“Wealthy and good-looking,” Julie said with a sigh. “The universe is so unfair.”
Sasha’s head snapped up. “Not you, too.”
“Not me, too, what?”
“Wanting to drop your pants for Daniel.”
Julie picked up the flower she’d been trimming and twirled it between her fingers, trying not to remember how she had imagined Daniel’s hands and what they’d feel like on her body. “I don’t want to do any such thing. What’s it to you, anyway? You’re always telling me to get out more.”
“I didn’t mean with him.”
“Are you telling me I’m not good enough for the senior vice president of Weston Bank?” She pointed the flower at her friend. “Don’t make me come over there.”
She added the last as a joke, but in reality she was just covering the hurt at the suggestion she wasn’t good enough for someone like Daniel. Hurt, yes, but there was also anger at her friend. How dare she insinuate she couldn’t date an executive? Besides, who was Sasha to judge? It wasn’t like she had a stellar record with the opposite sex.
“I’m just telling you, you’re not compatible.”
“And I thought you didn’t know him.”
“I don’t,” Sasha said in the tone of voice that told Julie the topic wasn’t up for further discussion.
Julie tried to decide if she wanted to push it. What did Sasha know about Daniel that made her so certain they weren’t compatible? She wondered again for just a second if they had dated.
“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Julie finally said. “He just came in to buy roses. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.” Because the universe really wasn’t fair.
Sasha looked at her apologetically and nodded toward the trimmed flowers Julie was working with. “On the other hand, people we would be okay never seeing again always seem to pop up. I took a phone call in the back.”
Julie dropped the flower. “Mrs. Grant? Again? She’s already changed her order twice.”
“She read an article.”
“Of course she did.”
Sasha dug in her pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “Why don’t you go grab us some mochas? I’ll handle her this time.”
Julie took the cash. “You’re the best.”
“Don’t you forget it!” her friend teased as she left.
The sound of flesh slapping flesh rang out in the otherwise silent room as Daniel watched the couple in his playroom. Ron was his new mentee, a highly coveted position in their local BDSM group. Daniel had held several conversations with the young man, but this was the first time he had watched him with a submissive.
The submissive, Dena, was an experienced sub in their group. A good choice for a Dom in training, which was why Daniel had asked her to join them for the afternoon.
Daniel walked to where Ron had her positioned over a padded table. “Nice location,” he said, in response to the spanking the young man had just administered. “But do it again. Harder this time.” He ran his hand over Dena’s ass. Barely warm. “She’s no masochist, but she needs to feel it.”
Ron nodded and went back to spanking.
“Watch for signs,” Daniel instructed. Dena hadn’t been commanded to be still and she wasn’t bound. “When she starts to get aroused, she’ll lift up to you. Listen to her. If she’s not required to be silent, you can judge her response by her moans.” He lifted his voice for her benefit. “But I did command silence today, so if she gives so much as a whimper, you can watch me punish her.”
He didn’t miss the hitch in her breathing. He smiled in response and walked to stand by her head. “Don’t get too excited, girl, I call it punishment for a reason. You won’t like it.”
Dena steeled her body and if Daniel were a betting man, he’d guess there would be no disobedience today. He took a step back so he could keep both participants in his sight. Ron was putting more power into his strike and she loved it.
“Run your hand between her legs,” Daniel instructed. “It’ll allow you to see how wet she is and heighten her arousal.”
Ron gave her one more slap on the backside and then slipped his hand between her legs. “She’s soaked.”
“Smack her pussy quick and hard a few times. Tell her she’s been a good girl.”
Ron continued with the lesson, following Daniel’s advice, correcting himself when needed, and bringing Dena closer and closer to climax. While watching his mentee pleasure the submissive orally, he recognized his own need. It had been weeks since he’d played with anyone. Far too long since he’d held a woman’s submission in his hands and showed her the pleasure he could bring her.
Without even thinking about why, his mind wandered back to the petite florist with the long dark hair he’d talked with days earlier. There had been an air about her. Something beyond her physical beauty drew him to her. Maybe the intelligent and self-confident look in her eyes or the unveiled way she’d sized him up. Certainly, there’d been some kind of sexual awareness between them. What would it be like to have her submission? To control her pleasure? It was far easier to picture her on her knees before him than it should be.
Forget it, he told himself. She’s strictly vanilla.
Not that he knew it with any certainty, but he’d learned a long time ago it was best to assume a woman was vanilla until proven otherwise.
He forced his attention back to the couple before him. Ron needed a lesson in how to care for a submissive after play ended. Any thoughts having to do with the beguiling florist would have to wait.
Because as much as he tried to think otherwise, he knew it to be only a matter of time before she joined him in his fantasies.
“Dena,” he said, as Ron left the house. “Would you mind staying around for a bit?”
Dena glanced back at him and nodded, a look of anticipation on her face.
Damn. She probably thinks I want to play.
Not that it would be unheard of. They had played together before. She was an attractive woman and had fully embraced her submissive spirit. He had asked himself before why the two of them had never been a couple, but never came up with an acceptable answer. Finally, he chalked it up to not being ready for a serious relationship.
Once in the kitchen, he poured her a glass of water and pulled a chair out for her.
“Thanks,” she said, sitting down. She cocked her head. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, of course.” He poured himself a glass and sat across from her. “What did you think of Ron?”
“He has potential. I’ve served worse.” The corner of her lip upturned a bit. “Of course, I’ve served better.”
Her sly comment drew his thoughts to the last time they’d played. Surprisingly, though, the memories dimmed in comparison with the fantasies he’d had of the florist. Unbidden, the image of her on her knees before him beckoned.
Stop! He clenched his fist. He would master his thoughts. They would not get the better of him. He forced his attention on the conversation at hand. “I think he shows potential as well. An eager learner.”
Daniel had lived the lifestyle of a Dom for over ten years, been a mentor for five. In that time, he’d seen plenty of men, and women, who wanted to become Doms or Dommes. Often, it never worked because they saw BDSM as a way to meet their own needs, to control, to exert power over a submissive. And while there was a place for that in his view of a power exchange, so much more important, he thought, was the protective care a Dom took of his submissive. How he graciously took her trust and used it to bring them both pleasure.
His thoughts once more drifted back to the florist. What would it be like to be entrusted with her submission? He pictured her bent over his table in the playroom downstairs: ass facing him, legs spread, her body willing and eager for whatever he chose to do to it.