by Joey W. Hill
She had to give Tyler and his partners kudos for their employee training, because the woman had given her exactly the guidance she needed without being asked.
"The Dom bracelet, please. And one of the no-plays." She was willing to take some chances, but at her own pace.
Suitably "classified", she wandered in. She'd seek Lyda's whereabouts eventually, but Gen wanted to get her own impressions first. What would a Domme be feeling as she entered this world? Closing her eyes, she imagined herself as Lyda, then slowly opened her eyes, let her gaze trail over the scatterings of people. The dance floor had a moderate but enthusiastic group. The bracelets were done in glow-in-the-dark neon colors, and subs wore red. Her Domme bracelet glowed green, a marriage of Christmas colors she wondered if was intended for the whimsical irony. Every day is Christmas...
Speaking of which. Her gaze landed on a male leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His face was in the shadows, but he seemed familiar to her. Regardless, she saw enough of him to have her libido sitting up to take notice. Since his arms were crossed, she couldn't see his bracelet color, but him in a submissive bracelet would be pure fantasy.
Built like a brick house, he had an alert body language that said cop or military. He was more mature, somewhere in his late forties. A very fit, mouth-watering late-forties. His jeans held what he had to offer in just the right way and he was shirtless. A couple of wicked scars on his six-pack abdomen, including a round one that looked as if it had been caused by a bullet, added to the dangerous look of him. His hair was thick and curly, an intriguing mix of black, silver and white.
Reluctantly, she shifted her gaze from the pleasure of perusing him. Maybe she could bribe him to let her tie him up and spank him. Yeah, right. She had about thirty dollars of her carefully hoarded entertainment budget in her purse. In this place, that would buy her the two-drink minimum and a snack.
Oh, hello. The red bracelet was a distinctive glow on the next male who caught her attention. Like the cop, he was sporting the pleasing shirtless look. This one was younger, perhaps late twenties. Sprawled out across a bench in a cozy alcove that invited trysts, he had one foot on the floor, the other propped on the wall as he lay on his back. In Gen's position on the mezzanine, she was looking down at him. He was all smooth muscle, tribal tattoos on the biceps, and...oh my.
He was wearing the tight shorts Olympic athletes wore, the kind that stopped high on the thighs and displayed a cock ready to do whatever a woman demanded. Even in a resting state, the whole package was quite noticeable. Strands of black hair brushed carelessly across his forehead drew her attention to devil-may-care blue-gray eyes. Ones that flickered up and found hers.
Seeing her interest, his gaze went to her wrist. Though she had the no-play bracelet with the Domme one, an anticipatory look spread across his face, like a wolf seeing dinner. He had a whole Channing Tatum thing happening, a dose of hundred percent trouble, the kind that scrambled a woman's mind. He wanted her to remove that no-play bracelet.
She'd watched how all this worked the other night. If she removed it, she could explain she was a newbie, and if he was okay with that, they could set boundaries. She could tie him up, enjoy touching him the way she'd enjoyed touching Noah. Right?
She thought of Noah's hands on her, his body pressing hers into the sand, those dark eyes so close. He wasn't Noah. While her libido wasn't choosy, it was hardwired to her heart and mind, and they were far more selective. She'd told Lyda she didn't do casual. Was this really any different from a bar pickup? Would it feel just as empty, or was it more like an evening out at the movies, where you enjoyed the show and went home with a sense of satisfaction? How did a woman program her emotions for this?
He'd lifted a brow, a question. Sitting up, he stretched an arm out along the back of the bench and then, holding her widening gaze, he slid his hand down those lovely abs, down, down, and into the shorts. Gripping himself, he stroked, keeping that sinful gaze on her, even as she lowered her eyes to what he was doing. His cock responded instantly, growing longer and thicker under his stimulation, so that he stretched it out under the shorts, cupped his balls, rolled them. As he adjusted his legs to give her a better view, there was a challenge in those eyes, one that made her think of an incubus luring a maiden into a dark, secret place.
"Not that one."
