by Brynley Bush
The pool is hopping when we arrive. Music is pumping loudly from the state-of-the-art sound system, a huge buffet has been laid out courtesy of the hotel restaurant, there’s an open bar, and all the contestants are clearly in a good mood and ready to let loose. I see a Dom named Jake whom I’ve met a few times before at Logan’s club in San Francisco, and we join him and his submissive Rose at one of the cabanas. Before long, the bouncy little blonde who had cheered Ava on during her striptease and tried to convince us to stay afterward joins us with her Dom, a young guy named Luke. It seems the submissives all already know one another, and after proper introductions are made, the talk turns to the show.
“I wonder if they’re going to announce the results of the first round of voting tonight,” the little blonde sub Tessa says.
“They can’t!” Ava protests. “Everyone hasn’t done their individual scenes yet.”
“I’m pretty sure all the Doms have already recorded plenty of scenes,” Jake says good-naturedly. The look he gives his submissive, Rose, is smoldering. “I know I had a damn hard time choosing just one.”
“We haven’t had any,” Ava maintains. I don’t say anything, and slowly realization dawns. She turns to look at me uncertainly. “Have we?”
Tessa’s gaze darts from me to Ava, and then she says brightly, “I’m going to check out the buffet. Want to come with me, Rose?”
“Sure,” Rose agrees hastily.
The two Doms follow their submissives, leaving Ava and me alone.
“Have we had any scenes?” she asks me point-blank, slightly horrified.
“We’ve had several scenes,” I say calmly. “You know that.”
“But I didn’t know they were being recorded!”
“This is why,” I explain rationally. “Because if you knew it was being recorded and might be on the show, then that’s what you’d be thinking about, and your reactions wouldn’t be natural anymore. I don’t want you thinking about the audience or the show. When you’re with me, your focus should be on pleasing me and nothing else.”
“But…”
I hold a finger to her lips, silencing her. “This is nonnegotiable, Ava, whether you like it or not. I’m not going to tell you when we’re recording. One of the advantages of being a submissive is you’re freed from the burden of thinking and deciding and deliberating and feeling guilty. The choice is made for you. You just have to accept.”
I can tell she doesn’t like the idea of that.
“Tell me one of the scenes you’ve recorded,” she says cajolingly.
I don’t answer.
“The desk?”
I nod slightly.
“Oh, God.”
She’s blushing again, and I can see the mortification on her face.
“And last night?” she whispers.
“Not last night,” I say softly.
She nods, relief etched on her face.
“Speaking of last night, I’m not sure if I told you how much I enjoyed your striptease,” I murmur.
“That was the idea.” She smiles, her embarrassment temporarily forgotten. “But for the record, you never actually begged.”
“But then neither did you,” I counter.
Her smile widens. “True. So a détente, then?”
“A détente,” I agree, smiling back. “For now.”
We’re interrupted by the return of Luke, Tessa, Jake, and Rose. Tessa hands a margarita to Ava and one to me. “We got you guys a drink,” she says.
“Thank you, Tessa,” I say. In my most authoritative voice, I add, “But from now on, I’ll take care of getting Ava’s drinks.” I fix Ava’s friend with a reprimanding stare, and she pales. When I turn back to Ava, she’s looking at me with wide-eyed disbelief.
“You knew all the time that it was Tessa?” she demands in a whisper.
I trace her cheekbone gently with my finger. “Loyalty is a beautiful quality in anyone, but particularly one’s submissive, Ava. Despite your disregard for the rules, I admired your willingness to protect your friend.” I don’t add that it probably also earned her major points with the viewers.
An hour later, the party’s in full swing, and eventually one of the Doms suggests a wet T-shirt contest. The Doms all agree it’s a great idea, much to the dismay of some of the subs, mine in particular, but she gamely takes the stage with the rest of the submissives, dressed in her bikini bottom and a white T-shirt Logan found who knows where. Probably his own suitcase.
