by Lilia Moon
His shoulders relax fractionally. “Yeah. There are a few guys in there too. Anyone with male subs. She’s doing a CBT demo.”
I wince and my cock winces harder.
Scorpio raises a questioning eyebrow.
“Cock ball torture,” says Eli quietly.
Scorpio snickers. “Maybe I should go watch.”
Maybe I should too. I freeze in a rare moment of indecision, half my body still on the stool, half headed into the dungeon.
Quint just watches me, and he isn’t wearing his poker face anymore. There’s a dare in his eyes, but I’m not sure what it is.
It doesn’t matter. This is on me and on what I think my sub needs, even when she’s not being my sub. I lay down my sticks and get my ass all the way off my stool. “I’ll be back in a while.”
I can feel all of their eyes on me as I cross the lounge and push through the door.
Then I’m all out of time to worry about what’s behind me. I’m way too busy staring at what’s in front of me. Four tables laid out in a rough square, and four guys strapped down in various states of mostly naked. I don’t recognize any of them, but I can see enough shakes and questions to guess that they’re all fairly new—or the tops at their sides are. Amelia is roaming between tables, as are a couple of the other experienced Dommes. Ari’s at the side of a gorgeous six-foot-tall redhead, murmuring quiet instructions.
I look down at the device the redhead is trying to put on her sub and shiver.
The redhead glares at her sub. “This would be a lot easier if you didn’t have an erection.”
He grins up at her, totally unrepentant. “Sorry, Mistress, but you’re touching me, and that’s really hot.”
Ari gives him a dirty look. “Quit fucking with her, Sean.”
The redhead raises an eyebrow. “Messing with me, is he?” The hold she takes on his balls looks less than friendly. “I thought we talked about that. No taking advantage of my inexperience or I’ll sit you in a corner while I practice on someone else.”
Sean looks like he’s going to pout and then thinks better of it. “Sorry, Mistress.” This time he mostly sounds like he means it.
Ari hasn’t seen me yet, but Amelia has—and if I thought Quint’s eyes held a dare, they’ve got nothing on the fierce look she pins on me. I meet her gaze as calmly as I can, given how many tortured cocks are currently in my line of sight.
She walks over to me. “Normally we don’t allow audience members who aren’t part of the group, but I’ll make an exception in your case if you can stop wincing.”
I make a face, but my eyes are mostly on my sub. “Sorry.”
She chuckles. “I remember the first time I watched a scene with nipple clamps. I left that night wondering why any woman would ever want to be a submissive.”
That’s part of what’s going on inside me, but not all. I’m far more interested in the walls of glass that seem to be up around my sub. There’s no connection. No energy flowing between us. I study the pair she’s trying to help. Sean looks less aroused now, but judging from the redhead’s level of frustration, that isn’t solving the problem.
She jams the device into Ari’s hands. “Show me. Please.”
For the first time, Ari’s eyes rise up to meet mine. “I can’t, I’m sorry. No hands-on for me tonight.”
The redhead’s eyes widen. “Why? That’s how we learn best.”
Ari looks at her and nods. “I know, and my flogger demo later will be live. But I’m exploring a relationship with someone right now. We talked about boundaries during these demos, but I’m realizing we didn’t do it in enough detail.” She glances at me, and for the first time, there’s warmth in her eyes, and humor, and apology. “Which is a rookie error on my part, but until I know what he thinks about my hands on someone else’s cock, I’m going to stick to walking you through this with my words.”
It’s a fluid, easy answer, one spoken by someone who has navigated this world for years and done it with fearless integrity. Which gets my feet moving before she’s done speaking, even though my cock is trying to run screaming the other way. “He’s thinking that you maybe need a volunteer with a cock you’re welcome to touch.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Ari
Everyone is staring at him. Me too, but I’m not the one who’s most surprised.
Tracey, who is closest to him and new to this and still convinced she needs to use anger to project power, looks him up and down, disdain on her face. “You’re not a sub.”