Lyda's sultry voice was against her ear. Gen let out a startled breath as the woman's arm slid around her waist. When Lyda pressed her mouth against the tender skin beneath Gen's ear, her pulse leaped at the first contact. She caught that breath as Lyda cupped her breast, ran her fingers over it in an unmistakably possessive act, plucking at the lace of the bra through the shirt's thin fabric. The male's eyes sharpened, his own lips parting, but in her peripheral vision, Gen saw Lyda lock gazes with him. Whatever message she sent, he removed his hand from his shorts, lifting both palms in mock apology, but the smile he sent their way was not the least bit repentant.
Lyda nudged Gen. "Trust me, Marius is the abyss end of the pool. He'll hold you under and drown you if you show weakness. But it's a Lucifer thing. Everything you fuck up with him is your own choice. He gives you just enough rope to hang yourself. Only one Mistress has ever been able to get his number. He treats her with what little respect for authority he has in him." At Gen's look, Lyda's lips twisted. "Marguerite."
"Of course," Gen murmured.
"He's a top from the bottom ass, but he does it so well too many Mistresses let him get away with it. He's like overdoing the Jack Daniel's, where you have a huge good time that night, but you wake up with a what-the-fuck-did-I-do hangover the next day. He part-times as a cooler here. Ironically, he has an aptitude for defusing volatile situations. He also does wait staff, whatever handy stuff they need, since he gets no regular play because of how challenging he is. Come on. We'll find you someone fun in the Domme 101 category."
Lacing fingers with her, Lyda drew Gen toward another public gathering space, one with tables and chairs like a restaurant, rather than a living room furniture arrangement. Gen saw some submissives on their knees beside Dominants, but most of those here were informal socializing groups, regardless of the bracelets they wore. Yet there were a good number of submissive males, and she felt their eyes on her, causing her to draw closer to Lyda. They were probably looking more hopefully at her anyway. She couldn't help doing that herself.
Lyda wore a pair of ivory-colored riding breeches that zipped up the side, forming a tight, second skin fit over her ass and thighs. The pants tucked into polished riding boots. A translucent linen shirt limned her upper body, highlighting the lace bra beneath. The curves of her breasts were revealed by the open three buttons of the neckline. Lyda's flame-gold hair was pulled back in a french braid, and she wore a cameo pendant that highlighted the delicate lines of her throat. It was impossible for the woman to look anything but mesmerizing. Daunting, yes, but people would draw as close as they dared. And that daunting person was holding her hand, pulling her through the crowd as if she was hers alone.
Don't be stupid, Gen.
I'm not. It's okay to fantasize.
Lyda wasn't wearing a bracelet, but she didn't really need it. Why on earth did you have to put a "hot" sign over coffee? People that clueless wouldn't get it anyway.
"It's all right," Lyda said, sliding her arm around Gen's waist again, her fingers curving over her hip to give her a reassuring pat. "The Zone's rules are very strict, Gen. Even Marius, flirting so outrageously, wouldn't have approached you until you clearly invited him to do so. Or took off the no-play bracelet."
"Can you help me understand some things...before I do anything?"
"We can spend the whole night talking, if that's what you want to do." Lyda gestured to a table, and Gen took the chair across from her. Gen didn't detect any hedging in Lyda's tone, nothing but sincerity. To all appearances, she was respecting Gen's desire to be something different tonight. Which was even more distracting, in a perverse way.
"What do
male submissives want from a Domme? Do they just want women to do everything, get them off?"
"There are some like that in both genders. A bottom might require only the loss of control and sexual release. For the Domme who wants the mirror of that, to take over and achieve sexual pleasure for both, that works. I've taken on some bottoms for one-night stands, but I've always preferred the nature of the true submissive. A true submissive, male or female, is hungering to serve at some level, even if it's just sexual."
"Like Noah?"
"Like Noah."
"Will he be here tonight?"
"Maybe. He's doing a shift at a pizza delivery place, but he gets off at nine."
"I know you've both tried to explain it to me, and maybe I should stop worrying about it, but I can't figure out you two. He said, when we went sailing..." She reddened, and Lyda's lips curved.
"You and he had sex. It was allowed."
"But don't you consider him yours?"
"Absolutely. I haven't put a collar on Noah, but we still have rules." The fiery glimmer in Lyda's gaze gave Gen thrill and reassurance both. "He has to get my permission for all of it, until I release him. Or he asks to be let go, which Noah will never do."