The submissives have cut the bottoms off the shirts to create deep Vs down the front, maximizing their cleavage, and there’s much laughter and squealing as the Doms take pitchers of water filled from the pool and pour them over their submissives’ chests. I stand behind Ava and pour slowly, appreciating the way the T-shirt clings to her small, round breasts, her protruding nipples clearly visible beneath the thin material.
Although it’s just for fun, the Doms have agreed to make it a competition and judge all the submissives but their own for the sake of fairness. Some of the more outgoing submissives play it up, dancing provocatively and shaking their tits, but Ava either used up all her performance chutzpah yesterday or she hasn’t had enough margaritas, and she’s voted off third. She leaves the stage and gratefully flops down at the end of the chaise lounge I’m sitting in.
“I’ve never been so grateful for small breasts in my life.”
I’ve noticed my little submissive isn’t much of an exhibitionist. We’ll have to work on that. I don’t require that a submissive flaunt her body unnecessarily, but if I want to show her off on occasion, I expect her to acquiesce graciously, if only to please me.
I tug her up the length of my body until she’s positioned between my legs, leaning back against my chest. I cup the solid weight of one breast, rubbing my thumb across the rock-hard nipple. “I think they’re perfect,” I say simply.
She tries to squirm away, but I hold her to me, my hand still cupped around her breast possessively, reminding her of my authority over her. We watch until the second to last submissive is voted off and a winner is announced—an extremely well-endowed submissive named Desiree who isn’t shy about using her considerable assets. Her Dom proudly joins her on the stage, pulling her T-shirt off completely to the cheers and wolf whistles from the approving Doms.
Ava gives a little shudder, no doubt thanking her stars she’d been voted off and consequently been spared standing bare-breasted on the stage. However, her relief is short-lived, because as soon as Desiree leaves the stage, Logan takes it with a new announcement.
“Later, we’ll be announcing the results of the first round of the Power Games,” he says. “But first, we have an activity designed to let our Doms express their creativity. Each cabana has been stocked with a set of body paints and brushes. Each Dom has forty-five minutes to paint his submissive and turn her body into a work of art.” He chuckles. “Not that it isn’t already. Spend your time wisely, Doms. Although this isn’t an official game and no one will be voted off afterward, the artwork that gets the highest vote will earn its team an additional one hundred points to add to their score during the next round. Oh, and the only thing submissives can have on their bodies is paint. Gentlemen, are you ready?”
Ava’s still looking stunned when I close the curtains of the cabana, giving us complete privacy.
She gasps in horror. “I have to parade around completely naked again?”
“The paint will cover you for the most part, but you should be getting used to being naked. It’s no different than the striptease last night,” I remind her.
“But then I’d had…” She trails off. “Any chance you’ll go get me another margarita?” She flashes me a disarming smile.
“No!” I say, running a finger down her nose. “You need to learn to be comfortable in your own skin and proud of your body. Besides, it pleases me to show you off, which is all that should concern you.”
She huffs but slowly removes her T-shirt and, after a stern look, her bikini bottom. She stands in
front of me, her eyes closed tightly. “Okay. Go.”
“This isn’t supposed to be torture.” I chuckle. “In fact, if I do it right, you might even find it erotic.”
I know I certainly find it erotic as I bend her forward over the back of one of the lounge chairs and begin painting her delectable bottom. I’m not particularly artistic, and considering Ava’s aversion to exposing her body, I decide to give her a rather skimpy painted-on bikini to help her overcome her shyness. If the adorable way she’s struggling to control herself and stand still is any indication, I’m right about her finding it erotic as well.
After I’ve painted the backside of her bikini bottom, a target with the bull’s-eye right where her rear hole is, I help her stand and turn her to face me.
“I’m ready to paint the front,” I say. “Close your eyes. I want you to be surprised.”
She sighs and closes her eyes as I dip the brush in paint and kneel before her. She squirms slightly as the paintbrush swirls across her bare mound. “Don’t move,” I chide. “If I have to spank you, it’s going to ruin my impressive artwork.”
