by Nina Lane
The elevator doors shut behind them, and he pulled her close, his mouth thinning as her body tensed against his. Her vulnerabilities had returned when his only wish was to put her at ease. “This weekend I’ll take you to Freedom, but you won’t be playing,” he said quietly.
“No?”
“No, it will be the beginning of your training period.”
Disappointment moved over her face. “Oh.”
He skimmed his fingers down the length of her arm. “It’s not a race, kitten. I want to take my time with you, introduce you properly, but this weekend I’m signed on to be Dungeon Master.”
Rebecca suddenly turned in his arms, her lower lip caught between her teeth, her eyes bright with excitement as she gazed up at him. “I did some research while you were gone.”
Something swelled in Quinn’s chest. Pleasure? Pride? He wasn’t sure, since it was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, but that she’d taken the time to learn more about the lifestyle moved him. Unfortunately, while the Internet was full of valuable information, it was also bloated with inaccurate instruction. Every dungeon was run differently, depending on who was in charge. Quinn made sure to play only in those that followed his own personal and moral code. Since her wellbeing was his utmost concern as she learned, he’d settle for nothing less for Rebecca, as well.
The elevator opened and they stepped off. “What exactly is Dungeon Master?” she queried quietly as she stepped up to the counter to sign out. The night attendant handed her a clipboard and she scratched her name down. Then she handed the pen to Quinn. He signed out and slid the pen and clipboard across the marble counter.
“Good night, Tim,” he said.
“Have a safe weekend.” Tim presented a mask of professionalism as he pressed a button under the desk.
Rebecca eyed Quinn. “Wait, what was that all about?”
Quinn smiled, pushed open the heavy glass front door and gestured for her to exit. “Tim is a friend.”
Her steps slowed and, as her eyes adjusted to the dark outside, she glanced back into the building. “Is he…?”
“Privacy is always respected.”
“Oh,” she said, then mumbled something about that’s how he must have gotten into the building.
They turned the corner and walked down the bustling sidewalk, making their way to Onyx.
“Speaking of privacy, are you allowed to talk about the duties of a Dungeon Master?
He nodded. “I’ll be responsible for overseeing the other Doms when they take their subs into a scene. To make sure rules are being abided by and everyone’s safety is being adhered to.”
“What happens if the rules are broken?”
“The Dom will be shown the door. I don’t take that kind of thing lightly.”
“How did you get into the lifestyle?”
They maneuvered their way through the crowds. Quinn touched her back to move her in front of him as they sidestepped a group of rowdy teens. He stopped and picked up a potato chip bag and dropped it into the trashcan. “I always felt unsatisfied, like something was lacking in my relationships. One night a college girlfriend suggested we go to a club. The instant I entered, took in a few of the scenes, I knew what had been missing from my life.”
Rebecca nodded, and from the expression on her face, Quinn imagined she was recalling the enlightenment she’d experienced with him on the island. “So, while you’re busy with your duties as Dungeon Master, what will I be doing?”
“Watching,” he said. “Learning.”
They stopped at the traffic light. The Walk hand showed and they crossed the street. When they reached Onyx, Quinn pulled the heavy black door open and again placed his hand on her back to guide her in.
She looked up at him, uncertainty in her eyes. “Will I be on my own?”
The noise level increased as they stepped inside the darkened lounge. He put his mouth close to her ear and explained. “Never. You’ll stay by my side and wear my bracelet, which will let the other Doms know that you’re mine. I think watching is the best way to understand, see what interests you or not, to know your limits. Sometimes we can agree or disagree to things on paper, but then when we see scenes being played out, see the reality in the act, it can change how both the Dom and the sub feel. Your hard limit might become soft and vice versa.”
He felt a shiver move through her, and then he heard her friends calling out to her. “There they are.” She pointed to a table with three women waving her over.
Rebecca appeared a little more anxious than moments ago as she weaved through the crowd toward her friends. Quinn followed her, watching three sets of eyes go from Rebecca to him. They studied him like a bug under a microscope.
These women were very protective of her and wouldn’t hesitate to relieve him of his balls if he hurt her. Resisting the urge to cup himself, he pulled her chair out and watched her relax in their presence.
“This is Quinn Montgomery,” she said. “Quinn this is Melanie, Lillian and Sophie.”
“Ladies.” He made a point of looking each one in the eye. They stared back, unblinking. One drummed blood-red nails on the table top. Well, hell. Did his balls just draw up a little? “What are you all drinking?”
“Martinis,” they all said in unison.
“Gin,” Melanie added.
“Then I’ll be back with four.” He put his mouth close to Rebecca’s ear. “I’m sure you need a minute or two alone with your friends.” He turned to leave, but before he could even take one step, he heard the questions flying. He chuckled to himself, instantly liking her friends and their loyalty to Rebecca.
Quinn stepped up to the bar and ordered four martinis and a scotch on the rocks. He placed the drinks on a tray and carried them to the table. When he arrived, he met with silence. Again, all eyes fell on him, Rebecca’s included. He handed out the drinks, then reached for an empty chair at the neighboring table and put it beside Rebecca’s.
