“Has that happened before? A bidding war?”
“Twice,” I admitted.
“And?”
I grinned. “The highest bidder won both times.”
TWENTY-NINE
Braelyn
Dinner was a formal affair, complete with a plethora of possessions who brought out and cleared away the five courses. Wine was consumed, conversations were had, and up to this point, it had been an interesting yet relatively, and like I’d told Talon, tame endeavor.
I had always gotten the impression from Ransom that events such as this were, for lack of a better term, raunchy. Naked bodies writhing, other people watching.
Didn’t seem to be the case here. It was your average dinner party, complete with a banquet-sized table, more food than necessary, conversation, laughter, and a few stories being told.
I was expecting something a bit kinkier. I mean, I wasn’t a fetish connoisseur or anything, but my brother was unashamedly into BDSM, his focus on sadomasochism, and I’d heard his stories. Plus, after seeing the possessions passing hands from the resort to the Owners, I’d expected … more.
And, yes, maybe I had some personal knowledge relating to Domination and submission. There for a while, I fancied myself a submissive, thought perhaps the lack of it in my life was the reason I’d never found true happiness. I mean, who wouldn’t question it? My brother always seemed content.
While I had never visited a club, didn’t really have the desire to, I had delved into the online sites and forums. In the beginning, it was a safe way to traverse, to learn, to explore. I met some interesting people, those who claimed they were Dominants, Sadists, even Primals. Others who were submissives with various fetishes. I’d spent months on one site, making some friends, reading their inner musings, even entertaining the idea of making the leap to the real world. I couldn’t count the number of munches—how the BDSM community referred to face-to-face social interactions—I’d been invited to. It was at the first and only one I went to that I met Jake.
I could still remember the day clearly. Walking into the room, it had felt surreal. I wasn’t sure what I had expected, but the reality had been … not a letdown, but perhaps less exciting than what I’d thought it would be. Granted, it had been as they promised, an informal and safe opportunity to put faces with online personas, to interact face-to-face. To put it simply, the get-together had been the meet-and-greet they’d advertised it to be.
Jake and I had maintained contact afterward, opting for text messaging versus returning to the website. When he finally asked me out, I agreed without hesitation. One dinner turned into two, then three, then half a dozen. He took things slow, but I wasn’t sure why that was. By the seventh dinner, I’d grown tired of attempting to make polite conversation as we continued to get to know one another, and I told him as much. Again, I wasn’t sure what I’d expected out of the encounter, but it hadn’t been for Jake to take me back to my apartment and politely talk his way inside.
We had sex for the first time that night. There had been a little domination on his side, but again, I knew he’d been taking care with me. He treated me as though I was fragile, but the sex had been good, so I’d given him the benefit of the doubt. More sex, a little more domination. Firm words, a couple of commands. I kept waiting for more, but it never came, so once again, I told him what I wanted.
I should’ve realized at that point that he wasn’t a Dominant. He wanted to play the part, but it was like an ill-fitting suit. Just didn’t sit right on him. The same could be said for me making a go at being a submissive. In my mind, being a submissive was something far different than what I found it to be. I’d romanticized it, turned it into a fairy tale.
For the record, I still wanted that fairy tale, regardless of whether it made me a submissive or not.
I had genuinely liked Jake, and I thought perhaps we could explore the world of BDSM together. I was as clear as I could be about what I wanted, and he made efforts to meet my needs. Most failed, others I simply ignored. Roughly ten months in, I realized that, at some point, the roles had reversed. I had become the dominating partner, Jake the submissive. I had hated it. Immensely. And I suspected he had, too.
Whether we just hadn’t meshed or neither of us really knew what we wanted, it hadn’t mattered. Eventually we agreed that we were not going to make one another happy and had parted ways. Almost immediately, I returned to the website, desperate to find someone who could satisfy the needs that had been building over the year Jake and I were together. I went on two dates with two different men shortly after that. Neither had gone well. One guy had been ridiculously rude and demanding; the other could not stop saying the word pussy.
I gave up at that point, convinced it wasn’t for me. I’d romanticized the notion partly because of Ransom but mostly because I had relied on fictional storytelling as my basis. Hearing my brother talk about some of his encounters and reading about those happy-ever-afters with mind-blowing sex, I’d clearly set my expectations too high.
In my defense, it wasn’t like Ransom gave me the intimate details of his real-life rendezvous. We were close, sure. Not only was he my brother, he was my best friend, but there were still some things that were off-limits. However, I did enjoy hearing his thoughts on it. Not the gory details, but what he got out of a scene or an interaction with one of the many submissives he encountered.
When I told him what had happened with Jake, how we couldn’t find a middle ground that pleased us both, Ransom told me I would have to experience a lot of that before I found the one Dominant who would truly understand me and before I would find the Dominant I was eager to please.
Problem was, I didn’t want to weed through men in an attempt to find the one, Dominant or otherwise. While I enjoyed sex immensely, there were too many risks involved, and being promiscuous didn’t sit well with me. For one, I tended to lead with my heart, not my vagina. In turn, I looked for an emotional connection. How would I get through a handful of men that way?
