Safeword: Davenport (22 page)

Dana interrupted. “Yeah, it's fine. I'm staying put; you should get your car so you can follow."

He kissed the top of her head and closed the door before walking around to talk to Brent. She kept her eyes shut, heard doors closing, voices. She wanted to ask Jacob how he was doing, but didn't know if he was ready to talk.

Brent slid into the driver's seat, the car dipping with his weight. She opened her eyes to fight the wave of dizziness it created—her senses still in the state between fuzzy and hyper-alert, and her back and breasts were starting to ache.

"You told Max you're okay with him following us back?"

"Yeah. He's a good guy. I let him know about Zach, because I don't want to lead him on. Oh!” She exclaimed, her brain changing tracks in mid-thought. “Zach. I should text him. Is my purse still on the floorboard?"

"Yep. I'm coming to a stop sign. You want your cellphone?"

"Please. It's in the outside pocket."

She managed a short message.
Leaving club. Will call later tmrw

"He didn't tell me to keep him updated, but when I found out he was worried about me—it feels like I should. I don't want to wake him, but if he's got a text when he wakes—"

She was interrupted by her phone ringing, smiled when she saw it was Zach.

"I hope my text didn't wake you."

"No, I'm up late, working. Would it be out of line for me to ask how it went tonight?"

"Mmm. No, but I'm not ready to talk about it yet. I promise I will, but I need time to process it all, first. I can't tell you how I feel about anything until I figure it out.” She sighed. “I may not be driving home tomorrow, though. It might be Monday or Tuesday before I should try."

"Why? Are you hurt?"

Brent spoke from the front seat. “Let me speak to him, Dana."

"No, I can handle this."

"Actually, I wouldn't mind talking to Brent. Please."

She said, “I don't think so,” as she realized it wasn't a bad idea, but stubbornly didn't want to be excluded from the conversation. She sighed and added, “But I'll put you on speakerphone. Hang on."

She held the phone down and touched the icon to switch modes. “You there?"

"Yes."

"Hello, Zach.” Brent said. “How are you at this ungodly hour of the morning?"

"I'm fine. I owe you a big thanks for taking care of Dana."

"You may want to recant that when you see her back, which is why I asked to talk to you. I'd like you to hear it from me."

"What happened?” Dana could hear the cautious restraint in his voice.

"Nothing bad, and I can assure you she enjoyed every minute of it—she was asking for more when he stopped. She took thirty-six strikes of a bullwhip, and I'd guess at least that many of the single-tail, so her back and ass are—"

"Thirty-six? Fuck. Dana, are you okay?"

"Zach, it was wonderful. It was exactly what I wanted. Does that freak you out? I know you aren't a hard core sadist, but I...” she took a breath; spoke deliberately. “I
needed
this."

"Are. You. Oh. Kay."

"I told you, I have to sort through everything. I don't know if you're asking about the physical or the emotional, but the answer is the same for both—I will be. It's going to hurt awhile physically, but I
want
to feel this for days. And emotionally? It's a process, isn't it? I'm farther along tonight than I was last night."

She heard him sigh before saying, “Brent, are you still there?"

"Yes."

"If you don't think she should drive home please let me know, because I'm not sure she will. If I need to, I can rent a car and turn it in up there, so I can bring her home in hers."

Her eyes watering, she said almost the same thing she'd said to Max. “How did I get so lucky? To have such a stand-up guy worry about me? Care about me?"

Zach didn't respond, so she said, “Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll be okay. I'll call you once we get up and moving around—I'm hoping to sleep in, so it may be tomorrow afternoon."

Dana finished the call and closed her eyes, but opened them when she started to drift off. “Are you tired? Do you need me to talk—to help you stay awake?"

"I'm fine.” Brent answered. “Are you starting to hurt yet?"

"A little. I'd like to do maybe twenty minutes of ice on the worst of it when we get back to your place.” She yawned. “What options do we have for sleeping arrangements?"

"I'd originally planned to invite you to sleep with Jacob and me. I'm almost embarrassed to admit we have a bed big enough to easily accommodate the four of us. If Max is okay with it, I see no reason we can't all crash in our room. I'd love to have you with us, so you can be there for Jacob when he wakes."

