The Collar

  Dread filled Dena as she pulled into Jeff’s driveway the next day at six thirty. Seeing him the night before had brought it all back: the pain, the grief, the guilt. And when those feelings overwhelmed her, she did the only thing she could—she took out her frustration on him. She loved him, but how could she live with that love when it broke her to pieces every time she saw him?

  His expression was somber when he opened the door. “Dena.”

  She flinched. His use of her name hinted at how the conversation was going to go. He no longer saw her as his angel. Her collar felt tight around her neck. She didn’t know how to address him, so she simply nodded.

  Without speaking, he led her into the living room. She looked straight in front of her, afraid if she looked around the house, the memories of her loss would overtake her. How did he stand to live here?

  He sat down on the couch, and she took the seat across from him. He looked hard and determined.

  “It’s been weeks,” he said. “Are you planning on moving back here?”

  Something about his tone rubbed her the wrong way. “I’m fine. How are you doing?”

  “We’re long past pleasantries, and if you were fine, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  She sighed. She knew he was right; there was no point in playing games anymore. “I don’t know if I can ever move back. Being here, remembering.” She shook her head, unwilling to tell him how much it hurt to see him. To see his grief and hurt. “I’m not the same person I was six months ago. Losing her changed me.”

  She wanted so badly to be her old self, to be the woman she used to be with him. It just didn’t seem possible.

  “You’re not the same person, and you’re not moving back,” he said, almost to himself.

  He slowly stood and walked toward her. She held her breath as he took a key from his pocket. His hands lifted her hair, and with a faint click, his collar fell from her neck.

  “You’re free,” he said in a monotone voice.

  “We’re not going to discuss it?” she asked in a whisper. Her throat tightened in panic at the loss of his collar. Just like that he was going to take it back? Without talking?

  “What’s left to discuss? You said you aren’t moving back in, and we’ve barely talked in the last month. Maybe neither one of us is the same person we were before.”

  She forced herself not to reach for her neck. Without his collar she felt naked.

  Without his collar.

  She balled her hands into fists. Jeff was breaking up with her. It felt too final, and she realized in that second, she didn’t want him to leave.

  “Why?” she croaked out, but didn’t know what she was asking him to explain.

  He sank into the couch, leaning forward with his head down, fingers clutching the black collar. “We’re taking our grief out on each other, and it’s not healthy. For either of us.” He looked up and met her gaze with a pained expression. “Trust me.”

  “I’ve always trusted you. I wouldn’t have worn your collar if I didn’t trust you.”

  “This is for the best. We’re better apart.”

  “For a time?” She forced it out past the lump in her throat. One day she’d be able to look at him and not feel pain and guilt; she just had to get to that point. She only needed time.

  “No.”

  Hot tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks. This was happening. It was really happening. “One day …”

  “Dena, don’t. We’re not good for each other.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  His voice held the will of iron she knew so well. “I’m not. One day you’ll see the truth.”

  Her chin raised just a notch. “No,” she said, wanting to hurt him like he’d hurt her. “One day you’ll beg me to come back.”

  Chapter Nine

  Present day

  Dena’s hands trembled with excitement as she undressed in the guest room. He’d surprised her by agreeing to flog her. She told herself it didn’t mean anything. More than likely, he needed some relief just as badly as she did. The events of the last few days had caught up with her, and if she was going to be worth anything at work tomorrow, she needed the release that came from turning her body over to someone who knew what to do with it.

  Jeff was nowhere to been seen when she stepped into the hallway and made her way into the playroom. She purposely didn’t look around, but kept her head down. The last time she’d been in this room, they’d played for Julie, and after, Jeff had kissed her with so much passion. She didn’t want to deal with the emotions of being back in it. But she saw it in her mind’s eye: the exposed-beam ceiling, the handmade oak cabinets, the light tan paint on the walls.

  The hardwood floor had a knot in the wood grain right near the middle of the room. She remembered that and allowed herself a small smile when she found it. She went to her knees beside it, trying to make her position as perfect as possible.

  Instinctively, she fell into her yoga breathing and focused on the movement of air in and out of her body. She felt rather than heard when Jeff walked to stand before her. Complete silence and then, finally, he spoke.

  “Dena.”

