“Ahem–what do you mean bymine?”
A smile tugged at the left corner of his mouth. I was reminded of how gorgeous he was and how dangerous this game could be. If he did those things, I would fall. Then what? If I gave him all of me, then he would have the power to destroy me. I felt, no, IknewI couldn’t go through that torment a second time.
His smile dropped, his look appraising. “I’ve never wanted to be with anyone full time, but I am getting much closer, since being with you, and seeing that is something I truly want.”
Holy Hannah! Red lights flashed like beacons.Warning! Warning!
“Coming home at the end of the day and tossing you over my shoulder, carrying you to our room where I’d ravish you. Being a good girl, you’d tell me about your day and then you’d receive your spanking and more orgasms. Afterward, I’d feed you dinner and we’d relax and watch something together or sit on the deck and admire the night sky.”
The look in his eyes had become distant. He was seeing what he was saying. “On the weekends, we could escape and, like here, have no phone use. Just me and you in a cabin for two. Or maybe a trip to Martha’s Vineyard, or wherever you desire to go.”
I wanted to scream, “it’s what I want!” but I remained mute.
“I’ll grab a takeout box in case you get hungry and want a snack.” Ethan was up and out of his seat.
A tear slipped down my cheek with the wish that things could be different, that I could be better.
He returned and packed up my food and held out his hand for mine. His warm grip strengthened my resolve to have the rest of the day be better. I would nail the simple service scene and feel back on track. Yeah, cause apparently, I needed to be in that space to be okay with myself.
My mind was spiraling downhill fast. Maybe a scene, even the simpler service one we’d set up should be cancelled. Was I even capable of terminating a scene I’d asked for? That and more questions played in a loop: What would he think of me–would that be the end of our experiment–would he decide I wasn't worth the effort?
Ethan opened the door to the cabin. There was a small bottle of massage oil, and a hand towel on the table in the dining space. Ethan put my food in the fridge and turned around to face me.
“Lena, please do whatever you need to get ready for our scene.”
I hustled off to the bathroom and took my time doing self-talk as I peed and washed my hands. I splashed cold water on my face to bring a bit of color to my pale cheeks. I took a few of the breaths Ethan had taught me and felt my shoulders loosen.
Through the door, I heard the sounds of relaxing Zen-type music. Ethan was setting the scene. I opened the door to see Ethan without his shirt on, and sitting on a dining chair backward, his chest leaning forward against the backrest. I admired the broad width of his shoulders and upper back which tapered down to a trim, fit waistline. His skin glistened a light gold in the afternoon sun coming through the window.
Without hesitation, I picked up the bottle of oil and rubbed a dollop between my hands to warm it. I slid my greased palms across the tops of his shoulders and down the muscular rhomboid muscles and lower until I was just above his hips. It would be so easy to slip my hands around and run them down to his generous package. Ethan groaned with pleasure as I fisted the tight knots of his low back and worked my way back up.
I was lost in his hard muscles, seeing each one as a separate precious place on his body. I got so into it I lost myself and wasn’t aware my nails were digging into his skin until he commanded me to stop, delivered in a tone that echoed Daniel’s.
And like any red button on a control center, I immediately stopped. My soul and body flinched. He must have felt the shift in me, feeling me go quiet.I won’t safewordrepeated in a loop. This was my trauma, not his.
Ethan turned fully around on the chair. “Lena. Are you okay? Did I scare you?”
I wanted to tell him it’s silly, that I was just reacting to a tone that reminded me of someone else. But frozen as I was, telling him that was impossible.
“Ethan, I need to go.” I could see him struggling, but I knew he wouldn’t force answers from me as he’d already said a number of times. Us was about creating space to be and learn. Well, right now I needed that space to be alone and process. Using measured steps like in a protocol scene, I slipped on my shoes without haste and said goodbye. Once I was outside, I ran for the safety of the main lodge and my suite.
Thankfully, Carrie wasn't there when I arrived, and I hustled to my bedroom. There was a rapping at the front door. I froze in place. It had to be Ethan.
“Lena. You don’t owe me anything, not even an explanation, but I want you to know I’m still here.” I didn’t answer himbut allowed the truth of his words to envelop me. His footsteps echoed down the hallway when he left.
I was acting like the devil himself was chasing me, yet that was so far from reality. The only thing chasing me was a memory…
We’d had a quiet evening at Daniel’s townhouse. His place–deep mahogany floors, soft jazz, flickering candles. Everything was choreographed, everything was intentional.
I wore the hated pale-blue ribbon, the one he insisted on for scenes. It was looped neatly around my neck and tied in the back like one would a gift.
It was the fifth month of my training. My protocol for the evening was pouring wine for him and sitting by his feet, silent and obedient. Not a difficult scene but I wanted so badly to please Daniel.
As I was pouring the wine, a single drop slipped from the bottle’s lip and tapped almost silently against the crystal rim. Barely a sound–no splash–no stain. But he heard it. Daniel reached forward and placed his fingers under my chin, and lifted my face until my eyes met his.
“You’re not here to be sloppy,” his quiet tone was flat. “You're here to serve beautifully. Or not at all.”
“I am so sorry, Sir.”
