It wasn’t a very smart precedent to set, subverting a fellow sub just days after their double-collaring. But in Mara’s defense, she had finally convinced Delia to try something Daniel had never gotten her to do. Not in years of dating and marriage. And it had only taken Mara two months.
That was the first thing that came to her mind, anyway, when Daniel opened the door and found the two of them together. Naked except for their collars and sprawled out with their gear on the bed.
She cast a longing glance at Delia as they stopped what they were doing, wishing they’d had a chance to finish before he caught them. They had been so close. But there was always next time.
Daniel took his time, loosening his tie and taking off his jacket, hanging it on a hanger in the closet, clearly choosing his words carefully before expressing himself to the two recalcitrant submissives who now knelt side by side between the bed and the wall where the big-screen TV was mounted. The graphic computer feed currently displayed on it was paused in mid-action, as was the content on the screen of Mara’s laptop.
At last, jacket and tie neatly put away, shirtsleeves rolled up, the master made his way back to the bed and stood looming over the two women, staring from one to the other in stony silence.
Delia broke first. She hated the waiting, and he knew it. “Master, we’re sorry, we were just—”
“I didn’t give you permission to speak, Dee.”
“Sorry, Master.”
Mara wanted to grab Delia’s fingers, squeeze them, tell her it would be okay. But she sat with her own hands clasped neatly behind her back, unmoving. She had never minded waiting, as long as she knew it would be worth her while in the end.
“I’m disappointed in you, Mara. I know you were the one behind this.”
“I’m sorry, Master.”
“You will be making it up to me at the club later.”
“Understood, Sir.”
Daniel had to nudge some equipment and other stuff out of his way with his feet to clear space by the bed so he could sit at the foot of it and continue his looming more comfortably.
The empty potato chip bag sounded particularly accusatory when it crinkled. Daniel’s toe caught Delia’s wireless mouse and it tipped over, winking its baleful red eye at her until he carefully righted it.
“Food crumbs on the floor. All this extra gear dragged up here. You two not waiting for me in bed like you were supposed to be. And yeah, I know I was a half hour late getting home. There was a wreck on the interstate and traffic was backed up for miles and then my cell ran out of juice and I need a new car charger. But still.”
He sighed, the deep and long-suffering sigh of a man with responsibilities, a leader whose followers have minds of their own.
“But that isn’t the real point. The real point, ladies, is that if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a dozen times: The bedroom television is not for playing computer games.” He fixed them one at a time with his best, steely, eyebrow-enhanced glare. “The bedroom television is for watching porn.”
