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Ethan

Lena was beautiful in that quiet way–the kind that made you notice her in individual, smaller pieces rather than the whole.

A flash of her profile during meditation.

The elegance in her stance while serving Ranch guests in the Dungeon.

Her stillness while observing the ropes demonstration.

The little frown line between her brows as the power exchange between players increased.

Wherever Lena was, she always fully occupied my attention.

I entered the Dungeon hoping to see Lena.

Although a simple inquiry had informed me it was her day off, I had a feeling I’d find her here.

A large part of the play space had been transformed.

Gone were the spanking benches and St. Andrews Cross, and in their place were paper lanterns emitting soft amber lighting.

Tatami mats lined the floor and in the center was a raised platform with a low, lacquered table and a single red cushion set on one side.

On the table was a hand blown ceramic chawan bowl.

It was the equivalent to an English-style teacup which would hold the tea once it was prepared for drinking.

“Welcome. As you can see, we are hosting a demonstration tonight. When it is over, we will return the space to its normal configuration. You are more than welcome to stay for the tea ceremony demo, or you may come back afterward to play. Would you like to watch?” The voice belonged to a muscular man who was delivering tea supplies and stocking them behind the bar.

I chucked. “I’d love to.”

He smiled. “Hi, I’m Mike.”

“Nice to meet you, Mike, my name is Ethan.” We shook hands. “Is this one of those high-protocol services between a Dom and a submissive?”

“It is, and I can’t wait to see it. I’ve never been to Asia or observed one here at the Ranch before. How about you?”

“I have and but not in this context. I guess we’ll both see something new tonight.”

More guests entered the Dungeon, and I found a spot to sit while Mike offered the guests traditional Japanese drinks and treats. I watched the room slowly fill with many faces I recognized and some I didn’t, but all had a bearing that identified them as lifestylers.

Lena entered the room. She wore a simple sleeveless linen dress with no adornments. Her hair was pulled back and, without makeup, she looked much younger than usual. She knelt by the table, her posture, perfect—upright, but not tense.

I wanted to let her know I was there and had her back if she grew uncomfortable, but I wouldn't interrupt.

She was in character for what I assumed was a pre-agreed upon scene.

A part of me wished I was the one joining her, but another part knew this wasn't the time for me to insert myself in her life. She was here for a reason; I was here for a reason, so despite the natural attraction, I would keep to the agreement I’d made with myself.

A Dungeon Monitor I recognized as Winston entered the room and it was clear from his dress that he was the other half of the power exchange–barefoot and dressed all in black.

He sat with ease, cross-legged on the only cushion.

A hush of anticipation fell over the room.

Previous experience let me know this ceremony was rooted in Zen Buddhism, which emphasized harmony, tranquility, and respect.

It’s a meditative practice that allows participants to appreciate the beauty of the present moment.

It was considered a high protocol, nonsexual practice between a submissive and Dom.

Lena would not be allowed to lift her head and must watch carefully to respond to the Dom’s requirements.

Eye contact was expressly forbidden in a traditional tea setting, and I assumed they must have discussed in detail how to read his body language.

I had to admit, I was curious to see how she would do.

Lena struck me as a pure submissive who would eat up a scene like this.

But something felt off. Winston nodded his head.

Lena rose and moved to the bar, never lifting her head or letting her eyes wander.

She brought back a single charcoal burner with a kama which is a type of kettle.

She set both down on the mat in front of her with precision and grace.

After retracing her steps back to the bar, she returned with a chasen –the equivalent to a bamboo whisk.

She also had a chashaku which is a small scoop used to transfer matcha powder to the chawan on the tray.

She took a cloth and proceeded to polish the items. Winston watched her like a hawk, and I wondered if she could feel his eyes on her.

Was she aware how many observers were witnessing her every move?

The water boiled. Lena poured some into the chawan and swished it. She was about to discard the water into another bowl provided by Mike when Winston said one word. “Stop.” Lena froze like prey catching the scent of danger.