“So,” Melanie asked, running her hand along the stem of her glassware, “do you have any brothers?”
“Mel,” Rebecca said, looking mortified while her other friends laughed.
Quinn put his hand on the back of Rebecca’s chair and lightly brushed her shoulder to relax her. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Quinn swirled the amber liquid in his glass before taking a drink and setting it back on the table. “Three, in fact.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize.” Rebecca looked at him. “You never mentioned that.”
Her friend Melanie mumbled something about him being too preoccupied with other things to talk, and the other two murmured their agreement.
Giving all his focus to Rebecca, he nodded. “They live in L.A., and Melanie is right, when I’m with you I’m not thinking about my brothers.” He turned to Melanie. “How about you, Melanie? Do you have siblings?”
Melanie fished an olive from her glass and eased in into her mouth. “Yes, but I want to hear more about these brothers of yours. Do they visit often?”
Quinn laughed. “Not as often as I’d like.”
Her friend Sophie sat up straighter, her expression serious. “Your family is very important to you. You care about them greatly.”
He nodded and narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her. “Yes. I’d do anything for them.”
She picked up her glass, her gaze never leaving his. “Same,” she said over the rim before she took a drink.
Soon enough they fell into easy conversation, discussing work, family and their weekend plans. He neglected to mention that he’d be taking Rebecca out of town, only that she’d be spending her time with him. If she wanted to fill them in on what they did behind closed doors, that was up to her. A while later, after finishing off the last of his drink, Quinn glanced at his watch, anxious to have Rebecca all to himself.
When their banter finally ended, he turned to Rebecca. “Shall we?” When she nodded, he pushed from his chair and reached for her hand. He looked at her friends. “You ladies don’t mind if I keep her to myself this weekend, do
you?”
“Hell no,” Melanie said while Lilliana and Sophie grinned up at him.
“See you later,” Rebecca said.
“Twelve is the magic number,” Melanie called after her as Quinn put his hand on her back to guide her out.
“Twelve?” he asked.
Rebecca opened her mouth as if to speak, then buried her face in her hands. “When they sent me to Freedom, Melanie told me not to come back until I had twelve orgasms.”
“Ah, I see.” He guided her outside and the heat of the night fell over them. “Did you keep up your end of the bargain?” He pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a message. When finished, he drew Rebecca in to his arms.
She poked him in the chest. “You kept up that end of the bargain.”
He laughed, a deep, hearty laugh that pulled a smile from her. “I like your friends.”
“They like you too.”
“Although I’m not too sure if either of my brothers could handle Melanie.”
“She’s all bark and no bite,” Rebecca explained. She wobbled a little in her heels. “Whoa, I think that one drink went straight to my head.”
“You’ve not had dinner,” he stated, planning to rectify that.
The driver pulled up to the curb and Quinn opened the back door to let her in. He slid in beside her and noticed the way she was looking around the limo. He couldn’t stop the swell of pride that filled his chest at her wide-eyed appreciation.
He leaned back in his seat and heard Rebecca’s stomach rumble. “I was thinking I’d cook for you at my place, but now I’m wondering if we should pick something up.”
“You like to cook?”
He moved closer to her and put his hand on her leg. “I like to do a lot of things.”
Her lips quivered as she sucked in a breath. “Yes, well, I guess I have a lot to learn about you.”
“And about yourself.”
The driver pulled up in front of his home, and Quinn opened his door. He reached for Rebecca and she shimmied across the seat. He grabbed her hand and helped her out.
“This place is as beautiful as your summer estate,” she said.
“I’m glad you approve.” They stepped inside and were greeted by Eloise, the woman who oversaw his staff and the care of his home.
“Quinn,” she greeted cheerily, her eyes lighting with her smile.
“Eloise, this is Rebecca. Rebecca, this is Eloise. She takes care of everything around here. I’d be lost without her.”
The two exchanged pleasantries, then he said, “Tell the staff they have the night off. I’ll be cooking tonight.”
Eloise smiled at Quinn. “Very well.”
He pulled two tickets from his pocket. “Why don’t you and Frederick take the weekend off? I won’t be around, anyway.”
Her eyes widened as she looked at the Broadway tickets. “The Phantom of the Opera. I’ve been wanting to go.”
“I know.”
After dismissing Eloise, Quinn turned his attention to Rebecca. He took her hand and led her down the long hall toward his office.
“You’re very good to your staff,” she said quietly.
He stopped in the doorway and turned her to him. “I take care of those in my charge, Rebecca. Don’t ever forget that.”
Heat moved into her face. She nodded and when he stepped to the side to wave her into his office, she pushed past him. Quinn went to his desk and turned on his computer. He watched Rebecca move around his private space, looking at this, touching that, as the computer went through the process of booting up. She stopped at his bookshelf.
“You have a wide range of interests.” She ran her fingers over his books.
