When the bouncer at the door completely ignored her, even after taking her coat from Rich and hanging it up, she wasn’t the least bit offended.
Iris could hear the music before they entered the main clubroom. She was grateful her first appearance here was during a social event. She was able to look around without worrying about breaking any rules. When she’d first heard about some of the restrictions placed on submissives, like not looking a Dom in the eyes unless she was addressed directly, she’d thought the rules archaic. Now that she was actually in the club, she made a startling discovery. She really didn’t want to meet the gazes of any of the men looking her way. Rich had hold of her hand, and the security she felt from that simple act kept her grounded.
“Christopher is expecting us upstairs in his private reception room,” Robert said. He gave a slight nod toward the large smoked-glass mirror that formed the upper half of the far wall.
It took Iris a moment to discern the discreet staircase that led from the floor they were on to a landing that abutted the edge of that glass. There was a bouncer at the bottom of the roped-off stairs. The man nodded to Robert and unclipped the velvet rope, allowing them passage.
Her hand held snug in Rich’s, Iris followed him up the stairs. Once more David Jessop served as doorman at the top. The wink he gave her when she passed him put a smile on her face. She would have been very nervous about meeting the man who was the Dungeon Master at the Lyon’s Den, but she knew Jillian Jessop not only liked Christopher Lyons she respected him as well. Jillian had damn good people sense and wouldn’t like, let alone respect, anyone who was an asshole.
The room hidden behind the smoky glass was more comfortable than it was posh. There were chairs and a couple of sofas and lighting bright enough to see. As she’d suspected, the mirror was two-way glass, allowing the people inside this lounge to see out over the floor below but blocking anyone from seeing in. All this Iris took in almost instantly, and then as Rich led her forward, her eyes were drawn to the man who stood in the center of the room waiting for them. He wore a business suit in dark blue, but Iris had the sense he’d look equally powerful dressed in breeches and a silk pirate shirt. Blond, buff, and rakish, there could be no doubt this was Christopher Lyons. Another man and a woman waited silently, sanding slightly behind him.
“Christopher, these are our cousins Richard and Donald Kendall, newly relocated from up north. Gentlemen, Christopher Lyons.”
Iris stood quietly while Mr. Lyons shook first Rich’s and then Donny’s hands. Then he looked over his left shoulder, and that must have been a signal because the other man and the woman stepped forward to flank him.
“May I present my subs and my mates, Rory Phelps-Lyons and Daisy Lyons.”
Rich and Donny shook their hands as well, and then Rich laid his hand on Iris’s back. “Christopher, this Iris Gibbs.”
“Hello, Iris. Welcome to the Lyon’s Den.”
“Thank you, Sir. It’s an honor to meet you.”
He gave her a thorough look, but not in an insulting way. It felt more that he was peering inside her head than looking at her body. “Is this the first time for you?”
Was it strange that she didn’t need anyone to explain what he meant? “Yes, Sir. Jillian gave me a book to read about identifying yourself in the D/s lifestyle, when we first met, and it was like looking at myself clearly for the first time.”
“And you trust these two Kendalls?”
Iris knew complete honesty was the only possible response in this situation. The man commanded it by the force of his personality alone.
“We’re getting to know each other, and I like what I’ve learned so far. So, yes, Sir, I do trust them.”
Christopher Lyons chuckled. “Gentlemen, it would appear you’re on probation, which is only as it should be.” He took a moment to meet the gazes of each of his subs. “A Dom has to earn the trust of his submissives, just as they have to earn his. The relationship really is an exchange of power.”
“We plan on doing our best to continue to be worthy of Iris’s trust,” Rich said.
Rory saw to it everyone had a drink in hand, and then while the men stood by the window looking down on the club floor and talking quietly, Iris sat down with Jillian and Daisy on one of the sofas. As the two women caught up, Iris could see they weren’t just friendly. They were friends.
