Bow to Your Partner

by Raven McAllan

  The sensations that delicate touch set off were perfect. Her body sang and she tightened her muscles on his digit as best she could.

  "G-green sir." How her voice didn't tremble with passion when she spoke Mason had no idea. Here she was, standing in his office in her bustier and he was fully clothed. Public scening hadn't been part of her life, and she wasn't sure how she'd cope if it came to it. This was well public enough for now. Mason reasoned there must be people who had access to the room.

  She was correct. Another door, one she hadn't paid much attention to opened. She shut her eyes.

  Chapter Seven

  Callan turned to the door, and put himself between it and Mason. He felt her trembling, and no way was he going to give her the opportunity to renege, whatever happened. Not before they'd sorted out her limits and played a little. Even though he had no intention of pushing very far or even engaging in very much, nothing, but nothing, was going to interfere or upset her.

  The tall, dark-haired man who walked in checked his steps and blinked.

  "Thought it was your night off?"

  "It is, and I thought your office was next door?"

  Sean grinned. "I need some more candles and Ryan mentioned you said you had some to spare. I tell you Cal, that new trainee Dom, Kieran, needs a lot more attention before he's let loose, if ever."

  Mason stiffened behind him and Callan put his hand out to drag her into his arms. She resisted for one brief second, and then curled herself round him, her face hidden.

  Sean raised one eyebrow, but said nothing.

  "Candles, sure." Callan motioned with one hand. "Second cupboard, help yourself."

  "Cheers, are you coming in?" Sean walked across the room, and Callan noted how careful Sean was not to look at Mason, who visibly shook.

  "Not tonight, but can you make this room off limits? We might be here a while."

  "Sure." Sean took out some candles and walked out. Callan waited until the door closed.

  "Give me a second, I'll double lock it. One step too far eh?" He loosened the death grip she had on his jacket, and kissed the top of her head. "Go and sit down, I won’t be long." He patted her butt to point her in the direction of the sofa. She didn't look at him as she did as he requested, and Callan was damned sure it wasn't subbie obedience but blind terror or some similar reason that made her behave like that.

  He checked the door was locked and slipped the deadbolt, mentally cursing he hadn't thought to do it before. But then all the owners agreed each could enter the others office when needed. As it was Callan's night off Sean would have no need to assume Callan was in residence and knock.

  "That's us secure. Now, how about telling me why the over reaction? He's a Dom, and he's going to see you in much more provocative clothing or situations if we do get together."

  Mason lifted her head to look at him. He'd never seen such abject misery, and his body tensed at the thought she was going to safe word out before they'd even been together.

  "I know." Her voice was low and he couldn't decide if she sounded sad or annoyed. "But I've never done anything in public, and that was Sean O'Connor. He's a mate of my cousin."

  "So am I." Did he sound as bewildered as he felt? Callan had no idea why she worried. "A friend of Marco's."

  "Yes, but Marco set us up or we think he did. Sean didn't and he'll know why I'm here."

  "And you know why he's here," Callan said. Talk about stating the obvious. "So what's the difference?"

  "Argh, men, Sir."

  Her words were so contradictory, Callan bit the inside of his lip to stop himself grinning. He reckoned it wasn't the right thing to do, he needed to sooth her fears not increase them.

  "Love, explain. You said you were in the lifestyle with your husband, and now hopefully you're in it with me. Michael joined you both up here, so he was obviously going to bring you."

  She bit her nail. "But we hadn't. Been here or anywhere. He'd always been adamant, what I did was for him and him alone. We were a partnership, albeit a D/s one. So no one really knew. Okay, Marco guessed, after all I was collared, and we did live our lives to our own way of the lifestyle, but for Sean to walk in and see me half undressed was more than a shock. I just got every insecurity known to humankind in spades. And then he went for candles."

  Callan sat down on the settee and pulled her onto his lap. "Are candles a hard limit, love?" He decided they might as well talk about limits whilst she calmed down and realized there was nothing to fear.

