“That must be Mom,” she said. “What perfect timing.”
After Christine’s mom left with Sam, Nathaniel and I went back to the guest room. He told me he had an outfit laid out for me, but stopped me before I could put it on.
“Before you change,” he said. “Until further notice, library time is over. Understood?”
A twinge of desire, lust, and yearning shot straight through me.
“Yes, Master.”
“Paul has certain rules for his playroom,” he said. “You are to wear your hair up. The only jewelry allowed inside is wedding rings. He made an exception for your collar. I don’t want your head down. I want you watching both Christine and Paul. And as an observer, you are to remain silent.” He smiled. “Unless you become overwhelmed, in a negative way, and need to use your safe word. Understood?”
“Yes, Master.”
He leaned forward and kissed me. “Meet me outside our room in fifteen minutes.”
When we entered the playroom downstairs, Christine was already in position. Nathaniel walked over to the straight-backed chair at the edge of the room, and I followed behind him. After he sat down, I sat on the pillow at his feet and tentatively placed a hand on his knee. Christine didn’t move. As I expected, she wore a bra, but was naked otherwise.
I watched her for a minute, letting myself grow accustomed to the sight.
I took a minute to glance around the room—it was twice as large as Nathaniel’s and held more equipment. Much of the room was the same—a refrigerator, a sink, and a large first-aid kit. One shelf held a baby monitor, though, and the realities of playing with a child hit me. I became even more thankful Christine’s mom had taken Sam for a few hours.
I wasn’t sure how many times Christine and Paul had played since Sam’s birth, but I assumed it hadn’t been many. Between the late-night feedings and colic, who would have time? It occurred to me then that maybe Christine and Paul were just as happy as we were to have someone else watch their son for a few hours.
My head swung to the door as Paul entered. Like Nathaniel, he wore black jeans and a T-shirt. The change in his demeanor struck me. He still looked like himself, of course, just more intense.
He walked to where Christine kneeled.
“It’s good to have you back in my playroom, girl,” he said.
She moved her hands to the floor and slid toward his feet. “I await your pleasure, Master.”
“Show me,” he said, and she slid closer and kissed each of his toes, then the tops of his feet. When she finished, she moved to her knees and slid her hands up his legs. “Not yet,” he said, and backed away.
She immediately stopped and dropped back to her original position.
That was interesting. Nathaniel had never asked me to kiss his feet. I wondered why, wondered if I would act as quickly as Christine if he asked me to do it.
But I didn’t have time to dwell on that thought. From behind his back, Paul brought a black leather collar. “I’ve longed to put this back on you,” he told Christine.
She had told me she no longer wore a collar except when they were in the playroom. Pregnancy and childbirth had changed the dynamics of their relationship, and now they were only dominant and submissive in this room, unlike Nathaniel and me, who were dominant and submissive all weekend.
Her eyes stayed focused on the floor. “I have longed for it as well, Master.”
As he put his collar on her, the significance of the ritual hit me. The staking of his claim on her—showing her with both word and deed that she was his. Likewise, by accepting his collar and his claim, she agreed to his temporary control. She gave herself to him. I understood that part from Nathaniel’s collaring of me, but what caught me off guard was the look in Paul’s eyes as he fastened the collar on her. The intensity of his expression— the pride, the carnal longing—was completely unexpected.
Did Nathaniel look that way when he collared me? Did his expression mirror Paul’s?
With the collar fastened, Paul stepped back, eyes still smoldering. “I want you on your hands and knees on the table.”
Without moving her eyes from the floor, she crawled to the table and climbed on top.
I wondered why she crawled. Was that something Paul expected? Would Nathaniel ever want me to do that? To crawl instead of walk?
Paul walked to stand in front of Christine, slipped a ball gag in her mouth and buckled it around her head.
“I’m going to work you a bit harder than I have lately,” he said, his hands softly stroking her shoulders. “And I want to make sure you don’t scare our guests.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear, although we could still hear. “Plus I love the sounds you make through the gag.”
He slipped something into her hand.
I felt Nathaniel’s breath on my ear. “It’s a bell,” he whispered so low, I knew the couple before us couldn’t hear. “It allows her to use her safe word while she’s gagged. If something happens and she needs to stop or slow the scene down, she’ll drop the bell.”
I moved forward slightly. Nathaniel had never used a gag on me before, and I was quite curious. I remembered Christine’s recommendation to tell Nathaniel to push me harder when I wanted and to bring up things I’d like to do.
While Paul went about collecting things from around the room, I kept my eyes on Christine. I would have thought she’d look vulnerable, and she did, but it wasn’t her vulnerability that drew me. It was the beauty of her trust, the grace of her submission. There was an elegance of sorts in her position I had not anticipated being there.
Paul came up behind her and ran a hand down her backside and again, the look in his eyes captured my attention. “You want this badly. I can tell.” He slid a vibrator into her, her moan muffled by the gag. “So needy already.”
My mind spun as it tried to take in what was happening before me. I tried to work my mind around the fact that the man who had made breakfast for me this morning was using a vibrator on his wife. In front of me. I couldn’t look away.
He started spanking her. The sound was light at first, but slowly grew in intensity. I wondered, briefly, how it would feel to be spanked while filled that way.
After a bit, my mind concentrated, not so much on what Paul was doing, but how the two of them looked. The way he completely focused his attention on her. The utter concentration of his expression. There was nothing in the world that existed in that moment for him except her, and I wondered again if Nathaniel looked the same when I gave myself to him.
His statement from earlier in the week came back to me. About how, for the wedding, he didn’t want to be in the mind frame required when I wore his collar, and I suddenly knew exactly what he meant. How intently he must have to work the entire weekend: to keep his focus
I shifted my attention to the couple before me, and while what they did was interesting—Paul had switched to a wooden paddle—it was the way they moved that captivated me. They looked to be dancing an intricate dance: his movement echoed and received by her. Her moans, in return, spurred him to further action. What played out before me was a give-and-take I had not expected, and the entire scene portrayed a delicate beauty I had not believed possible.
I was so engrossed in watching that give-and-take, I barely noticed when Paul picked up a flogger. I wanted to be Christine. Wanted it to be Nathaniel working hard to bring me the pleasure only he could. I wanted to play again, now that the image of how beautiful my submission must be was firmly embedded in my head.
Eventually Paul stopped, granted Christine permission to relax, and she dropped her head to the table. He removed both vibrator and gag, kissed her cheek, and whispered something to her we couldn’t hear. When she looked up at him, the love and trust in her eyes so touched me, I tightened my grasp on Nathaniel’s knee.
I thought back to our first weekend back in the playroom, when he’d cupped my chin and commanded me to look at him. Had I looked at him the same way Christine looked at Paul? Conversely, could I remember Nathaniel’s expression being as fierce and feral as Paul’s? It bothered me that I couldn’t recall it, and I made a promise to pay
