Over the Line (15 page)

It turned out that she spent the next few days being somewhat of a glorified cook and pack mule. Her clients were younger than she was and were on their honeymoon. They were focused on each other and three was definitely a crowd. For the first time since she’d cut off her collar to end the relationship with Lewis, she missed the companionship the newlyweds shared.

At night, she knew they were trying to be quiet, but the tent walls were thin and the mountains were otherwise silent. She spent hours tossing and turning on the thin bedroll, wanting Master Michael to dominate her.

Finally, under a cloudy afternoon sky, they returned to their vehicles at the trail head. The couple tipped her a shocking amount of money. The envelope of cash put her in a much better financial position to survive the lean period between the end of summer and fall activities and the beginning of the ski season. She generally led some fall bicycling trips in the mountains to see the aspens turn colour, but after the first good snow, even that ended. Sometimes she headed south and looked for other work, but this money would allow her not to do that, giving her several unexpected weeks of vacation.

She cranked up the music, trying to drown out the idea of having extra time to spend with Master Michael in late fall. After all, she hadn’t heard from him in days. And that caused even more crazy thoughts to collide. What if he had gone to the Den last weekend and found someone else to submit to him?

When she got back in cellphone range, she pulled off I-70 at a coffee shop.

The notifications screen was all but bare. Leaundra had left a voicemail with the tentative date of her wedding, a year in the future. She had a handful of emails, including one from the Den with a list of upcoming activities. Unfortunately, since she’d been away, she’d missed last weekend’s party for Dominant and rocker Evan C to celebrate the release of his new album.

There was nothing from Master Michael.

With a disappointed sigh, she dropped her purse on the console then headed inside for a latte drizzled with syrup and mocha.

Figuring that Murphy’s Law would be at work and that she would have missed his call while she was getting her drink, she picked up her phone.

Still nothing.

She dropped her head against the seat back. Unless it was for business, she rarely called men. Especially Doms.

Her cellphone close by, she drove home.

Back at her condo, she dragged in her backpack and went to toss it on the bed. But the outfit she’d bought in Miami was in the middle of the mattress, waiting. In her haste to meet the newlyweds, she hadn’t put it away. Now it seemed to taunt her.

She wanted to wear it for Master Michael.

It seemed the harder she fought to keep him out of her head, the stronger the memories were. It was as if she could feel his belt scorching her skin. The welts that had adorned her buttocks and thighs after her time at the Eagle’s Bend Ranch had healed, and she craved new ones.

Tamping down her desires, she dropped the backpack on the floor before hanging up the outfit in her closet and shutting the door.

She unloaded the car and stowed the camping equipment in the garage.

Even after she had spent a ridiculous amount of time in a much-needed warm shower, the damn phone remained silent.

Now what?

A modern, empowered woman would contact him. Even Master Michael had assured her she could be a sub without giving up who she was.

After stalling another hour, she picked up her cellular. She entered his number then hesitated. Her heart thundered ridiculously. She had no idea why a simple telephone call could matter so much, but it did.

Closing her eyes, half hoping she’d get his voicemail, she hit the send button.

“Welcome home, little subbie,” he said by way of greeting.

His deep, rich voice melted her from the inside out. She collapsed her shoulders against the refrigerator.

“Glad to be back?”

Colorado was a great base, but she had never considered it home, rather just a place to be while she decided what she wanted to do next. But this time she had been happy to get back to her place, no matter how small and unimaginative it was. She’d told herself it had nothing to do with seeing him again, but she knew she’d been lying to herself. “I am.” She paused for a second. It would be easy to fall into conversation, but she understood his rules, even if she chafed at them. When he’d answered the phone, he hadn’t called her Sydney, but rather by his nickname that defined their relationship. She responded in kind. “Thank you for asking, Sir. I spent a few days in Miami with my girlfriends from college then I guided a pair of honeymooners on a three-day hike of the Continental Divide. They couldn’t wait for me to pitch the tents at night, and it took them a while to get up in the mornings. I had a lot of free time.”