  As always his voice soothed her as if he’d touched her. She sank deeper into herself. For now, for this moment, she would be his angel once more, even if he didn’t say it. She let out a breathy, “Sir.”

  “Your posture today’s even better than last time.”

  “I’m glad it pleases you, Sir.”

  “I didn’t say it pleased me. I said it was an improvement.”

  “Sorry for assuming, Sir.”

  He didn’t say anything, but simply snapped his fingers. Yes. At his signal, she dropped to her elbows and slid forward. Part of her had wondered if he’d have her do this and she was secretly thrilled he had. Her lips lightly brushed the top of his right foot.

  “I am yours,” she whispered into his skin.

  Keeping her head low, she moved to his other foot. She’d always loved kissing Jeff’s feet. Kneeling before him, offering herself for his use but able to touch him, to kiss him and show with her lips how much she wanted him. Her lips had just left his left foot when he spoke again.

  “Kneel.”

  Reluctantly, she moved back into her waiting position and waited for further instruction.

  “You asked me to flog you—is that correct?” he asked.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I’m fairly tense after the last few days. I need to make sure you can take what I’m going to give. It won’t be anything like the so-called flogging Ron gave you. I’ll get you into subspace, but you’re going to feel it in the morning.”

  If he meant for his words to cause her to change her mind, he would be disappointed. They did the exact opposite. She needed this. Needed him.

  She lowered her head to the floor. “Please, Sir.”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Stand.”

  She slowly rose to her feet. She knew above her head were restraints he’d hung from the ceiling. If he had an intense session in mind, that’s where he’d bind her.

  “Arms above your head.”

  Her heart pounded just a little faster, knowing she’d guessed correctly. He took one wrist and then the other and buckled them in the cuffs above her head.

  “There’s no fear in your eyes tonight,” he said.

  “No, Sir. Never when I’m alone with you, Sir.”

  There was victory in his eyes; she was certain of it.

  “Tell me this.” He walked closer to her, blocking her view of anything but him. Not that she was interested in looking at anything else. He wanted her; she was almost certain. He lowered his head and whispered in her ear, “Are you wet for me, Dena? Are you excited knowing I’m getting ready to use you?”

  Fuck, yes. “Yes, Sir.”

  He nipped her ear and then backed away and walked to his cabinets. He took two floggers, hesitated, and took two more, then turned to face her. “Close your eyes.”

  He was so unfair.
He knew how much she enjoyed watching.

  “Now,” he said. “Or else I’ll call another submissive to come over, and you can watch me get her off.”

  Bastard.

  She closed her eyes.

  He could move so quietly, she might not hear him when he approached her again. She forced her body to relax, but she still jumped slightly when the first blows fell.

  He was using a light flogger and the blows were soft. For Jeff that only meant he was warming her up so she could take more and for longer. Bound as she was in the middle of the room, he had access to both sides of her body and he made use of it. Across her thighs, lighter across her belly, a touch harder on her breasts.

  There was no pain with his light touch, and she relaxed her muscles, gave herself over to him.

  “There you go,” he said, obviously noting her surrender. “That’s it.”

  She fell into a rhythmic breathing pattern and barely noticed when the flogger started landing harder. He picked up speed, or maybe he was using more than one; she couldn’t tell. And to be honest, she really didn’t care. All that mattered was the thud of the tails hitting her skin and the warmth that slowly spread throughout her body. She hummed in bliss.

  “You’re fucking beautiful.”

  His voice sounded fuzzy, and some part of her recognized that he had switched floggers. The thuds were landing harder. She gasped as one came precariously close to her clit and then moaned when it didn’t hit again.

  “Please,” she begged.

  “Not even close to being finished.”

  As if to prove his point, there was a switch of floggers and he went back to the lighter one. So light it almost tickled as it brushed between her legs. She shifted her feet.

  “Need to come, Sir. Please.”

  “No.”

  He let her come down from her endorphin high, but just slightly, and then he worked her back up and she was flying again. Fuck, she missed this. She spent too much time working with newbie Doms who didn’t know what they were doing.

  He leveled off with his strokes and kept her where she was, once more working all sides of her body until she toed the pleasure/pain line and balanced between almost too much and never quite enough.

  “Want to come?”

  The leather struck between her legs and she rose on her toes. “Yes, Sir.” She made a garbled sound when it flicked her clit. “Please, Sir. Touch me. I need your hands.”

