Not Safe For Work

by L. A. Witt

  When he was apparently satisfied that the liquid was the right consistency, the Dom lifted the ladle from the pot. He held it over the sub’s back, turned it, and let a single string of wax fall.

  It dropped straight down. It hit the sub’s shoulder.

  And she screamed.

  Every sadist in the room squirmed. The subs did too, and the ones who’d had wax before were obvious—they either winced like they knew exactly what it felt like, or they damn near started drooling as they watched the Dom drizzle the molten liquid across the whimpering woman’s back.

  Against the wall, a good-looking guy around my age was watching intently, arms folded across his mostly bare chest, leather pants barely containing one hell of an erection. One boot was pressed flat against the wall, and the woman on her knees had his full attention.

  She glanced up at one point, making eye contact with him. He smiled, dipping his chin in the slightest of nods, and she smiled too before another drizzle of hot wax forced another cry out of her. He’d probably have to carry her out of here when this was over, and soothe and cuddle her for hours to keep her from crashing when she came out of subspace, but I couldn’t imagine a Dom who would protest that. And when she was back on terra firma, he’d likely reward her handsomely for pleasing the other Dom as well as she obviously was right then.

  I shifted my weight.

  “You all right?” Rick asked.

  “Oh yes.” I licked my lips. Whispering so softly, only he would be able to hear me, I asked, “Is that what you want?”

  He fixed his gaze on the woman and the wax. “Yes. Please.”

  “Didn’t realize you were that into pain.”

  “It’s not… It’s not the pain.”

  “Then…?”

  Before he could speak, the woman cried out again, pulling against her bindings, and we both exhaled. I wasn’t even sure if Rick had the slightest inkling of attraction to women, but the scene clearly held his attention as much as it held mine.

  He swallowed and kept his focus on the Dom pouring wax on the whimpering sub. “Pain’s fun, but something like that requires so much trust. It’s the same reason I’d be into breath play if it wasn’t so dangerous.” He turned his head toward me. “It’s not the pain. It’s the trust it takes to let someone cause that kind of pain.”

  I rested my hand on the small of his back. “So, giving someone permission to do something that could cause an injury, but trusting that they won’t.”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  I glanced at the Dom against the wall. The one with the ladle. The sub. The one against the wall again. “Would you trust me enough to—”

  “Yes.” He licked his lips. “Completely.”

  I held his gaze. My pulse was going crazy now, my body temperature skyrocketing, and not just because of my leather pants. I had a beautiful, willing submissive with me—what the hell were we doing watching someone else?

  “Let’s go.” I leaned in and whispered in his ear, “We’re going to find a private area so I can put you on your knees.”

  His Adam’s apple jumped. “L-lead the way…”

  As we went looking for a room, I said, “You really do want to try the wax, don’t you?”

  He blinked a few times like he was struggling to focus. “Y-yes.”

  “You have any idea how much it turns me on to imagine you all covered in wax while I’m fucking you?”

  A heavy breath rushed out of his parted lips, and he whispered, “Oh God.”

  I barely kept myself from shivering. Melted wax all over that beautiful back? The sounds he’d make? The way he’d be trembling and struggling to hold himself up?

  Oh yes. We had to do this. Soon.

  But for tonight…

  All the rooms with locks on the doors turned out to be occupied, but we found a semiprivate one that a group had just finished using. It was open, so people could come and go, but not quite as exposed as the one where the wax and caning scenes had been going on.

  “This will work.” I shoved the backpack off Rick’s shoulders. Before it had even hit the floor, I kissed him. Hands on his neck, body against his, I forced his lips apart, and all thoughts of tying, topping, tormenting him left my brain. I didn’t care what we did right then—I just needed to have him. My hands on him, my mouth on him, my erection rubbing against him or moving inside him. I hadn’t been this horny in ages.

  Panting, I broke the kiss. I took a breath to speak, ready to tell him to find the lube and condoms in the backpack, but he gazed back at me with blown pupils, brow knitted and nothing short of “anything you want, please” written all over his face.

