by L. A. Witt
“Mm-hmm,” came the semidreamy response. Andre hadn’t even started flogging her, but she was already slipping into that headspace. By the time he started raising welts, she’d be in seventh heaven.
Joel started toward his seat just as Andre was coming back with the rope around his arm.
Their eyes met. They both stopped. Andre gave Joel a not-so-subtle down-up glance, and Joel couldn’t help doing the same.
Good. God. The thick erection beneath his black pants was unmistakable. That wasn’t a well-placed crease in the denim or an optical illusion.
Of course Andre was turned on as hell, because he was tying up a submissive, but Joel couldn’t help thinking that little smile was just for him. And that down-up glance and the wink—who the hell else could those be for?
The moment ended, though, and they broke eye contact and continued in their separate directions. Joel kept watching. Andre kept tying.
Andre fastened one last knot. Then he stood back, and he had the cockiest, most delicious grin as he inspected his handiwork.
April looked like she was caught in a macramé spiderweb. As the woman had been in the photo, she was spread-eagled, her back to Andre. She was bent forward slightly, exposing her rear and the backs of her thighs for his flogger, and she still balanced on her feet, which were set apart. Her heels, though, were lifted just slightly off the floor. Even looking at her legs like that made Joel’s calves ache.
From where he sat, he could see her face in profile. Eyes closed, she licked her lips. Now and then, she curled her fingers and her toes.
Andre tugged the knot as if to make doubly sure it held, which of course it did. He touched her fingers, then toes. They wiggled visibly beneath his hand, so blood was still circulating properly. As long as Andre wasn’t alarmed, Joel could assume they were warm as well, so he didn’t feel the need to check. He trusted Andre.
Andre tipped up her chin. “April, are you doing all right?”
Her heavy-lidded eyes opened, and her head lolled slightly, but she murmured, “Uh-huh.”
“Answer me properly, April.”
“Yes.” She swept her tongue across her lips, blinked a few times, and met his gaze. “Yes. I’m doing fine.”
“Good.”
And then he picked up a flogger.
Joel shivered. In his mind’s eye, he could already see Andre swinging it, and . . . hot.
Andre warmed up with the softer flogger, letting the tails fall on the backs of April’s thighs and across her shoulders, skillfully avoiding spine and kidneys, though her corset covered a lot of the no-flogger areas anyway. Once her skin had a nice pink glow to it, he put the flogger aside and picked one up that was definitely more April’s speed—stiff leather tails with knots at the ends. He smacked his palm like he was hitting it with a baseball bat, and the tails rattled audibly. April whimpered.
With a wicked look in his gorgeous eyes, Andre raised the flogger and let fly, smacking her skin and driving a grunt out of her. Her face contorted in a grimace. The second stroke made her gasp. In her position, Joel would’ve been ready to use a safeword and tap out, but the only thing more apparent than pain in her expression was anticipation—as soon as the wince passed, she’d brace herself, and just the faintest hints of a drunken grin appeared on her lips. A few more strokes, and tears streamed down her face. She was undoubtedly in agony, and let herself cry out every time he hit her, but the one thing she didn’t do was tell him to stop.
By this point, several people had slipped in through the open door and were watching from against the wall. Andre obviously didn’t mind, and April sure as hell didn’t. The tails slapped her skin and the knots cracked against the hard leather of the chastity belt, making every Dom and sub in the room squirm. April screamed with pain, and Andre visibly shivered.
After a while, he wiped his brow. He laid the flogger on top of his bag, rolled his shoulders, then touched her fingers and feet. He murmured something Joel couldn’t hear, prompting a slow nod and a slurred “Yes, sir” out of April. Probably checking to make sure she was still all right.
He didn’t pick up the flogger, though.
He tugged one of his shirt sleeves down. Then the other.
Was he . . .?
Oh yes. Oh God, yes. He was unbuttoning his shirt.
He shrugged, and the shirt slid off his shoulders, and Joel nearly slid off his chair and onto his knees. Not because he had any desire to kneel for Andre—he just had a hell of a time holding himself up when a man like Andre made his whole body want to melt.