Jillian leaned closer to Iris. She flicked smile at Daisy before she turned her attention back to Iris. Her voice was just above a whisper when she spoke. “Rory is actually a switch—which means sometimes he’s a bottom, and sometimes he’s a top.”
Daisy must have seen the confusion Iris felt. “Christopher tops us both, but Rory also tops me.” Her smile widened. “That means I have two Doms, too.”
Not stated but implied was that gave all three of the women in this room something in common.
“I was a bit confused. Thanks for explaining.”
“You’re welcome.” Then she turned her attention to Jillian. “How’s Colleen? I loved those pictures you sent me last week!” Daisy’s smile lit up her whole face.
“She’s growing so fast! I can’t believe she’s already fifteen months old!” Jillian sighed. “It had been so long since I had a baby growing into a toddler I’d nearly forgotten about the onset of the terrible twos. Thank goodness her daddies are very hands-on.”
Iris thought she caught a hint of longing in Daisy’s eyes, as she seemed to inhale every word Jillian spoke. Christopher proved he was attuned to his wife and likely listening into their entire conversation because he turned away from the window just then and sent Daisy a very sweet look.
He turned back to the men. “Gentlemen, let’s join the ladies, shall we? Then we’ll head down and have a look around.” Christopher waited until his guests were seated. “Rory and Daisy are going to offer a small scene this evening, and then Rory and I will give a demonstration of the six-foot single tail in action.”
Iris didn’t think anyone noticed her tiny shiver, but she should have known better. Rich took her hand and brought it to his lips. The kiss he placed there was a comfort and a distraction at the same time.
“Whips really aren’t for everyone,” Christopher said.
Iris felt her cheeks heat, even though there wasn’t even the suggestion of censure in Christopher’s tone. She’d thought Rich and Donny were the only ones tuned into her, but she’d been wrong.
“My Master knows I need a brush of his whip from time to time. I need that escape into subspace, as we all do. We discovered a long time ago the whip is the only way I can get there.”
“Iris, from all that you’ve learned so far about our lifestyle, what would you say is the number one rule?”
The moment Christopher said her name, her focus snapped to him, and him alone. Yes, she still felt Rich holding her hand and Donny sitting close, but it was the other Dom who held her attention and commanded an immediate response.
“Safe, sane, and consensual, Sir. Nothing will happen to me without my agreement, and I can halt things at any time.”
“Exactly. And if anyone ever tries to tell you differently, especially here—though I doubt anyone in my house would dare— you have my permission and encouragement to kick him square in his…ego.”
Iris grinned. “Thank you, Sir. I appreciate that. But I agree with you. I doubt that will happen here, or anywhere else, as long as I’m with Rich and Donny.”
“Excellent! Let’s finish our drinks and then join the party downstairs.”
The crowds parted for Christopher, of course. Iris would have been surprised if they hadn’t. He led the way through the main clubroom. There was a large rectangular bar on one side of the room and a dance floor on the other. In one corner, a DJ’s box stood, light shining within, showing a man wearing headphones—and a collar. His chest was bare, but she had no idea if the rest of him was or not.
Some of the guests were, and that surprised her. Not just women were naked either, but there were men walking around
, sporting only collars and leashes. Iris knew, because she’d asked, that Jillian had never been asked to wear a leash. She also knew that she and her husbands didn’t live the lifestyle twenty-four-seven. They would decide to “play” spontaneously, but from the gleam in Jillian’s eyes when she’d described that, those occasions truly were fun for all.
“Ramon, there you are.” Christopher turned to Robert and David. “Gentlemen, this is an old friend of mine, Ramon Estevez. Ramon, I’d like you to meet Robert and David Jessop and their cousins, Rich and Donny Kendall.”
Iris remained silent as the men talked. Mr. Estevez was tall, dark, and handsome. No one had to tell her he was a Dom. The aura of authority fit him like a custom-made suit. His dark eyes seemed to take everything in, as if he was monitoring the people. Nothing about him seemed relaxed. She wondered if, along with being an old friend of Christopher’s, he was in the security field.
