“Marcie, it’s so good to see you again. Come on in, dearest.”

Why the affection made tears spring to her eyes, she didn’t know, but Marcie pushed them back, with effort. Rachel’s eyes held so much understanding, a kinship, as if she understood that Marcie was pure chaos right now, emotionally, physically. She and Jon were both into the spiritual chakra stuff. If Rachel read auras, Marcie expected hers probably looked like an LSD-induced kaleidoscope.

Ben withdrew his hand, a loss she felt everywhere, not just at the small of her back. When her gaze turned to him, he nodded. “You do as Rachel tells you,” he said. Then he was moving across the spacious living area to Jon. Rachel’s husband and Master was sitting at the kitchen island with the parts of what looked like an old phonograph machine laid out before him, complete with large conical-shaped speaker. A half-eaten dinner was on a plate at his elbow, next to a glass of wine. As Ben was approaching, he was already opening him a beer.

Jon didn’t speak to Marcie, just glanced at her with that familiar measuring look. She wouldn’t be acknowledged yet. Jon had turned her over to his submissive’s care and would determine her well-being from Ben. Her Master.

Or at least the one she wanted to call Master, so much she knew it was going to eventually slip from her lips. When she was feeling less vulnerable, she’d do it deliberately. Master, Master. Master. She wasn’t going to let him—

God, she was doing it again. But she couldn’t help it, damn it. She was unwilling to back down or give up, no matter if she had to sit on that pillow for the rest of her life. Except she hoped it wouldn’t come to that, because if she had to sit on it right now she might cry like a kindergartener.

“Marcie.” Rachel brought her back with a warm squeeze on her arm. “Come on. You’re caught in the zone. We need to get you grounded a bit better. Let’s check you out, all right?”

Rachel guided her up the open staircase, to the second level that held bedroom, home office, and a room with a massage table. In that room, there were clusters of lit candles that threw flickering light onto a tall stained-glass window with the design of a lotus blossom vine. A light installed behind it allowed the vibrant greens and browns to glow, even at night. Somewhere behind the array of delicate Japanese maples in the room, a flute piece was coming through a speaker system.

Okay, she’d definitely been expected. It embarrassed her, but Rachel was being her usual gentle but firm self, not allowing any of that nonsense.

“Let’s get your clothes off. No, honey, let me help. Your fingers are so cold and shaking.”

“I told Ben, I’m fine. I just—”

“You’re fine, but you need some help to stay that way.” She removed the sleeveless snug turtleneck. Marcie tried to help, to prove she didn’t need to be undressed like a child, but Rachel was right, because she fumbled over the zipper of the skirt. Rachel made a soft sound, brushed her hands away. As she stepped closer to reach around her to do that, her breasts pressed against Marcie’s.

She was wearing one of Jon’s soft worn T-shirts, jeans pulled on beneath it, suggesting the shirt had been a nightshirt until they received Ben’s call. It seemed a little early for wearing night clothes, but then she remembered Rachel was a 24/7. It was entirely possible that Jon preferred her naked in the house when it was just the two of them. The temperature in the house was more than comfortable for it.

The shirt smelled like a pleasing combination of Jon and his wife, and Rachel wore no bra under it. As a result, when Marcie felt the give of her generous breasts against her own, her nipples got hard again. Though her mind was logy, her body was still in an alert state, prepped for physical intimacy. Turning her face into Rachel’s thick blonde hair, she smelled her fragrant shampoo, the heat of her skin. She wanted to press her lips to the woman’s neck, taste her. Insanely enough, she did.

Rachel let out a sensual chuckle, pressed her hand to the side of Marcie’s face, allowing it a moment before she unhooked her bra, stepped back to slide it off Marcie’s arms, then turned her toward the massage table. “You are spinning, love. Let’s check your vitals first. Sit here on the table.”

She was vaguely aware of Rachel taking her pulse, checking her heart, making her breathe deep and then shallow as she did so. The woman wrapped a blood-pressure cuff on her, pumping it tight with calm efficiency. Marcie didn’t realize she’d zoned out until Rachel’s voice called her out of the fog. “Good. Vital signs are fine. I’m going to have you lie down now, check some other things, but I want you to start sipping on this.” She drew Marcie’s attention to a bottle with a flexible straw by the massage table. “It’ll taste a little odd, but it’s just a hydration mix. Salt, sugar, water and a little mint and some other things I put in to soothe the stomach and nerves.”

When she assumed that state, Rachel’s capable hands adjusted her legs so they were slightly spread. Marcie was completely naked now. The air touched her skin, made her shiver, though she knew it was warm in the room. “We’ll get a blanket on you in just a second. Oh love. You really pushed yourself over the limit, didn’t you? Let’s put an antiseptic salve on that broken and irritated skin right now, because we don’t want infection. Keep drinking now, small sips.”

