Mistress Hedonism

by Lori King

  “You have to try, Lex. Take a sub tonight, and see how it feels to be back in the saddle. Maybe it will change everything.”

  “Bah, not likely. Get your ass in gear woman. There are heathens to watch over, and I’d hate to have to report your lax supervision to Killian.” He waved her away, but his eyes no longer held that haunted look that she hated so much, so she laughed at his threat, and went off in search of her prey for the evening.

  If Wyatt was going to play with them he was going to have ground rules, and she’d be damned if he’d have even the slightest opportunity to hurt Foster again. Revenge would be sweet…

  Chapter 4

  “She had a wicked case of subdrop last month. I swear she cried for days, and I didn’t know what to do. I gave her chocolate, and we spent an hour cuddling and just trying to talk it out, but ultimately I just couldn’t take the crying.”

  Foster stood listening to one of the newest Doms at the Lusty Fantasies party talk about his submissive, Lilyann, but he wasn’t focused on what Brandon was saying. All of his attention was on the man laughing near the pool table at the other end of the game room. Why did Wyatt have to be so confident and carefree?

  “Killian came over, and he brought Doug and Alana—did you know those three were together now? Like together, together?” Brandon asked, making a grotesque hand gesture to indicate his meaning.

  “Yeah I knew. I saw them playing last month and both of them are wearing Killian’s collar tonight.” Foster answered, angling his body so that he could maintain his view of Wyatt’s taut backside as he bent over the pool table to make his shot. There was something sensual about the way his hands held the cue, and it made Foster’s cock throb.

  “Wow. I had no idea. That must have happened after Lil’bit and I went to play. So Doug is a sub after all?” Brandon asked.

  Shrugging his shoulders, Foster almost groaned out loud at the man’s gossipy nature. He had to change the subject, or he’d be hearing about every party guest’s personal kinks via Brandon. “Guess so. They’ve never played at a party before last month, so I’m not sure how it all went down. Anyway, you were saying Lilyann had problems with subdrop?”

  “Oh, yeah. Turns out that she’d had a really rough day at work, the day before the party, but she didn’t want to tell me before we came to the party because she was afraid I wouldn’t scene with her.” Brandon said, shaking his head.

  “Would you?” Foster asked, hoping he didn’t already know the answer.

  “Of course I would have. We don’t get to scene outside of here much because we both have roommates at our places. She says it’s out of respect, but—”

  “You trained with Killian, right?” Foster interrupted the newly minted Dominant. “Didn’t he explain that someone in a raw emotional state is more susceptible to subdrop?”

  “Well yeah, but—”

  “And that while in some cases an intense scene can be cathartic for the sub, there are also plenty of times where they need a softer scene?”

  Brandon’s cheeks turned ruddy and his brown eyes darkened, “Look, you’re not a Top so you don’t understand—”

  “I don’t understand what it’s like to be horny and crave release? Are you fucking kidding me right now? You seriously need to reevaluate your priorities, man.” Foster’s voice had risen in volume, but he didn’t realize it until Wyatt and Ashton interrupted their pool game to intervene.

  “What’s the problem guys?” Wyatt asked. His face was emotionless, and his body relaxed, but Foster could feel his honey-colored eyes assessing the mood intently.

  “Foster was just lecturing me on how to handle my sub.” Brandon said with a small grumble of annoyance.

  Ashton’s eyes went wide, and then a wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows, “Wyatt and I heard the last bit of your conversation, and I gotta tell ya, Brandon, Foster’s right. Sometimes subs aren’t in the right mood for a scene. It’s up to the Dom to feel it out before the scene.”

  “If she didn’t want to play all she had to do was safeword. I can’t read her mind.” Brandon argued.

  “Did you ask her why she didn’t just tell you she wasn’t feeling it?” Wyatt threw back, crossing his arms over his chest, “Maybe she figured you’d flip out on her, and she didn’t want more drama in her life.”

  “Fuck you, man. If she needs something from me, I expect her to communicate it.” Brandon said. Foster could tell there was no reasoning with the man, but it disgusted him to hear someone so new to the lifestyle being so ignorant.

