“Anyway,” Scott said with a dismissive gesture in our waiter’s direction. “So I suppose I don’t have to ask if your neighbor knows about what’s going on with us?”
“Yeah, he knows,” I laughed.
“Doesn’t weird him out?”
I shrugged. “Evidently not. I didn’t get a chance to ask in between all the orgasms.”
Scott’s eyebrows jumped. “He gave you a few, I take it?”
“More than a few.”
He grinned. “Oh, well done, that man.” The grin faded to a more serious expression. With seriousness came discretion, apparently, and when he spoke again, he kept his voice down, almost whispering. “And speaking of what’s going on with us, how are you doing with, well, with what we’re doing?”
“It’s… new.”
“But are you still comfortable with it? Still enjoying it?”
“Scott Moore, don’t ask stupid questions.” I sipped my drink and rolled my eyes. “If I wasn’t enjoying it, I’d have told you by now.”
“So I’m not frustrating you to the point you want to claw my eyes out?”
“I didn’t say that.”
He smiled. “Okay, so you’re still comfortable with all of this, then. Anything new you want to try?”
“I’m still getting the hang of everything you’ve thrown at me,” I said. “Haven’t come up with anything to add.”
“Have you thought about switching?”
I tapped my fingers on the side of my glass. “Yeah, a little.”
“And?”
“I like being a sub, but I’m curious about being a Domme, too.”
He laughed. “I knew you were a switch.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes again. “You were right, as always.”
“You’re learning.” He winked.
“Okay, so how do I go about finding a sub?”
“Well, you can look online,” he said. “There are a lot of sites that cater to this lifestyle. I’d be happy to help if you wanted to try contacting a few.” He shrugged. “Or we can go to a BDSM club.”
“Wait, they have clubs?”
“Indeed they do.”
“Do I even want to know?”
He winked. “Probably.”
“Do tell.”
“Oh, where to start…” He took a breath. “This place actually started out years ago as a swinger club. A lot of the swingers that went to that particular club were into kink, and it just kind of evolved into a BDSM club.”
I cast a self-conscious glance around the room, certain the other restaurant patrons would hear even though he was practically whispering. Turning back toward him, I said as quietly as I could, “So everyone there now is into kink?”
“Mostly, yes. Some are still just swingers that are into more vanilla stuff, or who prefer to watch, but it’s mostly Doms and subs.”
“What exactly do they do at this club?”
He rested his forearms on the table. “Well, it’s basically a place where Doms and subs get together to play. Some people just chit chat, others get involved in some pretty complicated, crazy scenes. I sometimes just watch, sometimes share one of my subs with another Dom, things like that.” He grinned. “If you think my dungeon is crazy, you should see the ones at this place. Saint Andrew’s Crosses, racks, you name it, they have it.”
“Wow.” I shook my head. “Sounds like a completely different world.”
“Compared to the vanilla world?” He laughed. “Oh yeah, you could say that.” Thumbing his chin, he inclined his head a little and looked at me with total seriousness in his eyes. “I was planning to go next Saturday. Do you want to go?”
Nerves twisted my stomach into knots. “I, um…”
“You don’t have to.”
“Actually, I want to,” I said. “Sounds like it could be… interesting.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, you could say that.”
Before I could speak, the waiter appeared again.
He set the glass of red wine in front of Scott. “Cabernet Sauvignon.”
Scott glanced up and smiled. “Thank you.”
Once the waiter had gone, Scott picked up the glass and slowly swirled it. “We’ll talk more about the club between now and Saturday. For now, I’m just glad to hear you’re still okay with this. And still interested in trying new things.”
“What can I say? You’ve piqued my curiosity.”
His eyes narrowed slightly as he grinned. “So I have.”