Jackson keeps his eyes on me. “No, I’m not.”
This man. He knows how to throw us off the deep end with just his words, but I’m not going to let him go swimming alone. I pull my shit as back together as I can get it in a breath. “Then why are you volunteering?” There are a lot of answers to that question that will have me stopping this scene before it goes any further, but I can see his eyes. I don’t think he’s going to give me one of them.
He smiles at me. “Because I’m exploring a relationship with someone right now and we haven’t explored this.”
Right answer. Really right answer. But I drop both of us on our heads if I say that, along with most of the people watching us—although I may end up doing that anyway. I’m about to break one of the most basic rules of kink, and there are only a handful of people in here who will even begin to understand why.
Amelia is watching me and she’s one of them. She’s also the long-time queen of these meetings, and she hasn’t put a stop to this yet. Which means she thinks there’s value in people getting to watch this, even if it could turn into an absolute clusterfuck.
I keep my eyes on the man who will decide that. “I don’t tie up Doms.”
He lifts his shoulders a little. “I’m not a Dom right now. I’m just a guy.” He looks at the device in my hands and I see his nerves, but he doesn’t say anything.
Amelia steps forward, into a line where I can see her eyes without taking them off Jackson. “It’s rare to have a chance to see a demo with a brand-new sub. Perhaps you might change your focus for tonight, Mistress A.”
She’s not leading me, exactly, but she’s trying to help. Letting me off the hook of what I was supposed to do and making that clear for everyone. Clearing the way for me to do what I need to do and what Jackson needs me to do, because this is about way more than him volunteering to get his cock stuffed in a cage.
I stretch my spine, long and tall and supple, breathing into all of who I am when I’m Mistress A. And then I wink at my guy, because he needs to know that some parts of me don’t change. “Your safewords are yellow and red, same as usual. What are your limits for tonight?”
I can hear the quiet huffs of air around me. I’m hooking up the safety lines to a scene and they know it. They’re not the only ones. The door behind Jackson has slid open, and his band is lining up behind him, shoulder to shoulder. Holding us, but I’m not sure he’ll see it that way.
He watches me for a long moment. “The same ones Quint uses for beginner trainees.”
Smart. And brave. That leaves a lot of territory, and he knows I’m capable of taking him into any of it. I line up the things I most need to confirm, because Dommes tend to work a little differently than the topping he’s used to thinking through. “So public nudity, sexual touch, orgasm, light to moderate impact play.”
He nods. I haven’t shaken him yet.
I need to. “Humiliation?”
His eyebrows shoot up, and I see his answer long before he finds polite words to tell me. He shakes his head. “No. Hard limit.”
I smile. “Why?”
His smile back is wry. “Because that doesn’t feel like respect to me, and I’m getting that in a totally different way than I ever did in Dom shoes.”
Amelia chuckles behind me. “He’ll do.”
He looks at her, which is a total breach of protocol, but I don’t much care. “I don’t mean any judgment to people who use it. I know you do, Mistress Amelia, and I know your subs feel like the
y’re better people after you’re done with them.”
Dead silence—and a whole lot of interested, assessing looks.
I growl. Mine.
Jackson’s eyes fly to my face.
I flick my chin at the line of hard-asses over his shoulder. “Any restrictions on who watches?”
He turns around slowly. Scorpio smirks at him. The other two just glower. Jackson might have stepped out of his Dom shoes for a while, but Quint and Eli are clearly committing to holding the territory until he gets back. Just in case anyone tries a sneak invasion.
Jackson turns back around and faces me. He takes a breath, and the nerves are sharper now. “I’m fine with that.”
A gift. One that he’s clearly, quietly offering me because he knows I need this part of who I am to be seen. By him and by them and by everyone. A gift that comes with weight, because this isn’t just about me. It’s about us, and I’m the top in this scene and the pressure of that is a sudden fire in my belly.
