“Did you think I’d go easy on you if you brought a friend?”
“No, sir.”
“What’s your safe word?”
Dena hesitated, just for a second. “Wings, sir.”
“Noted.” With one hand, he reached out and stroked her head. “How does it feel to be kneeling before me again, Angel?”
Dena’s reply was almost a sigh. “It makes me feel happy, sir.”
“I almost said no to your request. How would that have made you feel?”
“Sad, sir.”
“Sad for your friend?”
“For me.”
He stood still and seemed to be weighing her words. Julie sat mesmerized at the emotion flowing between the two. She jumped when Jeff snapped his fingers.
“Show me how grateful you are I said yes.”
Dena didn’t hesitate, but slid gracefully to her forearms. Her long blond hair hid her face, but Julie knew she was kissing his feet. His eyes were closed and he was breathing rather heavily.
“Kneel,” he said when she’d finished both feet.
Dena went back to her waiting position and Jeff turned away to take something from the tabletop nearby. A riding crop swung from his hand when he stood before Dena again. He trailed it down her thigh, giving her knee a flick with the tip. She spread her legs wider.
“Someone’s gotten lazy.”
He walked behind her, all the while running the crop along Dena’s body, adjusting her posture this way and that. “Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Are you this sloppy kneeling for everyone or is it just me?”
“I’m sorry for being sloppy, sir.”
“That didn’t answer my question, Angel. Look at me. You remember what happens when you neglect to answer a question?”
“Yes, sir,” Dena said, meeting his gaze, but she didn’t seem upset or worried. She looked peaceful and calm.
“Go,” he said, and Dena stood to her feet and walked to an odd-looking bench. He nodded toward Julie. “For the benefit of our guest, tell me what the penalty is for not answering a direct question.”
“Five swats with the implement of Master’s choice,” Dena said, draping herself across the bench.
“Plus five more for the improper use of the title ‘Master.’ Only my collared submissive addresses me as such in this room.”
Dena winced. “Sorry, sir.”
Jeff walked to stand at her side and ran a hand over her exposed bottom, trailed a finger between her legs. “Doesn’t feel like you’re sorry at all. Feels like you’re looking forward to my punishment. Count, my naughty Angel.”
Julie didn’t know if it was because she’d never seen anything like what played out before her or if it was just the magnetism of the couple involved, but she found herself unable to look away. Julie had thought Jeff to be hard and abrasive before. She had been partially correct. Jeff pushed, tormented, and teased Dena. Yet the entire time, his expression showed fierce concentration—though at times, she thought she glimpsed something more desperately trying to break through.
For her part, Dena looked hungry, eager to please and serve. In front of Julie, her friend transformed into a picture of satisfied contentment. When Jeff bent her over his padded table and bound her, Dena complied with a devotion that spoke of absolute trust. When he worked her with a flogger, Dena filled the room with sounds of pleasure and needy desire. Even when he finally took her, hard and harsh from behind, there was a look of pure bliss on Dena’s face.
But it was after, when the bonds were loosened, and the room silent, when Jeff sat on the floor with Dena held tenderly in his arms, that she knew. For Jeff and Dena, Julie was no longer in the room. Jeff whispered something to Dena and lightly kissed her cheek. Dena turned her face toward him and their lips met briefly.
Somehow, Jeff and Dena entwined in each other’s arms, whispering and sharing stolen kisses, became exponentially more intimate than all the things they’d done before. Julie no longer felt comfortable watching, so as quietly as she could, she stood up and slipped out of the room. It wasn’t until she made it back into the living room that she realized she’d been crying.
It was almost an hour before Jeff let them leave. Even then, he made Julie drive. Dena argued with him, but he wouldn’t be moved. The dark, dour Dom was back, replacing the affectionate lover of an hour before. But Julie took his secret and tucked it away so she could study it later.
They were halfway back to her house before Julie turned to Dena. “So, uh, you and Jeff, huh?”
Dena gave her a dreamy nod.
“So does this mean you’re back together?”
“No,” Dena said. “But let me bask in the aftermath a bit longer before making me face reality, okay?”
Julie had a plethora of questions she wanted to ask, but out of respect for Dena, she kept them to herself. As they drove into the night, she glanced to the side and watched a single tear make its way down Dena’s cheek.
Julie still noted a lingering sadness in Dena’s expression when the blonde came to talk with her the next day. They sat around Julie’s table, sipping coffee, and chatted about a little bit of everything before the conversation turned to the previous night.
“Is it odd, playing in front of someone like that?” Julie asked.
“I’ve done it so often, I don’t think about it much. Maybe it was the first few times.” Dena’s gaze grew wistful and Julie imagined her to be thinking about Jeff. “The thing is, when I’m there, in the moment, my attention is so focused on him, there’s no room for anyone else.”
Julie had expected her to say as much. It was obvious in watching the pair the night before that Julie’s presence had not been acknowledged above the bare minimum.
“What did you think?” Dena asked.
“It was”—Julie searched for the right word—“intense. So much more than I thought it would be. But it also reminded me of a dance, though that doesn’t seem right either. It’s just the way your bodies moved. Together. How he would make a move and you’d somehow know just how to respond. Is it always like that?”
Dena placed her coffee on the table. “No, not always. Remember, Jeff and I have played many, many times and I wore his collar once. There’s more intensity to be expected in a relationship like ours. Emotions don’t have to be involved, of course, but I’ve always found play to have more of an edge when they are. That’s why I picked Jeff. I wanted you to see the emotion.”
“The emotion you still won’t talk about?” Julie asked, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to try again to find out what happened between Dena and Jeff.
“Nice try, but no. Besides, we’re talking about you.”
“One day,” Julie promised, “we’re going to talk about you.”
“Not if I can help it.”
“You didn’t see what I saw. You didn’t see the emotions I saw between you and Jeff.”
Dena grew even more serious. “That’s the thing, don’t you understand? The emotion between you and Daniel would be the same.”
Julie thought about that. It hadn’t occurred to her while watching or even as she thought back on the scene later. Yet, there was truth in the statement and she shivered, imagining Daniel watching her the way Jeff watched Dena.
Across the table, a self-satisfied smile covered Dena’s face and she sipped her coffee.
“Ask yourself this,” Dena said. “Have you ever felt more safe or protected than you were under Daniel’s command?”
Julie didn’t have to think too long to know the answer to that one. She hadn’t. Whenever she knelt at his feet, she knew he would guard her with his life. Just thinking about it made her yearn for that feeling.
“No,” Julie finally answered. “I haven’t.”
“I’ve known Daniel for years and if there’s one thing I know about him, it’s this: he protects what’s his. And if you’re in his playroom, for that moment in time, you’re his.”