Page 9

Lena

Ethan and I had fallen into an easy pattern. I worked in the mornings with Carrie and met Ethan for lunch in the cafeteria. Afterward, we’d go for walks exploring the grounds of Rawhide Ranch or went horseback riding.

It was on the third day of our D/s construct and I was coming up from the Dungeon when I heard a familiar voice in the office room behind the reception desk of the lodge.

He was using that commanding tone that he still hadn’t used on me.

I’d seen and heard him and knew that this was that boardroom version I’d witnessed that he told me about.

He’d said it had extended to D/s relationships in the past. I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but I couldn’t see why any woman would have a hard time with the hardcore Ethan, the one he felt he needed to protect me from.

I got it, yes. I hadn’t allowed the man to even kiss me since we’d met.

I guess that could be interpreted as being broken, but the stipulation was added by me to keep from falling for the millionaire.

Outside this magical place of Rawhide, we couldn’t be.

No successful billionaire wanted a failed submissive.

Sure, he found me interesting now, but that would change.

Whoever he was talking to, was receiving a dressing down from Ethan. I closed my eyes and just listened to the rich, resonant tone that swept over me. By comparison, I realized now that Daniel had sounded waspish. What had I seen in him? Why had I given away my power to such a cruel man?

I’d thought about that often over the past two years.

At the beginning, Daniel had been very charming and all his requests, which I now realized were far from always being requests, came with a demand for me to see the sense and logic in everything he did and asked for.

He’d made me believe I was the issue. He’d hoodwinked me really well.

Intellectually, I knew he’d been gaslighting me all along, but emotionally I’d accepted his words as truth.

I shook my head, chasing away Daniel’s ghost and focusing on Ethan’s steadfast, dominant tone. The one that set my nether region on fire. I heard the clang of the phone being placed in the cradle and hustled back a few steps to make it appear as if I’d just come up the stairs.

Ethan came around the corner wearing that megawatt smile that put me ill at ease. He saw me and quickly schooled his features. “Lena. That was good timing.”

I swallowed. “Yes, I just finished and was on my way to get changed. Should I meet you in the cafeteria?”

He held my gaze doing that looking right through me thing that made me feel naked. Finally, he tipped his head to the side, offering me a lazy smile now. Holy whiplash, who was the true Ethan?

“That sounds about right. See you in, say fifteen?”

“Yes. Thank you.” I hustled up the second flight of stairs that led to mine and Carrie’s suite.

I entered and closed the door. Leaning against its firmness, I took a few slow breaths.

Ethan had been right when he’d said he had two sides.

The one he used with me was gentle, caring and although not physical, he ensured I was physically comfortable.

The other side, the one he called the shadow or the beast, called to me in a way that was probably not what I should be wanting, but somewhere in his psyche was both men and I wanted them to meld together and become my fantasy.

I arrived to find Ethan’s gaze on the outside world, looking deep in thought. Not wishing to disturb him, I lifted my chair so it wouldn’t scrape along the floor and as silently as possible sat down.

His gaze swung my way. “Don’t do that, Lena.”

Oh-oh. Did I finally do something that made him mad? “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He smiled gently. “You never need to tiptoe around me.”

There was that sweet side again and my heart melted a little. “Thank you for saying so.”

He took my hand in his and dropped a kiss on it that made more than my heart melt. “What can I feed you?”

“Can you surprise me, Sir?”

He winked. “Anything for you, Lena.” Fifteen minutes later, a clubhouse wrap with veggies and dip was placed in front of me along with a cup of green tea.

Ethan had been ensuring I ate properly, which was a huge shift for me.

Although I had done scenes at my local BDSM club, I’d never been a submissive outside of that environment with the exception of Daniel.

We shared small talk while we ate. I really enjoyed this part of the day, and it was easy to imagine this at the end of a workday over dinner, for the rest of my life. My head shook at the thought. Not possible.

“Are you excited for our scene later today?” Ethan asked casually.

“Yes.” He didn’t pursue any additional comments from me, which I was grateful for. I was learning that I could be silent because I wanted to, chose to, and if it bothered him in any way, he didn’t show it.