  In a heartbeat, all those thoughts of tying, topping, tormenting came flooding back.

  Oh yes. Oh. Yes. I hadn’t brought him here just to fuck him. There’d be time for that later.

  I licked my lips. “Put the backpack over there.” I nodded toward a table at the edge of the room. Beside it was a wooden St. Andrew’s Cross, and Rick’s gaze immediately went to that.

  Yes, Rick. Take a good look. You’re going to get to know that thing very well this evening.

  “Ever been on one of those?” I asked.

  He nodded. “It’s been a while, but…yeah. Not one that was made out of wood, though.”

  “The metal ones are cool, but I think the wooden ones have more character.”

  He arched his eyebrow. “A torture device with character?”

  “Well yeah. Sets the mood.” I winked. “And don’t worry. The wood’s been sanded and treated so many times over, I don’t think it’s even possible to get a splinter.”

  “That’s a plus, I guess.”

  “It is. But splinters or not, it will be cold, which means I want you naked against it.”

  Rick shuddered hard.

  “Clothes off.” I jerked my chin toward the table. “You can leave them there.”

  Immediately, he started unbuttoning that nice dress shirt.

  “Wear something that looks good, but you don’t mind getting ripped.”

  “Ripped?”

  “Yes. Ripped.”

  I put up a hand. “Wait.”

  He froze, fingers still on a button that was halfway through the buttonhole.

  I gently nudged his hands out of the way. “On second thought…” I grabbed the front of his partially unbuttoned shirt and dragged him to me.

  “In case I haven’t mentioned it lately,” I murmured against his lips, “you are a walking, talking turn-on.”

  He may have tried to say something, but his mouth was now occupied, so all that came out was a muffled moan.

  Still kissing him, still demanding his attention and his breath, I snapped the first button off his shirt.

  He gasped, nearly breaking the kiss, but recovered. When I pulled it farther apart, ripping another button off, he did break away, letting his head fall back as a shiver jerked his body so hard I thought he was going to drop.

  I snapped the third button, and then pushed his shirt over his shoulders. With the shirt half off and pulled down to his elbows, his arms were effectively pinned. I kissed the side of his neck, working my way down to the top of his shoulder, and wrapped my arms around him.

  “I want you completely naked,” I breathed against his neck as I ran my hands all over his chest and abs. “Fuck, I always want you completely naked.”

  He released a ragged breath and pressed his erection against me.

  I teased his hard nipple with my thumbnail. “You’re going to get undressed. And then I’m going to tie you to that cross, and then I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want.”

  Rick shuddered hard. “Yes, please.”

  “Clothes off.” I let him go. “Stand up against it. Facing me.”

  He immediately started on his belt, and while he did that, I unzipped the backpack I’d brought. In it were four small coils of rope, which I laid out on the table beside the cross.

  As soon as Rick was naked—my God, he was gorgeous—he stood in fr
ont of the cross.

  “Perfect,” I said, picking up a coil of rope. I stood in front of him, drinking in the sight of his lean, naked body against the wooden X. Then, with a hand flat across his stomach, I nudged him back so he was touching the wood.

  He sucked in a breath.

  “Cold?” I asked.

  “A bit.”

  “Good. Arm up.”

  He lifted his arm, and I guided it into place on one of the upper slats. Then I wound the first rope around his wrist and the slat. It was tight—he wasn’t going anywhere—but had enough play for him to move and flex a little bit if he needed to.

  I picked up the rope and started on his other arm. Once it was secure, I stepped back and looked him over. Fuck yes. He was even hotter now. Ropes around his wrists. Arms immobile. Torso stretched just right to emphasize the powerful muscles and narrow hips. A body like this was made to be tied like that.

  “Comfortable?” I asked.

  “Not sure that’s the word I’d use, but I’m—” He met my gaze, and then quickly cleared his throat and lowered his eyes. “Comfortable. Yes.”

