See You Sometime

by Tymber Dalton

  His hands never came close to straying into inappropriate territory. He traced her ribs around to her sides, but never tried to cop a feel.

  The warm-up started in earnest with knuckles dug into the fleshy part of her ass and outer thighs, not very hard, more annoying than anything, but she understood this, too, was to gauge her reaction. She took a deep breath and relaxed as the first trickles of endorphins started to work their way into her system.

  It only took him a couple of minutes to step it up, until he was spanking and punching and slapping her body and she gritted her teeth around her ball gag and enjoyed every freaking second of it.

  From there he transitioned to implements, again starting light with each one to gauge her reaction.

  When she heard the tell-tale crackle of a violet wand, she grinned around the ball gag.

  This whole time, Cris said very little, other than to ask her for a color when Landry would say something to him in French. She jerked and twisted against the bite of the violet wand, which he also used inside her thighs but still not approaching the DMZ between her legs.

  As she lay there panting during a brief break, Landry himself leaned in and spoke in her other ear. “Was that a good enough warm-up for you, my dear?”

  “Huh?”

  His throaty chuckle reached her. “Time to step up my game, I suspect.”

  Oh…fuck.

  She had to yellow a couple of times, and red after the fourth strike from one particular implement, but Landry took her right up to the edge of too much and kept her there. She dove into subspace—finally—and happily surfed the hellish waves of pain Landry inflicted on her body.

  Time melted and swirled until he reached the end.

  “Four with this one,” Cris said, “and you’re done.”

  She nodded and curled her fingers around the edge of the bench.

  She didn’t know what the hell Landry hit her with, but it kicked like a goddamned mule and hurt twice as bad. She rose up against the restraints, as far as they’d allow, howling but determined to see it through. Cris moved with her, talking her through it, and said those two magic words.

  “Such a good girl.”

  Her howls turned to whimpers as she dropped back down and the next strike hit her squarely in the seam between where her ass met her upper thighs. Some sort of cane, but like no fucking cane she’d ever felt before. More howls, but she pressed her forehead against Cris’ shoulder and breathed through it. Just two more.

  The fucking sadist laid it against her flesh, waiting. When it lifted, she braced herself for impact, flinching as he did little more than tap it against her.

  “Motherfucker,” she muttered, laughing—

  Then howling as the last blow nailed her in the same damn spot as number two, even harder.

  Landry’s hands caressed her back. “Very good. Excellent. All done.”

  She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Cris dab at her nose and face with a towel. Sobbing.

  Snot-sobbing.

  They draped her fleece throw around her and she felt them unclip her cuffs from the bench. Two sets of hands gently helped her up and then down again and she recognized Bob’s scent from earlier.

  She lay exactly as he had, on her side, back to the room, head in his lap. He held her just as she’d held him as she cried through it. Usually, she wasn’t much of a crier, but damn it felt good.

  “Oh, you’ll want this. She was right. She is a drooler.” Cris sounded amused.

  Bob snorted, but didn’t reply. She felt him tuck a towel under her head, between his jeans and her face.

  She didn’t know how long she lay there, but as the world slowly swirled back in again and her haze finally eased, she became more aware of voices, the party, the sounds of other people talking.

  The unmistakable hum of a vibrator laid over the moan of a woman’s orgasms.

  Skye took a deep breath and started taking inventory.

  One really fucking sore ass? Check.

  Sore everything, actually. Landry had gotten her upper arms and thighs, too.

  She spit out the ball gag.

  “Ready to sit up?” Bob asked.

  “Yeah.”

  He helped her, and she felt a water bottle touch her lips. She drank greedily from it, the cold water further helping bodyslam subspace and send it packing. She took the bottle from him and he unbuckled her blindfold.

  Bob smiled at her. “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks.” She drank another mouthful.

  “You have my full respect.”

  “Why?”

  He grinned. “Damn, even I was cringing watching that.”

  “Told you I was a heavy maso.”

  “Yeah, but a lot of people say that, they mean compared to the average vanilla person. You meant compared to other masochists.”

  “Yeah.”

  Landry and Cris stepped in close, Landry’s green gaze intent on her. “Better?”

  “Fuckin’ A, it is. Thank you. I needed that.”

  “Before you leave, please make sure Cris has your cell number. I want to be able to check on you tomorrow.”

  “Aw, thanks.”

  “I’m not sure who enjoyed our scene more, you or myself.”

  She grinned. “Did you take Cris out to the lanai after we finished?”

  Landry’s laugh was infectious. “Not yet. I didn’t want to do that until after. He’ll be getting round two at home, when I scene with him there. I wish him coherent enough to drive us home later.”

  “Oh, what the fuck was that thing you ended with?”

  He pulled a white, hexagonal cane from a tube. It had what looked like a golf club handle grip on it. “You mean this little gem?”

  She took it and examined. “Holy fuck, that thing’s mean. What is it?”

  “Delrin hex rod. A friend used to make them. Wicked little beast.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “Should I eliminate it from my inventory with you?”

