Out of the Dungeon Read Free Page B

consciousness, but it was the
smell of coffee that snapped his eyes open. He grabbed his phone to
check to time – it was early, not even eight o'clock. He was
supposed to make the coffee and deliver it to Roman in bed. It was
ritual, expected. It was one his simpler tasks, one that didn't
require him to be immersed in submission. And it was pleasant
because Roman was easy to be with when he was drowsy and
content.
    Roman wasn't always easy. But coffee mornings
had the potential for hours of gentle teasing and unfettered sex.
Dare looked forward to spending time with Roman that wasn't
complicated. Uncomplicated moments were rare, and so they developed
a special significance. Like bronzing baby shoes, or putting
mementos into a keepsake box.
    Jeff left for work early on Fridays, and
sometimes Dare had Roman to himself for half the day. And however
unfair it was, Dare looked forward to it. The complications of this
three-way love affair were getting tiresome. There just wasn't
enough of Roman to ever keep either Jeff or Dare content sharing
his affection. Dare thought he and Jeff were like children vying
for the attention of a parent. Sibling rivalry to the extreme.
    The rivalry caused Dare to consent to new
experiences faster than he would otherwise, and hold his tongue and
choke back his safe word, in some asinine attempt compete with
Jeff's ability to be the perfect submissive. It was stupid on
Dare's part because Jeff and Roman had been together for a dozen
years. Roman was Jeff's perfect Master, and Jeff was Roman's
perfect slave because they had grown into Dominance and submission
together. Between them, over a period of years, they defined what
their personal D/s looked like and how it worked. There wasn't a
chance in hell that Dare could compete with that.
    At the beginning, when the whole scene was
new to Dare, he'd teased Jeff about being the perfect urban
housewife. Jeff was forever running around the apartment, sorting
mail, picking stuff up and putting it away, cooking their meals,
cleaning up. Taking the garbage out. Scrubbing toilets. Jeff kept
the apartment spotless, and all while sporting an impressive
erection. Hell, he probably fantasized about organizing
closets.
    Dare allowed Roman to coax him well beyond
his comfort zone, and it was erotic, but unloading the dishwasher
would never be a turn on. Bringing the coffee was about as much
servitude as Dare could stand.
    Jeff had declared early on that Dare was a
bottom, not a slave. And Dare agreed. He still basically lived with
his cousin, and if he failed to stay hard while unloading Roman's
dishwasher, he didn't internalize it or consider it a failure. He'd
known from the beginning that he had no desire to live as a slave
like Jeff.
    Dare knew he frustrated Roman with
non-compliance, but it wasn't on purpose. What Roman had with Jeff
was unusual, lucky, maybe, the perfect Master/slave complement that
fulfilled the desires of both. It was no wonder their relationship
stayed strong over the years, even though Jeff loved being in love
and sometimes had a wandering eye. It was pretty obvious that Roman
had been counting on Jeff's next love affair being Dare. But it
wasn't happening. Jeff and Dare didn't have the spark required for
romance. Dare was an interloper in this relationship, a sharp,
painful point of the triangle, the member of the triad who's very
presence jabbed Jeff and caused him constant pain.
    Roman acted like he didn't realize that Jeff
was unhappy, though Dare couldn't fathom that. A huge part of
Roman's BDSM was his ability to pay attention. But it didn't
matter, because Dare had already made the decision to walk away.
Roman and Jeff had been happy together for a dozen years. Whether
Roman loved Dare, or Dare maybe loved Roman, didn't figure into the
equation. It was unfair for Jeff to give up personal autonomy and
independence and then be forced into a polyamorous relationship
that he didn't want. Dare and Roman were an interlude, not a
lifetime