by Lila Munro
"How does she seem otherwise?" Dante asked, rubbing his forehead at this latest development and eyeing the liquor cabinet. No, it wouldn’t do to be slamming shots. He’d promised Blake play time and drunk was definitely not the right way to do that.
"She seems content, Master."
"Well, that’s a step forward I suppose," Dante answered. "I need a beer."
"Yes, Master." Blake placed Dante’s foot on the floor and left to retrieve a Breckenridge Vanilla. When he returned, Dante took the beer he offered and drew a long pull off it as Blake resumed his position and picked up Dante’s right foot. "I don’t think she’s sure of what to do, Master."
"About what?" he asked, leaning his head back against the supple leather headrest and closing his eyes. Normal or not, it was becoming more and more apparent that normal might include little sleep or even less peace of mind with two subs to worry about every second of the day.
"I think she thinks this is our routine and she doesn’t have any business being involved in it. She refused to come out of the kitchen, Master. She said this was our time when I told her you were home and just kept stirring her Bolognese."
Dante mentally kicked himself yet one more time when he realized they’d been so busy that not much got resolved in the way of rules and negotiating and duties around the house. The only thing she really knew was it was okay not to be naked, which Dante thought might be bothering her by now since she was used to being naked, but she was still too self-conscience to be that way in front of him and Blake. It seemed one discomfort over-rode the other at present.
Maybe if he’d claimed her so many years ago, things would be different now. She’d have been trained in his house and not Mason’s and there would be none of this awkwardness going on. And she damn sure wouldn't longer fear him. He wondered now if their friendship was so developed there was no transitioning to something else. While she was beautiful and he’d seen her in various states of undress over the years, even seen her having an orgasm which was a sight to behold, now that he had her in his own house, it somehow didn’t agree with him. To have her adhere to all the rules he inflicted on Blake somehow seemed wrong. It hadn’t taken long for the shoulda, coulda, woulda thoughts to take root and Dante found himself doubting everything he thought he ever knew concerning Julie.
"Why don’t you go get the play room ready and I’ll see if I can’t get her to stop playing chef for a day." Dante stood and helped Blake to his feet.
"Good luck, Master," Blake said, trotting down the hall. "You may have to go find an all-night appliance store and purchase another refrigerator to hold all the food she’s cooked."
"Julie…" The rest of what Dante thought he was going to say escaped him once he saw what Blake meant.
There were pots of pasta sauces everywhere, and cakes and pies and brownies littered the counters. Some type of roast with all the trimmings was on the table and Dante was sure he smelled sage. Upon further inspection, he found a trussed chicken in the oven.
"Love, what are you doing?" he asked, sitting on a bar stool while she kept her head down continuing to stir something in a bowl that looked suspiciously like pancake batter.
"Cooking, Sir," she answered, her arm moving furiously while a strand of hair bounced along her flour coated jaw.
"I can see that," he conceded. "Why?"
"It’s what I do."
"You told me that this morning, but I was under the impression you meant you cooked for him every morning and that was routine so you were holding on to that for sanity sake." Dante watched as she ladled some of the concoction into a muffin tin. Not pancakes after all. "This isn’t normal. Is this what you do now instead of alphabetizing things?"
"If I say yes are you going to call Bill Lewis and have me committed before the sun comes up?"
Dear God, what the hell was he supposed to say? He knew he sure as hell didn’t know what to do for her. Not like Mason had. Mason could somehow keep her from doing all these maniacal things she did for stress relief. Of course they spent a lot of time in their play room with her in…subspace.
How long had it been since Julie had taken a journey to that place inside herself where she could turn loose of it all and just not give a damn? Dante knew for sure he wasn’t the man to do it. At least not now. Fuck. Who was he kidding? He might not ever be that man. His technique was on the far side of the moon compared to Mason’s. Pain was not in that man’s repertoire and for all intents and purposes, as far as Dante knew, it wasn’t in Julie’s either. Of course Dante had always believed perhaps she compromised much of what she wanted to try in her attempts at being a completely compliant slave. Now that Mason had pulled this little stunt with no consideration for the parties involved, he wondered what secret desires Julie might be harboring, hanging like ripe fruit on the vine, juicy and ready for the picking. As curious as he was, Dante knew now wasn’t the time to be introducing her to anything new. At least not with her in the shape she was in. At this point he didn’t know if he could trust himself.