“I’ve had some myself. I occupied myself by looking at those shoes.”

“I was thinking about that flogger.”

“It was custom-made for you. I have others but I wanted you to be able to endure a long, long beating.”

She allowed the refrigerator to take more of her weight. “And it matches the outfit,” she said, aiming for a casualness she was nowhere close to feeling.

“Always an added bonus. I’m glad you called.”

Her shoulders loosened as tension vanished. How did he always know the right thing to say? “I didn’t know if it would be okay.”

“Little subbie, I’m on the porch drinking a glass of wine and looking at the fence.”

Sydney’s heart skipped its next beat.

“I wasn’t sure when you’d be back, and I also suspected you needed time to sort through your thoughts. I wasn’t going to call you, but I was hoping you’d call me.”

So he’d been waiting for her to make the next move. She appreciated that he wasn’t trying to crowd her. By calling the Den and getting her contact information, he’d reached out and let her know he was interested in her. How was it possible for him to be such a confident Dom and yet give her so much freedom?

“Did you masturbate while you were gone?”

His question caught her off guard. “Not really.” She pushed away from the refrigerator and paced the kitchen floor. “I was too tired when I got to bed in Miami—there’s quite a nightlife.”

“And on the hike the couple didn’t inspire you?”

“That’s not the right word. I felt more frustrated than anything.”

She heard him swallow a drink.

“Tell me why,” he said.

“I wanted to have a real experience, not just a fantasy.”

“We can arrange that.”

 Sydney took a celebratory half-step.

“When are you available?”

She wanted to say now, if not sooner, but she tried to act nonchalant. “I’m fairly flexible at the moment. I have an upcoming mud race.”

“You mentioned that.”

“It’s for charity. But I enter every year anyway. The part where I go under the barbed wire is my favourite.”

“I may need to raise the bar on my play with you.”

Right now, things seemed perfect. She spun around. Maybe Marleen had been right. She spent so much time thinking about the future that she often robbed the moment of its pleasures. “I have no complaints, Sir. So far.”

“I’ve said before that you like to live on the edge.”

She laughed.

“How’s tomorrow?” he asked.

Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes,
yes.
“Sounds good.”

“You’re welcome here, or I am happy to come to you.”

“I’ll drive up.” Not only did she want the ability to leave when she was ready, but she liked the idea of being tied to the fence as he tried the new flogger. “What time would you like me there?

“How about after lunch? Do you remember the code for the gate? Or if you want to call when you’re in Winter Park, I’ll meet you somewhere.”

“I’ll be fine. I remember the combination.”

“Would you like me to text directions?”

“That would be great, Sir.”

“Bring the new outfit. Oh, and Sydney?”

“Sir?”

“Tonight? Don’t masturbate. I want you horny when you get here.”

His voice, so masterful, chilled her. She hadn’t been thinking about it. Now the idea consumed her.

“Please acknowledge what I said.”

“It’s been about two weeks.”

“Then a few more hours won’t matter a bit.”

She sighed. “Of course you’re right.” Just those words gave her an illicit thrill. She insisted she wasn’t a sub, but when he spoke to her like that, she felt so undeniably female. Though she didn’t want to like it, she responded to it, as if it were the most natural thing possible. “I won’t masturbate, Sir.”

“That’s a good sub.”

They spoke in generalities before they rang off. It seemed neither of them had been anxious to end the call.

Her skin seemed to sing with energy. Knowing she had to burn it off or go crazy, she changed into running shorts and shoes then put on a sports bra and lightweight top. Finally, she pulled her hair into a ponytail before exiting the condo.

To warm up her body, she started with a gentle jog down the street before crossing over and heading towards Evergreen Lake.

A path encircled the picturesque forty-acre lake and she entered on the dam side. She zoned out as she turned up the dial on her pace. It didn’t take long for her to regulate her breathing and work up a sweat as she neared the Lake House. Sydney hardly noticed the other pedestrians or bicyclists, or the elk and deer grazing in the brush. She startled a rabbit at one point, but that barely distracted her.

