Page 6 of Liberating Lena

“How are you feeling now?”

“Much better. Thank you.” I stood up. “Thank you, Ethan.” His name felt strange on my tongue, and I couldn’t miss the nervousness in the way I said his name. He didn’t miss it either.

“You are very welcome. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

I nodded and hustled my way along the path and straight to my room. Carrie wasn’t home, thankfully, so no explaining why Iwas a complete mess. I closed and locked my door and sat down on the bed, taking those deep breaths Ethan had taught me.

Later that evening, I was in the Dungeon. The place was fairly full and for the first few hours I was busy helping the guests and serving beverages from the bar. When the rope demonstration started, the place had cleared out a bit and I was able to take a break and watch.

The Dom was nothing like Daniel, I observed. He spoke gently with the submissive, asking permission and correcting form where necessary. There were no punishments for a lack of perfection, and I felt tears sting my eyes.This is how it should be. A power exchange fully encouraged and supported by both parties.

My gaze traveled to take in the other observers. Ethan was among them, and I wondered how long he’d been here. He must have felt me staring at him, because he looked away from the scene and glanced around. When he saw me, he simply nodded and went back to the scene. I was happy he wasn’t stalking me like a predator looking for a way to break into my personal space. Even later when we passed each other, he respected my silence.

At midnight, I left the Dungeon and went directly to my room. Carrie’s door was shut with the light off so I assumed she was already asleep. My first day had been interesting but it felt good to be here among other lifestylers and still be safe within the confines of the Ranch and the house rules. I could breathe here and not have to worry about being accosted.

I washed up and changed out of my evening clothing, deciding to sleep naked and let my skin breathe. I crawled into the comfy bed and was out once my head hit the pillow.

CHAPTER 4

Ethan

Lena was beautiful in that quiet way–the kind that made you notice her in individual, smaller pieces rather than the whole. A flash of her profile during meditation. The elegance in her stance while serving Ranch guests in the Dungeon. Her stillness while observing the ropes demonstration. The little frown line between her brows as the power exchange between players increased. Wherever Lena was, she always fully occupied my attention.

I entered the Dungeon hoping to see Lena. Although a simple inquiry had informed me it was her day off, I had a feeling I’d find her here. A large part of the play space had been transformed. Gone were the spanking benches and St. Andrews Cross, and in their place were paper lanterns emitting soft amber lighting. Tatami mats lined the floor and in the center was a raised platform with a low, lacquered table and a single red cushion set on one side. On the table was a hand blown ceramicchawanbowl. It was the equivalent to an English-style teacup which would hold the tea once it was prepared for drinking.

“Welcome. As you can see, we are hosting a demonstration tonight. When it is over, we will return the space to its normal configuration. You are more than welcome to stay for the tea ceremony demo, or you may come back afterward to play. Would you like to watch?” The voice belonged to a muscular man who was delivering tea supplies and stocking them behind the bar.

I chucked. “I’d love to.”

He smiled. “Hi, I’m Mike.”

“Nice to meet you, Mike, my name is Ethan.” We shook hands. “Is this one of those high-protocol services between a Dom and a submissive?”

“It is, and I can’t wait to see it. I’ve never been to Asia or observed one here at the Ranch before. How about you?”

“I have and but not in this context. I guess we’ll both see something new tonight.”

More guests entered the Dungeon, and I found a spot to sit while Mike offered the guests traditional Japanese drinks and treats. I watched the room slowly fill with many faces I recognized and some I didn’t, but all had a bearing that identified them as lifestylers.

Lena entered the room. She wore a simple sleeveless linen dress with no adornments. Her hair was pulled back and, without makeup, she looked much younger than usual. She knelt by the table, her posture, perfect—upright, but not tense.

I wanted to let her know I was there and had her back if she grew uncomfortable, but I wouldn't interrupt. She was in character for what I assumed was a pre-agreed upon scene. A part of me wished I was the one joining her, but another part knew this wasn't the time for me to insert myself in her life. She was here for a reason; I was here for a reason, so despite the natural attraction, I would keep to the agreement I’d made with myself.

A Dungeon Monitor I recognized as Winston entered the room and it was clear from his dress that he was the other half of the power exchange–barefoot and dressed all in black.

He sat with ease, cross-legged on the only cushion. A hush of anticipation fell over the room. Previous experience let me know this ceremony was rooted in Zen Buddhism, which emphasized harmony, tranquility, and respect. It’s a meditative practice that allows participants to appreciate the beauty of the present moment. It was considered a high protocol, nonsexual practice between a submissive and Dom. Lena would not be allowed to lift her head and must watch carefully to respond to the Dom’s requirements. Eye contact was expressly forbidden in a traditional tea setting, and I assumed they must have discussed in detail how to read his body language.

I had to admit, I was curious to see how she would do. Lena struck me as a pure submissive who would eat up a scene like this. But something felt off. Winston nodded his head. Lena rose and moved to the bar, never lifting her head or letting her eyes wander. She brought back a single charcoal burner with akamawhich is a type of kettle. She set both down on the mat in front of her with precision and grace.

After retracing her steps back to the bar, she returned with achasen–the equivalent to a bamboo whisk. She also had achashakuwhich is a small scoop used to transfer matcha powder to thechawanon the tray. She took a cloth and proceeded to polish the items. Winston watched her like a hawk, and I wondered if she could feel his eyes on her. Was she aware how many observers were witnessing her every move?

The water boiled. Lena poured some into thechawanand swished it. She was about to discard the water into another bowl provided by Mike when Winston said one word. “Stop.” Lena froze like prey catching the scent of danger.

I shifted nervously. Why did he stop her when her performance was beyond reproach?

“Again.”

Lena carefully poured out the cooling water from the bowl and added more from the pot. She took her time, moving the bowl in a circular fashion as she allowed every spot to heat. She poured that out and polished the bowl. She set it down and measured the matcha. If she was nervous, you couldn’t tell, her moves were exact and somehow, sexy.

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