  "Nope, I got all shivery in a good way. They were Michael's though, as he'd been burned by one as a kid." She wriggled and smiled as his cock settled between her butt cheeks. "I so wanted to do some wax play, but no dice. My hard limits are piercing, cutting, and butt plugs. Oh and to be honest, I've never enjoyed going down." She blushed and bit her nail again

  Butt plugs? That's a weird one. Callan decided to talk about that later. What a strange set of limits she had.

  "So you won't put my cock in your mouth and love me? Let me swell and fill you that way? Don't you like the thought of swallowing my juices and knowing how I taste?"

  She went white, red then white again. Her skin was flushed and a sheen of perspiration coated her skin, making the fine hairs stand out slick and proud. "Ah. Oh, damn it. See when you—oh lordy, sorry, Sir." She touched his arm. "God I'm shite as a sub, aren't I? No wonder Michael never let me sub in a public scene. I'd show him, and now you, up."

  She looked close to tears.

  "Do you want to?" he asked quietly. Even the air in the room seemed to await her answer. "Scene in public, not show me up? Which for the record you'd never do. Believe me. I'd be proud of anything you did. So?"

  "Maybe. Oh help, I'm a mess aren't I? Yeah I think so, but well, maybe."

  Callan stood up abruptly and took her arm.

  "Remember you can safe word at any time. Remember where you are, don't speak without my permission, and accept my diktats okay? Color." He snapped the words out.

  "Yes. Yellow."

  Callan held his groan back. He should have known.

  "Why love?" He gentled his tone.

  "Please don't scene with me, or make me strip, please." She begged and he was disgusted with himself. She was pleading him not to do something he had no intention of letting happen any time soon. What a bastard I've become.

  "Mason, do you trust me to know what's best for us? Do you trust me, period? Because if not, there's no point in going on." This time the silence continued for so long, he convinced himself her answer would be in the negative. Eventually after two minutes and twenty-nine seconds—he'd counted them off on his watch—she took a shuddering breath.

  "Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir."

  He hoped his relief wasn't obvious. Seriously she'd put him through the wringer more times in such a short time, than everyone during the rest of his life.

  "Mason, listen to me. We won't scene tonight, maybe not for ages. Who knows? Maybe never."

  How someone who he'd only met so recently mattered so much confused the hell out of him. Callan was the person who never rushed into anything. The one who stood back and pondered. Who evaluated and debated before he made decisions. His nickname at University—Cautious Cal—was apt. Now, after just a few hours with Mason, he'd turned that sobriquet on its head. "Tonight we'll watch for a while, that's all. Let you see how the club works. Then we'll talk to discover if we want the same things. Yes?"

  She nodded, and the relief in her eyes warred with the tears she brushed away impatiently. "Yes, please. Um, Sir."

  "Then come with me, and do as I say. You look beautiful and that bustier has my cock demanding release, so this is a lesson in restrain and trust for both of us. That afterwards we've come to a place where we're both happy to carry on." He paused and grinned. "And I can fuck the living daylights out of you. Be it this week, next month or next year. We're not going to rush, pet."

  She giggled, and it was the best sound ever. Callan walked over to unlock the door, changed his mind,
and turned back to the long mahogany cupboard before he swiveled and looked at her. Mason stood tall by the settee, her hands behind her back, and her eyes following his every movement.

  "In this club on play nights like this, if you're taken or don't want to play, you can wear a sign. Will you? It's not a collar, it’s a bracelet." He opened the cupboard and took out a delicate silver chain with an intricate diamond knot on it. He'd never given it, or any form of taken token to anyone before. His heart beat sped up as he waited for her reply.

  Her eyes widened.

  "Are you-er, yes, Sir. Please."

  Callan didn't ask her to explain herself, or expand on her words. He got the idea. He nodded and clasped the bracelet around her wrist, adjusting it to be a snug, but not uncomfortable fit. She fingered it.

  "Please, Sir, what's this link for?"

  Callan knew fine what she looked at, and wondered how she'd react to his answer. Truly this evening was the most enjoyable he could remember, and they'd done nothing but spar. "Handcuffs."