He needs me not to fuck this up. He needs me to unwrap my gift and appreciate every bit of him, even if he’s about to struggle like hell.
The fire fuses my backbone into Domme steel. I let him see it in my eyes. “Strip, gorgeous. Everything off.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Jackson
Naked is easy. I tell myself that as I slide the shirt over my head.
There’s an appreciative murmur from my left, one Ari doesn’t even seem to notice. Fine. I take my cues from her. No one else matters. I ditch my boots, and this time the murmurs are more widespread and hold notes of humor.
Ari’s eyes crinkle. “Nice balance, sexy man.”
Okay, the whole approval thing is really weird from this end. Especially for something as simple as not falling over while I unlace my boots. I shrug and unzip my jeans, giving them and my boxers a good shove toward the floor, and then I stop moving, likely looking at least as awkward as I feel. I have no idea what the protocol is at this point. I’m pretty sure it’s not to stand with my pants around my legs, but she hasn’t given me any instructions, either.
She nods, and this time her approval wraps around me and brushes away some of the nerves. “Step out of your pants. Follow me.”
She turns and heads toward the back wall. I can hear clinking and clattering and hushed instructions as I ditch my pants and follow her. People freeing up their subs. Everyone coming to watch.
I’m a drummer. What I do gets better, more important, more potent, when it has an audience. I have no idea whether I care about people staring at my naked ass or not, but I do know I want them watching Ari, because what’s streaming off of her right now is absolutely fucking potent and the world needs to see it.
When she reaches the wall and turns to face me, I realize what I’m seeing in the lines of her body is nothing compared to what lives in her eyes. On her face. In every molecule of what she’s sending my way.
Complete control. Holding me. Holding us.
Something worried inside of me relaxes. It’s okay if I mess this up, if I have no idea how to be a baby sub. She knows. She’s got this and she’s got us and all I have to do is try not to bumble into her way too much.
Her face is all Domme, but there’s something warm in her eyes as she holds out her hands. “Give me your wrists.”
It’s a simple instruction until I see what she’s holding.
Her cuffs. The ones I made her.
The dungeon is dead silent. Everyone knows what they are. What they mean.
Whatever just tensed inside me relaxes. I know what they mean too, and it doesn’t matter which one of us is wearing them. They’re still the very tangible symbol of the two of us giving what lives between us a chance. I hold out my wrists, both of them, and hope she can read the rest of my message in her careful study of my body.
Gladly, beautiful. I’m all yours.
She puts on the cuffs with fast, competent care. Then she wraps her fingers over them and looks up at me—and there’s a glint in her eyes that’s my first warning. All the nerves she’s been calming fire back up with a vengeance.
Mistress A is in the house.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Ari
He’s amazing and he’s mine and the possessive, crazy joy of that is already sending me into topspace, which is a place I go hardly ever. I need to not go there now, or I’m going to blow up the trust that just put his wrists in my hands.
He’s not a sub. I know that, with everything that’s in me. But he’s an explorer, someone who dives deep into who he is, and he’s willing to do this to learn more about himself and to let me shine. Which is a bunch of words to say that he’s doing this for me and it’s okay for me to let him. He’s not hurting himself to do it. And I’m good enough to do this and not make him smaller.
I grin and take back that last thought. I might make some parts of him shrivel a little.
He’s smart enough that wariness flashes in his eyes. I don’t let it live there long. I’ve seen this man drum—I’m not going to have to demand his surrender. I just need to build him a good enough reason to give it. I lift one arm over his head, pleased that he lets me bear its weight. I clamp it on to a steel bar sticking straight out from the wall. Another one of Milo’s inventions. Same functionality as a wall hook, but it lets me keep my sub facing out.
I can see the sheepish humor in Jackson’s eyes as I lift his second arm over his head. He’s recognizing the parallels, which is going to make this fun. Sadly for him, he’s not getting a quickie around the side of the Quint’s bar. Ari would give him that in a hot minute, but Mistress A has different priorities.