And . . . God, it felt good to be turned on. After he’d left Rob, Joel’s libido had all but left town, and it had only recently started coming back. Lusting after a man who was a million miles out of his league might have been frustrating, but it was refreshing in its own way. It was good to know he still possessed the desire to desire someone.
Andre picked up the flogger again. Now he didn’t have that layer of white fabric obscuring his torso, and Joel’s mouth watered. The room’s sunken overhead lights were perfect, too—like showroom bulbs adjusted to pick out each contour of his powerful muscles and highlight the sheen of sweat. Whenever Andre moved, the ripple of muscles beneath skin turned Joel on like the slap of leather on flesh turned everyone else on. He mesmerized Joel with every motion just like he was mesmerizing April and the gathered spectators.
Finally, Andre must’ve decided she’d had enough, and put the flogger aside. He started carefully undoing the ropes, so Joel busied himself getting the water and lotion ready for her while people quietly filed out of the room.
All the while, his heart was racing as if he’d been the one to get a workout. Because damn . . . what a show.
Dear sweet Jesus.
I am so glad I came here tonight.
Andre and Joel both took care of April while she was coming down from subspace. Joel made sure she was drinking water, and Andre carefully put lotion on the welts he’d left on her skin. She was woozy for a while, nearly drifting off in Andre’s arms a couple of times, but slowly she started coming back to earth.
Once her legs were solid beneath her, Andre shooed them out of the playroom.
“Go relax downstairs,” he said. “I’ll take care of everything up here.”
April didn’t protest, and probably couldn’t have if she’d wanted to, so Joel took her down to the social area and carefully sat her on one of the couches. Her backside was definitely tender, and she pretty much sat on the side of her hip and draped her arm over the back of the couch. When he was sure she was as comfortable as possible, Joel went to get some more water. While he stood at the bar, he kept an eye on her, of course. She was only about ten feet away anyway; if anyone messed with her, or she started getting dizzy, he could be at her side in a matter of seconds.
The bartender must’ve seen him bring April in and realized he was taking care of a spent sub, because he handed Joel a couple of water bottles and sent him on his way. That was kind of an unspoken thing here—even with a line, someone taking care of a person who’d just done a scene had priority, and their water was free.
Joel returned with the water, as Nancy, a fiftysomething Domme Joel had met a few times, sat down with her submissive beside April.
“Somebody’s been having fun,” Nancy said with a grin.
“Uh-huh.” April smiled, looking like she was halfway between blissed out and tripping balls. “It’s been a good night.”
“So I see.”
Joel sat next to her, uncapped her water, and handed it over.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
Nancy glanced at her sub, a redheaded guy who was probably in his midthirties, and snapped her fingers toward the floor. Instantly, he went to his hands and knees in front of her, and she put her feet—high-heeled boots and all—on his freckled back.
As subtly as he could, Joel looked away. To each their own, but he’d never quite been comfortable with the “human furniture” level of submission. Possibly because the thought
of being on his hands and knees with someone’s feet on his back made his back and wrists hurt. He caught himself flexing one wrist, then the other, as if to remind himself it was the sub, not him, who’d be stiff and uncomfortable later. And he really did try not to judge. He’d seen a lot of things here that were not his cup of tea—and, to be fair, a handful of things that were—and reminded himself each time that as long as everybody involved was a consenting adult . . . well, more power to them. When he ran into the occasional kink that made him uncomfortable, it just served as a reminder that he was a fish out of water here.
Beside him, April sat up and stretched. As she leaned back again, she rubbed her arm, which still had a few visible marks from the ropes.
“Doing all right?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm.” She nodded, gingerly kneading her forearm, and turned to him. “And why the hell are you down here instead of up there with you-know-who?”
Joel almost choked, and he wasn’t even taking a drink. “I . . . Well, he’s cleaning up the room and—”
“And that means it’s just him.” Her eyebrows rose. “So . . .” She gestured at the stairs. “He’s by himself.”