I shifted nervously. Why did he stop her when her performance was beyond reproach?

“Again.”

Lena carefully poured out the cooling water from the bowl and added more from the pot.

She took her time, moving the bowl in a circular fashion as she allowed every spot to heat.

She poured that out and polished the bowl.

She set it down and measured the matcha.

If she was nervous, you couldn’t tell, her moves were exact and somehow, sexy.

Erotic.

I wasn’t particularly surprised when that word popped into my head. It was the truth when watching her hands from the perspective of a man instead of just an observer.

It was a very different experience seeing this in a Dungeon scene instead of in a temple in Kyoto. We were seeing the ultimate act of grace and submission. The significance wasn't lost on me or my cock which was tenting my pants.

Lena added two scoops of matcha and whisked for thirty seconds. Although perfection wasn’t expected, Lena would want to be as accurate as possible. I could tell she was a high-protocol sub who thrived on direction. Why was she here?

Done whisking, Lena raised the bowl and turned it.

She held her hands out to the DM, her head bent in submission.

He finally reached for the bowl. It was subtle but I saw Lena was hyper-focused on his hand as it moved toward her.

A slight hitch in the tension of her body told me all I needed to know. Some asshole had abused her.

My instincts told me to find the fucker and end him.

I was surprised at my visceral reaction.

Normally, I wasn’t physical. I found it more appealing to be the quiet, deadly man I was.

It was not only more rewarding, it got me my way.

Men like whoever the guy was who had messed with Lena were nothing to me.

Yes, I was the golden boy but I could bite.

I’d ended careers of far less deserving men.

At this moment I knew nothing would please me more than to rain hellfire down on whoever the guy was who’d put that fear in her.

Winston took the cup and had his sip. He placed it on the shiny lacquered surface.

Usually, the host would wait politely until his guests finished their tea and any sweets offered with it.

They would bow at the door upon the ending and then the server would go through another protocol to clean and place the items back where they belonged.

“Lena, to me.” She rose immediately and walked over to the Dungeon Monitor, kneeling at his feet. He raised his hand and there it was again, an instant stiffening so subtle that I’m sure most people missed it, but I wasn’t most people.

His fingers cupped her chin, raising it.

Lena’s training shone as she kept her eyes lowered until given permission otherwise.

“Eyes to me, Lena.” Finally, she lifted those baby blues, looking directly into Winston’s dark ones.

“Well done. You may be excused.” He released her and she bowed low, her nose on the mat.

Then she rose and begin to clear to the quiet applause of the room.

The ceremony completed, Winston stood and was instantly surrounded by those who knew him.

As they clapped his back and complimented his performance, my gaze moved back to Lena.

She had turned with the items in her hands.

When her gaze met mine, I offered her a smile and applauded. She blushed and almost lost the kettle.

She was upset with her imperfection, but I chose to pretend not to notice as I walked beside her. “How are you feeling?”

“Empty, yet full at the same time. Does that make sense?” She placed the items on the bar and Mike gave her a smile.

“Great job. Your submissive was perfect.”

Lena blushed again. “Thank you.” She quickly moved away as if uncomfortable with praise but I thought it was more that she was questioning if she deserved it.

“Would you like to go for a walk?”

“Uh. I’m not sure.”

We were moving toward the door to exit but I stopped before reaching it. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“More of an observation. You didn’t appear to enjoy your scene.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You moved like you’d done that a hundred times. But I couldn’t help wondering… were you present for any of it?”

Lena froze for a second–then smiled. “It’s not about me. Service isn’t supposed to be.”

“I think you’re confusing service with sacrifice, Lena.”

She didn’t reply at first, and I could almost see the thoughts swirling through her brain.

“Ethan? May I also make an observation?”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

“You don’t take up space like other Doms.”

I couldn't hold back the laugh. That seemed to please her and a smile lit up her beautiful face.

“Good, that’s intentional.”