"Is that why you won't collar him? Because he doesn't choose?"
Lyda's expression closed down. "I'm sorry," Gen interjected. "I didn't mean..."
Lyda shook her head, waving her hand. "Let's leave that one alone for now. What other questions do you have?"
Gen remarshaled her thoughts. "Before Brendan, I thought a male sub would be...wimpy. Doormats. Not possessive at all."
Lyda snorted. "If they were only that pliable. See him?"
Gen followed Lyda's direction. The brickhouse male who'd first caught her attention was sitting at one of the tables, straddling a chair. Now that she could see his wrists, she saw he was wearing a pair of silver cuff-style bracelets that looked like overlapped angel wings. Holy crap, he was a submissive. And she realized why he looked familiar. "Mac."
"You know him?"
"Yes. He and his wife were guests at Marguerite and Tyler's wedding. I would never have guessed..."
"That he's a submissive? A lot of people react that way to him, but you have to look beyond the surface, see the cues. As far as a doormat..." Lyda looked amused. "If any man here put hands on Mac's Mistress, Tyler would have to install a floor drain to wash away all the blood. Mac belongs to Violet, but she's his as well. They're married, but more than that, there's a mutual soul possession. That's something different from just playing at Dom/sub games."
Gen's gaze shifted to Violet, sitting on Mac's right. Under the table, her booted foot rested on the top of his, a casually intimate pose. The woman was as petite as he was large, and even though they were talking to another woman at the table, the bond between them was obvious.
"Taking care of a baby MIT tonight, Lyda?"
A black woman, nearly six feet tall, had arrived at their table. Her long, dark-red braids were sprinkled with silver glitter. Her crimson corset and black leggings with beautifully crafted red-and-black boots made her formidable, as well as out-front sexy.
"Regina, this is Gen. Gen, Mistress Regina. Gen is still learning her place in our world," Lyda explained. "And deciding if it's her world at all."
When Regina shifted her weight to one hip, Gen expected her to pull a sword from a back harness and test the blade with a fingernail. The woman projected off Amazon warrior queen without any problem at all. "Well, child, you'll either find it's Disney World, a bunch of fun rides and then back to normal life, or you'll never want to leave. Course, Disney World can be like that too." Regina said it pleasantly enough, though her eyes were measuring. Gen wondered if every Domme she met tonight was going to make her feel like she was just pretending at what was so natural to them. Even petite Violet had that measuring look when she gazed at her husband. The tilt of her head and her posture broadcast what she was, again making the bracelet irrelevant.
"Are you playing tonight?" Lyda asked Regina.
"Hmm." Regina glanced toward Marius. He was in the same alcove, both feet up now, ankles crossed and heels propped against the wall. He had a baseball and was throwing it up in the air to catch it. He didn't look frustrated by his lack of play. He reminded Gen of an amiable snake, sunning itself on a rock while its slit eyes watched for a hapless mouse to scuttle over it.
"I told Tyler I'd whip Marius' ass for putting his feet on the walls."
"Good luck with that." Lyda chuckled as the woman gave them another cordial nod and moved off. Gen stared at the table.
"You think this is a pointless exercise. That I'm as much of a Dominant as Noah is."
Lyda's brow creased. "No. And yes. No, it's not a pointless exercise. You have the desire to top, Gen, but in a very targeted way." Lyda touched her face, drawing Gen's gaze back up. "The bull's-eye has just arrived."
Following her direction, Gen saw Noah step into view from the main hallway. A Domme in steampunk wear beckoned him over to the booth where she was sitting. As Gen watched, she slid a riding crop down his chest and used it to snag the T-shirt he was wearing, drawing him closer. Her other hand latched onto his waistband, fingers teasing his navel just above it.
"He's the one you want tonight, right?"
She looked toward Lyda. "Is it that obvious?"
"Pretty much. You were enjoying looking around the candy store, but you were waiting for him. Right?"
Gen saw no reason to deny the truth, not when relief had flooded her vitals at his appearance. She admitted she had been enjoying the fantasies she could attach to something like Marius, but when Noah had arrived, what she wanted, who she felt comfortable pursuing this with, was as clear as a glass table top. "Is that okay?"