Finally, more than twenty minutes later, breathless, she slowed to a walk for the trek back to her place.

She took another shower then fell onto the bed. Since he’d ordered her not to touch herself, there was nothing she wanted to do more.

After tossing and turning for an hour, noticing how needy her pussy felt, she threw back the sheet and climbed out of bed.

She grabbed a blanket and went onto the patio to stare at the sky in her version of meditation. Instead of counting sheep, she counted stars. She got to the high five hundreds before she’d harnessed her thoughts. And in the mid six hundreds she started to drift off. Sometime before dawn she woke up chilled and made her way back inside to bed. And when she reawakened the sun was beating through her window, heating her up.

After frying a couple of eggs, drinking half a pot of coffee and updating her website, suggesting some creative late-summer outings and adding a testimony supplied by the newlyweds, she hit the shower.

The imminent trip to Eagle’s Bend Ranch had unnerved her.

Last time, she and Master Michael had spent time at the Den before making the journey to his place. This time, it was daylight. Though she knew his expectations, she was less certain how to behave. Should she wear her outfit? That seemed a bit much given that she would arrive in the early afternoon. Shorts or jeans seemed too casual. And sandals seemed ridiculously out of place, especially if she needed to manage the gate.

If she were practical, she’d have realised that a trip to a working ranch demanded boots, jeans, even pulling back her hair. But she was going for only one purpose.

With a sigh, she threw a few things in an overnight bag, not that she was planning to stay with him, but because she wanted options as far as her clothing went.

She dressed in a pair of serviceable platform sandals and a knee-length skirt. She wore one of her lightweight summer shirts with a black bra beneath. Her whole body felt sensitised now that she knew she would be seeing him and especially because he’d told her not to touch herself.

When she got behind the wheel and lowered the windows to let out some of the heat, she sent him a text message to let him know she was on her way.

The drive took forever, something more to do with her excitement and anticipation at having her sexual desires fulfilled than the actual miles involved. She was glad the road demanded her full attention. At least it kept her from obsessing.

Mostly.

Views from Berthoud Pass stole her breath, and Winter Park was streaming with visitors. As she navigated the lush green high-mountain valley, she saw occasional clumps of wildflowers.

As she left the main road, her pulse picked up a few extra beats. She knew it wasn’t from the altitude, since she hadn’t had a single problem when she was standing on top of the Continental Divide.

A man she didn’t recognise met her at the gate.

“Michael asked me to keep an eye out for you,” the older, weathered man said.

“I appreciate it.”

The man swung the gate open, waited for her to drive through, then closed it and secured it before he tipped his straw hat, hopped on his motorised vehicle and took off for the bunkhouse.

Master Michael was waiting near the fence, one boot heel hooked behind him on the lowest rail, with a look so sexy it was probably outlawed in half the world. His ever-present hat was angled slightly forward. His jeans rode low on his slim hips, and his shirtsleeves were folded back to the elbow. He appeared at ease, lord and master of all he surveyed. And right now, he was looking at her. Adrenaline tripped through her.

He pushed away from the fence as she braked to a stop near a tree. He opened the door for her and offered his hand as she exited. She couldn’t imagine Lewis ever behaving with such elegant manners. It occurred to her that perhaps she’d judged Master Michael, and maybe a vast variety of Doms, too hastily.

“You look fabulous,” he said.

“I…” She pulled her hand away and smoothed her skirt. “Didn’t know what to wear.”

“This is perfect. You did bring the outfit that’s kept me up nights?”

“I wouldn’t dare forget it, Sir.” Just as vanilla men were quirky and some nicer than others, so, too, were guys in the lifestyle. Maybe it was possible that his concept of her being a submissive was different than Lewis’ had been. At any rate, he’d promised a nice whipping. Even if she didn’t consider herself a sub, she could go along with him for a while to feel his lash. “It’s in the bag.”

“I’ll grab it,” he said. “Anything else?”

“No. Everything I need is in there.”

He closed both doors and indicated that she should precede him to the house. She glanced around. “Where’s the miniature thief?”