  “Good.” I cupped his cock and balls. “Remember who’s in control here.” Squeezing enough to make his breath catch, I added, “Not a good time to be a smartass, is it?”

  “N-no. Sorry.”

  I eased my grip and kissed his cheek. “That’s what I thought.” I paused, turning serious. “Anything tingles or gets cold, say so.”

  Rick nodded. “Understood.”

  “Safe word?”

  “Red.”

  “And you can use it…?”

  “Any time.”

  “Good.” I kissed beneath his jaw. “I’m going to tie your ankles.”

  He nodded again. “Okay.”

  I held his gaze, looking for any reason to believe it wasn’t actually okay. Finding none, I kissed him again, this time on the mouth. Then I returned to the table for more rope.

  As I bound his ankle, I glanced up. His eyes were closed, but his breathing was still even and his fingers still loosely curled. So far, so good.

  Footsteps turned my head. Master Greg, a gigantic Dom who’d been a member for eons, appeared in the doorway. He scanned the room, probably to make sure he wasn’t interrupting an in-progress scene, and then met my gaze. “You gentlemen need anything?”

  “No, we’re good. Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.” And then he disappeared.

  “Owner?” Rick asked, eyeing the empty doorway.

  “No. Just a guy who’s been here forever.” I paused to tug on the knot and make sure it was secure. “They always have some people wandering around to make sure things are going smoothly. You know, in case a sub is getting in over their head, or a scene is getting out of hand somehow.”

  His eyes widened. “Do they have that much of a problem with Doms who don’t know what they’re doing?”

  “No, not at all. I guess… I mean, every sub should feel safe with his Dom, but that extra added safety net is good for that rare occasion when a bad apple makes it in here.”

  “What happens when they do?”

  I gestured at the door. “Did you see that guy? He could break somebody in half.”

  Rick laughed. “Good point.”

  “Personally, I’m all for anything that makes people feel secure enough to play.” I knotted the rope, and then stood, gritting my teeth when my knees crackled, but at least the squeak of my leather trousers masked the sound. “You feel safe and secure, right?”

  He glanced at the rope on his wrist. “Secure would definitely describe it, yes.”

  I bit back a laugh and moved closer. “Smartass.”

  “Sorry.” He cringed. “I didn’t—”

  I cupped his cock and balls again. “You seem to keep forgetting who’s in charge here.”

  “No. Not forgetting. Just—” He gulped. “Lightening the mood?”

  “Mmhmm. One would almost think you want me to torture the hell out of you just to remind you who’s in charge.”

  He schooled his expression, but his dick gave him away, stiffening in my hand.

  “You like the sound of that, don’t you?”

  He watched me for a second, then nodded. “I like…I like the way you torture me.”

  “You want to be tortured like that woman in the other room? With the wax?”

  The shudder that ran through him shook his whole body hard enough to make the ropes creak and protest. “Yes.”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  He closed his eyes, pulling in a deep breath through his nose. “Thank you.”

  “If you behave.” I trailed a hand up his side. “Which means no being a smartass. Understood?”

  “Yes.” He nodded vigorously. “Under…understood.”

  “And no coming when I haven’t given you permission.”

  “N-no coming. Got it.”

  “Look at me, Rick.”

  He slid his gaze toward me, and if I hadn’t been hard already, I’ve have gotten that way in a hurry. One look at those beautiful eyes—lids heavy over blown pupils—and I was definitely glad I’d included condoms and lube in my kit tonight. Sex didn’t always come into play at a club like this. Tonight? Oh yes. It would.

  I teased his nipple with my thumbnail. “You are amazingly sexy when you’re like this, you know that? Tied up. All mine. I can tease you. I can flog you. That bag’s got all kinds of evil toys in it.” I ran my hand down his quivering abs and over his cock. “Or I could just do this”—I stroked him slowly, lightly, my grip so loose I was barely touching him at all—“and not let you come.”

