by L. A. Witt
“Okay.”
He sat down, and she went to get their drinks. While he waited, he fidgeted in his chair, wishing for a moment that the dungeon didn’t have an across-the-board ban on phones. There was a landline in case of emergency, but no smartphones were allowed in the building. He totally agreed with the policy, but a few rounds of Candy Crush would’ve at least kept his hands busy.
He looked around. The main room was mostly empty. Down the hall, the occasional sound of a whip hitting flesh—followed by a scream that was half-pain, half-ecstasy—made his skin tingle. He squirmed. More power to them if that was what they were into, but it was definitely not his bag.
Just beyond the bar, a couple sat on one of the oversized sofas. The man leaned against the woman, and she stroked his hair and spoke softly to him. Occasionally, she offered him water, and he’d take a drink while she kissed his temple and kept stroking his hair. Though it was early, they looked like they’d already finished an intense scene. The man’s hair was damp with sweat, and his skin was still flushed. His shoulders were droopy, as were his eyelids.
Joel had a feeling the sub was new—he recognized the Domme—and if he had to guess, they’d probably come to play before the place got crowded. It wasn’t unusual for a Dominant training a new sub to show up early and scene before the place really started getting busy and loud. Joel had tremendous respect for the Doms and Dommes who were considerate of their subs like that. After all, it could be less intimidating to play when there weren’t loads of people around. Even though the individual rooms could be closed off, and they were fairly well insulated against noise, just knowing there were dozens of other people around could fuck up a fledgling sub’s concentration.
He had to hand it to this club—they had an amazing track record of conscientious Dominants and, as a group, looking out for all their members. Rob had dragged him here and immersed him in all things kink even though he’d never wanted it, but thank God they’d come here instead of just experimenting at home. He didn’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if a Dom hadn’t stepped in from the sidelines and told Rob that, no, you really didn’t want to hit a submissive over the kidneys, especially not that hard. Or if someone hadn’t gently suggested that improper bondage could cause things like blood clots and limb loss.
Joel shuddered.
He glanced over at April. She was settling up with the bartender.
He fidgeted again and smoothed his shirt.
Is this really what I should be wearing tonight?
Some fresh apprehension tried to creep in, but he reminded himself he had nothing to worry about. For one thing, body shaming wasn’t accepted here. Members came in all shapes and sizes. Some gained and lost weight over the course of their membership here. There was no reason for him to think they’d sneer at him for his midsection extending slightly over his belt.
For another thing, the dungeon’s dress code was pretty chill. People wore leather if they wanted to, some barely wore anything, and some people dressed casually, which was usually an unspoken signal that they were just there to hang out.
Joel had put himself into that last category tonight. Jeans. A pair of weathered hiking boots. A plain white T-shirt with an unbuttoned black shirt over the top. Everything to telegraph that he was here as a spectator, not a participant.
Normally, he’d have been self-conscious as hell around so many people who were deliberately looking as sexy as possible. But he reminded himself that tonight he wasn’t sloppy or underdressed. He was just laid-back.
Yes. Laid-back. That was the key. For the first time in ages, Joel was more or less comfortable in his own skin. In the dungeon of all places.
As April joined him with their water, he smiled to himself. One step closer to leaving Rob behind.
He was here in the dungeon, and for once he didn’t feel off-balance or nervous. Tonight, it was just a place. Just a building full of people exploring their kinks and accepting everybody else’s. Nothing was going to jar him off his foundation or knock his feet out from under him.
And then Andre walked in.
Andre couldn’t have been anything less than stunning if he tried. Strolling into the lounge like he owned the place, wearing laced-up black boots, black jeans, and a button-up white shirt, he was like something straight out of a movie. The good-looking badass who could either be the suave hero or the smarmy villain, but would still be the stuff of post-movie fantasies.
Joel shook himself and took a deep swallow of water that suddenly wasn’t cold enough. Clearly he needed to get laid, like, yesterday. Andre had always been attractive, but tonight? He was enough to turn Joel into an idiot who couldn’t string a sentence together.
