AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Well, damn, man. Congratulations,” Griffin said, adjusting the black leather cuff on his wrist. The style of it was almost medieval, with its ornately embroidered gothic ‘M’ and the way it knotted on the inside of his wrist. Each of the twelve Masters of Blasphemy wore one. “How’s your sister-in-law doing? How’s the baby? Boy or a girl?”
“My brother said Amy came through it like a total champ. And the baby’s a girl. Nine pounds, four ounces. They named her Quinn.” His expression was pure pride. The guy was practically beaming.
Griffin’s eyes went wide. “For you?” Quinton nodded. “That’s something, Quinton. Congratulations, again.”
The other man pulled out two glasses and quickly poured shots of whiskey. “Raise a glass with me?”
“Gladly,” Griffin said. They threw back the amber liquor, and Griffin savored the hot, spiced bite of it. Just as he settled the glass on the marble bar top, footsteps rang out from behind him.
“Master Kyler, you’re here early,” Quinton called out, a big smile shaping his face. “And with the lovely Mia.”
Griffin twisted on his stool and took in the couple as they approached. Kyler and Mia had been together for about two months, but you could see in the way they looked at and moved around each other that it was a forever thing.
Kyler smiled, his expression more relaxed than it had been in months, his blue eyes more lively somehow. “The early bird gets the dungeon first.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Mia grinned and blushed, which was adorable given how much skin and curves her leather dress revealed. When they reached the bar, they all shook hands.
“Good to see you two,” Griffin said, meaning it. While all twelve of the Blasphemy Masters were friendly, Quinton and Kyler were the two with whom Griffin had gotten the closest over the years. So Griffin was happy for them, he really was. Master Kyler had almost made the same mistake with Mia that Griffin had years before with Kenna Sloane—thinking he didn’t want a long-term relationship and letting her go. But seeing them together, man, that kinda stung, too. Maybe that made him an asshole, but that didn’t make it any less true.
“I’m looking forward to your demonstration tonight, Master Griffin,” Mia said. With long dark hair and brown eyes, Mia was a beautiful woman and a natural submissive. Even as she smiled at and greeted him, he could see her already slipping into her role, resisting lifting her eyes to meet his. Griffin forced his gaze away from Mia’s collar, which was easier than forcing his imagination away from the fundamental satisfaction Kyler must’ve felt in collaring a submissive and deepening their relationship to that level.
Griffin nodded, his mind already making plans for the demonstration. He intended to put Tara in a reverse prayer position, which used intricate rope work to secure a submissive’s arms behind her back, her hands coming together between her shoulder blades. For starters. And the dark orange rope he had in mind would be a close match for her hair, creating a beautiful visual. Both the beauty of the rope work and the time it took to complete the rigging were big parts of what Shibari rope bondage was about, after all. “I hope you enjoy it.”
The first part of the night passed in a blur of registering and orienting new members—Dominants who’d been vetted by Blasphemy’s Masters, submissives nominated by Dominant members, long-term single submissives, and provisional submissives who’d received temporary two-week passes. The unattached submissives received wrist cuffs with colored ribbons that denoted the kinds of play in which they were or were not willing to engage. Green for sex, orange for anal sex, light and dark blue for lesser and heavier degrees of pain, gold for group sex, and so forth.
Red for bondage.
That one always caught Griffin’s attention. That one always had him wondering if this submissive could be someone who—
Just as often, he forced himself to cut off the thought when his brain threatened to complete it with replace Kenna.
Because no one could do that.
After his shift at registration finished, Griffin ducked into the security control room to find Isaac Marten, another of the Blasphemy Masters, where he usually was—manning the security desk, dark eyes constantly scanning the bank of monitors that rotated images from every part of the club.