He has cops’ eyes.
She tuned back into the conversation just as Christopher said good night to his friend, who was apparently leaving. She let her gaze follow him for a moment, even as she took in her surroundings.
The main clubroom had an arched walkway at one end, and Iris’s education began the moment they stepped into this inner room. Her gaze scanned the wall that formed a large semicircle before them. A variety of items—Does a St. Andrew’s Cross, a spanking bench, and a doctor’s examining table qualify as furniture?—were spread out, and here at last she was able to see what she’d only imagined.
Each station was occupied, and again, it wasn’t only women who were receiving the attentions of their Doms or Dommes.
Iris found her gaze drawn back to the spanking bench, and while she thought her perusal was subtle, her body betrayed her.
“Count of twelve, Edie.”
“Count of twelve, Sir.”
The man wielding the paddle stood tall, his muscles firm and rippling with each swing of his implement. The sound of the wood on Edie’s naked ass was loud. Rich moved them so they were standing close enough that Iris heard Edie’s sharp intake of breath. The scene played out, and Iris felt as if she were suddenly encased in a bubble where only Edie and her Dom and she existed. Edie counted through her tears as the paddle fell again and again and her bottom turned red. Iris couldn’t have said what it was, in that moment, that affected her so strongly about the simple demonstration. The only thing she knew for certain was she wanted, very much, to be the woman on the bench. She wanted Rich to paddle her until she, too, cried.
There’s never been any time for tears. No, there’d been only hard work and then coming home to pitch in, to cook and clean and help oversee homework. Each night, Iris would fall into bed exhausted, only to get up and repeat the process, over and over and over again. Whatever needed doing, she did. And she never minded that. She knew her mother and her brother and sisters needed her. She was happy to do what she could to help.
And then…and then her mother had married Tom and, within a month, had sold the house and moved to Austin, and Iris had been left alone. Being on her own after so many years of doing and being for others had been a shock.
“Is that something you want to try?” Rich’s words, soft and low, drifted across her ear. The bubble popped, and she felt the tightening of her nipples and the moisture that coated the inside of her sex.
Yes. No, you don’t really want to cry. The “no” voice sounded fearful, and had been a companion most of her life, while the “yes” voice was new. And maybe because she’d just mentally acknowledged it, that voice rose up again. Don’t you? Don’t you crave a really good cry? Iris didn’t have a definitive answer. So she hedged, but only slightly. “Reading about it…I didn’t feel anything. But standing here…it’s different.”
“We haven’t written our contract yet. We can see if this is something you’d enjoy. Or, maybe, if it’s something you need.”
Was it? Iris couldn’t have said with any certainty right then.
“We’ll talk about this later tonight.” Rich kissed her ear.
Iris’s mouth had gone dry. So she nodded and hoped that was a good enough answer for the moment.
There were other forms of play on display. One male was bent right over what reminded her of a sawhorse, his ass sporting red stripes from the cane his Domme used. In the next station, on a small St. Andrew’s Cross, a woman was crying out in pleasure as a man used something that looked like a light sabre on her. As Iris inched closer she realized, whatever it was, it wasn’t heat the woman felt but an electric shock.
“A violet wand,” Donny whispered.
Clearly the woman enjoyed the experience. Iris didn’t feel the same way about this demonstration as she had about the paddling. The idea of getting even the occasional accidental electrical shock really unnerved her.
“You don’t have to try everything,” Rich said. “There are several things that Donny and I don’t care for. The wand is one of them. So is wax play.”
Iris met his gaze. She had no doubt the gratitude she felt was reflected in her expression. “That’s good to know.”
“If, however, you want to try something, we’ll learn about it, and then we’ll try it.”
She stopped and tilted her head as they came to the next demonstration. A woman, naked, lay on her side on a padded table. Red ropes, tied in a series of intricate-looking knots, seemed to form a harness of some sort on her chest. They looked tight, as there was no slack in the netting encasing her and because the woman’s breasts were prominent, as if being squeezed. And yet it didn’t seem as if the ropes were actually tight because there was no sign of blood constriction.
