by Desiree Holt
Just a second later, imagination whispered into his ear.
Come.
Not an invitation, an order, and spoken by an undeniably dominant man’s voice.
Dallen obeyed on pure instinct, burying himself deep inside his lover, he tossed his head back and yelled his release towards the ceiling of the play room. Pleasure rushed through him, more than half of it born from the sensation of pleasing a dominant who didn’t even exist outside his own mind. Hot on the heels of ecstasy came a complete sense of calm.
Caroline was safe and content, all wrapped around him. And the man he belonged to had every reason to be pleased with him, and all was right in his world.
Dallen’s eyes stayed closed as he held on to that fantasy, not quite able to let it slip away. It was several minutes before he finally managed to make his inner submissive face the fact there would be do dominant coming to take his imaginary blindfold away.
As he blinked his eyes open, he saw Caroline’s hand twitch within its bondage. It only took him a moment to undo the buckles that held her wrists in place. The moment she was free, she reached out to him.
Dallen guided her to move forward to relax against his body. She rested her head on his shoulder as he undid her blindfold and let it fall away. The moment she was free of it, he buried his hand in the long blonde strands of hair that fell around her head and pressed a kiss to her temple.
Her breaths were uneven. She trembled slightly against Dallen’s chest as she slowly descended from her high. Sliding one hand down her back, he coaxed her even further forward, right to the very edge of the bondage bench, keeping their bodies joined together the whole time, unable to contemplate losing any kind of connection he had with her right then.
Caroline tiled her head back for a kiss. Dallen smiled down at her as she slowly opened her eyes. Her lips parted very briefly under his kiss before she laid her head back on his shoulder.
A glance over her shoulder, and Dallen saw the dominant who’d been watching them turn and walk away. Taking a deep breath, he rested his forehead on Caroline’s temple. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he whispered to her.
She looked up at him and smiled. Slow, sleepy and so beautiful in her submission, she touched his cheek with her fingertips. “I love you, too.”
Dallen echoed her smile as he finally separated their bodies and lifted her off the bench. She slid down his torso. Dallen kept the movement slow, supporting her for as long as he could. He might not have been able to understand what others saw in dominance, but he understood the sense of calm that came with giving someone he loved exactly what she needed.
It might have been more about a natural instinct towards submission than the dominant part he was supposed to be playing that night, but he relished the rush of peace that being able to support and serve his lover inspired inside him. With both of them in their bare feet, Caroline stood several inches shorter than him. She pressed another kiss against his bare shoulder.
Dallen remained silent as he handed Caroline her dress. It was silly to still feel guilty for taking any kind of pleasure from the moments of submission he chanced upon during the weeks when their switching pushed him into the dominant role, especially when he knew she did exactly the same thing on alternating weeks. He still felt an uncomfortable shiver run down his back.
A moment later, when he’d turned his attention to dispensing with the condom and doing up his fly, Caroline’s fingers traced that exact same line down his backbone, then up again.
He looked over his shoulder, just in time to press a kiss to her fingertips as they reached the top of his spine again.
“Maybe he’ll be here again next week,” she offered.
“Maybe,” he agreed.
Leaning back against the edge of the bondage table, where she’d rested a few minutes before, he watched as she corralled her hair into a slightly less wild state.
“A drink before we go?” she suggested, her voice still slightly hoarse from the moans and gasps that had filled the room for so much of the night.
Dallen nodded. Stepping away from the leather covered table, he held out a hand to her.
Horton Patterson studied the entrance in to the bar very carefully, never once letting his attention waver from the wide double doorway. Some dozen or so people came in as he watched, alone, in pairs and in groups.
He’d almost given up hope and was already cursing himself for not simply remaining outside the playroom when he finally saw the couple he’d been waiting for step into the room. He tore his eyes away from them for just long enough to nod to the bartender.
The service submissive nodded back to him. When the couple reached him, the bartender spoke before they had a chance to place any sort of order.
The young man who made up half the couple, looked over his shoulder, across the room towards Horton’s table. Their eyes met. Horton saw his expression change as he recognised the man who’d been watching their scene.
Dropping his gaze, the boy turned his attention away from Horton and whispered something to his companion. The young woman tilted her head slightly to one side as she looked across the room and studied him for the first time.
They both stood, half facing each other, half turned towards him. Then she said something that made her lover smile. The man nodded. Their hands slipped neatly into each other’s grasp as they stepped away from the bar and made their way across the room.
“You wished to speak to us?” the man asked as he reached his table.
“Yes.” Horton stood up and held out his hand. “Horton Patterson.”
The man reached out to shake his hand first. “Dallen Lewis.”
The woman echoed the gesture. “Caroline Clark.”
Horton sat back down and nodded to the chairs opposite him. “Take a seat.”
Dallen stood back, holding Caroline’s seat for her before he joined them. As far as Horton could tell, it was more likely to be an expression of old fashioned good manners rather than a submissive’s service or a dominant’s permission to accept another man’s invitation to sit at his table.