He watched her a moment longer. As she touched his belongings, he pulled up the file containing the contract and sent it to the printer. Giving the machine time to do its thing, he rounded the desk and stepped up behind her. “Right now I’m only interested in you.” He put his lips on her neck and kissed gently.
He felt her shiver beneath his mouth. Images of her bound and blindfolded, mouth open and legs spread for him, hardened his cock. She tipped her head to the side and gave him better access to her neck, making him want to take her hard and fast against the bookshelf. But he wouldn’t. Didn’t want to risk the progress he’d made so far. He gave her a final kiss on the neck and stepped away, going to his desk and taking the contract off the printer.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Come with me and I’ll explain.” He took her hand. They made their way to the kitchen and he gestured for her to sit at the long, granite-topped island. He dropped the papers onto the countertop and slid them to her, then went to work on loosening the top two buttons on his shirt and rolling up his sleeves. “Do you know what high protocol is?”
“It’s when a sub addresses a Dom as ‘sir’ at all times.”
“Yes, among other things, but for now that’s all it will be between us. It’s used to strengthen the Dom/sub relationship. There will be times when I’ll want you to follow high protocol while in the dungeon and times I won’t. When outside of the dungeon, I will never ask you to follow high protocol.”
“You said I would wear a bracelet.”
He smiled, happy she was asking questions. “Yes, and it’s to signify that you’re a novice and that you are hands-off.”
Her eyes glimmered with sensuality as she looked at him, hanging on his every word. He couldn’t help but grin. Her eagerness to please him shone in the depths of her eyes. It was that eagerness that would make her the perfect pupil. He pulled lettuce, tomato, cucumber and radish from the crisper and placed them on the counter. “Do you know what hard and soft limits are?”
A few loose tendrils of hair fell from the bun on her head as she leaned forward and scanned the paper. She grabbed the wisps and wrapped them around her finger. “I think so.”
“A hard limit is something you will not do because it goes against your moral code, or you simply don’t like it, or don’t have any interest in it.” She looked up at him and he continued, “A soft limit is something you might not want to do right now, but it’s possible you’ll consider it in the future. You will also see a list of props and a pain scale.” She nodded and continued to scan the paper. “Pain is a big deal. What you perceive as the highest level you can tolerate may change. You must use your safe word if you find it too much.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Next to the props you can check the box for Won’t object, Maybe, or Not interested,” he continued. “Whatever you choose will be respected.”
From across the island, Quinn watched the rise and fall of Rebecca’s chest as her breathing changed. The idea of the dungeon and all that awaited within it excited her.
“Look this over, and ask as many questions as you need. I don’t want you to check off any boxes just yet, or make comments until you’ve actually been in a dungeon. I just want you to look at this and spend some time thinking about it.”
As she scanned the papers, he took two steaks from the fridge and walked outside to light the barbecue. When he came back in, Rebecca was engrossed in the contract. He watched the way her eyes widened with interest, or her brows furrowed as she read something that gave her pause, like now, when she tapped her finger on a particular section.
“I don’t think I’d be interested in breath play or hot wax, and especially not blood play.” She looked up at him as he washed the produce. “Have you ever…?”
“I’m open to many new experiences, but blood play isn’t something I’m interested in. Even if it was, if it’s a hard limit for you, I’d never ask you to participate.”
She nodded, obviously relieved, and returned her attention to the contract.
Quinn stepped out to put the steaks on the grill. He came back in and put the vegetables on the cutting board. When he cast her another look, something akin to fear dimmed her eyes. His heart raced, and he pushed the cutting board aside.
“Rebecca?”
“Y
es…” she said, sounding a little breathless.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes lifted, but she seemed to be looking through him, not at him.
“What is it?” he persisted.
Her gaze fell back to the contract. “I was looking at…”
Quinn tried to pull the paper around to see what had her so upset, but Rebecca held it firmly in place. “The pain scale?” he asked.
“No, the props.”
“You don’t think you’d like to use props?”
“Yes, no…”
“Is it yes or no?” He laid his hand over hers. “I need you to be honest with me, but more importantly, you have to be honest with yourself.”
She let out a breath and her hand loosened on the paper.
“I could never be blindfolded.” The words came out in a rush. He waited a moment, but she didn’t say anything else. To be blindfolded had everything to do with trust and freeing oneself mentally. The blindfold was one of his favorite props, allowing his sub to tune out everything else around her and focus only on the pleasure he was offering. But some found it scary being inside their own head, where fears and demons dwelled. However, when one was forced to concentrate on senses and emotions when they couldn’t see, it could heighten the whole experience for both parties playing.
He leaned across the counter and touched her face. “What is it about the blindfold that scares you?”
She opened her mouth, only to close it again. A beat passed and she said, “It’s just not something I’m interested in.”
He wanted to probe, push her to give him a real answer, but decided to let it go for now. Whatever it was that lived in her psyche and had spooked her, ran deep, very deep. It would take a careful, patient hand to help her let go of it.
“Then you will mark that as not interested. Again, it’s something that can be changed if you choose to later.
She visibly relaxed. “Okay.”