by Joey W. Hill
When Chris was done, he rested his hand on her shoulder. She drew in the heat and strength of his body pressed behind her as Geoff picked up her hand, bringing it to his lips. He took her shawl and Chris moved back so Geoff could wrap it around her shoulders, putting the twisted ends in her hands.
"Our beautiful dove," he said. "Let's go."
Tonight Geoff drove, first because he was the one who could drive like a New York cabbie if they hit traffic snarls, and second, she wasn't in any condition. DWIA, driving while insanely aroused, was definitely no safer than driving drunk. Geoff hadn't even asked if she wanted to drive, directing her firmly over to his car. As he got in the front, Chris put her in the passenger seat, taking the seat behind them.
Geoff turned over the engine but then leaned over, adjusting the tiny rolled flaps that accentuated the shape of the eyeholes like lashes when they weren't in use. When unrolled, they put her in darkness.
"You'll stay blindfolded until we get there. Spread your legs, Sam."
A needy sound came from her throat as his fingers slipped under her skirt, found the crotch of the thong and stroked her wetness, a slow, methodical rhythm that had her body moving restlessly on the seat. He drew his hand away. "Chris and I are going to talk, but you don't speak without permission first unless something's wrong. Understand?"
"Yes sir. Thank you, sir."
She added that without thinking. The silence suggested the two of them were studying her or exchanging a glance. Either way, she hoped they understood. Thank you for all of this. Thank you both for loving me, for being willing to do all of this. For wanting to do this.
Geoff put the car in drive and pulled out of the driveway. They did start talking, and it was incredibly arousing to have them talk about the things they might always talk about, all while she sat silently, blinded, waiting on their direction. Her body was aware of everything: the bump of the car over the asphalt, the feel of the recirculated air against her skin. Chris's hand stayed on her shoulder, and Geoff's occasionally curved over her thigh, both of them maintaining a connection with her.
It was what she'd always imagined being a submissive could be like.
Chris had asked Geoff something about the program, because Geoff was explaining it. "When I talked to Logan, he said they'll do the stage performances first, but there will be vendors and socializing afterward. They'd thought about setting up a dungeon with the local BDSM group, but they decided for this first event they'd keep it more limited. The vendors are going to be offering hands-on demos of everything from whips to sex toys, so we might see some impromptu play under the guise of shopping." Geoff chuckled.
"If we wanted to tie her up in someone's restraint system, we could?"
"Possibly. I wouldn't mind making her climax like that with some sex toy they want to promote. Did you bring that gag?"
"Yeah. It's in the tote."
Geoff's hand closed over her thigh again. "Breathe, Samantha Beth."
She gave a nervous half laugh, but did so. She was vibrating just from his command to sit here and listen, with her legs spread and her body showcased in an outfit designed to make them want her even more. She wanted to spread her legs wider, shamelessly encourage him to touch her there again.
Chris passed his hand along her neck, teasing the edge of the mask at her nape, petting the feathers. "Do you think she'd like that? Coming in front of an audience?"
"I think she won't even be aware there's an audience. Not that way. As long as it's us doing it, and we're totally in control, I think she'd love it. I think she wants to prove she loves belonging to us."
She hoped nodding in emphatic agreement wasn't against the no-talking rules. Geoff slowed the car, probably for a stoplight, and her lips parted eagerly when he traced them with a fingertip. He pressed it between her lips so she could suck on it, swirl her tongue around it with wanton implication.
"So she doesn't want anyone else touching her?" Chris slid his touch down her arm, caressing the top of her breast under the shawl.
"Not if she knows what's good for her," Geoff said with tantalizing menace. It almost made her smile, because he knew she didn't want anyone else to touch her. She might be willing to have them take her body in front of a stadium of people, as long as it was only about the three of them. People watching would be titillating, a witness to their relationship, but she didn't want anyone crossing that personal barrier between her and them.
"Here we are," Geoff said a few minutes later, turning into what she assumed was a parking lot and bringing the car to a halt.