The simple answer was, I wouldn’t. So, I had given up trying. If relationships required that much work, I had no interest in them.
However, I did still have an interest in understanding the intricate relationships that developed within the BDSM realm. And right here, beneath this very roof, were several I could probably learn a lot from.
One thing that was important to note, visiting websites and forums dedicated to BDSM was entirely different than witnessing it firsthand. For one, looking away wasn’t really … well, an option. Not because anyone was forcing me to participate. Like the times I’d watched Talon and his submissives. No, it was more like witnessing a car accident. Try as you might, not wanting to see the carnage went against human nature.
The same could be said for when a woman invited another man to sit on her husband’s lap.
Yep. That was exactly what happened when we were three-quarters of the way through dessert.
Brad and Leah Townsend—as well as their possession—had been on their best behavior throughout the meal. I didn’t know the possession’s name and had already forgotten his number, and I wondered if I was getting comfortable with the concept.
As it was, Talon and I were sitting directly across from Brad and Leah. Throughout the meal, I’d noticed them keeping a close eye on their object of interest. Evidently, Leah had been waiting for the right moment, and for whatever reason, she decided dessert was the perfect time to instruct her husband to push back his chair and urged the possession to straddle his lap, facing him.
Tame, I’d thought.
From my spot, I could see the hard lines of the shirtless possession’s back, the taut muscles. He had reddish-gold hair that was cut in a traditional manner, ivory skin that was lightly browned by the sun, and a smattering of freckles across his shoulders. He was a fairly decent contrast to Brad’s olive complexion and dark hair.
No one else at the table seemed at all bothered by the public display or the way the possession was now fondling Brad openly.
I couldn’t see exactly, but every so often, Brad’s fingers would curl over those wide shoulders, pressing firmly, pulling him in as though touching wasn’t nearly enough.
I didn’t expect the heat that began churning in my veins. The sight was turning me on, but I couldn’t pinpoint the reason for it. Was it the fact it was two men? Admittedly, that was something I’d always been curious about. But curiosity had turned to captivation thanks to the interactions I’d witnessed between Talon and his possessions. Or because we were having a meal and this was clearly about to take an unexpected, not to mention raunchy, turn.
“Stroke him harder,” Leah instructed.
The possession’s biceps flexed as his hands continued to move between him and Brad. I forced myself to look away, glancing at Leah.
It was still difficult to wrap my head around the fact she was the Dominant in the relationship, but clearly she was.
I figured that was due to my own lack of experience in that realm. I’d never read a book about a Dominatrix, nor had Ransom ever really shared any stories of such encounters. I figured the fact I associated more as a submissive kept me from relating to the dynamic there. However, I knew it was true because I’d witnessed it firsthand in her hotel room, the way she’d brought out Brad—who’d been awkwardly naked—then taken charge with her inspection of the possession.
So my question: was she seeking the possession for herself or for Brad? Or maybe both?
I would never pretend to understand human desires. They varied in so many ways. Even my own.
I was curious as to why they’d chosen now to get more acquainted with their new toy, but again, I couldn’t seem to look away.
Which was probably the reason I didn’t notice right away that Laura was at the far end of the table, a look of sheer ecstasy on her face. Again, I didn’t have a clear view, but from what I could tell, she had a possession kneeling in front of her. Her chair was pushed back from the table, her hand settled on something—likely his head—between her splayed thighs.
Heat swamped me. The fact that I couldn’t see made it all the more erotic. My imagination was running away from me.
I swallowed hard, then reached over and touched Talon’s leg. “I think I need some air.”
He didn’t hesitate, pushing back from the table and assisting me to my feet. He led the way outside, Taurus directly behind us.
“Do they always do that?”
“We give them carte blanche to explore while on the premises.” Talon took my hand, cupped it in both of his, and held it against his chest as we walked toward the waterfall. “Have you never been to a club before?”
“No,” I admitted. “Never.”
“Well, like I said, this is par for the course. Once they get comfortable, it only gets more intense. Because this is their opportunity to get intimately acquainted with what they’re intending to keep for a lifetime, they tend to take advantage of every minute.”
In a strange way, that made sense.
“How did it make you feel?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that, but I knew I had to be truthful. Both with myself and with Talon. If I started lying or making excuses to avoid embarrassment, I would likely start believing it. I didn’t want to do that.
“It made me hot,” I admitted, stopping on the winding path. “I didn’t expect it. Couldn’t look away, either.”
“Not an unusual reaction,” Talon noted. “What was it that turned you on?”
That was a good question, so I considered it for a moment.
“I think it was the visual aspect,” I finally said.
“Not the dominance?”
I turned to face Talon. “No.”
“You sound certain.”
“I am.”
“How so?”
“Partly because the Dominant was a woman, I think. It didn’t affect me at all. Plus, I’ve tried that whole thing before,” I admitted. “Thinking I was submissive, seeking a Dominant. It didn’t work out.”