"I think if you'd chosen differently, it would have been hard for Noah to watch. He's becoming quite attached to you." Lyda's expression remained neutral, but Gen sensed the woman was pleased by their mutual attraction.
Noah smiled at something the Domme was saying. Though his gaze never left her face, Gen was almost sure he'd already located Lyda and her. When the steampunk Mistress ran a familiar hand down his hip, she looked at Lyda. "Is that okay?"
"Noah is well known here," Lyda said. "The other Dommes play and flirt with him. It's harmless fun, and I allow it. Some of the Masters and Mistresses who don't have the patience or take pleasure in aftercare for their subs have him serve as an aftercare nanny. He's very nurturing."
"It doesn't bother you, to see other women touch him?"
"The boundaries are very clear here. It's outside that things can get a bit more...muddy." Lyda sent a pointed look at her hand, clenching the edge of the table. "I can tell you don't particularly like seeing him being touched by other women. How about when I touch him?"
"That's fine. I mean, he's yours." Quite frankly, watching Lyda touch Noah aroused Gen greatly. Seeing this stranger touch him provoked a far different reaction.
"It's more than that." Lyda leaned in, closing the personal space between them and pulling Gen's attention from Noah like a magnet. "What about seeing someone touch me, Gen? How would you feel about that?"
"You're playing with my head."
"I like to play with my cake before I eat it." Lyda ran a fingertip over Gen's bottom lip. "Put a bit of icing here, let it melt, tease it off with my tongue. You're such a confusing mix, Gen. It's irresistible."
"Watching me flounder? Learning my place?"
"No." Lyda's touch stilled, a warning look in her eyes. "Watching you choose your path through the woods. Seeing how brave you are. In Dominance and submission, a lot of layers come off. We get to see the soul beneath shine or bleed." Lyda gestured toward Noah. "You want to see how it works, with the lines in place? Play with him here tonight, whatever way you wish. I can help as much or as little as you want, though I will be present to guide you on safe play. When it's over, you can keep him overnight. My only condition is that everything sexual with him happens here, at the club. You can take h
im home as a cuddle toy, but nothing else."
That first night, Gen had resisted the urge to use him that way. A big, sexy teddy bear tempting her to do things she'd never consider with a stuffed animal. There was probably a fetish for that, one she was sure she didn't want to know about.
"Why nothing else?" She was curious, not complaining--though she expected at a certain point tonight she'd want to whine about the stipulation.
"Because it will keep you both aroused, knowing you can't touch one another until I say so. That gives me pleasure." She extended a hand. "Deal?"
Lyda was right; Gen had a confusing mix of emotions to juggle right now. The deal Lyda was offering was a clear act of submission, Gen's to her will. Yet it was the reward for "allowing" Gen to dominate Noah. Reaching out, she clasped Lyda's hand. Lyda held onto it, firm and tight.
"That prohibition goes for self-pleasuring as well," she added, her mouth getting a stern look that sent crazy thrills through Gen. "You save that sweet fountain between your legs for me."
Gen swallowed. "Deal."
*
Confirming Gen's theory of where Noah's attention really was, the instant Lyda gestured in his direction, his eyes were on them both. As he came toward them, he gave Gen his serious smile. Yet when he reached out to take her hand, Lyda lifted a palm.
"Gen is your Mistress tonight, Noah. Not your equal. You understand?"
"Yes Mistress." He stepped back, giving Gen an intriguing look before his dark eyes lowered, sending a startling bolt of anticipation through her. All the things she'd seen here or imagined flashed through her mind. Yet she honestly wasn't sure how to start. She looked toward Lyda. Fortunately, the woman did as she'd promised. She helped, becoming Gen's Domme 101 personal tour guide.
"How about a semiprivate area? One of the cubicle areas that can still be viewed from the upper levels, but feels a little more sequestered, like a corner table in a restaurant."
Gen nodded. "I like that."
Lyda scraped a nail down Noah's arm, making the same spot on Gen's arm tingle. "I'm thinking Gen would like to learn more about how pain and pleasure work. You did keep her waiting, Noah."