“Of course you do!” Amanda enthusiastically agreed. It was thrilling to watch people take risks, even if she was leery to take any herself. Nicki was always willing to work hard; she deserved to try to make her dream happen. “You can work as many hours as you want before you leave. Do you know how fast you’re going to make the move?”

Eric came out of the kitchen glowering, and Nicki snorted in anger. “That’s the hard part. Seems my roommate is a real buzzkill and doesn’t want to let me out of my lease.”

Amanda sat between Eric and Nicki as they stared each other down. Was Amanda the only one to see that this was about more than a roommate moving? Or was she starting to see everything with romantic overtones? Eric dumped another bin of ice and said, “I told you, get a suitable roommate to replace you and you can do whatever you want.”

Nicki made a face at him and then spat dramatically, “Remember that flaw you told me about before, Amanda? I think I found Eric’s. He’s a monkey-wrench-throwing motherfucker!”

Amanda was grateful they were busy shooting daggers at each other. Now was not the time to inform Nicki or anyone else that she had discovered Chase’s fatal flaw. But damn if Nicki dropping the f-bomb wasn’t an instant and blush-inducing reminder.

Eric and Nicki did maintain a cordial picture as they worked that evening. Amanda would’ve given more thought about what they would do once they had to go back to the same apartment after work, but as Chase’s estimated arrival time drew closer, all her thoughts centered on him. As soon as he came through the door, her excitement gave way to shyness after the first initial rush that seeing him provided. The way he looked at her now held a different type of warmth, the supersecret kind. She didn’t want to ask him any more questions; she just wanted to get back to feeling his hands all over her. She left Eric and Nicki to duke it out and retired for the night after the last customer left. They could make up or lock up. She hoped they would consider doing both.


IN THE END, AMANDA STAYED. At first it was under the guise of Chase’s challenge that submitting to him could actually be enjoyable. And it was. She liked it a lot. When she surrendered all her control, the result was the most intense freedom. She could put all her fears, worries, and decisions into his strong, powerful hands, and he took them willingly. From across his knees, she was released from all her anxiety. It was amazingly cathartic, but still left her conflicted. His reward had to be greater, because he was still a man, and a spoiled one at that. But she couldn’t quite find the words to question him about it without becoming tongue-tied. And he was so comfortable with it. There were no secrets from his past he was tortured by, no deep-seated desire to abuse women hidden behind his long list of good deeds and magnetic smile. He genuinely saw his role as her protector and was a natural at it. She knew there would never be anybody she could ever trust enough to confide in about her newfound fetish, as much for her sake as for his. He’d asked her to keep it to herself, and that wouldn’t be a problem. She didn’t even know exactly how to share it with him, much less anyone else.

Now that Chase no longer had to concern himself with the outcome, he came in contact with her bottom whenever he could. His rascal-like quality was sent into overdrive and it made him all the more lovable. He was a real ass man, and she wondered how he’d been able to conceal it as long as he had. It became a veritable world series of pats, swats, and grabs whenever he was presented with a really clear opportunity. But those opportunities were rare, since there always seemed to be someone in their space. In public they were always proper. Discretion really cut into their fun time.

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?”