One eye opens a slit to glare at me. “Then don’t spank me.”
I grin. “Stay still, and I won’t have to.”
She stands completely motionless for a few minutes and then says, “So, um, what do you think about the other contestants?”
Ah, distraction—the universal coping mechanism for a submissive, if her Dom allows it. While there are times I will no doubt want Ava fully focused on every sensation, in this instance I decide to allow it, if only so I can concentrate on painting her body.
“I’ve met Jake a few times before, and he’s a good guy,” I say conversationally, drawing a yellow circle over the center of her labia. “Luke is young, but he seems pretty knowledgeable about the lifestyle. Much better than that other young Dom, Shawn.”
“Because you’re so ancient,” she says sarcastically.
I sigh. “You have no idea. I feel decades older than those two.” I outline a ring of red around the yellow. “You seem to be friends with Rose and Tessa.”
“It would seem so,” she says with a hint of wonder in her voice.
Then a sharp intake of breath as I move to her breasts. “Who do you think is going to be the hardest to beat?” she asks with another little hitch as I swirl the soft brush over her areola, turning it blue.
“There’s your friend Emmett,” I add, my voice hardening. “He’s clearly an excellent Dom, and his sub, Rebecca, is obviously very experienced. They’ll be a force to be reckoned with. As will that red-haired submissive Carly and her Dom, Michael, although I don’t care for him much.”
She shudders, although I’m not sure if it’s from the mention of the hard-looking Dom or the stiff brush that’s now flicking across her nipple. “He gives me the creeps. There’s something cold in his eyes.”
By the time we’ve discussed the rest of the contestants, I’ve finished, and Ava is squirming.
“Okay,” I say, laying the brush down. “You can open your eyes now.”
She opens her eyes slowly and gazes down at her body. Her mouth falls open. “You painted targets on my breasts and…and there?” she asks incredulously.
She looks pretty fantastic if I do say so myself. Her hard nipples form the bull’s-eyes of two perfect targets on her chest, with a matching one painted on her mound, the center directly where her clitoris is hidden. She twists to look at her backside. “Is there one on my butt too?” she asks in horror.
“Just making sure I marked my targets for later tonight,” I answer, laughing at her discomfiture.
Logan announces that time’s up, and I open the curtains of the cabana and lead Ava to the pillared stage where we join the rest of the Doms and submissives. Although my artwork’s not bad, several of the other Doms have really outdone themselves and have a hell of a lot more artistic ability than I do. Jake’s submissive Rose is painted in a detailed Wonder Woman outfit, and an older Dom named Karl has painted a sexy cropped soccer jersey and matching short-shorts on his submissive that look amazingly realistic. But Emmett’s submissive is absolutely breathtaking. She’s seated with her back turned, revealing an intricately painted cello, the swell of her hips and curves of her body perfectly mirroring the curves of the instrument, with her rounded buttocks forming the bottom and her spine the strings.
“Your friend Emmett has some serious body-painting skills.” I can’t help but be impressed. There’s no doubt who’ll be getting the extra points tonight.
“He’s a very talented tattoo artist,” Ava says proudly.
My mouth tightens at the unexpected stab of jealousy.
Logan calls each of us forward to present our submissives, and after photographs are taken and everyone has finished, we all stand on the stage together as Logan gives us the results of the first round of the games.
He announces the two Dom-and-sub teams that have been voted off, and then the remaining couples are ranked in order. Emmett and Rebecca are in first place, the well-endowed Desiree and her Dom Stefan are in second—no doubt thanks to her professional dance moves last night—and Ava and I are tied for third place with Tessa and Luke. Ava directs a surprised but pleased smile at me.
“You’ll have three days before the next group event, which will be Western Night.”