With resounding clarity the answer to his problems became crystal. He had to find someone to help him with her. Someone that could help him understand whatever it was he’d been missing over the years in regard to her needs. As much as he loved her, or believed he did because at this point he was beginning to doubt his own reasoning, he didn’t know if he could ever give her everything she needed. Mason knew that. Mason also knew Dante would have the good sense to figure that out and do what needed to be done. Looking back, it seemed clear to Dante now that Mason had known all along. That he understood that thing that had been stuck in Dante's craw a long, long time. Dante wanted Julie. But he would have to come to some concessions in order to have her. Sneaky bastard. Mason was an asshole of the highest order.
Dante thought for a moment maybe he was the one that needed flogged tonight. At the very least he’d like to sink into a nice, warm drunk and just not think for a while.
But circumstances wouldn’t allow for that right now. Julie might not be fitted to them at present insofar as how she was used to playing or what her limits were, but Dante realized one fact. He had to strong arm her as her Dom in charge, not Master—he wasn’t that to her. Not yet. The immediate goal was keep her centered without ever laying a hand on her. She needed him to tell her exactly what, when, and why for a while to maintain her balance.
"Julie, stop cooking and get this mess cleaned up. It’s time for bed," Dante said forcefully, standing and moving to the refrigerator. He thought maybe Blake was right and there would never be enough room at this point.
"But you’ve not had dinner, Sir," Julie protested, going right on with her ladling.
"I don’t eat anything heavy when I get in this late. I should have clarified things a bit better earlier. I won’t make that mistake again. Tomorrow I’m calling in sick and we’re going to get a few things straight. For now pack it in sister," he insisted, turning off the burners and the oven. "Let me explain something to you. Mason left you in my care and I won’t let you wither away while I’m privileged enough to have you under my protection. This nonsense ceases now. Instead of trying to feed a village, effective immediately you will talk to me about any and all things you’re feeling and if need be, yes, we’ll call Bill for back up. I’m not going to fail you or Mason. Asshole he may have been, but he knew what the hell he was doing. I was just too blind to see it until now."
Julie stood with her ladle mid-air and a blank look of shock on her white, powder-splotched face. Well that was easy enough. Authority and demands got her attention. He was a Master for piss sake, why had he not thought to just tell her what to do in no uncertain terms before now? Because she was Julie, that’s why. His fragile, beautiful Julie whom he loved. But did he love her enough?
Chapter Seven
With Julie settled in the Jacuzzi with a glass of wine, a good book, and the promise he’d be back to check on her soon, Dante wandered down the hall to the play room where the door stood open. Blake was settled on hi
s knees waiting patiently beside the spanking horse. On the bench along the wall he’d lined up a paddle, a flogger, a crop, a cane, a towel, water, and a bottle of lube. At that point Dante didn’t know who needed this worse, him or Blake. One thing he did know was Blake needed to start listening when he was instructed not to kneel for more than a few minutes at a time. No amount of joint juice in the world would ever completely reverse the aches and pains of a middle aged body that had spent most of its adult life in submissive poses.
"Slave, get up. Stretch," Dante insisted, helping Blake to his feet. "How many extra do you think you owe me for staying down there until you couldn’t move after I’ve told you repeatedly not to do that?"
"As many as Master sees fit," Blake answered, hobbling around the room a couple of times before he was able to stand upright and no longer resembled the oldest hunched back duck in existence.