  Throwing his hands up, he turned away from the group, and started to walk away. “I can’t stand here and listen to you anymore. I just feel bad for Lilyann because she’s got to deal with your shit.”

  “Lil’bit knows how I am. She wants a real Dom. A man. Somebody who tells her what she needs, and that’s what she’s got in me.” Brandon fired back.

  Without responding Foster went back up the stairs to the main level of the house leaving the ignorant fool behind. He’d have to mention the situation to Killian and suggest that Brandon receive more training. Lilyann might tolerate that bullshit but she didn’t deserve it.

  BDSM had few absolutes, but one of those was that it required communication between all parties involved in any dynamic. How the hell did a Top go around asserting that he didn’t have to think about his sub’s feelings? What a moron.

  “Foster, wait.”

  The words stopped him before he made it out of the darkened alcove at the top of the stairway, and he turned just as Wyatt stepped off the last step in front of him.

  For several heartbeats the two just stared at each other in awkward silence before Foster finally dropped his eyes away from Wyatt’s.

  “I uh…wanted to apologize to you for what happened—”

  Foster’s hand rose in a stop motion before Wyatt could finish his sentence. “Don’t. Just don’t. I don’t want an apology. You told me your honest feelings, and that’s the end of it.”

  “No, you don’t understand.” Wyatt’s face scrunched up like he was in pain, “What I said, wasn’t how I felt. I mean, it was how I felt at the time.” Rolling his eyes, Foster turned around to walk away, only to have the other man latch onto his bicep and pull him back, “But it’s not how I feel now. I made a mistake, or I hid my true feelings, I’m not sure which. I just know that I hurt you, and I didn’t mean to. You and Ana are the last two people in the world I would hurt intentionally.”

  Foster’s eyes were closed, and he still had his back to Wyatt as he counted to ten while searching his heart for forgiveness. He felt so conflicted that he couldn’t seem to form words. Wyatt had lashed out at him, and questioned his manhood, calling him vulgar things. Words that no one should ever say, much less use to inflict pain.

  The moment Ana asked him to join them as a full third to their relationship, Wyatt’s eyes—usually the color of melted gold—went hard as ice with anger, and disgust. As frigid as the words that tumbled from his mouth were, Foster’s blood ran even colder. His heart broke, and something inside of him was damaged, quite possibly forever.

  “Please, Foster, give me a chance to explain.” Wyatt pleaded softly. Before he could respond a giggling pair of women entered the alcove, and they had to move aside to make room for the ladies to descend to the game room. It was a tension breaker, and Foster felt himself gesturing to Wyatt to follow him into an unoccupied powder room for a moment of privacy.

  The door clicked closed, and he rested his ass against the marble counter top of the vanity, and faced down the only man he’d ever wanted to fuck.

  “So talk.” He growled out, ignoring the hope that filled Wyatt’s eyes.

  ~

  Wyatt had to swallow back his surprise that Foster was actually listening to him. After four months of playing keep away, here he was alone with him, in a room no bigger than eight by eight, with a lock on the door, and a mission to change his mind.

  “A few years ago I was approached by a girl that I’d slept with o
nce, about attending a private party as her date. She was new to the people throwing the party, and she didn’t want to go alone.”

  “Are you apologizing, or walking down memory lane?” Foster asked with a frown.

  “I’ll get there, give me a minute. That night opened my eyes to BDSM, but to my surprise, and to hers I think, I figured out quickly that I wasn’t a Dom. The occasional spanking session or forced orgasm was as far as I could take it, and we parted as friends. But for me, the hook was baited so to speak, and I had to keep searching for more information. I met Killian when someone broke into his house shortly after, and I got called out to take the report. I saw the remnants of his private dungeon. It had been trashed, but seeing someone else who lived the kink lifestyle openly, I knew I needed to ask him some questions personally.” Foster’s face was still completely impassive, and Wyatt worried that if he didn’t hurry it up, he was going to lose him again. “By the time I understood that I was a sub, I’d already played at being a Dom for so long that I couldn’t just give up the control very easily. A Dominant I’d met at a few gatherings, offered to take me under his wing, and train me to be a sub without any direct sexual contact.”