  He dug his teeth into his lower lip. His bindings creaked, but he didn’t seem to mind, and as much as his position allowed, he rocked his hips, fucking into my hand.

  I let go. He cursed.

  Chuckling, I teased his balls with the lightest touch imaginable. “If I wanted to, I could get down on my knees and suck your dick, and you’d still be at my mercy. Under my control. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Y-yes.” His jaw was tight, his skin already beginning to flush from his throat down onto his chest.

  “In theory,” I whispered, “I could even fuck myself on your—”

  Nearby, someone cried out. Pain, ecstasy—could’ve been either or both. Either way, Rick’s eyes flicked toward the sound. His body tensed, and the ropes creaked. His eyes darted up to one tightly clenched fist. Then the other. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

  “Rick, focus. Look at—”

  In another room, a whip cracked. Someone shouted.

  He tensed again. Subtly, but unmistakably, he was breathing faster. His eyes darted to one side, then the other, as if trying to keep track of all the sounds coming from elsewhere in the club.

  “Rick. Look at me.”

  He did.

  For a second.

  Then a strangled cry jerked his attention to the side. He squeezed his eyes shut, lips pulling tight.

  Cold water shot through my veins.

  I touched his shoulder. “Rick?”

  “I’m…” He opened his eyes. “I’m good.” But his chest rose and fell far too quickly.

  Without a second thought, I grabbed the scissors and, with a few quick snips, cut through the ropes—first his ankles, then his wrists.

  As soon as he was free, Rick slumped forward, rubbing his hands and wrists. “I didn’t say the safe word,” he murmured.

  “How much longer would you have gone before you did?”

  He lifted his gaze, and if I’d had any doubt that I’d done the right thing, it vanished. “We…hadn’t even done anything.”

  “You were tied, though. It’s not hard to start panicking when you can’t move. Trust me—it happens.”

  He muttered something I didn’t understand. Then he took a step but faltered, grabbing my arm for balance.

  “Easy,” I said. “Here, come on. Let’s sit until your equilibrium is back.” I shoved all of my things aside, and we both sat on the table. As
soon as we were situated, I put an arm around his shoulders and let him lean on me. “It’s just me now.” I smoothed his hair. “Not your Dom. Just me. Jon.”

  He closed his eyes, and the breath he released was made of defeat and resignation. He reached for the remains of his bonds. “Those ropes are expensive.”

  “And I keep the scissors with me for a reason.” I cradled his face and pressed a soft kiss to the sweaty, feverish skin just beneath his hairline. “I’d rather cut a rope than push a sub too far.”

  He didn’t answer.

  I moved my hands to his shoulders. “Are you doing okay?

  “Yeah. I’m…” He rubbed both hands over his face. “I feel like an idiot.”

  “Not at all.” I wrapped my arms around him and let him rest his head against my shoulder as I stroked his naked back.

  “We’ve barely gotten to spend any time together,” he said. “I’m sorry to fuck it up.”

  “Don’t be. You’ve done nothing wrong. If you had, I’d be punishing you. Not…” I held him tighter and kissed the top of his head.

  He released a long breath, and slowly, his whole body relaxed. I kept on holding him. Though I’d never been a sub myself, I’d seen others before him go through this, and it could seem devastating in the moment. He’d been in a headspace where rational thought didn’t always exist, and when things went wrong, it all went to shit, and it felt like a catastrophic failure. Letting his Dom down. Being too weak, too much of a coward, to handle a simple scene.

  Tomorrow, he’d understand. Tonight, he just needed me to understand.

  “Thank you,” he whispered after a while. “For catching on when you did.”

  “I wouldn’t be worth my salt as a Dom if I didn’t.”

  “You’d be surprised how many Doms don’t.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.” I kissed his temple. “Doesn’t make it right.”

  He exhaled and leaned against me, and I just held on to him, stroking his hair and breathing slowly, steadily, in hopes that he’d subconsciously match my breathing pattern.