There’s a hum of nervous excitement and speculation at Logan’s announcement. Logan holds his hand up. “There are, however, a few rules for the days that lead up to the next group event. The main one is that submissives are not allowed to orgasm from this moment until the group event.” His eyes gleam fiendishly. “This rule does not apply to the Doms.” There are several guffaws of good-natured laughter. “Doms—trust me when I tell you that it will be in your best interest to keep your submissive as aroused as possible over the next few days without letting her come. That edge is going to come in handy on Friday.
“You will have the next two days to spend as you wish. On Friday, the submissives will enjoy another spa day to prepare for the games while the Doms get ready for Western Night. The games will start promptly at eight o’clock.”
Damn Logan and his rules. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he came up with this asinine rule just to torture me. Any plans I’d had to determine if Ava meant what she said last night about reconsidering her hard limit on sex are now shelved for the next three days. Ava’s soft voice interrupts my thoughts of ways to slowly torture Logan.
“This is really thick paint,” she mutters. “I hope I can get it all off.”
“Don’t worry,” I say wickedly. “I’ll be happy to help you with that.”
Chapter Eleven
Ava
I wake up naked as usual, surrounded by Roman’s arms. I’m getting used to the feel of his arms around me, and it’s surprisingly nice. I snuggle in closer. Things have been different between us since the night of the striptease. Not because he’s been different; if anything, he’s been even more demanding and domineering. But my attitude’s changed because I’ve seen a glimpse of the sweet and tender side he hides behind that gruff Dominant demeanor.
I move to get up, but strong hands hold me fast, turning me in his arms. He nuzzles my neck, the scruffy overnight shadow of his beard tickling me deliciously.
“What should we do today?” he murmurs.
“I know what we can’t do today,” I grumble. Roman had been quite thorough in washing the paint off in the shower last night, and I’m still feeling vaguely needy and out of sorts this morning.
He nips my ear. “Don’t remind me.”
“I don’t know what you’re worried about. The rule doesn’t apply to you.”
He looks at me consideringly. “The problem is, I don’t know how I’m going to keep you on edge for two days without making you come. All I have to do is touch you and you explode.”
My face flushes with heat. “You make me sound like some sort of nymphomaniac,” I protest. “I do not come that easily.”
“Yes, y
ou do, sweetheart,” he says with a smile of pure male satisfaction. “Let’s go downstairs and have breakfast while I think about it.”
We’re half-finished with breakfast—eggs, bacon, and toast for him, and yogurt and a bowl of strawberries for me—when he surprises me by asking me what I like to do.
“What do you mean?” I dip a strawberry into the yogurt and then lick it off.
“Dammit, Ava, are you trying to drive me crazy?” he grumbles, his gaze fixed on my mouth.
“Someone’s kind of grumpy today.” I dip the strawberry back into the yogurt and lick it off again, swirling my tongue deliberately around the tip of the strawberry before sliding it slowly between my lips. His eyes darken.
“And someone’s going to pay for teasing her Dom,” he says.
God, I hope so.
“I mean what do you like to do for fun? What do you enjoy in your spare time?” he presses.
I think about his question. “I don’t know,” I say slowly. “For the last couple of years my time has been consumed by school, and any spare time I had I was working at a coffee shop to make money to cover the things my scholarship didn’t. I didn’t have much time for fun.”
He picks up my hand. “No hobbies? No passions?” I shake my head. “What about music?” he asks, playing idly with my fingers. “You said you liked music. And you clearly know a thing or two about it, given your song choice the other night. Not everyone has heard of Lipstick Zoo.”
I look up at him in surprise. “You’ve heard of them?”
He nods. “Great band.”
I can’t figure him out. What kind of man runs a multimillion-dollar company and gets off on controlling women but listens to Lipstick Zoo? “I do love music,” I admit. “I think I have a playlist for everything, and I love discovering new bands. Not being able to listen to music whenever I want has been one of the hardest things about the games. Well, besides the whole being-naked-all-the-time thing. And being spanked. And having to do whatever I’m told. And—”
He silences me with a kiss, his tongue brushing over mine unhurriedly as his lips taste and tantalize until I’ve forgotten what we were talking about.