Geoff came around and opened her door. She heard the distant sound of people talking, a flow of conversation that drifted back as they all headed in a common direction. Geoff didn't open the eyes of the mask, instead taking her arm.
"I'll let you see when we're inside," he said. "You're already getting a lot of attention."
Her lips parted, but Geoff's mouth was on hers before she could utter a syllable. Pressing her back against the car, he took her over with a kiss that was pure demand. When he was finished, he had his hands around her throat, thumbs sliding up and down her jugular, putting just a little dizzying pressure on it.
"What did I tell you, Samantha Beth?"
"No talking," she managed. "Without your permission."
"Don't forget again. I have no problem spanking you in front of a group. In fact, I was damn well hoping for the opportunity."
He dropped his touch to her waist. "I know you were about to say it's the outfit. It's not. It's the woman in it that has their attention. When you're under command, restrained, you glow. The energy around you could fuel a stadium."
"Amen to that," Chris added, curling his hand around her elbow. "You're stunning, Sam."
She moistened her lips, brushed against his body and squeezed one of Geoff's hands, the only way she was allowed to say thank you. Geoff made a noise of approval and drew her away from the side of the car, taking them toward their destination.
She'd never been led by someone while completely blind, but with Chris on one side and Geoff on the other, she was secretly thrilled with her lack of worry. She had no problem walking on her high heels as confidently as she would when she could see. Their hands never left her, honoring her trust.
They moved inside a building filled with the low rumble of noise of a gathering crowd. She'd been in the old theater a couple of times before for some independent, low-budget stage plays--artsy, experimental stuff. She remembered the pleasant combination of woodsy scents that identified an old yet well-tended building. There was carpet under her heels. On top of the building's olfactory imprint, she detected a variety of body perfumes and colognes, as well as the musk of wine. The clink of glasses verified the last. Geoff guided her to a wall, where the noise became more muted, telling her he'd taken her out of the flow of foot traffic.
He didn't open the eyes of the mask right away. Instead he took the shawl off her shoulders, letting the cool, dry air of the theater interior tickle over her bare shoulders and the tops of her breasts. He unzipped the skirt next. Chris took her other hand and Geoff guided her to step out of the garment. She was standing in front of strangers in a thong, thigh-high stockings and her corset. And the mask. Madison had told her many would be dressed in fetish wear, and she knew Geoff wouldn't have undressed her unless she would blend. Even so, she was feeling dizzy, but her men steadied her, their hands on her sure and strong.
"Okay?" Chris asked.
"Yes sirs."
"Good girl." At last Geoff lifted the eye flaps, tucking them into the slits intended for that purpose, so she could see her surroundings. Here again, the tunnel feeling of the mask made her feel protected, as if she were a bird in the cage he'd made her, detached and safe. Able to experience everything even more forcefully, because she wasn't required to talk or interact. Nothing was expected of her but to feel, hear, see, taste and smell.
The area where they stood was a large foyer open to the stage area, allowing plenty of room to
mingle before the performances began. She saw plenty of leather, lace and metal mixed with fancy, sexy club wear made of silk and rhinestones. More than one Master or Mistress had their submissive on a leash, and a couple had head masks shaped like canines, submissives who enjoyed puppy play. There was also a good mix of people she could tell were new to all this but fascinated by those around them who weren't. They held their wineglasses and smiled and talked, even as their eyes darted here and there, taking it all in.
Her own eye was attracted by a Master who had a whip tucked into his boot, ready in an instant to hand out discipline to his submissive, a black woman with doe-like eyes, full moist lips and dressed in a transparent silver shift with nothing under it. She knelt at his side as he spoke to several other people.
Sam's hand crept into Geoff's on one side, into Chris's in the other. It wasn't that she was afraid . . . just somewhat overwhelmed. A quick glance at Chris suggested he might be in a similar boat, since he was looking around like some of the others who were obviously less experienced with the BDSM lifestyle. He'd said he'd gone with Geoff to some of his club visits, but she wasn't sure he'd ever been exposed to this size of a crowd or this mix of fetishes before. Geoff seemed less off balance, though from his frequent glances over the two of them, gauging their reaction, and the protective energy vibrating from him, she expected it was the first time he'd brought his own submissive.