They talked for the next half hour, and pulled through the gate much sooner than Dana anticipated. Max opened her door and helped her out of the seat, and she was grateful for his steadying presence as she leaned sideways into his embrace. Brent woke Jacob and helped him stand, handed her purse to Max, and they walked to the front door in pairs.

Dana broke the silence while Brent keyed them into the front entrance. “We'll talk in their bedroom, so Brent can get Jacob tucked in and then stay with him. I want to stop in the kitchen first, for ice."

"Good, I was afraid you'd argue about the ice, but you need it."

"I didn't realize you knew Brent outside of the club. He tells me you're an attorney?"

"Yeah, I handle the legalities for his production company. I specialize in the country music industry; most of my days are taken up by contracts and negotiations. You're a designer, right? So you're no stranger to contracts."

She steered him towards the kitchen as Brent and Jacob headed for the staircase. “Did you leave your wife, or did she kick you out?"

"It didn't work out, I got my heart broken. I survived."

"I've learned there's a difference in surviving and
living
, Max."

"Yes, I agree. I'm glad you've figured it out. I'm getting there. Are you planning to give your guy at home a chance to make you happy?"

She let go of his hand and counted drawers, opening the fourth one and seeing the promised box of freezer bags. “Maybe. Probably. I don't know if he'll give me the pain you did—he's more Dom than sadist. I was pretty happy bottoming without submitting tonight. Maybe I'm not a sub anymore? Perhaps I never was, but equated pain with submission? Plus, I enjoyed topping Jacob. Everything's all mixed up in my head. Is there such a thing as a Dominant Masochist?"

They filled six bags with ice, and made their way upstairs. Brent had Jacob in bed, lying on his side under the sheet.

She paused at the door and Brent motioned her in, saying, “Why don't you undress and lay on top of the covers by Jacob. I'll get some towels, to give you a barrier between the cold and your skin."

He stepped into the master bathroom and Dana contemplated her choices. She was tempted to go put on the pajamas she'd brought, but Max would need to see where the ice was needed. She reminded herself they'd already seen her naked, and removed the belt. Max helped her gently slide the dress off her arms, being careful of her back, and draped it over a chair.

She climbed into bed and saw Jacob's eyes open, watching her. Her smile was tender as she went from knees to stomach, scrunching a pillow under her rib cage to take pressure off her breasts. The blanket moved and his hand came out, she opened hers and accepted it, appreciating the anchor. His eyes were heavy, dreamy; but their gaze met, held; and the connection between them was as strong as it'd been earlier.

Max arranged towels and ice across her back and ass, but it took a half minute or so for the chill to soak through the towels to her skin, and she groaned in relief as the cold numbed the ache.

No one talked. Brent put pajama bottoms on and got in bed behind Jacob, on top of the covers, spooning him, and it felt as if both men were connected to her through Jacob's hand. She could feel Max's presence, the dip where he reclined beside her, leaning against the headboard, running his fingers through her hair. The silence was comfortable, and she allowed her eyes to close as she relaxed under the soothing cold.

She was hiking in the wilderness, two thirds up a mountain, and hurting. A swarm of bees had stung her, she was in trouble, and had no way to get help. She carried her backpack in her hands, the stings on her back too painful to bear its weight. Walking was torture, and she was thirsty, and out of water. She sat on a rock, but felt more stings on her ass, so she stood and leaned forward against a tree, moaning in pain as a limb brushed against her wounded back.

"Dana, it's okay, you're all right. Wake up darlin', come on, you're dreaming."

Opening her eyes, she saw Max, and groaned. “It still hurts, but now I know it wasn't from a swarm of bees."

"I've got some ice; Brent's gone to get more. Roll over for me, let me put it on you."

She did as he said, but then quickly returned to her side as her inflamed breasts protested. “What time is it?” she asked, gently pulling a pillow down under her rib cage, her swollen back stretching painfully as she reached with her arm.

"Not quite noon. If you want to go back to sleep once we get you iced down, feel free."

"No, I'm awake.” She turned her head, and her heart melted a little at the sight of Jacob sleeping peacefully. “We should probably be quiet so we don't disturb him."

"Brent and I've been talking awhile, with neither of you waking; he says Jacob's a heavy sleeper. Once you're ready to get up and about, I'd like some time alone with you to compare notes, touch base on what worked and didn't. It was intense, and I need to talk about it."