She wants to honor his gift.
I bring myself in close to his ear. He has no idea how to be a sub, and there are practicalities involved. “Let the cuffs take your weight. If you feel pain or tingling in your arms or hands or shoulders, I need to know right away.”
He nods, and I can see him adjusting. Testing his weight in the cuffs.
I smile as he lets his head relax against his extended arm. Smart man. I run a finger down his cheek. Amelia would use a crop for this part, but he touches me constantly in scenes and I don’t think he does it just for me. I will want an impact toy, though, and the perfect one suddenly beams into my brain. I crook a finger at Mia and send her hand signs. She can ogle Jackson’s ass later. Right now I need her to go grab me a toy.
Her eyebrows slide up, but she heads off to do my bidding. Which is good, because the only sub in the room who hasn’t been recently tied up is Scorpio, and she’s been taking too many brat lessons from Sam for me to trust her on this particular errand.
Instructions given, I move back to Jackson, letting my eyes run up and down his body, so that he can see that I’m watching and so I can measure his reactions. Male subs are a lot easier to read in some ways, but I’m a smart enough Domme not to rely on his cock as a gauge. It gives a twitch or two as I look at it, but he’s not a guy who’s turned on purely by the idea of what I might do to him next. He’s not afraid of it either. There are nerves, but he’s letting me see them, and they’re small.
I hope Tracey is paying attention. Anger isn’t necessary, and neither is fear.
There’s no bigger source of power in the entire world than trust.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Jackson
She’s barely touching me and I’m already feeling weirdly melted. It takes me a minute, and when I figure it out, I almost laugh. Ari has to be bribed, threatened, and tormented to head into her softness.
Apparently I’m easy.
The strange things you learn when you’re naked and strung up in a dungeon. However, the message of naked and strung up is only reinforcing what rides in Ari’s every breath and touch and look. I’m not in charge. She doesn’t need me to be or want me to be and every time I soften, something important inside her gets a chance to grow.
I know my answer in a heartbeat.
If she wants my bones, she has them.
Her
fingers trail down my chest, drawing a trail through my light curls, scraping a fingernail across my nipple. I see the glint in her eyes as she does that again, and I realize there’s not a damn thing I can do if she wants to stand here for the next hour scratching at my nipples.
That’s the thing that makes my cock go hard. Not the fingernails. The realization that I’m entirely, completely at her mercy.
She glances down and back up at me, her eyebrows rising slightly.
I hope she doesn’t think it’s the fingernails.
She chuckles and traces a path down, detouring around my belly button and my naive, hopeful cock. She draws her fingernails up my thigh, which apparently triggers every nerve ending from there to my balls.
She does it again and I groan.
She smiles and taps her fingers on my cock, hard enough to remind me of the nasty devices in use when I first came in. I wince. I’ve seen Mistress A in action. She’s not generally a kind-and-gentle Domme. The sounds of the crowd whisper over us, a little louder. They know it too.
She swishes her crop through the air and the noise utterly silences.
I’d grin, but I’m a little too much in awe right now. She’s not just dominating me, she’s got the whole dungeon submitting. I wonder how many of them know it.
Ari clears her throat just loudly enough for me to hear. Oops. Mind wandering, and even I know better than that. I lean my head against my arm and watch her eyes. I don’t know how long she’s going to let me do that, but for right now, they let me see all my best reasons for doing this.
Her eyes sharpen and she reaches for me, running competent hands up my ribs to my shoulders. Not trying to arouse this time, just checking in.
I check in too, but my arms are fine. Stretchy. Limber. Like a strange extension of my belly. I’m sure parts of me will feel strangely used tomorrow, but my arms aren’t at the top of my concern list. They’ve been driven to the point of exhaustion and lived to tell the tale more times than I can count.