  Foster cocked his eyebrow, and Wyatt almost grinned at his confusion. “How do you train to be a sub without sex?”

  “You know as well as anyone that being someone’s sub isn’t all about the sex.” Wyatt threw back, accepting the begrudging nod of agreement Foster gave him.

  “Anyway, after a few months I realized that the working relationship we had was growing uncomfortable. Timar wanted more from me. He was growing attached, and…well, I knew he wanted me like I couldn’t want him. I just knew in my head that I couldn’t be gay. I mean, fuck, I’m a cop, man. Do you know what the guys at the station house would say? Timar was an attractive man, but at the time I was so caught up in my belief that I was straight that I couldn’t—”

  “Wait, hold it right there. What do you mean ‘belief that you were straight?’ What the fuck does that mean?” Foster asked angrily.

  “It means that I didn’t know I could get a hard-on for a man until I met you.” Wyatt responded. The words echoed through the room as Foster’s mouth fell open in shock, and they stared at each other in silence.

  He was beginning to think that he’d truly screwed up by admitting his desire for the other man, when Foster rose to his feet, and took a step toward him.

  “Say it. And be clear about what you’re saying because I’m walking a tightrope here between punching you in the face before walking out that door, and…” Foster’s voice drifted off, but Wyatt could see the spark of desire in his glare. The fire of hope lit in his chest, and he stepped closer to the other man, their bodies nearly touching.

  “I want you. I fucked up, because I was scared of the fact that I wanted to fuck you, and be fucked by you.” Wyatt murmured. His mouth was so close to Foster’s that he knew the other man could feel the heat of his breath against his lips, and he watched with glee as Foster’s tongue darted out to lick his lips.

  The temperature in the small room spiked, and Wyatt’s heart raced in his chest while he waited for Foster to respond. They exchanged breaths before their lips met as though drawn by a force of nature. It was his first time kissing a man, and he was pleasantly surprised to find it was no different than kissing a woman. Harder, and more passionate perhaps, but the mechanics were the same.

  From the moment they made contact, Wyatt took control of their lip lock, pressing Foster backward until his ass hit the counter again. Once he could go no further, Wyatt added his hands into the mix, gripping Foster’s face in his big palms, and holding him in place while their tongues danced sensually. Exploring each other, and finding a new, sexy way of speaking without words.

  Behind the zipper of his jeans, his cock was hard as stone, and his balls were burning. He could feel the long length of Foster’s erection pressed against his abdomen, and when Foster’s hands came up to explore the bare skin of his chest, he groaned his approval. Before he could duplicate the gesture, a soft knock on the door startled them both and they jerked apart, panting for air.

  Foster’s eyes darted wildly around, and he shoved his fingers through his brown hair. “Just a minute.” He called out, and his voice cracked with desire, making Wyatt desperate to kiss him again. Lowering his tone to a whisper, Foster glared at him, “Shit. This was a mistake. Look, I accept your apology, but I can’t just accept that you’ve turned over a new leaf in the last four months. I can’t risk my…” he shook his head, and swallowed, “I can’t risk my relationship with Ana.”

  Wyatt’s heart shattered into a million tiny pieces as Foster reached for the door handle, and jerked it open without another word. He never had a chance to respond before the object of his desire pushed past the waiting party guest and disappeared down the hallway.

  Chapter 5

  Foster felt foolish. Just a few words of acceptance from Wyatt, and he’d opened himself up to being hurt again. He wanted the man on some sort of primal level. Unlike his desire for Mistress Ana, his need for Wyatt was raw and gritty. It left him feeling off balance to suddenly find out that Wyatt wanted him too. What a fucking joke. He believed the man when he said that he was conflicted about his desires, hell, Foster was just as conflicted. It wasn’t like he was an expert at all of this; that was his first homosexual kiss too.