“Why?”
“You like to get right to the heart of the matter, don’t you?” I countered, sighing heavily.
“It’s the only way to work through something, or so I’ve learned from experience.”
Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure this was the time or place for me to work through this issue.
Especially not when I was seconds away from throwing myself at this man.
*
TALON
It was bold of me to question Braelyn so thoroughly. I wouldn’t apologize for it, because I wanted to know. And because I knew she was trying to work through it on her own.
I had witnessed her reaction to Brad and Leah, the way her breathing had grown labored when she’d watched the possession handling the submissive, stroking Brad while he clung to him like a man in desperate need of release. That had been what Braelyn had enjoyed. When Leah had barked her command, I noticed Braelyn had lost most of her interest, shifting her attention to the brazen woman at the other end of the table who’d put one of her potential possession’s oral skills to good use.
“Tell me,” I urged, keeping an edge in my voice.
Braelyn sighed, turning to face the water washing over the rocky ledges leading into one of the wading pools.
“I dated a guy once,” she said softly. “He was a Dominant. It didn’t work out for us.”
“Because you didn’t enjoy being dominated or because he failed to meet your expectations?”
“A little of both. Part of it was his … lack of domination. I think he wanted to be the alpha in the relationship, he just didn’t know how to go about it.”
“Taurus, bring us drinks,” I commanded my possession. When he went off to do my bidding, I turned back to Braelyn, who was still facing the waterfall. “Did you hear what you just said?”
She turned to face me, her dark eyebrows lowered. “I’m sorry?”
“You said this man you dated wanted to be a Dominant. As though he could go to the store, select it like one would a tie. When he got it exactly the way he liked it, approved of the fact it matched the look he was going for, he would don it for a while.”
She continued to stare at me.
“You understand that’s not how it works, don’t you?”
Still no words.
“So what was it about this man that made him a Dominant?”
“He said he liked to be the boss.”
Said and liked to be were the words I heard in that comment. None of them were very inspirational.
I grinned, stared out over her head.
“What? It’s a quality of a good Dominant,” she declared.
“Did you read that somewhere?”
Her dark brows lowered. “I’ve done my research on the subject, sure. You can find a lot of information online.”
“Online?”
Her gaze held strong when she said, “You’re into BDSM.”
“If you’re stating I enjoy bondage, discipline, domination, and submission, then I would agree. I don’t care much for sadomasochism, though, but I figure there’s a time and place for everything.”
“Ransom says you’re a Primal.”
Yes, I’d heard that before. “That’s a label someone pinned on me long ago.”
“So you’re not?”
“Labels are a way to define someone’s preferences so others are aware of them. Similar to me being referred to as a Primal in the club. Those submissives who identify as prey are seeking that. By labeling me, they figure it’ll draw me to them. For the record, it won’t.”
“So what do you identify with?”
“People often feel the need to place themselves in a category. I don’t do well being confined to a box.”
“But you like rough sex,” she said, the statement more of an inquiry than an accusation.
Figuring there was no need to soften the blow, I answered with, “I like sex. Mood dictates preference.”
“Am I to assume you’re into open relationships?”
“Y
ou can assume anything you’d like.”
Braelyn huffed, and it was a cute sound, one that drew a smile out of me, as well as clarification.
“No, I’m not into open relationships. I do not share my possessions with others, and those are the only relationships, if you want to call them that, I maintain. I do not have an affinity to claim something as my own and learn that someone else is indulging. What about you? You evidently entertained the idea of a dominant lover, even if he didn’t fulfill your needs. Does that make you a submissive?”
“No, I tried it. Wasn’t impressed,” she stated, as though that made any sense at all. “Plus, based on what my brother’s told me, I don’t think I’d care much for the club scene.”
“The club is merely a location for like-minded individuals. It has nothing to do with whether you prefer to dominate or submit. I believe, deep down, we’ve all got the desire to do one or the other. Rarely both, but there are some who fit the bill.”
“Like Tiegan?”
I stepped up behind Braelyn, pressed my chest to her back, leaned down so my mouth was near her ear. “Tiegan is not a switch. Try as she might to cloak herself as a Dominant, it goes against every true desire she has. But that man right there…” I pointed to one of the Owners down near the pool. “He’s definitely a Dominant.”
Braelyn’s breath hitched as she watched the scene play out before us. The Owner was sitting on one of the lounge chairs, a possession draped across his thighs. Every so often he would smack the possession’s ass with a bare hand before fingering his asshole. Repeat.
“Why’s he being punished?” Braelyn whispered.
“Could be anything. Or nothing at all.”
She watched for a minute or so before peering back over her shoulder. “Did Tiegan leave the island?”
“She did. With Memphis. They have some business dealings to tend to.”
“I thought she was your assistant.”
“She was. I’ve promoted her to marketing. She’ll be working under Memphis.” At least, if he took the job.
“Really? But … so what’re you going to do? About her not working for you?”
Owned (Office Intrigue Book 8) Page 34