“Did you have another business call today, Sir?” I don’t know why I was asking.

It wasn’t any of my business, except that knowing who Ethan was both with and without me seemed suddenly important.

We had six days left and, although I tried not to think about our inevitable parting, it was beginning to become the elephant in the room.

On the outside I was very aware how I came across–quiet, and reserved. I didn’t smile much and it wasn’t for a lack of being happy, but expressing anything outwardly was like trying to poke a hole through a mountain. On the inside I’d changed since I arrived at Rawhide, for the better.

I wanted Ethan to see the impact he had on me while also wishing to remain hidden because it was safe.

He was doing a wonderful job of holding the space for me to show up authentically, but I was still resisting.

Fear from harsh lessons had shut me down.

The old Lena was hidden but wanting so badly to break free.

My gaze was on Ethan and his easy movements and attitude.

How could he possibly understand when the man was a virtual force of nature.

Did I share these thoughts? Hell to the no! I cleared my throat. The muscles literally contracting inward to keep me from speaking about anything close to home, like my feelings.

“Lena? Everything all right?”

“Hmm? Yes, of course. I’m just full.” We both looked down at my half-eaten meal.

“Are you? If you’re lying, I may have to punish you.”

By the look on his face, I could tell he was just as surprised at the words that came out of his mouth as I was.

“Sorry, I was being playful, but I shouldn’t have said that as it’s not part of our agreement.”

I dropped my gaze, and wrestled with the idea of asking what punishment would look like with a man like Ethan.

“If you were mine, a punishment would be an over the knee spanking, followed by your juices spilling over my fingers as I pleasured you.”

My eyes hooded, and the gusset of my panties instantly soaked at his words and the growly, Dominant tone he’d used to deliver them. Isn’t that exactly what I wanted? A Dom who wanted me and wanted to take care of my needs while I took care of his?

“Ahem–what do you mean by mine ?”

A smile tugged at the left corner of his mouth.

I was reminded of how gorgeous he was and how dangerous this game could be.

If he did those things, I would fall. Then what?

If I gave him all of me, then he would have the power to destroy me.

I felt, no, I knew I couldn’t go through that torment a second time.

His smile dropped, his look appraising. “I’ve never wanted to be with anyone full time, but I am getting much closer, since being with you, and seeing that is something I truly want.”

Holy Hannah! Red lights flashed like beacons. Warning! Warning!

“Coming home at the end of the day and tossing you over my shoulder, carrying you to our room where I’d ravish you.

Being a good girl, you’d tell me about your day and then you’d receive your spanking and more orgasms. Afterward, I’d feed you dinner and we’d relax and watch something together or sit on the deck and admire the night sky. ”

The look in his eyes had become distant. He was seeing what he was saying. “On the weekends, we could escape and, like here, have no phone use. Just me and you in a cabin for two. Or maybe a trip to Martha’s Vineyard, or wherever you desire to go.”

I wanted to scream, “it’s what I want!” but I remained mute.

“I’ll grab a takeout box in case you get hungry and want a snack.” Ethan was up and out of his seat.

A tear slipped down my cheek with the wish that things could be different, that I could be better.

He returned and packed up my food and held out his hand for mine. His warm grip strengthened my resolve to have the rest of the day be better. I would nail the simple service scene and feel back on track. Yeah, cause apparently, I needed to be in that space to be okay with myself.

My mind was spiraling downhill fast. Maybe a scene, even the simpler service one we’d set up should be cancelled.

Was I even capable of terminating a scene I’d asked for?

That and more questions played in a loop: What would he think of me–would that be the end of our experiment–would he decide I wasn't worth the effort?

Ethan opened the door to the cabin. There was a small bottle of massage oil, and a hand towel on the table in the dining space. Ethan put my food in the fridge and turned around to face me.

“Lena, please do whatever you need to get ready for our scene.”

I hustled off to the bathroom and took my time doing self-talk as I peed and washed my hands. I splashed cold water on my face to bring a bit of color to my pale cheeks. I took a few of the breaths Ethan had taught me and felt my shoulders loosen.

Through the door, I heard the sounds of relaxing Zen-type music.