Caroline studied him very carefully, as if making up for the time she’d lost while blindfolded, blue eyes bright and keenly taking in every detail. She’d braided her hair. The loose plait lay over her shoulder, a thick rope of gold that made Horton wonder how they would both look bound with thick bands of hemp.
At some point after he’d walked away from the window, she’d also covered her body with a pale blue summer dress that accentuated all her curves in a way that seemed to be almost entirely accidental. Meanwhile, her partner had merely zipped up and pulled on a pair of trainers. His torso still remained beautifully bare.
When the bartender came to take their order, they waited for him to order first, before each giving their orders in turn. No alcohol, not so soon after a scene. Horton mentally nodded his approval.
There was only a certain amount of polite small talk it was possible to make with strangers who were aware he’d just watched them have sex, Horton didn’t bother with any of it.
“You’re not wearing a collar,” he observed to Caroline. His attention switched rapidly from her to Dallen and back again as he tried to keep them both under his gaze at the same time and catch both of their reactions to the question.
“No,” she agreed, very calmly. “I’m not.”
“Because you’re both submissives,” he suggested.
His attention transferred to Dallen in time to see the younger man nod. The self declared submissive’s expression remained impassive, even as his shoulders knotted with tension.
Meeting each of their gazes in turn, Horton couldn’t help but realise that whatever he said next would be the making or breaking of everything that might happen between them.
“You make a beautiful couple.”
Dallen seemed about to respond, then he hesitated, as if that had been the last thing he expected any man who’d invited them to his table to say.
“I won�
��t insult either of your intelligences by pretending I believe myself to be the first dominant to approach you both.”
He caught Caroline’s gaze. “Other dominants have expressed an interest,” she admitted.
“And?” Horton prompted.
“It turned out most were far more interested in one of us than the other.” She lifted her chin a little as she said it, as if daring him to have a problem with them disliking that fact.
Horton mentally smiled at the show of strength. A submissive who knew where her limits lay—who knew what she was looking for in a master. He glanced towards Dallen.
“You’re bi?”
Dallen nodded, just once. It was impossible to tell how the younger man felt about that fact from that one, brief, gesture.
Horton smiled to himself. He’d always considered himself to be a good judge of character—especially when it came to submissives, and even more so when it came to submissive couples who were looking for a dom to play with for a little while. “Good,” he said, very simply. “I’ve never understood the attraction of pushing a submissive into a sexuality he has no interest in exploring.”
“You’re…” Caroline trailed off.
“Equally interested in you both,” Horton finished for her. He suddenly had the impression he’d said exactly the right thing. The cautious interest he’d felt being returned to him across the table doubled several times over.
Even as they seemed to relax, he could feel them looking at him slightly differently, as if his answer had given them permission to consider the possibilities he might present for them.
“What do you have in mind?” Dallen asked, after the two submissives had exchanged a speaking glance with each other.
“To begin with—a scene,” Horton said.
Another glance passed between them. “Would you care to be more specific, sir?”
Dallen said.
Horton let his lips twist into a slight smile as the honorific hit the air and the conversation truly began. “I’d like both of you to submit to me for one evening—the scene to be conducted in one of the play rooms here. I won’t decide any specifics without knowing what your limits, and your interests are,” he said slowly, letting each simply stated fact sink into their minds as he said them.
“No bareback, sir,” Caroline said.
“No neck constriction,” Dallen added.
“No permanent marks.”
“No temporary marks that aren’t easily hidden.”
“No scenes that we aren’t both part of.”
“No other dominants or submissives unless that’s what we’ve agreed beforehand.”
“Everything stops when either of us says our safe word.”
“And all the limits apply to both of us, sir,” Dallen finished.
It didn’t feel like a practiced routine, so much as something that had evolved naturally during a great many similar negotiations—a way for them to share the statements that needed to be made, without either of them taking the lead, and neither of them following the other.
“You’ve been together for quite some time,” Horton guessed.
“Three years, sir.”
“And not just for play,” he prompted.
“No, sir. We’ve lived together most of that time.”
“And you’re in love with each other.”
“Yes, sir.” For the first time they spoke entirely in unison.
Horton couldn’t help but smile across the table. Dallen was as dark as Caroline was fair, all hard lines of muscles where she was all pretty curves. Yet there was something about them, which made it almost impossible for him not to think of them as a very well matched pair—and he couldn’t help but be sure they’d be very happy to know they created that impression.
“You’ve played with other dominants before.”
Dallen nodded. There was a tension about the gesture that made the older man well aware that not all their experiences had been good.
Horton felt his hand form into a fist under the table top. Protective before they’d even done a scene together—he wasn’t sure if he should take that as an indication he’d been right when he thought he saw something special through the glass, or a sign that he was on dangerous ground and should turn and run while he still had the chance.