  She grinned. “I didn’t say that.” She returned it. “Fucker’s mean, but I liked it. Got my attention.”

  “I noticed.”

  Skye cleaned herself up, got dressed, and spent time getting to know people she hadn’t met yet, as well as talking with Cali. And she made sure she exchanged numbers with Cris.

  Before the three men left for the evening, Landry pulled her to the side. “If you ever wish to scene again, I’d be happy to do so.”

  “Do you teach?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “If the guy I’m sort of kind of dating wants to learn more, would you be willing to work with him?”

  “Absolutely. All three of us, meaning Tilly. She enjoys mentoring newbies. And there’s Bob. He might be submissive, but he’s very knowledgeable.”

  “He’s more than just submissive. That man’s a slave.”

  One eyebrow slowly arched. “Very perceptive, dear. Most never pick up that subtlety.”

  “I’m not most people.”

  “I am beginning to truly understand that.” He studied her for a moment, his smile fading. “When our Tilly is back in town, if you find things do not work out with your gentleman friend, I would be willing to discuss becoming regular play partners in a more formal way instead of a la carte, as it were.”

  “Like Bob?”

  “Not quite. I meant non-sexually. Until you do find a Dominant of your own.”

  She considered it. “I’d be willing to talk about that.”

  “Excellent. Cris shall text you tomorrow, probably around noonish. Or is that too early?”

  “That’s fine. I’ll be moving around by then. Thanks.”

  “Have a good evening, my dear. Please drive safely.”

  “I will.”

  Cali drifted back to her as Skye watched the men grab their stuff and go.

  Rather, Bob and Cris grabbed their stuff and followed Landry out.

  “Remind me to tell you that story sometime. Not tonight, but sometime.”
>
  “What story?”

  “Tilly and Cris, Cris and Landry, Tilly and Bob, and Landry, Tilly, and Cris. Plus Bob.”

  “That sounds…dramatic.”

  “You have nooo idea. But don’t worry, everything’s copacetic and non-dramatic now.”

  * * * *

  Skye didn’t stay much longer herself. She wanted to go home and…

  Well, wear out the batteries in a vibrator.

  She texted Axel when she returned home a little after midnight.

  Safe and sound at home, Sir.

  He responded a couple of minutes later, as she was getting ready to grab a quick shower.

  That’s earlier than I thought.

  Got my ass beat, talked to people, and came home. :)

  Did you have fun?

  Ooooh yeah. Going to be black and blue tomorrow. I will sleep sooo good tonight.

  Another pause, so long she almost put the phone down to go take her shower.

  I guess you’re going to have to show me how to do that so I can help out.

  Her heart pounded, racing.

  Really?

  Are there training wheels or something for whips and paddles? :)

  Now she really wanted to cry again, but good tears.

  We’ll go slow. I promise.

  Yeah, since I haven’t had sex in over two years, slow is good.

  How about we spend next weekend together. Not kinky, just…us?

  Another pause, but she’d sat on the edge of her bed, hopeful.

  How about I pick you up Friday night, we go to dinner, and then go back to my place? I like your dad but I’ll be nervous enough. I don’t need him knocking on your door and asking how we’re doing.

  That sounds like a damn good plan, Sir.

  I have one on occasion. :) I’ll let you get to sleep. Good night, sweetie.

  She smiled.

  Good night, Sir.

  Now she could get her shower.

  Then she could wear out a vibrator.

  * * * *

  Axel lay back in his hotel bed and knew he wouldn’t be able to peel the smile off his face. Earlier that week, he’d talked to Eliza on the phone, asking for her confidence and confessing everything that was going on.

  And his fear.

  She had done a lot to reassure him that not only were his feelings normal, but that he’d done the right thing to let Skye play this weekend. That if things were ever to hit the next level between them, trust had to flow both ways. Since he didn’t even know if he’d ever be able to be the sadist that Skye seemed to need, he was smart to let someone else do that for now.

  Not to mention he was better off getting used to it now.

  And that they were right to try to figure out the BDSM stuff sooner rather than later. That trying to force it would nuke them.

  He could have been talking to Skye, the words they said were so similar, and he said just that.

  Eliza had laughed. “Dude, this isn’t rocket science. It really isn’t. But when ‘domly Doms’ try to assert their egos, that’s usually what fucks things up. Be real, be honest, and be yourself. And remember that most people who first get into the lifestyle usually feel some level of pants-shitting fear, especially coming into it later in life like you are. She’s got two decades of this, buddy. So do most of us you know. You don’t have to know everything at once, and I’m pretty sure Skye won’t expect you to, based on what you’ve said.”

  “I don’t want to screw this up with her.”

  “Then don’t. It’s as simple as that. Be honest, above all else. Talk. The talking will feel weird and awkward and uncomfortable sometimes, but do it. It gets easier the more you do it, I promise.”

  Chapter Twelve

  That week was sort of like a good kind of slow-motion torture. They saw each other Tuesday night at gaming, and Axel frequently sent sly smiles her way throughout the game, dampening her panties.