  "Oh, good." She smiled sinful and full of mischief. "Do I have to be good or bad for that?"

  "That's for me to know and you to find out. Right, we're going into the club. You have your safe words. Rather than speak them, nip me like this." He demonstrated on her wrist, "and we'll go somewhere here you can convey what you want to me. Understand?"

  She nodded. "Yes, Sir, and green."

  He couldn't ask for anything else. He led the way out of the room, and didn't lock it behind him. "If I'm called away, or you need a safe haven for any reason, come up here and wait for me. Lock the door, and only let Sean or myself in. No." He preempted her question. "I don't think you'll need to, not for a moment, but as this is your first time, I'm trying to make sure I've covered everything."

  "Thank you, Sir." She smiled up at him, and the glowing look almost made him change his mind, and take her somewhere private to make love to her. Only the fact he wanted to show her so much kept him on the move. He took her hand and ushered along a corridor toward a long curving staircase. He knew what she'd see if she looked over the balcony. A few couples chatting, and a demonstration area where Sean was setting up to do a wax play demo. The private rooms were all taken, and those that allowed an audience no doubt full. The Dance Studio was popular, and could be subscribed four times over if they so desired. They didn't, preferring to keep it small, exclusive and discrete.

  Callan matched her step for step downstairs, and at the bottom turned right toward the bar area. More than one person turned to look at them, and had a speculative look on their faces when they saw her chain. Callan had been somewhat economical in his explanation. In the Dance Studio a bracelet such as he'd put on Mason, was tantamount to a declaration that although not collared there was a definite connection. He had no idea if this was done elsewhere, and didn't much care. He, Sean and Ryan decided early on the bracelet idea was something they wanted.

  He walked to the bar and seated her on a stool next to him. There was time enough to talk about protocol. "Water or juice?"

  "Water, please, Sir." To his amazement and pleasure, Mason slipped off the high stool and sat on the lower one next to him, before leaning against his legs. He stroked her hair. He handed her a bottle, and took one for himself.

  "Good girl. Still green?" he asked softly. She nodded, and gave him a quick glance. He saw a question in her eyes. "You can talk here, what's going through that mind of yours?"

  "I need you." Her words were so soft he almost missed them.

  "How?"

  "However you want, Sir, and it scares me."

  My God, does she even realize what dynamite there is in that statement? "Scening? Here, in public?"

  She swallowed hard. "One day. If that's what you want, Sir."

  "One day." Not for their first time, however those words sent a surge of red hot arousal through him. As a cold shower wasn't viable, a short walk about might be just the thing. "Come." He stood up and took her and once more." Don't talk unless I say so, don't stare, and save questions for later."

  He didn't explain in any more detail, but drew her with him to where Sean was about to start his demonstration.

  "Did you really mean that? Tell me honestly." He felt the tremor rippling through her.

  "I thought I did, but, now? When I'm actually about to see someone else do what we would? Oh damn. Red, Sir."

  "Pet, we might never do it, so don't worry. Now watch." Callan ignored the sigh of relief and held her tight. She needed to accept he would only do what was right for her, nothing more nothing less. Yes, he'd push her further than she might think she wanted, but never ever go too far. It was all well and good to want to please your Sir, but not at the expense of your peace of mind.

  Around thirty people were watching Sean, and few glanced their way. Callan felt Mason relaxing by the second, getting increasingly comfortable, as he guessed she realized anything went clothes wise. People wore whatever they—or their Sir—wanted. Now he'd see how she reacted to what was one of his favorite ways of scening, even though he chose to leave most demonstrations to Sean, he was more than happy. One day.

  Sean spoke to his sub in an undertone. Okay, it was his very new wife Jane, and they knew each other in every which way, but still he went through everything with her. Partly for those watching, but also because as they all said, things change and safety was paramount. Callan glanced at Mason. Her mouth was slightly parted and the sheen on her skin was very definitely of arousal, not fear.

  "One day this could be us," he said in an undertone. A shiver rippled over her skin. Excitement? "Color, pet?"