  She wasn’t sure where those words came from, and they must have surprised him as well, because there was a pause in his strokes. Idiot. She felt the high leave and she started the descent back to reality.

  “I’m sorry, Sir.” Why did I open my mouth? “I didn’t mean to…. I’m sorry….” She was babbling. She couldn’t help it. What had possessed her to say that?

  “Look at me.” His command left no room for disobedience.

  She didn’t want to see him; she was too afraid of what she would find in his eyes. But she looked anyway, and there was nothing to be found but masculine lust. He cupped her ass and pressed his hips against her, his erection rubbing her just the right way, even through his jeans.

  “You want to feel my hands?” he asked, starting a rocking motion that would probably have her climaxing within seconds, all the while looking straight into her eyes.

  “Yes, Sir.” Fuck. The roughness of his jeans against her was almost more than she could take.

  “Come for me.” He kneaded the flesh of her backside roughly and held her in place as he rolled his hips into her and pressed hard against her clit.

  She sucked in a breath as she came. “Oh, fuck. Yes.”

  He stayed where he was as her climax passed. His arms moved up her back and held her close to his chest. When the last tremor left her body, he gently removed her wrists from the cuffs and swept her into his arms.

  For a second, she thought he was taking her to his bed, but instead he carried her to the guest room. Once there, he placed her on the bed and held her close to his side. And though it felt decadent to be in his arms again, something was missing.

  His strong hands held her close and his thumb brushed back and forth against her skin, but unlike last time, there was no sweet kiss, no soft words murmured. She could have kicked herself for saying what she had about needing his touch. All that had done was further prove how awkward and distant they’d become around each other.

  She shifted slightly, and in doing so, brushed against his still-present erection.

  That was what was missing. And it made her angry.

  “Forget something?” she asked.

  He looked unconcerned at her outburst. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “How many times have we played together?”

  “Are you looking for an exact number?”

  “A lot,” she said. “And guess how many times you’ve still had a hard-on after the scene was over?”

  “Dena.” He said her name in that low, warning way of his.

  “One.” She rolled out of his arms and propped herself up on her elbow. “Today. What exactly are you trying to prove?”

  “If you want to discuss the scene, it’ll have to wait until you’ve calmed down. Right now I’m going to take a shower.”

  He moved to get off the bed, but she put a hand on his chest. “Are you going to jerk off in there?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Move your hand.”

  “Look at you. Your cock’s so hard, it’s got to be painful in those jeans. Bet you’re ready to take them off and stroke yourself into some relief.” She scooted closer to him. “Will you think of me when you do? Pretend they’re my hands?”

  He tried to roll away, but she moved quicker than he did and pushed him back on the bed and straddled him.

  “Did you tell yourself that if you didn’t come in the playroom, you’d somehow be proving something about us?” She reached out and touched his chest. “You still going to think that while you’re in the shower, fucking a memory?” Her fingers trailed downward. He was breathing heavily. “Is it easier to fuck my memory than the real me?”

  His hand grabbed her wrist just before she slipped her fingers into his pants. “Stop. I told you I wasn’t fucking you.”

  She leaned down and dragged her lips across his belly, noticing he’d broken into a light sweat. “Fine. My mouth. Your cock.”

  “I said ‘no.’”

  With a quick jerk, her hand was free. She unbuttoned his jeans and stroked his erection. “You’re trying to prove some asinine point to yourself. But I know you. You want me. That’s why you’re breathing so hard and why you’re gritting your teeth. Want me to stop? Safe word.”

  She teased aside his boxers, wanting to feel skin, knowing she was taunting him. It’d serve her right for him to say his safe word.

  “You think you know me?” she asked, wrapping a hand around his cock. “I know you just as well. One word and I’ll stop. Say it.”

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She braced herself for him to say red. Instead, he grabbed her hair.

  “Suck it,” he growled.

  Waves of sweet relief and victory surged through her as she moved down his body, taking his pants down as she went. His erection sprang toward her and she took it in her hand.

  “Remember the time you had me suck you off during the presidential debates?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, but continued talking, all the while stroking him. “I’d done something to piss you off, and you thought you were punishing me. You held off for nearly an hour.”

  “Best thing you can do with that mouth is fill it with my cock.”