“And you need someone to—”
“Joel.” She looked him right in the eye. “I’m fine. Besides, Nancy is here.”
As if for emphasis, Nancy nodded, smiling at Joel.
April went on, “Andre is alone up there with a boner in his pants.” She gestured sharply toward the stairs again. “Go see if he’ll let you do something about it.”
Joel hesitated, glancing at the stairs. Oh hell. What did he have to lose? If his dignity took a hit, all he had to do was never come back to this place, and nobody needed to twist his arm for that anyway.
“All right.” To Nancy, he said, “Keep an eye on her, would you?”
“Of course.” She winked. “Have fun.”
Or have a moment of excruciating humiliation, but hey, this is a dungeon, so why not?
Okay, that wasn’t fair and he knew it. There were people here who loved humiliation—giving and receiving—and they did it because they wanted to. If he was humiliated tonight, it wouldn’t be because he was in a place of BDSM. It would be because he was casting his net in a pond he had no business fishing in.
But . . . if some dignity was all he had to lose in exchange for a shot at Andre, he’d take the gamble, so he got up and headed for the stairs. His heart sped up as the old steps creaked under his feet. Ahead of him, the second level was alive with the sounds of more than one intense scene. Somebody was happily getting beaten. Somebody else was being punished. A normal evening.
The door to room three was still open. He peered inside. Everyone else was gone, but Andre was there. He had his back to Joel as he wound a length of rope around his arm.
Joel stepped in and cleared his throat.
Andre turned, and when he saw Joel, smiled. “Oh, hey.”
“Hey.” Joel slid his hands into his pockets and took another step into the room. “I, uh, just wanted to see if you needed help.”
“No, I’ve mostly got it under control.” Andre tucked the coil of rope into his duffel bag. “How’s April? Is she doing all right?”
“Yeah, yeah. She—” His voice caught. She sent me up here to see if I could get access to your dick? “Uh, yeah, she’s good. Like . . . like I said, she actually sent me up to see if you needed a hand.” His teeth snapped shut.
Andre’s eyebrow rose just slightly. “Did she, now?”
Joel nodded.
A playful grin curled the corners of Andre’s mouth. “Anything in particular she thought you could help me with?”
Funny you should ask.
Wait. Did you two plan this?
April, you are so dead.
“Oh, you know . . .” Joel’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. “Just . . . uh . . .” He gestured at the ropes, floggers, towels, and empty water bottles. “If you—” When his gaze shifted back to Andre, there was less space between them. Wasn’t there? Had Andre moved? Or was it Joel’s imagination?
Andre took another step. Nope, not Joel’s imagination. Nor was that wicked grin that was still on Andre’s lips.
“You know, now that you mention it, I could think of a few things.” His expression wasn’t just wickedly playful now. It was downright predatory.
Oh yes. Oh yes, please.
“Yeah?” Joel gulped. “Such as?”
“Well . . .” Andre reached for Joel’s waist. His palm warmed Joel’s skin through two layers of clothes, and Joel’s heart could not possibly have beat any faster.
April, I could kiss you right now.
Except I think he might want to kiss me.
Does he? Oh please. Oh please . . .
Andre subtly walked his fingers along Joel’s side, drawing him closer a fraction of an inch at a time. “Can I confess something?” He whispered the question so softly Joel couldn’t help leaning toward him.
“G-go ahead.”
Andre swept his tongue across his lips. “I am really glad you’re here tonight, and there’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long, long time.”
Before Joel could comprehend what he’d said, never mind respond to it, Andre shoved him up against the wall and kissed him.
Joel’s knees nearly melted right out from under him. He threw his arms around Andre. Holy shit. Holy. Shit. His fingers tangled in Andre’s hair. His lips were moving with Andre’s, his body was pinned to a wall by Andre’s, and the hard-on against his own was Andre’s.
How the . . .?
He broke the kiss and looked in Andre’s eyes. Breathing hard, he tried to make sense of it, but the only thing he could think was Why the fuck did I stop kissing him?
