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"Are you commanding me to meet your friends with a hard-on this size?"
She stretched up, kissed his cheek, moved back, nibbled his ear. "Yes, slave. I am. You're about to meet four very powerful and experienced Doms. I'm a baby to them, and I want to impress them." She laid her hand back on his crotch and squeezed again, earning an indrawn breath. "This is very impressive."
"Is that what this torture is about?" He sounded caught between irritation and amusement.
"No. But I think it makes you more comfortable to think so." She rubbed her hand over him again, one hard sure stroke this time that made his hips lift to her touch before he could stop himself. He caught her wrist and they froze, looking at each other. His eyes glittered, his jaw held tense in obstinacy. She made her face blank, unreadable.
"Let go of me, Mackenzie. Now."
He drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and she squelched the desire to reach out, stroke his temple. Instead, she passed her thumb over the head of his cock, startlingly prominent through the denim. It was a lighter touch this time, but there, emphasizing that her interest and pleasure was to keep him visibly, painfully aroused. "Get out of the car."
It took another humming ten seconds of tension, but he reached for the door, opened it with a muttered oath that made her hide a smile.
She was anxious, too, but she made sure she covered it. She didn't know how this weekend would go. It would test the strength of the bond growing between them, a bond that seemed deeper than expected at this juncture. Understanding a couple of the reasons for it in a way she knew he did not yet, she hoped that this weekend would enhance it, not shatter it. She'd no doubt they were going to go into some uncomfortable territory. That was the nature of mixing a D/s sexual relationship with the things of the outside world. She was willing to take the risks, even knowing the stakes were growing higher every moment she was around him and her desire to claim him, keep him, grew.
"We observe certain etiquettes while we're here," she said. "When you're with me, you follow me, a pace behind. " Mac dropped back a pace, and she nodded, didn't break stride. "Don't meet any Dom's gaze directly unless instructed to do so. You obey my commands, and if you have any questions, you ask permission before you ask them. Finally," she glanced back at him, "subs are required to be unclothed for the duration, only wearing what toys and jewelry their Master or Mistress deems is appropriate."
She registered his jerk of surprise just as Tyler opened the door, before she could knock. Here goes, girl. Don't blow it.
"Right on time." Tyler smiled down at her. In his mid-forties like Mac, he had the look of a relaxed pro golfer. Tanned and with a lean muscularity, he kept his dark hair touched with gray trimmed close, so that the immediate focus was on his deep-set brown eyes, prominent nose, and curved, firm lips. He had a universal appeal; Violet had yet to see the person Tyler couldn't make feel at ease when he chose to do so.
"Tyler, this is Mac."
Tyler glanced over her shoulder. "Mac. Welcome to my home. I'm sure Violet explained the rules to you. Lower your gaze."
She also knew he could turn that warmth into instant coolness, as he did now. Used to a Mistress beating the hell out of him for infractions, and playing one-on-one, Mac was going to be stressed by a group, co-ed dynamic like this. Being a sub was a lot more than that, though Violet couldn't blame any Mistress for wanting to keep him all to herself.
Tyler had ratcheted up her slave's tension with the immediate gauntlet. Assessing him as a Dom was one thing, and part of what was expected this weekend. But as he studied Mac thoroughly, lingering deliberately on the prominent erection so that Mac was sure to feel the regard, he was clearly evaluating her choice in a protective, fraternal way that had a unique flavor with the Dom angle thrown in. Mac, an obvious mundane world alpha, was being compelled to act as a submissive member of the pack to a male challenging his claim on her. She could almost see the rise of his hackles, but ultimately he obeyed. Somewhat. Interestingly, he cut his eyes over to her first, making it clear it was her will he was obeying, not Tyler's. Further, he averted his gaze, rather than lowered it.
Tyler's lips twisted, acknowledging the cut. "You've got your hands full with this one, Violet. Maybe a weekend with us will teach him some manners. When you enter the hallway, Mac, there is a changing room to your left. You'll leave all clothes and jewelry there, except what your Mistress has instructed you to leave on. You will then come join us in the main dining room, where you will kneel by your Mistress's chair."
Violet laid one hand on Mac's forearm. His silver gaze flickered to that contact, and she felt the heat singe the fine hairs along her wrist. "Mackenzie," she said. "You may remove everything."
She thought to give him a break, to preserve his dignity somewhat, but she should have known Tyler's ears would catch the slight inflection.
"I thought he looked a little stirred up," Tyler chuckled. "Maybe you should use a larger size next time, Violet. He's still far too rebellious for a slave with his Mistress's will shoved up his ass."
She tightened her grip on Mac's arm as the muscles hardened beneath her touch. "Go get changed," she ordered softly. "Now, Mackenzie."
Feeling a maelstrom of emotions vibrate off him like an impending explosion, she held her touch a moment longer, and then let go, turning her back on him. There was frustration, anger, and something else, the thing she was trying to rouse, the confusing jumble of feelings every sub fought at this stage of the game. A tug of war between will and desire, control, power and need that fucked up their minds. If the loss of control frightened them enough, they would do things to deliberately earn punishment, to test the will of the Mistress. Knowing Mac, Tyler had just ensured they were in for a lively evening.
He turned, offered his arm to Violet. "Let me show you to the table."
As they left Mac in the foyer and headed further into the house, Tyler's fingers tightened on hers. "Don't look back. You'll only whisk him away someplace where you can pet him and protect him and abandon your resolve to break him down. You wanted us to play it hard this weekend, to help you. This is step one."
"He's so obviously one-on-one," she swallowed. "I'm afraid this will tear something loose in him, Tyler."
"If it's his heart, it will make it all the easier for him to give it to you. Violet," Tyler took her by the shoulders now that they were out of Mac's sight, and put a restraining hand to her chin. "He's not damaged. He can say no, and the game immediately ends, no censure, no anything. He takes his place at the table and joins us as a neutral, a voyeur only."
"But I don't know if that's true. There's something that keeps him from saying no when he really wants to say no. I don't know what it is."
"Then you'll get to the bottom of it. You're in charge of him, sweetheart." He brushed a finger over her cheek. "You're really gone over him. It's cute. I've never seen Violet in love."
"I am not. Don't be a smart ass." She scowled and he grinned, though his eyes grew a shade more serious in contrast.
"I'm not. If he's good for you, I'm all for him. If not, I'm hiring a guy to kick his ass. Based on his size and that lethal look he has in his eyes for me, maybe several guys. Oh, speaking of lethal, did I tell you? I almost got Marguerite to accept an invitation to come this weekend."
"You're entirely too fascinated with her, Tyler."