He sipped his wine. Then, his eyes never leaving mine, he set the glass down. When he unbuttoned the cuff of his left sleeve, my heart fluttered. As he rolled his sleeve to just below his elbow, a prickle of déjà vu inched its through me. I sucked in a breath when he went for his other wrist, my entire body tingling as he unbuttoned and carefully rolled his right sleeve just like he had the left. With both sleeves in place, he reached for his glass again, and I squeezed my thighs together, squirming in my seat as he took another sip.
“Comfortable?” he asked, and just as I knew it would, his voice had that edge to it. That sharpness that marked the change from friend to Dom.
“Yes, Sir.” The two words automatically slipped off my tongue before I snapped my mouth shut.
“Good.”
He was probably smirking. Or looking at me with that familiar icy look. I didn’t know, though, because I kept my eyes down.
Scott Moore, you son of a bitch. With nothing more than a series of benign, simple motions, he’d changed us. At his whim, he flipped the switch and we became Dom and sub.
Resting his forearms on the table, he leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “Did you think domination ended in the bedroom, Kristen?” He laid his hand on the table between us, palm up, and beckoned. Automatically, I put my hand over his. He closed his fingers around my wrist, his grasp firm but not uncomfortable.
“Answer me,” he said sharply.
“I hadn’t thought about it, Sir,” I whispered.
His hand slid from my wrist to my fingers. Voice low, he said, “Tell me the truth, Kristen. Being around all these people, out in public…” He raised my hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss onto the backs of my fingers. “…knowing you’ve surrendered complete control to me, that even in a place like this, I am your Master…” He blew a soft, cool breath onto my kiss-moistened skin. “…it turns you on, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir.” There was no point in denying it. If he hadn’t already known, the goose bumps on my arm would have given me away.
He lowered my hand, but didn’t let it go. Drawing light circles on my wrist with his fingertip, he whispered, “To anyone else in this room, we’re just a couple of lovers. Look around.”
I did. Dozens of people sat in pairs and groups, absorbed in their own conversations or exchanging dreamy gazes, completely oblivious to the power exchange going on a table or two away.
“Yet here we are,” Scott went on, “in the middle of a respectable restaurant, surrounded by respectable people, and not one of them knows what I’ve done to you.” He leaned a little closer and spoke even softer. “They don’t know what I’ve done to you, what I’m doing to you, or what I will do to you.”
I pressed my lips together and tried not to visibly shudder.
The waiter appeared. “Can I get you anything else?”
Scott brushed his thumb across the backs of my fingers, pretending to be completely oblivious to my shiver as he turned to the waiter. “Check, please.” As soon as the waiter left, Scott trailed a finger along the inside of my wrist. “Our own dirty little secret, right out in plain sight, and no one knows but us.” His fingertip made a barely-there circle on my skin. “Does that bother you, Kristen? Being my submissive out here like this?”
“No, Sir.” It had caught me off guard, but it certainly didn’t bother me. The only thing bothering me now was this maddening need to get out of my clothes, on my knees, and under his command in every way possible.
More than ever I understood wh
y he didn’t wear leather, why he insisted I submit to him and him alone rather than the image of a Dom. He could flip a switch and make me submit to him anywhere, any time, and no one else would ever know. All he had to do was ring a metaphorical bell, and like one of Pavlov’s dogs, my mouth watered.
I shifted in my seat again. My mouth wasn’t the only thing getting wetter at his command.
“Your check, sir.” The waiter’s voice sounded miles away. Not distant, per se, but irrelevant. He wasn’t Scott, so he wasn’t important.
“Thank you,” Scott said to the irrelevant waiter, his demeanor instantly shifting from Dom to gentleman. He slipped his card into the leather folder and handed it back. When we were alone again—alone in the middle of this crowded room—he lowered his voice and was Sir once again. “I think it’s time we got out of here.”
“I agree, Sir.”
He laughed softly. “Of course you do.”
With the check paid, we stood. I hadn’t realized how much my knees shook until I tried to rely on them for stability, and twice I had to pause while putting on my jacket to casually hold the back of my chair for balance.