It only took a second for Andre to find them in the sparsely crowded room. He acknowledged them with a nod and headed their way. As he approached, April stood, and Andre gave her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. Which must’ve made her night, since she’d pouted over not getting a hug from him at the restaurant. And she’d be getting more than that from him tonight.
It was just as well Andre hadn’t worn leather. And it wasn’t surprising. When he was doing a particularly involved bondage scene, he sometimes dressed down a bit. Joel supposed it was more practical, wearing something comfortable while he bent and twisted and focused on intricate knot work. Tight leather wasn’t all that forgiving when somebody needed to move around a lot. Not that it mattered if he dressed for comfort or style. Whatever look he chose, he inevitably rocked it. He probably could’ve rocked a mismatched paisley leisure suit from the goddamned 1970s.
But if you wear leather and it’s not comfortable, you could always just peel it off and continue naked. I would not be opposed to that. At all.
Joel took another gulp of water.
Oblivious to Joel shamelessly ogling him, Andre asked April, “How are you doing tonight?”
She grinned. “Excited. You?”
“Same.” He returned the grin and gestured at the duffel bag on his shoulder. “And I brought plenty of rope.” He turned to Joel. “It’s good to see you again too.”
Joel smiled. “Likewise.”
“So, is it good or bad to be back?”
“Um.” Joel scanned the room. Facing Andre again, he shrugged. “Kind of a mixed bag, I guess? Lot of memories tied up in this place.” He paused. “Uh, so to speak.”
“I can imagine.” Andre grimaced. “Let’s hope tonight’s more pleasant for you.”
“Let’s hope.”
“What’s the plan for tonight?” April asked, almost vibrating with excitement.
Andre reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo showing a woman bound seventeen ways from Sunday. She was spread-eagled with rope coiled around her limbs and holding her like some mutant spiderweb.
“I’m not ready to do any kind of total suspension,” he said. “Not with the new techniques I just learned, I mean. But this”—he tapped the photo—“is perfect for a good flogging.”
April shivered so hard, Joel was surprised she didn’t lose her balance. “That’s . . . Yeah. That’s good. When do we start?”
Andre chuckled. “You are excited, aren’t you?”
She nodded vigorously.
“Good.” He gestured toward the stairs. “I’ve got room three reserved. Give me about fifteen minutes to set everything up.”
“See you in fifteen.”
He headed up to the room while Joel and April took their seats again. Naturally, she could barely sit still, and he didn’t blame her. If he’d been remotely into the activities Andre had planned and he’d been the one getting ready to have that man’s hands and attention on him, he probably would’ve had to run around the block a few times to calm himself down.
He suspected her squirming wasn’t all excitement, though.
“You good?” he asked.
She nodded. “Well, this is as close as I’ll ever get to Andre, so . . .” She flashed a grin, but the way her eyes darted around the room betrayed a
hint of nerves.
Joel didn’t have to ask—they’d talked about this very thing in the past. She liked playing, and she was generally comfortable coming here without Bill, and there was something to be said for playing with a man who had absolutely zero interest in having sex with her. When Bill was there and keeping a watchful eye on her and any man who was laying a hand on her, it was game on. Without him, she was . . . cautious. Hence Joel’s presence. Even with a man like Andre, who wasn’t sexually into women, any Dom—gay or otherwise—could take advantage of a person who went as deep into space as April did.
Fifteen minutes later, they headed upstairs. Room three was open, and by the time April and Joel walked in, Andre had everything neatly laid out. Coils of rope. Heavy-duty scissors in case he needed to cut her loose in a hurry. Two floggers—one soft, one less so—on top of the folded-up blanket he’d probably use during her aftercare. A large bottle of lotion for welts and rope burns. Tons of water for both of them.
April took a few breaths and rolled her shoulders. Nerves were definitely catching up with excitement.
