No. No, it didn’t. She clenched her fists, closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Another. She’d been worried this would happen. Much more worried than she’d allowed herself to know or reveal, even to Jon. But she thought back to that day, looking at Kyle’s photo book. She wasn’t alone with these thoughts. She not only had Jon’s love, she had her own strength.
Though the voice was a warping in her subconscious, putting Cole’s voice on old insecurities and wounds, she gave him her answer.
“Just because you feel that way, doesn’t make you right. I know what love is. You made me forget. No. I allowed you to make me forget. I always knew what it was, in my heart. Limitless, undefined, between the hearts and souls of those who feel it. Jon opened up that room, let it free. Let me fly. You’ve no power over me. Not anymore. Go to hell.”
She started to walk again, letting out another breath, letting it go. Though she felt the fiercely uttered words down to the soul, she quickened her step. When she set her gaze upon Jon, felt the rightness of it, their truth, things would steady.
The door had been closed, though, and there was an envelope taped to it. Pausing, she saw Sweet Girl on the front, written in Jon’s hand. Pulling the envelope off the wood, she opened it and shook a satin black eye mask out in her hand.
No instructions needed, though the back flap of the envelope said, “Knock when ready.”
Her hand closed over the mask. She never refused a direct command, but for just a moment she struggled against the desire to open the door first, so she could put her eyes on him. Somehow, that would help validate what she’d just told her subconscious, put those ghosts back into the closet, help increase the strength of the lock on that door.
If she truly needed that, she could do it. But instead, uncertain, but wanting to obey her Master, she put the mask into place so it was securely pressed against her face, blinding her. Her heartbeat accelerated again, and the creases of her palm felt slightly damp.
She had so much going on in her head right now, but when she put the mask on, some of it became more still. She was really going to do this. But was she ready? Would those ghosts break out, would her emotions overcome her, would she ruin this…
Stop it, Rachel. Knock, damn it.
She knocked, stepped back. Waited. Footsteps and, when the door opened, she inhaled Jon’s scent, felt his warmth. She was right. Things steadied, her heartbeat leveling out as he clasped her hand.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he murmured. “Come with me.”
He guided her over the threshold, and brought her to a halt. Things had fallen silent, but she could feel the presence of the others, imagine them arrayed around the table. She could still hear Dana’s breathing, strained, little catches, and the implication of that sent more heat to Rachel’s core. She couldn’t tell where Dana was, but the noise seemed central to the room.
Which meant Dana was likely on the board room table. On display. Which set off a whole new confusing set of feelings.
Jon’s hand tightened on hers, drawing her attention. “You wanted to know why I didn’t give this to you on our first anniversary as planned. Would you like to know the answer to that now?”
She nodded, then remembered. If any setting could scream “official Dom/sub behavior required,” it would be this one. “Yes, Master.”
“Since we’ve been married, we’ve worked through a lot of things as Master and sub.” He touched her chin, thumb sliding over her lips. “You’ve had a long, hard road, Rachel.”
“I’m sorry for that, Master.”
“See, right there,” he said quietly. “You’ve gotten better, but you still apologize for things that are not yours to apologize for. Your strength has astounded me, the way you discover yourself more and more every day.
“The night I took you to Progeny, and my brothers gave you pleasure, that memory was tainted for you by Cole’s appearance. It was supposed to be a moment where you could let go of the past, embrace the future and your place in our family.”
“It did that,” she said earnestly, moved. “No matter what he did that night.”
“Yes and no. It was a good milestone for us, but a difficult one. I wanted you to have the night you should have had with us. A night that takes any thoughts you have, that it’s somehow wrong to want what you want, and gets rid of them, once and for all. We’re giving you this fantasy because that’s how we take care of what is ours.”
She swallowed. She thought she’d had a lot of things going on in her head. In Jon’s voice, it was obvious she wasn’t the only one carrying around a lot of feelings about things tonight.
“I want you to understand what a gift you’ve given me, Rachel,” he continued, keeping that fierce note. “Letting me take that journey with you. Knowing I’m the man you’ve chosen to be at your side as you heal, become more confident? It’s treasure. When we reach the end of tonight, I hope you’ll never question that again. But even if you do, it changes nothing. I hope you’ll understand that, too.”
Her brow furrowed, but he shifted the topic. “Now, truth. Is what we have planned tonight something you want? Something you will enjoy? Something you’ve fantasized about? I want you to set everything else aside, any worries or fears you have, think it through, and then answer me truthfully.”
As he spoke, he’d moved behind her. The mask loosened, fell away, and she was looking at what was directly in her line of sight.
Dana was on the table, in the center. She was on her hands and knees, draped over a padded stool that supported her mid-section. She’d been given the same gifts that Rachel had been—plug, nipple clamps, clitoral shield and sexy heels—though the soles of Dana’s shoes were mint green and the buckles were gold, and the jewels and beads on her clamps matched. She wore Peter’s collar, a wide strap with a waterfall of decorative chains and a St. Christopher’s medal pendant. She also had a ball gag stretching her mouth, the straps digging into her sculpted cheeks and buckled around the back of her head. Which was up, her chin pointed forward, a pose likely demanded by her Master. She was on display, a centerpiece.
Since Dana was blind, there was no need for a blindfold, so her Master had the pleasure of knowing her other senses were heightened, while he could still see the reactions in her pale green eyes. Her arousal was also communicated from the slight twitching of her hips, the quiver of her small breasts, a result of the breathy sounds escaping around the gag.
In her current position, Rachel was seeing Dana’s profile, but if she went to the end of the table, she would be able to see the glistening, flushed lips of Dana’s sex, the redness from the paddling, and likely the damp tracks of arousal that had already been coaxed from her. It made Rachel wonder what else they’d been doing to her before she arrived, or if being put on display like this after the spanking, decorated with the toys, had been enough.
“Is she something you want, Rachel?”