The whole point in playing with couples was to be able to walk away afterwards and not feel as if he was deserting someone who shouldn’t be left all alone. Feeling any more protective of them than was needed to keep them safe while they were in a scene with him wasn’t part of the deal.
Forcing his hand to relax, Horton leant forward and refilled his companions’ glasses with the juice they’d ordered from the bar. Both the submissives were thirsty after their scene. He nursed his own glass of lemonade as they drank the sweet liquid down. They really were stunning, and completely at ease with their submission.
In the middle of a club full of people wearing leather, the simple jeans and the summer dress should have made them look fools. Somehow, it made them look perfectly at home there in a way few other submissives did.
“Tell me about outside the club?” he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him for a moment.
Caroline looked slightly surprised. “What do you want to know, sir?”
“You work?” he prompted.
“Yes, a landscaping company, sir.” Caroline glanced to Dallen, in case he wanted to add something. “We started it together.”
Horton nodded, doing his best to include them both in the gesture.
“It’s gone far better than we hoped,” Dallen said, a submissive’s humility warring with a businessman’s pride with every word.
Caroline smiled at him as she nodded her agreement. They’d set their seats close together, so they were almost touching. Leaning into him, she rested her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder. Dallen pressed a kiss to her temple as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“And you, sir,” the younger man asked. “Outside the club?”
“Patterson Advertising.” Reaching into his pocket, Horton took a business card from his pocket and offered it across the table.
Dallen took it and studied it carefully. His lover seemed sleepier now, as she came down from the high of the scene. The younger man nodded, as much to signal he understood why Horton had given him the card as anything else. Having a real world identity to blame if things went wrong during their scene seemed to reassure him somewhat.
A few minutes later, Caroline covered her mouth as a yawn escaped. Dallen put his arm a little more firmly around her shoulders. She looked up at them both. “Sorry, sir.”
“I think it’s time you both went home and went to sleep,” Horton said with a chuckle.
Caroline lifted her gaze towards Dallen. He was far more awake than her, far less relaxed after their scene. Horton couldn’t help but wonder how much of what he’d seen between them that night would have been reversed if he’d chanced upon them the previous time they’d come to the club to play.
A few more points clarified, and Dallen was soon the first to rise from the table, helping Caroline up from her seat. His hand remained on the small of her back, as if he were used to her being unsteady on her feet after a scene, used to keeping an eye on her until she found her centre again.
“Next Saturday, sir?” he checked, as Horton rose to his feet as well.
“Yes.”
The younger man seemed surprised when he started to walk out with them, but he made no comment on his decision. The submissives had to part as they passed the women’s locker room. Caroline disappeared inside. Dallen glanced at him before he made his way silently to the men’s locker room.
Luck had given them lockers on the same row, Horton’s just a little further down the line than Dallen’s.
The submissive dug his key out of his jeans pocket. For what felt like hours, the younger man stared blankly into his locker.
Horton stopped with his own locker key in his hand and waited.
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nbsp; “If you hurt her, I’ll…” Dallen trailed off.
For a moment, Horton thought the submissive had simply lost confidence before he could finish his threat. Then he realised that the reason for the half finished sentence was far simpler than that. The younger man didn’t know what to say he’d do, because he didn’t actually know what he might do if Horton hurt his lover. Horton doubted the submissive would be entirely responsible his actions either.
“Which of you did he hurt?”
Dallen looked over his shoulder and met his eyes for a moment before looking quickly away. “Me—but that was more by luck than judgement on my part.” And the fact that she could have been the one who’d been hurt, and he’d have been there and helpless to stop it, obviously scared him far more than anything anyone could do to the man himself.
“I have no interest in hurting either of you any more than you enjoy,” Horton said, letting the truth shine through in every word.
Dallen met Horton’s eyes once more. The submissive’s natural desire to put his trust in a master appeared to have been damaged, but not beyond all repair. As much as older man wanted to reach out to him right then, he forced himself to keep his attention on taking his jacket out of the locker. It wouldn’t do to give him the impression he was looking for anything more than two pretty playmates.
The submissive had more items to put on than him. Coat on, Horton leaned against the locker, waiting for him. Dallen seemed surprised—perhaps to be the focus of his attention, perhaps that he should be willing to wait patiently. Horton wasn’t sure which, or if there were something else going on within the younger man’s head.
Dallen pulled on a long sleeved tee and a hooded top. House keys and wallet were quickly pushed into the pockets of his jeans. He turned back to Horton. For the first time since they arrived at his table, Horton saw Dallen relax a little.
“What would I have seen if I’d been here last weekend?” Horton asked.
The younger man’s tension came back, but it was a different kind of anxiety now.
“Stocks and a strap-on, sir.” No blush rushed to his cheeks, no dip of the eyes as if he were scared of a dominant’s bad reaction. He lifted his chin as if to say if you don’t like it, sod you—that’s not my problem.