“You sure you’re okay?” Joel asked.
She nodded. “Yeah. Just been a while since I’ve done a scene like this without Bill.”
“I’ll be there.”
“I know.” She smiled and squeezed his arm. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be.”
He smiled back. April was an experienced sub, but not all of her experiences had been great. As much as she loved doing scenes with different Doms, she always insisted on someone there to keep an eye on things, whether that someone was her own Dom or a trusted friend. And that made perfect sense. Like any good Dom, Andre would never object to someone standing by for the comfort and safety of the sub.
Andre was a damn good Dom, too. He was the kind of Dom Joel wished had introduced him to kink. Joel had no doubt he ultimately still would’ve decided that vanilla was more his style, but at least Andre wouldn’t have left three years of horrible memories in his wake. It could’ve been more like when Joel had tried rock climbing or sushi—still an enjoyable experience, just not one he was compelled to repeat.
But Rob had been Joel’s introduction, and that couldn’t be changed. And tonight, Andre was April’s Dom.
Joel cleared his throat. “Do you two want the door open or closed?”
Andre turned to April. “Open or closed?”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
He looked at Joel. “Open.”
Joel left it open and found a seat on the opposite side of the room. There, he’d have an unobstructed view even if people started wandering in to watch. And they likely would. Everyone here tried to be considerate to whether people wanted an audience. If a door was shut, no one went in unless they were explicitly invited or there was an emergency. If it was open, then spectators were fair game. And surprise, surprise—whenever Andre left a door open, there were spectators. Joel couldn’t begin to imagine why.
“Arrogant fucking prick,” Rob had grumbled one night while everyone watched Andre flog a burly guy who was twice his size. “Just likes to be the center of attention.”
You were one to talk, dick.
Rob had loved being the center of attention. He had loved it when other people watched their scenes. In fact, as Joel settled into his chair, it occurred to him that Andre had watched a few of his and Rob’s scenes, but he’d never been there when it was over. He’d be there in the beginning, and at some point between then and when Joel was catching his breath, he was gone. Joel had never seen him leave, though.
He shook himself. This place was crawling with memories of his bastard ex-boyfriend, but he hadn’t come here to dwell on the past.
“So.” Andre grinned at April. “Ready?”
“Just about.” As she started unbuttoning her blouse, she said, “So, corset—on or off?”
Andre stroked his chin. “Leave it on for now. If I want it off, I’ll let you know.”
“Okay.”
She shrugged off the blouse, then shimmied out of her jeans, and Andre chuckled.
“Let me guess.” Andre gestured at the chastity belt. “Bill wants that to stay on.”
April nodded, tapping her knuckle on the hard leather. “I suppose it’s probably not all that necessary when I’m in a room with you two.” She gestured at him, then Joel.
Andre laughed. “No, probably not. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“But if he wants it on, it stays on.” Andre flashed another grin. “I can work around it.”
“Perfect.” April pursed her lips, and Joel could almost feel her suppressing a snarky comment about how much she hated having to wear the damn thing. She was a sub. She knew better. An opinionated, playfully-not-always-well-behaved sub, but a sub nonetheless.
Joel smothered a laugh, and she shot him a glare like she could read his mind. She could probably see right through to the smart-ass core that remembered her pulling at the chastity belt and grumbling about it earlier—don’t you dare say a word, asshole—and suddenly that laugh was a lot harder to suppress. He was going to hear about this later.
She rolled her eyes, then turned to Andre. “Joel’s not going to be, um, distracting, is he?” At first, it sounded like a genuine question, but her eyebrow arched and her lips curled into a bratty grin, and he realized it sounded more like, You’re not going to be ogling him the whole time, are you?
April, you’re in so much trouble . . .
“Distracting?” Andre cupped her face and narrowed his eyes. “You’re awfully mouthy when your Dom isn’t around.”
Instantly, the smirk disappeared and she dropped her gaze. “Sorry.”