Dante loosened his tie and pulled it over his head then slowly unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off, and tossed it in the chair in the corner. His undershirt soon followed. Blake had stopped his trek around the room, standing still beside the horse with his eyes pinned to the floor. It didn’t escape Dante’s attention that although the man didn’t look at him, his dick sold him out, lengthening and twitching between his legs. Making his way over to him, Dante palmed the back of Blake’s neck and touched their foreheads.
"Do you know how much I love you?" Dante asked.
"Yes, Master," Blake answered, running his fingertips along Dante’s jaw. "I love you, too."
"I want Julie to sleep with us," Dante said before he lost the courage to walk this road. "Not sexually, but she needs an anchor right now nonetheless and I won’t go through all the bed hopping anymore. Understood?"
"Yes, Master."
"I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you the time to bring a woman into our relationship is long overdue. I need a woman. I want Julie."
"I know, Master," Blake said with so much understanding in his voice Dante’s heart contracted, aching at the love they shared. "I want that for you. For us."
Feeling like a weight had been lifted from his soul, Dante raised Blake’s head and took his mouth, starving for the heat he knew was there. He bit back a groan when his cock stirred as their tongues met in a caress so subtle it was barely detectable.
"On the horse, slave." He pulled back and took a step away.
With a spark in his eyes, Blake moved to straddle the horse, draping his lithe body over it, arms dangling and feet barely touching the floor. Dante ran his fingertips up his lover’s back and down his right arm before securing his wrist to the leg of the bench. Walking back, Dante repeated the move to his left side then secured Blake’s ankles. He checked the man’s circulation then leaned down to look into his eyes.
"Are you okay?" he asked, stroking the back of his fingers across Blake’s cheek.
"Yes, Master."
"Do you need a safe word tonight?"
"No, Master. This slave completely trusts Master to know when he’s had enough."
"Thank you," Dante said. It never ceased to amaze him the amount of trust Blake handed him each and every time they played. Would Julie ever be able to give up that amount of faith in him?
Dante went to the stereo cabinet and set the iPod docked in the Bose system to one of his favorite mixes of Gregorian chants. He eyed the bench full of instruments as he came to stand behind Blake. It had been far too long. He ran his hands down Blake’s sides, squeezed his hips then moved on to knead his ass cheeks, warming up the flesh that would soon blush the most sensual pinks and reds. The thought sent Dante’s pulse skittering with anticipation. Carefully watching his partner’s reactions, he continued to play with Blake’s quickly heating body until he noticed his breath was coming in gasping pants and his eyes had drifted shut. With one last pass across his shoulders, down his spine, and over his hips, Dante raised his right hand and brought it down across Blake’s arching ass. He didn’t even flinch as a bright hand print took shape and Dante repeated the action a few more times in quick succession before stopping to run his hands over his work then leaning over to lick the burning tissue.
"Beautiful," he murmured, pulling back and striking Blake a few more times.
After checking Blake’s circulation and watching his breathing for a few seconds, Dante picked up the well-used paddle. He swung his arm twice, rotating his shoulder then came down on the fleshiest part of Blake’s left cheek with a loud pop, eliciting a groan from the man that up until that point had remained silent and unmoving.
"Count them for me, slave," Dante instructed, needing to know Blake was staying present.
"One, Master. Thank you," Blake said, his voice still strong and unwavering.
By the time the count reached twenty, Blake’s voice had slowed but hadn’t yet slurred. While completely swept up in his husband, Dante couldn’t help but ache a bit over the fact that down the hall Julie suffered and he couldn’t give her this gift of drifting into another plane of existence to find relief. That knowledge only strengthened his resolve to help her heal and make this work. With tears pricking at the edges of his eyes, Dante placed the paddle on the bench and reached between Blake’s legs to find his dick hard as a rock and throbbing.
"Not yet, slave," he whispered, stroking him, pulling his entire length before pinching the head. "Soon."
Dante slapped his balls a couple of times before letting go of Blake and retrieving the flogger. He ran the strands up his back, across his shoulders, and along his jaw line. He left him briefly then traced back up his arm and down his spine before quickly striking his ass cheeks in succession. Blake hissed, arching, struggling to regain contact before Dante striped the backs of his thighs, landing a few softer blows to his sac which hung heavy between his thighs.
