two-course meals. This suited Marcella just fine. Although Sean’s personal chef had a habit of making meals saturated with butter and fat, over the course of the past year, Marcella had advocated for healthier meal choices.
The savory smell of peanuts assaulted her nose as Gabriella, a woman in her sixties who enjoyed bossing Sean around, set the plate on the table. Marcella’s shoulders slumped at the chicken satay with a spicy peanut sauce. There were a handful of dishes she couldn’t resist, and this was one of them. Living with Sean meant she would never have that chic, thin body every other woman around him seemed to have. Visions of how Gretchen would look naked danced in front of her eyes, taunting her with a Hollywood ideal she could never achieve.
Gabriella winked at Marcella. “We used reduced-fat peanut butter and light coconut milk. Three hundred calories, tops.”
Sean wrinkled his nose at her. “You lose any more weight, I’m going to tie you to that chair and force you to eat a healthy amount of food.”
Heat crept up her neck. She hadn’t known he’d noticed her recent diet. “I have five pounds left to lose.”
Gabriella rolled her eyes and left the room. Fuller regarded her with an amused quirk to his lips.
Sean growled and slung his arm over the back of her chair, leaning so close the electricity of his body jumped the gap to set excitement racing along her nerve endings. “I’ve seen you naked. You can’t spare five pounds.”
The blush deepened. She focused on the grains of rice and resisted the urge to fan her face. Her personal weight goals were really none of his business. “Sean, don’t—”
“Slave.”
One word, a warning and a reminder. She couldn’t argue with him today, tomorrow, or the day after. “Yes, Master?”
“Eat all the food on your plate, or you will be punished.”
Gabriella had given her a reasonable portion. Marcella nodded. “Yes, Master.”
Fuller chuckled as he loaded another bite onto his fork. “Dessert should be fun.”
Sean dropped his overbearing pose, and they settled into the easy rhythm of conversation they had enjoyed all afternoon. A little later, Gabriella cleared away their empty plates and brought German chocolate cake for dessert.
“Thanks, Gabby.” Sean sank his fork into the soft, moist cake. “Are you guys taking off for the evening?”
“Yep.” Gabriella shot a sly smile in Marcella’s direction, making her wonder how much the chef’s assistant knew about what had happened in the dungeon earlier. “Make sure those plates get to the sink, or there will be hell to pay in the morning.”
Marcella twisted her napkin in her hands, trying to resist the pull of the cake. It wasn’t a large slice, but she had been doing so well following the plan her nutritionist had recommended. She was proud of the progress she’d made so far, and her stomach was pleasantly full. At last she pushed her plate aside.
“Eat.”
“I ate dinner, Sean. I’m full.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but he didn’t pursue the topic.
Fuller leaned across the table and took her plate. German chocolate cake was his favorite dish. “You know, Sean, it occurs to me that you’re asking Marcella to do two things she’s never done before at the same time. That’s not exactly playing fair. Don’t get me wrong; sometimes subs need for things to not be fair. I’m just urging you to consider the scope of what you’re asking.”
Sean sat back, his mouth puckered in a frown. Marcella worried that Fuller’s point would make Sean decide he couldn’t use her at the benefit. The idea of someone—anyone—taking her place as Sean’s submissive made the satay churn in her stomach.
He pushed his chair back, sliding it smoothly across the wood floor. Pointing to the place on the floor between him and the table, he snapped his fingers. “Cella, stand here and face
The savory smell of peanuts assaulted her nose as Gabriella, a woman in her sixties who enjoyed bossing Sean around, set the plate on the table. Marcella’s shoulders slumped at the chicken satay with a spicy peanut sauce. There were a handful of dishes she couldn’t resist, and this was one of them. Living with Sean meant she would never have that chic, thin body every other woman around him seemed to have. Visions of how Gretchen would look naked danced in front of her eyes, taunting her with a Hollywood ideal she could never achieve.
Gabriella winked at Marcella. “We used reduced-fat peanut butter and light coconut milk. Three hundred calories, tops.”
Sean wrinkled his nose at her. “You lose any more weight, I’m going to tie you to that chair and force you to eat a healthy amount of food.”
Heat crept up her neck. She hadn’t known he’d noticed her recent diet. “I have five pounds left to lose.”
Gabriella rolled her eyes and left the room. Fuller regarded her with an amused quirk to his lips.
Sean growled and slung his arm over the back of her chair, leaning so close the electricity of his body jumped the gap to set excitement racing along her nerve endings. “I’ve seen you naked. You can’t spare five pounds.”
The blush deepened. She focused on the grains of rice and resisted the urge to fan her face. Her personal weight goals were really none of his business. “Sean, don’t—”
“Slave.”
One word, a warning and a reminder. She couldn’t argue with him today, tomorrow, or the day after. “Yes, Master?”
“Eat all the food on your plate, or you will be punished.”
Gabriella had given her a reasonable portion. Marcella nodded. “Yes, Master.”
Fuller chuckled as he loaded another bite onto his fork. “Dessert should be fun.”
Sean dropped his overbearing pose, and they settled into the easy rhythm of conversation they had enjoyed all afternoon. A little later, Gabriella cleared away their empty plates and brought German chocolate cake for dessert.
“Thanks, Gabby.” Sean sank his fork into the soft, moist cake. “Are you guys taking off for the evening?”
“Yep.” Gabriella shot a sly smile in Marcella’s direction, making her wonder how much the chef’s assistant knew about what had happened in the dungeon earlier. “Make sure those plates get to the sink, or there will be hell to pay in the morning.”
Marcella twisted her napkin in her hands, trying to resist the pull of the cake. It wasn’t a large slice, but she had been doing so well following the plan her nutritionist had recommended. She was proud of the progress she’d made so far, and her stomach was pleasantly full. At last she pushed her plate aside.
“Eat.”
“I ate dinner, Sean. I’m full.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but he didn’t pursue the topic.
Fuller leaned across the table and took her plate. German chocolate cake was his favorite dish. “You know, Sean, it occurs to me that you’re asking Marcella to do two things she’s never done before at the same time. That’s not exactly playing fair. Don’t get me wrong; sometimes subs need for things to not be fair. I’m just urging you to consider the scope of what you’re asking.”
Sean sat back, his mouth puckered in a frown. Marcella worried that Fuller’s point would make Sean decide he couldn’t use her at the benefit. The idea of someone—anyone—taking her place as Sean’s submissive made the satay churn in her stomach.
He pushed his chair back, sliding it smoothly across the wood floor. Pointing to the place on the floor between him and the table, he snapped his fingers. “Cella, stand here and face
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