On the way out, Scott offered me his elbow. When I slid my hand over it, he put his other hand on top of mine. An affectionate, gentlemanly gesture to anyone who cared to look. To strangers we passed on the sidewalk, we were a couple so enraptured with each other, we just couldn’t go a step without touching.
I grinned to myself as I imagined what they’d think if they knew the truth. They’d be as horrified as I was aroused.
We walked in silence for a block or so. The car was parked a few blocks down one cross street, but when we reached that street, Scott didn’t turn. On any other night, I’d have ribbed him that he’d forgotten where he parked, but the subtle ridge of his rolled-up sleeve reminded me I was forbidden from doing so. Whether he had another destination in mind, or he really had forgotten where he’d parked, it was no longer my place to question him.
We continued for another block, then into a large park. There, we followed the winding cement path past the deserted playgrounds toward the baseball fields. Stadium lights illuminated one field and its crowded stands, but the rest of the park was dark except where occasional dim lights glowed along the path. Baseballs cracked against bats, people clapped and yelled, feet clanged on the metal bleachers.
In our tiny universe, though, the only sounds were our footsteps on the path and my blood pounding in my ears. As the path wound away from the baseball field, the lights and noise faded behind us, leaving me to my own heartbeat and the synchronized tap of shoes on pavement.
I wasn’t sure what to make of his silence. Was this a game? Was he planning something? Was he already a dozen steps ahead of me, or was he improvising?
What is going on in that head of yours, Sir?
I barely suppressed a shiver. Even in my mind, I addressed him that way.
My feet halted in the same instant his did. The path was shrouded in darkness here, shielded from moonlight and streetlights by a thick canopy of trees.
He didn’t speak. Instead, he turned to me, and when I mirrored him, he cupped my face in gentle hands and kissed me. His tongue parted my lips, the sweetness of his wine still lingering faintly in his mouth. Goose bumps followed his hand up my neck and into my hair, prickling my scalp alongside the warmth of his fingertips.
With his body weight, he nudged me backwards. One step. Then two. The cement ended, and my third step was on softer ground, as was my fourth. He kept us going until his shoes no longer scuffed on concrete.
He broke the kiss and exhaled against my lips. He kissed me again, then released my hair.
Like wind through brittle branches, his low, growling whisper broke the silence and made me shiver again: “Get on your knees.”
With neither question nor hesitation, I obeyed, dropping to my knees on the cool grass. Every nerve ending tingled with excitement and apprehension, and my eyes darted from side to side in search of the shadow of anyone who might intrude. Anyone who might, I thought with a tingle of excitement in the pit of my stomach, see us.
He stroked my hair gently, but when he spoke, there was an edge to his otherwise flat tone. “You disobeyed me last night, didn’t you?”
In the darkness, my cheeks burned, no doubt turning bright red. “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry.”
“Tell me how you disobeyed me.”
I bit back a whimper. “I wasn’t supposed to come until tonight, Sir.”
“Why weren’t you supposed to come until last night?”
Guilt twisted in my chest and I closed my eyes. “Because I came without your permission before.”
“I’m disappointed,” he said. “But, as I said in the restaurant, I can’t exactly blame you.”
Relief washed over me.
“And in spite of being punished last time, you were honest with me again.”
Still more relief.
Leather hissed across leather. “So I’m of two minds.” A buckle jingled. “Do I punish the disobedience?” At the sound of his zipper, I opened my eyes. He went on, “Or do I reward the honesty?”
I hoped it was a rhetorical question, but the silence demanded an answer. I swallowed hard. “Whichever you think is more suitable, Sir.”
He caressed my cheek with his free hand. “Good girl.”
I wetted my lips, my mouth watering as he pulled his hard cock out just inches from my face.