Ethan was setting the scene. I opened the door to see Ethan without his shirt on, and sitting on a dining chair backward, his chest leaning forward against the backrest. I admired the broad width of his shoulders and upper back which tapered down to a trim, fit waistline.

His skin glistened a light gold in the afternoon sun coming through the window.

Without hesitation, I picked up the bottle of oil and rubbed a dollop between my hands to warm it.

I slid my greased palms across the tops of his shoulders and down the muscular rhomboid muscles and lower until I was just above his hips.

It would be so easy to slip my hands around and run them down to his generous package.

Ethan groaned with pleasure as I fisted the tight knots of his low back and worked my way back up.

I was lost in his hard muscles, seeing each one as a separate precious place on his body. I got so into it I lost myself and wasn’t aware my nails were digging into his skin until he commanded me to stop, delivered in a tone that echoed Daniel’s.

And like any red button on a control center, I immediately stopped. My soul and body flinched. He must have felt the shift in me, feeling me go quiet. I won’t safeword repeated in a loop. This was my trauma, not his.

Ethan turned fully around on the chair. “Lena. Are you okay? Did I scare you?”

I wanted to tell him it’s silly, that I was just reacting to a tone that reminded me of someone else. But frozen as I was, telling him that was impossible.

“Ethan, I need to go.” I could see him struggling, but I knew he wouldn’t force answers from me as he’d already said a number of times.

Us was about creating space to be and learn.

Well, right now I needed that space to be alone and process.

Using measured steps like in a protocol scene, I slipped on my shoes without haste and said goodbye.

Once I was outside, I ran for the safety of the main lodge and my suite.

Thankfully, Carrie wasn't there when I arrived, and I hustled to my bedroom. There was a rapping at the front door. I froze in place. It had to be Ethan.

“Lena. You don’t owe me anything, not even an explanation, but I want you to know I’m still here.” I didn’t answer him but allowed the truth of his words to envelop me. His footsteps echoed down the hallway when he left.

I was acting like the devil himself was chasing me, yet that was so far from reality. The only thing chasing me was a memory…

We’d had a quiet evening at Daniel’s townhouse. His place–deep mahogany floors, soft jazz, flickering candles. Everything was choreographed, everything was intentional.

I wore the hated pale-blue ribbon, the one he insisted on for scenes. It was looped neatly around my neck and tied in the back like one would a gift.

It was the fifth month of my training. My protocol for the evening was pouring wine for him and sitting by his feet, silent and obedient. Not a difficult scene but I wanted so badly to please Daniel.

As I was pouring the wine, a single drop slipped from the bottle’s lip and tapped almost silently against the crystal rim. Barely a sound–no splash–no stain. But he heard it. Daniel reached forward and placed his fingers under my chin, and lifted my face until my eyes met his.

“You’re not here to be sloppy,” his quiet tone was flat. “You're here to serve beautifully. Or not at all.”

“I am so sorry, Sir.”

He nodded. “We’ll correct the mistake.” He led me to the soundproofed room and had me kneel in the center. He removed his belt–not slowly, not sexually, just functionally.

“Fifteen. One for every second that wine sat visible on the rim.”

I tried to breathe, his strokes could be brutal, but I thought I could take it. This wasn’t about pain, or taking it, this was the kind of punishment that stripped away my dignity instead of reinforcing discipline.

I heard the swish just before the loud crack against my skin and the bloom where the stripe had landed seared more than my flesh.

I didn’t dare move, or cry. He never stopped to check on me, nor did he hold me afterward and tell me all was forgiven.

He left me curled in a ball on the floor, the ribbon askew.

I realized now that aftercare, or any type of care or compassion was conditional and earned only through perfection.

He’d let me out the next morning. I was stiff and achy from sleeping on the floor, but I never let on.

Perfection was the key, right? Never again did I allow another drop of wine to fall.

I was no longer Lena after that night, but a ghost of her that was far more perfect than she could ever be.

I shook my head, trying to chase away the memory. I had a long shower hoping it would help to settle me, but the feeling of unease kept me trapped in a loop. I thought about Ethan and how things felt so different with him. That was the most terrifying part.