"I think everything worked for me. You must be psychic."

"All good Doms learn to trust their instincts, but you were pretty easy to read last night,” Brent said, as he returned with the ice. Within a few seconds she felt the weight, and then the cold, from shoulders to thighs. She felt better almost immediately, and realized he only had the sheet between the bags and her skin this time. The swollen fire she'd awakened with faded into the background and she groaned with relief. “Oh, that feels wonderful."

Brent chuckled. “I guess I don't have to ask how you're feeling this morning?"

"Like I had too much to drink? Which is sad, since there was only water."

"Will food help? We have an assortment of fruit you're welcome to, grown up healthy cereal with no taste, a couple of flavors of oatmeal, and organic frozen blueberry waffles we can throw in the toaster oven."

"Give me twenty minutes under the ice and I'll consider the possibility of food. I'm sorry; I must've fallen asleep before we discussed sleeping arrangements. Max, I hope you stayed in here with us."

He smiled. “Yeah, you ended up on your side with your legs tangled with Jacob, and holding my hand. Thanks for letting me come back. I know Brent would've taken care of you, but it's important for me check in the next day, to verify the people I've hurt are okay—both physically and emotionally."

Dana worried Brent might be upset she'd gravitated to Jacob in her sleep, but he looked pleased. “I love that you and Jacob have bonded so well. If anything bothers me, we'll talk about it. When he's in bondage—or deep in a scene—check in with me; but otherwise, feel free to touch and caress and tangle your feet as the mood strikes you."

Max chuckled. “He doesn't allow that for just anyone. He's usually quite possessive."

Jacob spoke, surprising Dana. “No kidding."

"Why am I different?"

No one answered, so she hazarded a guess. “Because I live out of town?"

Jacob moved his face near hers, smoothing her hair away from her eyes. “It's because you're special,” he said, his eyes letting her know he thought she was special, not just his Master. “I assume the bags of ice mean you enjoyed yourself last night?"

Dana's heart started pitter-pattering, and she reached for his hand, gave it a small kiss. “Yeah, you could say that."

"She took thirty-six strikes of a bullwhip, and wanted more."

Jacob's voice turned angry, startling Dana. “Dear lord, why didn't you stop him?” He glared at Max. “What were—"

Brent interrupted. “She was fine. You weren't here when... you haven't seen how far she can be taken. Max and I have, and we both recognized how badly she needed it. He almost stopped early on, and only continued after I told him he was welcome to come back here afterwards. Speaking of how far people were pushed last night, since you're awake I need you to roll over so I can inspect your cock."

He groaned and said, “Yes, Brent."

"What's wrong with it? Seemed fine when you planted me on top of it."

"I put a condom on it before we brought you to him. While he was mounted on the statue, I ran a dozen needles through the skin on both sides; and once I had him in the sling I flogged his cock and balls quite thoroughly before giving him one strike of the single tail just under the head. My guess is the orgasm I allowed him last night caused as much pain as it did pleasure."

Jacob gave a sigh of indulgence, the sound of someone biting into scrumptious chocolate. Dana laughed. “The exquisite kind of pain?"

"Yes, very. He's so good to me."

Dana eased herself into the seat and Max pulled the built-in tray up and over, sliding her fruit bowl and water bottle on it before sitting beside her and reaching for his coffee. Brent had suggested they eat breakfast in the media room, where the chairs had thick cushions as well as trays for food and drink. It turned out to be an impressive home theater, and he'd been right about the comfort factor.

She began the conversation while Max was drinking his coffee. “I get why you want to talk—to assure I'm okay with how far you took me. We had a super intense scene, the kind you normally work up to after you've established trust."

He started to say something, but she shook her head and kept going, wanting him to understand she wasn't holding today's pain against him, and appreciated he took the risk to give her what she needed. “Submissives have to trust the Dom during the scene, but the Dom has to trust the sub after it's over—especially if there are marks. Some people might be upset once the endorphins wear off, but I assure you I'm not. Thank you, by the way. I had no idea how badly I'd missed...” She trailed off, not sure of how to finish the sentence. Had she missed the pain? The trust? The surrender? Being taken so far into subspace?