She hesitated and seemed to be choosing her words. “I was so nervous I couldn’t eat. Would you mind going for a bite instead of a walk?”

She surprised me. Dinner was the last thing I expected her to ask for. “Not in the least, food sounds good to me. How about some Italian?”

“Yes, please.”

I scanned her clothing. “I’m fine with your scene outfit, but did you wish to change first?”

Her lovely lips parted in an O and her skin flushed a bit darker. “Uh, yes. My clothes are in the changing room. Excuse me.”

I was glad she hadn’t asked me for permission. I knew that many high-protocol submissives would seek permission for every single thing they did. That was not my jam, but while my natural inclination was to control, with Lena, I was far more interested in getting to know her and what she needed.

When she returned, I held out my elbow and she placed her arm through mine. I felt a strange surge in my chest. Her arm wrapped around mine felt so right. I kept the megawatt smile to a low voltage and led Lena away from the Dungeon.

The Italian restaurant was almost empty and we had our choice of tables. Guessing she preferred cozy corners, I selected a table in the back corner. She took her seat and while her posture remained perfectly erect, her contented sigh let me know she was comfortable with my choice.

“Would you like me to order for you, Lena?” Yeah, I’d make this all about choices.

It gave me plenty of opportunities to observe and learn, because according to my past subs…

I wasn’t available. Stillness through observation was my new mantra.

Who knew, if it worked well, maybe it would become a principle I could use in business as well.

“I do like baked macaroni and cheese, but if you have a suggestion, Sir, I would be open to hearing it.”

“Ethan, and mac and cheese it is. Hmm, white wine? Or do you prefer red?”

“White would be nice. Thank you.”

I wanted to knock down her walls and move her away from polite conversation, but I also knew pushing her would only drive a wedge between us. So, I did what I did best and led the conversation.

“It’s beautiful here at the Ranch. Have you been here before?”

She waited until our server had taken our order. “No. I’ve been checking it out for a while, but when I heard about this pilot program, I applied right away.”

Interesting. “And so far, has it met your expectations?”

She rubbed her delicate hands along denim-clad thighs. On any other woman it would look like a simple gesture. But with her, it seemed the most real thing about her, and I wanted more of that Lena.

“It is proving helpful. What about you, Ethan?” She gulped after saying my name.

“I guess you could say that my trip is in progress.”

She nodded. Our food arrived and our conversation moved into a comfortable silence.

I had no expectations of her and that seemed to set her at ease even more.

“I enjoyed your scene. You have beautiful hands.” Our plates had been removed, and we sat back enjoying that last bit of wine in our glasses.

“Thank you for saying so. They haven’t always been. I’ve had to work on my clumsiness.”

She’d taken a compliment of beauty and turned it into a thing of action. How very curious. “How did you do that? With the help of a Dom?” I admit I was fishing but I couldn’t help it as she intrigued me.

She blanched and then recovered. “I’m sorry, Ethan, I can’t talk about that right now.” Lena dipped her head, her gaze dropping as if drawing a boundary was a bad thing.

“That is no problem at all. I completely respect your boundaries, but if you ever wish to talk, know that I am here for you.” Her focus slid back to mine and her eyes held a glimmer of light in her otherwise tumultuous gaze.

“That’s very nice, thank you. Um, I have to be up very early. Do you mind if I go?”

“May I escort you back?” When she hesitated, I added, “I’ll leave you at the stairs. It wouldn't sit right with me if something happened to you.” The assurance seemed to appease her.

“Of course.”

Our short walk was silent, but not in a bad way, more in a way we were busy with our own thoughts.

At the stairs I bid her goodnight. I watched her for a moment.

When she disappeared, I left the main lodge and headed for my cabin.

The night air and the starlit sky were my only companions.

It had been an interesting evening. I’d learned one thing…

I definitely wanted Lena to myself. While it had been educational to observe her in a scene, I wanted them to occur with me, and only me.

I held out hope that I would be able to restrain myself but still accomplish what I was here to do. Not override but be present.