  She was hoping to steal more than a quick peck from him, but Kyle had a friend over, and with two teen boys in the house, Skye didn’t want to do anything untoward around them.

  Skye and Axel texted all week, but a project at work had him working late, so they didn’t get to go out together before Friday. It was that, or him risking having to work over the weekend to meet his project deadline.

  She’d suffer through the waiting.

  By the time he picked her up at home on Friday, she was nearly crawling out of her skin with anticipation. They had a great dinner, and she finally got him to let her pay for one for a change.

  Even better, they’d established more ground rules for them, whatever this was, and agreed they wanted to see what would happen next.

  They also agreed that if, at the end of the weekend, one or both of them didn’t really feel it, they’d back off and settle for being just good friends without it nuking their relationship totally.

  Considering everything Skye had done in her adult life, she thought it was absofuckinglutely ridiculous that she felt as nervous as she did when they left the restaurant Friday night and drove back to Axel’s house.

  I’ve known this guy for over twenty years. He’s not a serial killer.

  Then again, it wasn’t like they’d been close during all those years apart. Being Facebook “friends” wasn’t like being friends in real life, either. She didn’t even know his favorite kind of music, or if he was some total whack-job who hated sushi or something.

  No, scratch that, he did like sushi, she knew that much.

  An entire lifetime had passed for both of them from the time they’d last “known” each other until they’d reconnected.

  But it felt easy and right to rest her hand on his thigh as he drove, and even better when he covered her hand with his.

  In a way she knew things hadn’t felt when they were kids.

  That was about the only thing helping her not fall face-first into a full-blown freakout. Everything felt easy between them now. Conversations big or small, playing D&D, or talking about news.

  They’d both voted on the same sides of political insanity over the years.

  He liked dogs and cats. Barksley already loved the hell out of him, and he always took the time to pet the dogs—and her parents’ cat, when Dilbert would let him.

  No desperate need to fill silences when one settled between them. Even those felt…easy.

  Simple.

  Fun.

  After being so damn careful, after what she went through with her ex, she was ready to get a little crazy. They’d both paid their dues. They’d both been shafted after making what they’d thought was a sound decision about their heart.

  Now, they’d recovered and were moving on toward whatever the next stage would bring them.

  Wasn’t it their time, finally, after all these years?

  * * * *

  Axel hoped he didn’t start hyperventilating and have to pull the car over.

  That would be embarrassing.

  Sure, they’d been kids in high school. They’d never fooled around together back then. He now knew a hell of a lot more than he did at that age—and felt a lot more neurotic about a goodly chunk of it—and yet in some ways he felt even more stupid.

  He could never remember feeling “young.” Ironically, he thought maybe he understood even less now than he did back then in direct proportion to how much he knew.

  He’d certainly been scorched in the intervening years. Some people were tempered by that process. Strengthened.

  Hardened.

  Not him. It’d turned him nervous and cautious.

  Fragile and brittle.

  Why take a risk you could reasonably assume you’d get smacked hard by life for taking?

  Linda had more than taught him that lesson. He’d married for what he’d thought was love and what’d it get him in return?

  A banker’s box full of trust issues and attorney fees.

  Single, employed, reasonably secure.

  Why take a risk again?

  But this was Skye, s
omeone who even though she’d dropped from the front of his mind years ago always lingered in the peripheries, ever-present in his memories or when talking about the past and gaming, or comic books, or anything they’d all done together as friends. He couldn’t think about Rusty or Darryl or Grant or Milo or any of his friends he’d known back then without the others automatically popping into his memories and waving, too.

  It wasn’t just her.

  But she had been the glue back then. For him, at least.

  And all the BDSM stuff. Before Skye, he didn’t know much about that—him occasionally cruising hentai sites aside.

  Not really.

  How was he supposed to compete with that?

  That wasn’t the kind of guy he was, either.

  If he changed the kind of coffee he drank in the morning, that was radical, in his neatly ordered world.

  Yet the touch of Skye’s hand on his thigh, the warmth through his jeans, and his mind stilled and let him think about what might have been.

  What maybe could be.

  God help him, he wanted it.

  Badly.

  Wanted her.

  But why would she want me?

  It hadn’t helped that at one point Tuesday night at D&D, when he was in the kitchen getting a drink of water, Eliza had walked in and draped an arm around his shoulders.

  “You okay?” she whispered.

  He nodded.

  “How are you doing?”

  “We talked on the phone Monday night. She told me about the scene. Sounded…brutal. But she seemed happy with what happened.”

  “Did she mention who she played with?”

  “Guy named Landry.”

  Eliza’s eyes widened. “Holy fuck,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” But she said it way too fast.

  “Eliza, what?”

  “He’s…” She blew out a breath and glanced around to make sure they were alone. “Good news, bad news. He’s an honorable guy, a good guy, and doesn’t grope. If she played with Landry, I can almost guarantee you with my life he didn’t do anything inappropriate with her.”