, he much preferred being Chase Walker to a strict high school principal.

Who wouldn’t?


“CHASE? WHAT EXACTLY IS TOPPING from the bottom?” Amanda asked him one afternoon, a few weeks later while he was driving to drop her off at work before heading to the stadium.

He took his eyes off the road for just a moment and cast an amused sideways glance in her direction. “Doing a little more homework, were we?”

“Trying to,” she said, “but a lot of it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Probably because it doesn’t pertain to you,” he told her. “We’re making our own rules, angel, you should know that by now.”

“Does that mean you aren’t going to tell me?” She huffed, leaning her arm along his on the center console and her head on his shoulder.

He chuckled a little before kissing the top of her head and humoring her. “Topping from the bottom is an S and M phrase, as you probably know from whatever mischief you’ve been up to. It’s used by insecure doms who don’t know how to handle a sub who’s always looking for some attention. It’s when they accuse their subs of trying to control the action or the dynamic of the relationship.”

“Sounds like you’re not big on the concept.”

“You’re not my sub, you’re my girlfriend. And I’m no insecure dom, having to battle you for control. You have a mind of your own, I think you should use it every chance you get. You’re all I think about when I’m not on the field, so it’s safe to say you have my full attention. Not only can I give you everything, I want to. There’s only one rule, act like a lady, which you already do. If you want me to spank you, all you have to do is ask me. And if I think you’ve earned one, there’s nothing you can do to stop me. I thought we went over this?”

Amanda waited a few moments, staring at the dashboard before quietly asking, “But what if I don’t want to ask?”

Chase chuckled again. “How about just give me a hint?”

She didn’t answer him and tried unsuccessfully to hold back the sigh. Either he was being dense on purpose, to partake in one of his particular forms of enjoyment, watching her fumble while trying to talk about it, or he really didn’t understand her conundrum. There were times when she made it all about him—she wasn’t putting on nurse and school-girl uniforms for her own enjoyment, although she certainly didn’t mind. But there was an indescribable excitement that came from watching him get all worked up and react, knowing she was the only one with the ability to make him. It took the intimacy of their relationship to a whole new level, pushing him just far enough for him to go from doting to domineering, minus the voice, of course. If he was really upset with her and he used the voice, it would take all the fun out of it and she’d end up miserable. Occasionally, it was so much more rewarding to tease him into it, just short of making him mad. That certainly seemed to qualify as topping from the bottom. If she was going to embrace the lifestyle, shouldn’t she be getting it right? Would she blow her chance at happiness by being a bad fit for an alpha male? Even in the air-conditioned car, thinking about it suddenly made her backside feel warm and tingly.

“I can practically hear your brain working,” Chase mused into her ear, and the warmth increased just a bit, radiating slightly onto her thighs. “It’s my job to know what you need, and you’re a pretty easy read. It’s all about control for you. You can’t stand the thought of relinquishing it, but because you trust me, you don’t mind my stripping you of it. I fully realize the sacrifice you make by giving it up to me.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or sincere. You don’t think this has anything to do with you challenging your own control?”

“As soon as I lay my eyes on you it challenges my control. But I have to be in control at all times or I could hurt you. It’s taxing enough that you’re practically insatiable.”

If he thought he was being cute, it didn’t translate. In fact, it irked her. “You make that sound like you’re doing me a favor. I don’t appreciate it. My sex life was fine before you got involved.”

His Jag came up to a stoplight, and he nearly slammed on the brakes. His right hand white-knuckled the steering wheel and his left hand swept across his chest, his face tight with anger, all playfulness gone. He pointed a deliberate finger at her. “Hey. We had a deal. We don’t talk about the people we’ve touched in the past. I admit I’m a possessive savage. Don’t ever talk about another man touching you again. It makes me see red.”

Amanda quickly sat back up straight, startled by the distinct edge of the voice now reflected in his tone. She detested that her stomach immediately dropped in response to it. Curses, she made that deal when it was going to curtail the revolving door of women in his past, not the three buffoons from hers. Damn it, would any of these conversations ever go in the direction she wanted? Every time she tried to illustrate a valid point on this particular topic, he would turn all toppy and arrogant, never failing to reinforce their roles. There were times when she really resented the power he had over her. This was rapidly turning into one of them. She crossed her arms, sitting fully back in her own space.

“Okay. I get it. No dirty words, no ex-boyfriends,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the heat on her backside intensifying yet again. She wriggled the tiniest bit in her seat to try to relieve it.

“I’m not trying to get into an argument with you here,” he said, his ire dismissed as quickly as it appeared and replaced with congeniality, completely unaware that anything was amiss. As if he didn’t know he was mentally paddling her to tears, the bastard. “I’m just saying that I’ve been at this a lot longer than you. I’ve honed the skills. If I don’t know how to handle the likes of you, I need to hang it up.”

“The likes of me?” Amanda asked, equal parts intrigued and annoyed. She tried to make the shifting in her seat to face him look like she was becoming fully engaged, but she was really trying to alleviate the inferno raging on her behind, which was slowly driving her mad. Surely he was some evil wizard disguised in adorable man/boy packaging. “That almost sounds like a challenge,” she snapped.

“Baby, if issuing me a challenge makes you happy, I’ll do my best to rise to it. You don’t need to get so worked up. You’re getting all flushed.”

He was confident to the point of sounding condescending; self-assured to the point of being smug. She resumed the crossed-arm battle stance in her seat, fighting back tears of frustration at the whole exchange and his ability to roast her derriere without laying a hand on her. And then she caught sight of it, in the far right corner on the digital display in the center of the dashboard. A tiny icon of a car seat appearing, then disappearing, intermittently flashing, and underneath it read, 86 . . . then 87 . . . and then 88. As soon as it fully registered, Amanda dug her feet into the floor mat, heels and all, and arched her body off the seat as best she could.

“What’s the big idea!” she shrieked.

“Just a little reminder, angel.” He chuckled, depressing the button on his steering wheel with his thumb to shut off her seat warmer. Watching her subdued squirming reach its crescendo was easily the best thing he’d see all day, at least until he picked her up after his game when all her seat warming would be courtesy of his right hand. “You really hung in there. I was beginning to worry the leather would start smoking.”

“You’re not funny, Chase,” she said, unable to keep from laughing at her own stupidity for thinking he had that sort of mental hold over her. At the same time, she was also relieved.

“Sorry, baby,” he said, smiling out his window, completely unrepentant.

She gingerly settled back down, satisfied the seat had cooled. And then she thought about how he could use a little reminding of his own. They drove the rest of the way to the Cold Creek in silence. He was thinking about how endearing all her wiggling was. She was thinking about how to up the ante. When he pulled up to the curb, he grabbed her hand to pull her in for a sound kiss. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said after grudgingly unlocking their lips. “Stay off the Internet. It gives you bad ideas.”