  Fuck if this wasn’t a disaster waiting to happen. What was his Mistress going to say when he told her that he’d kissed Wyatt? She was going to lay waste to the skin on his ass, that’s for sure. He wasn’t sure he could even admit it to her yet. It might be a conversation better left for later, when they were home, and away from Killian’s collection of outrageous BDSM toys.

  Before he could do anything, Natasha came bounding up to him asking him to have a drink with her on the back patio while she checked out a new Dom that was there tonight, and he forced a smile as he agreed.

  It was the perfect way to pretend like he hadn’t just had the kiss of his lifetime in the bathroom like a sneaky teenager.

  ~

  Ana found Wyatt sitting on the back patio staring off into the night, obviously deep in thought. She watched him for several moments, considering her words carefully before she finally spoke. “I’ll agree to consider a one-night scene, but only if you submit in every single way tonight. Consider this your audition, sub. If you fuck it up, there won’t be a call-back. You’ll be out the door on your ass faster than you can repeat even one of those nasty, homophobic slurs you like to throw around.”

  Wyatt turned to face her, staring up at her in surprise. She didn’t truly believe this would work, but here she was agreeing to let him into her scene tonight. She’d probably lost her mind somewhere between the front door and the back, but she was going to let this play out and see what happened.

  “You won’t regret it, Mistress. I’ll be the most obedient sub you’ve ever had,” he said firmly.

  Ana snorted, and shook her head, “Highly unlikely. Now, the question is how do I tell Foster? You do realize that he’d rather swallow razor blades than play with you right now?”

  Wyatt nodded, but didn’t respond, and she regretted her words. Foster desired the other man, so it was possible he’d accept her decision easier than they both expected.

  “Don’t look so glum. I know for a fact he still wants you, but perhaps this time the shoe’s on the other foot. You seem to want him even more than he ever wanted you. It will be fun to see you grovel at the feet of my pet.” She stroked the handle of her whip suggestively, and Wyatt shivered and rose to his feet. She could see his cock thick behind the denim of his jeans, and her mouth watered. “Find us at dinner tonight, Wyatt. We’ll present Foster with the opportunity, and see how it plays out. Until then, I’m on duty tonight, so I need to get back to work and stop thinking about all of this.” With that she turned abruptly and walked away.

  ~

  In a heartbeat, Wyatt’s world was turned upside down once again. He�
��d gotten his wish. Ana was going to let him into her scene with Foster, and Foster wanted him. So why did he feel like such a shitty person?

  Oh that’s right, it’s because I didn’t tell her what just happened in the bathroom with her boyfriend.

  He was kicking himself for an error in judgment yet again. There was no way she would be so forgiving this time. He’d had no right to kiss Foster, or maybe Foster kissed him, but he should have put a stop to it. They both should have. Fuck, how was he going to scene with the two of them without screwing this whole thing up?

  When he’d first met Ana and Foster, they’d been introduced as a collared pair, but he’d instantly seen the flare of interest in Ana’s eyes as she assessed him. That look of lust had haunted him, as had the matching look of curiosity on Foster’s face. At the time, he couldn’t admit it to himself, and now that he had, he was still screwing shit up. Maybe they weren’t meant to be his after all.

  After several minutes of berating himself for not telling his Mistress for the evening what had happened, he finally decided to search her out, and be honest. Surely, Foster had already found her and told her himself; he’d shot out of the bathroom like a rocket. Wyatt had to assume that he was just as torn up about their indiscretion.

  He was just about to search out Ana to explain, when he spotted Foster laughing with Natasha at the other end of the patio as though he had not a care in the world. How had he not noticed Foster coming outside? His wavy reddish brown hair glinted in the flickering light of the burning tiki torches around the patio, and his back and ass muscles rippled with every movement he made as he chatted with Natasha and…

  Wyatt’s lungs stopped functioning. The man Foster was talking to was none other than Timar Said. The one and only man that Wyatt had ever submitted to in any way. This night couldn’t possibly get any worse.