When Jon’s wife rolled her over, she’d put a blissfully damp towel over a soft pad right under her backside so it wasn’t as uncomfortable as Marcie had anticipated. She smelled something fragrant and chemical at once, suggesting the damp pad was soaked with the salve.

“That will help for now. An additional healing balm will be added later. One of my own mixes. It has beeswax, aloe, some different extracts. Mixed with a bit of talcum.” Marcie heard the smile in the woman’s voice. “Smells wonderful and makes you feel like a pampered baby.”

Marcie floated. The smell of the antiseptic, the way Rachel had her laid out on the table, made her remember getting her nipples and her clit hood pierced. The pain had been excruciating, but throughout it, she’d imagined Ben there as if he’d ordered it, decorating the body that was his. That night, she’d gone home and looked in the mirror at the silver clit ring. Eventually, she’d bought two emerald beads for it, the color of Ben’s eyes. She’d worn them today, beads that teased her clit and labia when she moved. She wondered if Ben had noticed when he was caning her over his desk.

The night she’d purchased those beads, she’d fantasized about Ben tugging on the ring, attaching a tether to it. Her pussy had been so wet, making the ring and beads glisten even more.

Remembering, past and present coming together, her body reacted with a shocking contraction of arousal as she heard Ben’s voice. She cracked her eyelids to see him at the door. Rachel had covered her with a warm blanket, now that she was on her back, but his gaze still covered every exposed inch of skin with careful precision. “I called Cass, let her know she’s here for the night. How is she?”

“She’s going to be fine. Dehydration was the main worry, but she’s working on fluids now. The antiseptic will prevent infection, if she tends the area according to my instructions. In a little while she’ll feel much steadier. Then she’s all yours.”

She wished. Oh how she wished for that. On her side of things, it was already the truth.

* * * * *

She must have dozed off for a while, or floated around in that weird trance state, because when she focused again, she thought quite a bit of time had passed. She did feel steadier, but when she shifted, she winced. Sheesh, her muscles were sore. She probably needed to take a hot shower at some point.

Of course, with lucidity came a bunch of nervous feelings that compounded tenfold when she saw Ben sitting where she last remembered Rachel being. The woman had watched over her as she dozed, reading at one point, then peeling some carrots, a rhythmic, comforting clink-clink of noise from the peeler. Probably preparation for some meal she’d be cooking for Jon later. Though Jon could cook and sometimes did, Marcie had noticed at the group get-togethers it was always Rachel who brought Jon his plate or a refill on his drink, unless he specifically told her to stay seated so he or another could tend to it. Another of those many little clues she’d put together.

Rachel was an anticipatory sub, one who anticipated what her Master or his guests would need and took great pleasure in meeting those needs before they even voiced them. Some Masters allowed that; others required that a sub follow their direction exactly. She had a feeling Ben was a mix, depending on the situation, but she was a hundred percent certain what he truly wanted was a 24/7 relationship, no matter that he’d never committed to a woman in all the time she’d known him.

He hadn’t pursued a woman outside a club setting in the past couple years, but that only confirmed her opinion. All the intel she’d gathered said that Ben O’Callahan didn’t settle for anything less than exactly what he wanted. 24/7 subs—and the Doms who not only wanted them, but knew how to manage that type of relationship—were rare. Even those who said they wanted it often really didn’t, because the reality of 24/7 was a whole different thing. But like Ben, she didn’t want anything less. Further, she didn’t want it from any Dom in the world except Ben. He could call it youthful idealism or fantasy all he wanted. She knew differently.

She met his gaze, couldn’t tell what was going on there, but she didn’t have to figure out how to ask. When he saw she was awake, he rose. As he drew back the blanket, exposing her body to him without any preamble, the air now felt warm.

“On the floor, on this mat here. Obeisance pose.” His voice was firm, but like the air, no longer cold. She hoped her hair looked okay. Her makeup had been ruined, but Rachel had cleaned her face with a warm cloth, so hopefully it wasn’t too bad. Personal appearance aside, he’d just given her a direct command. She found her limbs a little logy, but he gripped her elbow, helping her off the cot and into a kneeling position.

Knees folded, body leaning forward, elbows to the padded yoga mat, forehead down. Ass lifted off the heels, pushed into the air against the elbows so she was balanced. He made an approving noise at her understanding of the pose. She wished she could tell him she’d masturbated in this pose, imagining that it was his hand that had pushed a vibrator into her ass and pussy, commanding her to hold the pose until she came, shuddering and screaming into the pillow she put on her dorm room floor so her neighbors didn’t hear.