She also saw he was right about her getting a lot of admiring looks. She still thought the main reason for it was the corset and mask, because they were a striking combination no matter who was wearing them. But she had to admit she'd never felt so sexy in her entire life.
The old building had been decorated for the event. Madison had draped the beams laced across the high ceiling in shimmering fabrics and hung erotic artwork on the cracked plaster walls. Some pieces Sam recognized from the Naughty Bits store. Heavier drapes had been hung in key places to dampen the white noise in the foyer gathering space and increase the sense of an intimate party, no matter that over two hundred people were present.
"Why don't you go change before the show starts?" Geoff said to Chris then. "You have ten minutes."
"I can do it afterward."
Since one of Chris's hands was on her other shoulder, she tilted her head in that direction, rubbing the smooth feathered front of the bird mask against Chris's knuckles and finding them with her mouth, caressing flesh with tongue and lips. He let out a muttered, amused oath as she lifted her eyes to him. "May I speak freely again, Master?" she asked.
"You may." It was Geoff who answered, probably because she'd never called Chris Master directly that way, and even more likely because he knew what she was going to do.
"Please," she said to Chris. "I would love to see you wear Geoff's gift. I know he would, too. Please?"
He ran his thumb over her lips, sighed and shouldered the tote. "Back in a minute," he told Geoff. "And for the record, you're both pains in my ass."
"Glad to serve a purpose," Geoff rejoined, grinning.
As she'd noted when Geoff first removed the eye coverings, the foyer was open to the performance area, where the graduated seating arranged in a crescent shape around the stage down front ensured no one's view would be blocked. Since the seating was already filling up, Geoff directed her to an aisle spot. Many of those seated nearby looked in their direction, studying Sam and her Master. In an environment like this, everyone would be curious about everyone else, and since she was looking just as intently, she couldn't feel self-conscious. Plus, Geoff's hand never left her elbow. She was sure he was gauging everything about her state of mind through that grip. Whether she was cold, afraid, nervous.
Nervous, yes, but she wasn't afraid or cold. Heat shimmered off her skin and she felt like a wild creature, ready to fly and play under his and Chris's control.
Geoff took the aisle seat, leaving one seat between them to hold a place for Chris, but he kept her hand firmly in his grip, his thumb sliding along her pulse. She could feel his eyes upon her and she lifted her own. What she saw in his face made her wet her lips. "What are you thinking?" she asked, bemused to hear that little break in her voice again.
He leaned over the empty seat to caress her masked cheek. His face was very close, and what was in his eyes infused his quiet words with a power that made her shudder. "Nothing proper. Nothing sane or civilized."
"Say it anyway," she whispered.
"I want to put collars on you both and stamp them with my name. I want to have you both kneeling at my feet, so I can just put my hands on your faces, like I'm doing with yours now, have you looking up at me and know . . . that you willingly belong to me. That you're as fully mine . . ."
She'd never seen his expression so open and raw, so savage and vulnerable at once. There was a heartbreaking beauty to it that stole her breath, stopped her heart. He paused, as if collecting himself. She tangled her fingers with his, and gave him the words that emotions had taken from him.
"As you are ours," she finished. "We are, Master. Always."
He put his mouth on hers, all demand and need. She surrendered all of herself to him through that kiss, so he'd know it wasn't the heat of the moment. It was simply truth.
He lifted his head, stared at her. "I love you so fucking much," he said. "I should have told you that the first second I met you, because I bet somewhere in my heart I already knew it was true."
"That might have been a little scary," she said with a tremulous smile. "You know, stalker stuff."
His lips curved. A smattering of applause broke into their absorption with each other. Glancing toward the stage, Geoff reluctantly drew back, though he kept her hand as if he had no intention of ever relinquishing it back to her. "They must have some pre-main performance stuff. I didn't know. Hopefully Chris will get back soon."