“Mm-hmm.” He paused, then released her. “Safeword?”
April’s eyes darted toward Joel. “How about ‘Rob’?”
Andre’s eyebrows rose. “Um . . .”
Joel laughed. “Perfect safeword.”
Andre turned. “It is?”
“Oh yeah,” Joel deadpanned as he sat back in the chair, resting an ankle on top of the opposite knee. “I can’t think of a better mood killer.”
“See?” April gestured at him. “Exactly.”
Andre glanced back and forth between them. Then he shrugged. “Safeword is ‘Rob.’”
April giggled. Behind Andre, Joel snickered.
Andre looked at Joel again. “Are you sure about us using your ex’s name as a safeword?”
Joel nodded. “It’s fine. I think it’s funny, actually.”
“Well, as long as you’re okay with it . . .” Andre shrugged again. “All right, so April and I went over rules by email, which Joel has read, right?”
“Yep,” Joel said.
“Good. I’m going to be stringing April up, which means, Joel, any time you want to check on her or feel her fingers and toes, feel free.”
He nodded. “Will do.”
“Any questions?” Andre asked.
April shook her head. So did Joel.
“Okay.” Andre unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt sleeve and started rolling it. “Let’s do this.”
Andre wasn’t interested in women, but the sight of her did seem to stir up some excitement in him. As he looked her over, likely plotting out exactly how he was going to tie her, the lust in his eyes was palpable from across the room where Joel sat. That wasn’t surprising. It didn’t matter if she did nothing for him sexually—tonight, she’d be his to tie up and torment. And she was definitely the kind of sub he seemed to love playing with. That girl could scream.
From the sidelines, Joel watched, mesmerized, as Andre started painstakingly wrapping April’s body in rope. He couldn’t deny it was hot as fuck to watch a scene like this. He even had a small cache of kinky porn, and he watched it fairly regularly. He just had no desire to participate. Not the faintest inkling of desire to wear itchy ropes and be unable to move and have his ass beat with a mean-looking flogger. A pair of fuzzy handcuffs? Maybe a
blindfold just for fun? Sure. He was okay with that once in a while. Pain and domination? Not so much.
But he was absolutely okay with watching if someone else was into that.
Especially when watching a particular scene meant watching Andre.
Hell, who was he kidding? He could’ve watched Andre do literally anything. The man’s physique was just amazing, and his usual black pants/white shirt ensemble did it all kinds of justice. Sometimes, if it was particularly hot in the dungeon, Andre would take off his shirt. And it was summertime.
Joel’s gaze slid toward the AC vent. Could anyone be persuaded to shut off the air? At least to this room?
Except hunting down someone to accomplish that would involve leaving the room, and he couldn’t do that while April was still bound. So he just hoped Andre worked up enough of a sweat that the shirt had to come off.
Not that he’d complain if Andre left the shirt on. It clung to his shoulders and back just enough to give Joel the faintest taste of muscles moving underneath, and the sleeves were rolled to his forearms. He had dark hair on his arms, and whenever he’d taken his shirt off in the past, he’d revealed a thin dusting on his chest and a dark line that led the eye straight from his navel to the waistband of his pants and will somebody please shut off that air conditioner?
Joel shifted in his chair, surreptitiously adjusting the front of his own pants. He was still mindful of April. Still kept an eye on her expression and her skin color—particularly her fingers and toes.
But damn . . . Andre.
The intense focus in his eyes, the deep crevices between his eyebrows, the tightness of his lips as he worked—it was insanely hot for reasons Joel couldn’t quite explain. His mouth watered as he watched Andre place every rope and knot with deliberate, calculated precision. Joel would’ve bet money that a multimillion-dollar Stradivarius wouldn’t be strung this carefully.
While Andre pulled another coil of rope from his bag, Joel got up and checked April’s extremities. She was still fine—her skin was warm, and she curled her fingers and toes away from his touch.
“You doing all right?” he asked.
