Authors: Lila Munro
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 his 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.