"Hopefully Chris will leave the bathroom before the end of the evening," she teased him. "He's probably even now standing in front of the mirror, saying, No fucking way."
Geoff chuckled and squeezed her hand. Then they both turned their attention to the stage.
Two Dommes, one in a sequined white sheath and black boots, the other her mirror image in black sheath and white boots, were executing a performance with a single-tail whip. As one Domme held up a board target with balloons shaped like a flower mounted on it, the other Domme burst all the balloons, one by one, with the throws of her whip. Letting her whip coil at her side, she produced another balloon, this one held up in her bare hand for the other Domme. That Mistress had a longer whip than the first Domme's, yet she was just as proficient. She broke the balloon with a sharp, dramatic pop.
They bowed and exited the stage to applause. More people wandered in from the foyer. Sam thought it had been a smart tactic on Madison's part, to offer a couple of mini-offerings onstage to bring in the foyer stragglers, getting everyone seated and quiet before the main performance.
The next to take the stage was a large man with mustache, shoulder-length brown hair and broad, handsome features that reminded her of Lee Horsley in The Sword and the Sorcerer. The movie was one of Geoff's classic "geek" DVD collection, as Chris called it.
This man wore a vest over his bare upper torso and pantaloons. He twirled and tossed knives with firelit blades in an impressive display. As he did the traditional fire-eating trick, an Indian woman wearing no clothing at all, her head shaved to a pearlescent gleam, came and knelt before him. She put her forehead and elbows to the ground so the brown curve of her spine created a delicate bridge. Another woman, pale and also naked except for a glittering copper collar, stood at his side with further props.
He gave the knives to the helper, and Sam drew in a breath as the fire seemed to leap to his hands. He stroked the bowing woman in swift, graceful movements with the flame as she stayed docile and trusting under his touch. Over the curve of her back, to her nape, over her bare scalp, lingering over her raised buttocks. When he spoke a one-word command in a language Sam didn't recognize, she stretched out on h
er back, gazing up at him.
Going to his knees beside her, he drizzled a fluid on her flesh that shaped the flame into a bluish zigzag pattern on her breasts, mons and thighs. When he stretched out on her as if he was going to take her right there onstage, the fire rippled in the space between their bodies. He quenched it by closing that gap, pressing tightly against her from breasts to hips. The crowd oohed and gasped; then, just as quickly and smoothly, he was next to her again, once more applying the flickering gold-and-blue heat to her skin with the bare palms of his hands.
He finished his performance with the woman coming up on her knees and pressing a kiss to either of his now doused hands, which he curved over her bare skull before kissing her forehead.
As the fire performers were exiting the stage to further applause, the house lights dimmed, indicating the main show was about to start. Geoff's hand tightened on her, drawing her attention from the stage once more. She didn't know if that was his intent, or if the flex of his fingers was purely in reaction to Chris, but after one look at Chris, she was pretty sure it was the latter. As for her, thought deserted her in favor of a pure surge of I want that.
Chris could have put on the pants but retained his T-shirt, keeping somewhat within his comfort zone, but he'd gratifyingly gone full out. He'd worn the upper-body harness. The straps and metal rings accentuated his impressive upper body just as she'd anticipated they would. As for the pants, they would have inspired a saint to dive right into a vat of sin and happily do the backstroke. They fit him like a second skin, his cock and balls mounded up against the fly in a way that made her fingers itch to touch. Since she had enough detail from the view to tell he was circumcised, she was sure his ass would be just as distracting.
She didn't have long to wait to confirm that. When Geoff gestured to her to do so, she moved to the middle seat so Chris could take the seat on the other side of her. Since it was clear from his smirk that Geoff wasn't relinquishing the aisle seat--probably for exactly the same reason she was thrilled to move to the middle seat--Chris had to turn sideways and sidle over Geoff and her to get to his chair.