“This is called shibari,” Rich said. “The word means ‘to tie’ and is an ancient Japanese art. I’ve been told that, to those who enjoy this, the sensation is one of comfort and security.”
“There was one Dom back in New York who was an expert at this. Often, he’d have his subjects suspended midair. It was a sight to see. For those who love bondage, this would be the ultimate pleasure.” Donny ran his hand down her back.
“We’ll likely restrain you,” Rich said. “And we’ll see how you take to bondage. If you really enjoy it, we’ll learn this art for you.”
Iris tilted her head as she kept her gaze locked with his. “I’m the sub, but you’re making it seem as if the power is in my hands.”
“That’s because, sweetheart, it is.” Rich kissed her hand and led her over to where Rory and Daisy were on a raised platform. Behind them, the largest of the crosses waited, unused. Rather than using a bench, Rory sat and waited while Daisy draped herself over his lap.
“I thought Rory was a sub until Daisy explained it to me upstairs.” She spoke softly so that only Rich and Donny could hear her.
“The precise term for Rory is a switch. He’s a sub to Christopher, but he tops Daisy,” Donny said.
The edge now gone from her fears, Iris watched, really watched, as Rory used his bare hand on Daisy’s naked bottom. Lights shone down on them so that everyone could see her pussy and the way her arousal dripped the longer Rory spanked her. Daisy didn’t cry. Instead, moans of pure pleasure rose softly from her. This was an extremely sensual display of spanking and differed in mood from the previous one.
Rich drew Iris closer, and Donny moved so that she felt his heat at her back. Clearly, both men knew how the moment affected her.
When Rory finished, Christopher stepped forward with a light blanket, which he handed to the other man. Then he stood back as Rory eased Daisy up and drew the covering around her. For several minutes he sat with her cradled on his lap. Iris couldn’t hear what he whispered, but she could most definitely feel the caring.
“If he’d spanked her longer, or like the previous demonstration, had used a paddle, then his aftercare would be more intense,” Rich said. “But he merely pinked her bottom in an erotic spanking, so she’s not in need of any soothing balms or salves.”
Rory stood, set Daisy on her feet, and then kissed her. He led her over
to Robert Jessop. That man bent down to speak privately to Daisy, and when she nodded, he smiled. Jillian came forward to stand on the other side of her, and all their attention turned back to Rory, who was now being restrained to the large St. Andrew’s cross by his master.
The shirt he’d been wearing moments before was draped over a chair. Except for a very miniscule G-string, he was completely naked.
“Are the restraints all right, Rory?”
“Yes, Master. They’re fine.”
“Good.” Christopher turned to face the people who’d gathered around the platform. “For those of you who’ve never been here before, I would ask that you remain quiet.” He looked out over the crowd. “My responsibility, as Rory’s Dom, is to know where he is, mentally and emotionally, as my lash caresses his flesh. I do this by listening to his breathing and watching for his tells, signals that I’ve learned over time. Complete silence during this demonstration is the only club protocol that is being strictly enforced tonight.”
Iris felt the brothers Kendall cocoon her between them, each man holding one of her hands. She couldn’t take her eyes off Christopher as he turned to face his sub—his husband. He’d taken up the whip, and as he brushed the floor with it, she couldn’t prevent the shiver that coursed through her.
Christopher’s arm moved, and Iris jumped as a crack resounded. Rory jerked, but remained silent. On his buttocks, a faint pink line appeared, followed by a second, a third, and a fourth. Each crack painted a new line on the willing man’s body. Iris’s gaze left the blossoming pink and sought out Rory’s face.
Her heart caught at the look of bliss he wore. His eyes unfocused, his breathing was that of a man nearing sexual ecstasy. Iris felt all that was female in her tingle as she witnessed, for the first time, the awesome state known as subspace.
Love Under Two Loners [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 7