So he pulled him back in, and Andre groaned softly as he rubbed his thick erection against Joel’s.
Andre pressed his forehead against Joel’s. “Fuck . . .”
Joel gulped. “You’ve . . . wanted to do that . . .”
“Since the first time I saw you,” Andre panted. Then he kissed him again, and if the hunger in his touch was any indication, he wasn’t lying. It didn’t make any goddamned sense, but he wasn’t lying, so Joel didn’t argue. He held Andre tighter and pushed back against his cock, which drew another groan out of Andre.
Andre pulled his hips back and slid his hand down over Joel’s crotch. Joel shivered—he hadn’t been touched in way too long, and being touched by this man of all people was almost more than he could handle.
The vibration of his zipper coming undone reverberated along his cock, which did nothing to keep Joel’s knees under him or his wits about him. Well hell, if pants were coming off . . .
He started unzipping Andre’s fly, but hesitated. When Andre pressed against his fingers, as if trying to nudge the zipper pull downward, that was all the encouragement he needed.
Joel unzipped him all the way, then fumbled with his belt. Buckles were simple devices, but they hadn’t been designed to be operated with one hand while a horny man was busily making out with a talented kisser like Andre.
Somehow, though, he undid the buckle and slid the belt free. With a motion that was more lucky than precise, he opened the top button of Andre’s pants. Andre swore, fumbling with Joel’s belt and button.
Joel pushed his hand past the elastic waistband of Andre’s briefs, and . . . dear God . . . his fingers were around Andre’s cock.
Andre groaned. He touched his forehead to Joel’s again, sighing as he rocked his hips and fucked Joel’s fist. And then Andre’s hand was around his cock, and the hot, lightly calloused fingers and palm drove Joel wild.
This is real?
This is real.
This is real.
Even better, Andre had one hell of a cock. Joel had always had visions of the guy being hung like a porn star or some kind of large livestock, but he wasn’t. He was definitely thick and long, but not freakishly so. Just the right size to make sure that if they fucked tonight, Joel would still feel him tomorr
ow.
Joel moaned into Andre’s kiss as he stroked him. Instead of wincing and wondering how in the world this thing would fit into any of his available orifices, he nearly lost his mind at the thought of Andre pounding him into the mattress.
Goddamn. I hope you’re planning to fuck me with this tonight.
Andre chuckled softly and dipped his head to kiss Joel’s neck. “Your mind went the same direction mine did.”
“My—” Joel tensed. He’d said the words out loud, hadn’t he? Just . . . let them tumble out like nobody’s business. Fuck.
Embarrassment tried to steal the mood, but then clarity hit—Andre wasn’t rejecting him. In fact, he was stroking him even harder now, pushing himself into Joel’s hand as he kissed his throat and released hot, sharp huffs against his skin.
Joel was just starting to relax into Andre’s embrace when Andre tensed.
He drew back, glanced over his shoulder, and scowled. “Damn.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have any condoms with me.” He faced Joel again. “And here . . . it’s not really a good place.” He sped up his strokes. “But I really want to fuck tonight.”
Joel shuddered, as much from Andre’s touch as his words. “Yes, please.”
“Come back to my place,” Andre whispered, his words slurring a little. “I want . . . I . . .” He shivered hard, leaning into Joel as his strokes became uneven and erratic. “I want you in my bed tonight.”
Joel couldn’t answer. He was too turned on and overwhelmed, both by Andre’s talented hand and by the prospect of being alone and naked between sheets with him. He moaned softly, trying to concentrate on pumping Andre’s cock, and then Andre started rocking his hips, fucking into Joel’s fist, and Joel imagined just one second of Andre fucking into him, and—
“Oh God!” He forced his own cock into Andre’s tight grip. Everything went white, and only Andre’s body and the wall behind him kept him upright. His semen made Andre’s strokes slick and hot, and Andre kept right on going while Joel lost his fucking mind.
Andre grunted softly and thrust harder into Joel’s hand, so Joel tightened his grip, and Andre swore under his breath as he came, lubricating Joel’s strokes just like Joel had done to his.