  "Green." Her voice was just above a whisper. "Blimey, it looks good, I feel great, as if its all so personal and we're privileged to watch."

  It was enough to allow him to press a soft nip to the nape of her neck. He swore she groaned in a more already tone.

  "Soon." It was a promise.

  Chapter Eight

  The weather was typical Glasgow weather, raining and grey. What the locals called dreich. It didn't dampen Callan's mood though. Three weeks of him pushing, and Mason accepting—or at times pushing back—had given them both confidence. Yes there had been highs and lows, and areas they knew were a red, no go zone. For instance, Callan accepted Mason would never ever let him cup her or do any sort of fire play, but he was fine with that. Neither were his personal preferences. By trial and error, and a lot of in depth communication, they'd come to realize how well they meshed, and how compatible they were. Their agreement to take things slowly had been the right one.

  However, three weeks of Mason's submission and no sex had given him a permanent hard on. How long he could carry on like this, Callan had no idea. Nevertheless, his first thoughts were to make Mason happy, confident, and at peace with her needs.

  As he mused over those last few weeks, and thought how damned happy he was, Callan whistled softly.

  Mason picked up a bustier she'd brought with her and raised one eyebrow. "Yes? Will it be okay do you reckon?"

  "Oh, nice one, love." They were in his bedroom, both naked, and ready to dress and go out. He hoped she would like the surprise he had for her.

  Callan had hot thoughts about a Mason in a tiny red skirt and black bustier, with those fuck me red heels she loved.

  "Perfectly. So pet, are we ready to go public?"

  To his horror, Mason shook her head. "Oh no, Sir. Red, red and mega red."

  His heart plummeted, a big nasty sense of dread hit it and it sped up. What? It seemed his surprise wasn't so welcome after all. His always eager cock deflated, and metaphorically hid behind his balls like a shy school kid afraid of being picked on.

  "Why, pet?" They'd come to agree pet was the perfect tag for when they played, and often for other occasions as well, as just then.

  "I need to feel you in me first." She looked up at him with so much hope in her expression, it sent a shock wave of expectation right down to his toes.

  His heart stopped. Had he heard aright?
His cock decided it was fine to perk up again. He was glad he weren’t clothed, or wearing jeans. Zipper imprints down his length were not only a bad look, they were also bloody painful.

  Callan scowled. He'd deliberately let her set the pace, but this was speeding up with a vengeance. He'd though a little impact play might help her to realize what she loved, and it had. Those sweet mewls and sobs, as the flogger caressed her, had been perfect. Callan swore he'd take things at a pace to reintroduce her to the lifestyle gently. The few drops of wax he'd allowed on her skin had her crying out in ecstasy. However, now it seemed now Mason was ready to go one step further. But was he? Because if she cried red, he would just cry.

  "Where?" he said. She must have heard the caution in his voice because she blinked and tensed.

  "Ah, Sir?"

  "Don't tense, this is your pace, remember?" he said slowly. "You need to be explicit. What exactly are you asking for?"

  "To feel your c—cock in me. To have you come and know I helped. To come, and be ready for everything else. If you want that, Sir?"

  A definite query there. "Pet, who is Sir?" Callan bit his lip to stop himself laughing at her expression. Talk about bratty sub mode. His Mason came leaps and bounds over those last weeks. Together they'd learned each other’s likes and dislikes, discovered how much they liked each other. To his surprise—Callan always thought he was the cautious type—he fell in love with her without any problems. Life was good, and it seemed getting better.

  Mason looked at him, her grin cheeky, expression hopeful. "Well you are, Sir. Callan Mackie. My Sir."

  That was all he needed. "Then it's time to explore further love." She jumped. Callan guessed at why she was surprised. "This is Mason and Cal love, no Dom or sub. This is us. As equals and loving. I've been looking forward, no, hoping we'd come to this."

  She smiled, all siren and enticing. Callan's heart swelled.

  "Then let's love." Mason planted a kiss on his lips and followed it up with a tiny suck to each of his nipples. She stroked his chest with tiny featherlike touches, which created tiny frissons of heat and electricity.