"Look at that," Dante said, reaching down and squeezing his reddened balls. "Do you want to come, slave?"
"Yes, Master," Blake moaned.
"Don’t you dare come until you’re told," Dante growled, moving to lash Blake’s shoulders with the flogger.
"Yes, Master," he rasped, his face twisted with raw emotion.
With crimson welts erupting across the arc of Blake’s back, his breathing came in short pants. Much to Dante’s satisfaction, Blake began surging into his strikes as he clutched the legs of the horse.
"You’re not counting." With a flick of his wrist, Dante sent the leather tassels zipping a quick line down Blake’s ass cheeks and the backs of his legs.
"I’m sorry, Master."
Dante smiled, flipped the flogger, and raked the blunt end up Blake’s side before flipping it again and landing a gentle blow across his left shoulder.
"One, Master. Thank you."
By the time Dante reached a dozen, Blake was successfully floating. His hesitation in counting stopped Dante, prompting him to check Blake’s circulation and breathing. Tossing the flogger back on the table, he moved to his side and leaned over to watch short puffs of air burst out of Blake over a half-cocked grin. Yeah, he was definitely under.
"Slave," Dante said, running his hand across Blake’s nape. "Are you with me?" When he didn’t answer, Dante ran his fingertips down Blake’s arm and threaded them into Blake’s palm. "Slave, can you hear me?"
Ever so slowly, Blake squeezed and made a humming noise indicating he was still tethered to the here and now although on the far reaches of it.
"Are you okay?" Dante prompted.
Again, after a moment’s hesitation, Blake squeezed Dante’s fingers. He took a deep breath and whispered, "Yes, Master."
"Good, slave."
Dante pulled his fingers free and went to work checking Blake’s wrists and ankles, allowing him time to adjust to where he was and enjoy the endorphins overtaking his system. Having been on the back end of a Domme or two, Dante knew exactly how good that felt. A Dom high was a great feeling, but trying to compare the two places was like comparing apples and oranges. There simply wasn’t a way to do so.
Secure in the knowle
dge Blake truly was okay, he took the crop from the table and ran the blunt end across Blake’s jaw before touching his lips with it. As if by instinct alone, Blake kissed the crop just before Dante removed it from his mouth and ran it up his arm and down his back before tapping each of his ass cheeks lightly. It was barely enough to register, however, and only served as an apparent source of frustration for Blake as he groaned with need and thrust his body as far back as he could being restrained. Dante’s pulse leaped and cock twitched with the need to completely own the man giving him literally everything on a silver platter.
It wasn’t until Dante was half-way through a set of ten with the cane that Blake started begging for relief.
"Please…Master." The words floated out of him in a low moan and hit Dante square in the chest. "Please."
"Please, what?"
"Please…may…I…come?" Blake managed.
Putty. In. His. Hands. God, how Dante loved that feeling. The feeling that he held someone in his palm and was the answer to their desperation.
"Soon."
"Please…Master…Please…"
As much as Dante wanted to keep Blake hanging on the precipice a bit longer, his dick disagreed with any plan to wait further and swelled to a dull ache. He tossed the cane aside, pulled his socks off with his heels as he unbuttoned his trousers, and was naked in a matter of seconds. After unclasping Blake’s wrists and checking his ankles again, Dante grabbed the bottle of lube. A few squirts later, his dick was slick and poised at Blake’s entrance. He edged the head in then stopped only to be met by Blake’s moaning protest.
"Please, Master. Fuck…me." The man latched on to the legs of the bench and squeezed until his knuckles shone white. "Please."
Without further demands, Dante grabbed his hips, slid in fully, and gasped. Jesus, the man felt good. As much as he wanted this to last, he was lost.
"Surrender, slave." The trigger was spoken with force as he drove into Blake repeatedly, sending them both over the edge.