He suddenly gripped my hair, holding it so tight he brought tears to my eyes, a yelp to the tip of my tongue, and an intense tingle to every nerve ending in my pussy. With his other hand, he stroked his cock, and though I could barely see his hand in the darkness, it mesmerized me with its slow, rhythmic motions.
“Are you going to disobey me again?” Upstroke. Down.
“No, Sir.”
“Are you sure?” Downstroke. Up.
“Yes, Sir. I’m sure.”
“Good girl.” The hand in my hair loosened slightly. “Because you disobeyed me, I don’t think I should take you home and fuck you like I’d originally planned. However, because you didn’t lie to me…” He pulled my head a little closer.
As soon as my lips were around him, my spine threatened to turn to jelly. My hands trembled as I held him steady and ran my tongue around the head of his cock. I was always enthusiastic when I went down on a man, but the privilege of pleasing him now was my reward for being honest with him, and I made sure with every sweep of my tongue and stroke of my hands that he knew just how grateful I was for it.
“Just like that,” he whispered, stroking my hair. “That’s perfect, Kristen, just like that.”
I couldn’t keep myself from moaning softly. I ached for his approval like I was sure he ached for release. Telltale saltiness signaled he was getting close, and heat radiated from my clit. Dear God, I hoped he didn’t tell me I couldn’t have an orgasm for another week again. I wouldn’t disobey him a third time, but now, sliding my lips up and down the thick, hard shaft of his cock, I couldn’t imagine surviving another hour without coming.
“Yes, that’s perfect, that’s perfect,” he murmured. There was only the subtlest hint of a tremor in his voice. I couldn’t fathom how he always stayed in control, but stay in control he did, even as I nearly deep-throated him.
I stroked him with both hands, circling and fluttering my tongue around the head of his cock. His hand shook in my hair, and I felt more than heard him release a low groan. Then another. A second later, his cock twitched against my lips and tongue, and, with a soft moan, he came.
I kept going until he tightened his hand in my hair to stop me. As he fixed his clothes, I sat back on my heels, wiping the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Stand up,” he whispered.
I did so slowly. My knees had been shaking since he’d flipped the switch at the restaurant, and I couldn’t be sure they’d hold me up now. By some miracle, they stayed under me.
Scott put his arms around my waist and k
issed me.
“You have an amazing mouth,” he murmured.
I smiled against his lips. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Now, I suppose I could deny you orgasms for another week, couldn’t I?”
My heart sank. Please, God, no. “Yes, Sir. You could.”
“After all, you have to learn to obey me.” He caressed my face. “But, asking you not to come would hardly be fair if you’ve got another lover, would it?” He kissed me before I could answer. After a moment, he touched his forehead to mine. “So, you’re not allowed to masturbate, but you may have as many orgasms as he or I see fit to give you. Understood?”
“Understood, Sir.”
“Good girl. Now let’s go back to my place and get a head start on all those orgasms I see fit to give you.”
Chapter 16
A few nights after our walk in the park, Scott set his wine glass on the table beside the rack of floggers. He folded his arms across his chest, pausing to tug at one of his freshly-rolled sleeves.
For a moment, he watched me silently. Even when I lowered my gaze, I had to resist the urge to fidget under the weight of his emotionless stare. No matter how many times we’d played this little game, it still unnerved me.
“Take everything off.”
Avoiding his eyes, I obeyed. Sometimes he made every article of clothing, even individual buttons, into their own orders, verbally undressing me one piece at a time. Then there were times like this when he gave a single command. That usually meant he wanted to get to the next step, rather than spend an inordinate amount of time with this part.
My bra, the last piece to go, landed on top of the rest of my clothes. Then I let my arms fall to my sides and waited.
I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth as he walked around me. Another of his unsettling little games, another way to remind me of my exposure and vulnerability. I was used to being naked in front of him, but he knew just how to reignite those feelings and make my heart race.
He stopped in front of me. “You’ve surrendered your sight to me before,” he said. “You’ve surrendered control of your orgasms. Tonight, your mobility.”
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