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"What?" Thomas' gaze snapped to him.
"Do you need help with your slave, sir?" The maitre d' said coolly, looking as if he did bouncer work.
"No. But thank you. " Marcus inclined his head.
Thomas saw that the obvious submissive member of the pair who'd come in ahead of them was already stripping for his waiting Master, who was casually talking to another Dom he apparently recognized. Because of the many men lingering here with avid eyes and an anticipatory air, Thomas quickly realized that most of the Masters had their slaves strip off all their street clothes here, preparing for the environment in a very public manner, underscoring the way it was going to be up front.
"Thomas. I said strip. "
Thomas nodded, suppressing an unmanly tremor in his hands as he opened his jeans, pushed them down over his haunches, careful not to snag the harness. His ears burned at the whistles from their audience, the explicit comments made about what he was revealing. He tried not to be reminded of movie scenes where a new prisoner was brought into the cell block.
Removing his shoes, he took it all off, folded it up into a bundle. Marcus handed the maitre d' the bundle and a tip in exchange for a token on a chain, which he put over Thomas' head. It dangled below the collar. The pewter disk had number sixty-eight on it.
"When we come back for your clothes, that's how we'll get them. However, if anyone other than me speaks to you here, you are Slave Sixty-Eight. Do you understand?"
Thomas managed another nod, though he could barely follow Marcus' words.
There must be fifty men lingering in this area. Two more slaves had come in and were being made to strip. One was rebellious. His Master quickly yanked the chain attached to a manacle locked just below his slave's knee, above the swell of muscular calf, dropping him to a kneeling position. The maitre d' and another bouncer were brought in to forcibly strip him, his struggles obviously arousing them all.
Marcus pressed against Thomas' side, holding his arm when he instinctively started forward.
"Easy. It's the way he and his Master like it, pet. Things are a bit more high-powered here than at the other clubs you've been to, but it's all still consensual. All right?" His fingers tightened on Thomas' quivering shoulder.
Thomas wondered if he was the only one close to a panic attack. It was too warm in here. Too many staring faces.
"Eyes down, pet. On my feet at all times unless I say otherwise. Hands at side, palms open. "
"Leash, sir?" This from the maitre d' again. "Cock or collar?" Holy shit, no.
"Yes. Cock, please. " Marcus' hand came into view, snapped it onto the ring on the cuff at the base of Thomas' very erect, sheathed cock. Thomas could see some fluid inside the condom where he leaked.
"Is he up for auction tonight? Jesus, I'd like a bid on his ass. " A male voice, right behind him. Thomas stiffened, almost turned before he remembered Marcus had him tethered. Marcus' hand slid around his biceps, stilled him.
"You'll let the Master look at you, pet. He's complimenting my taste. " I don't like this. I don't. Please, let's go home where you'll touch me and murmur to me in that fuck-me voice I can't resist. But he didn't say it. And his cock got harder at Marcus' touch, the protective authority in his voice.
"He's not up for auction tonight, but he will be on public view. This is his first time here. First time participating, ever. "
"Enjoy, then. " The man moved away, but Thomas' body remained rigid. Too many people. . . too close. . .
"Thomas. " Thomas had to fight the urge to look up as Marcus pressed his forehead to his. "Sshh. You're ready for this. No one will touch you without my permission. You understand? They might say things, but no one can touch you unless I say so. It's the rules. This is a safe place. I'm not going to let anything happen to you that you can't handle. Okay? Just enjoy the scenery. "
Marcus watched Thomas digest that. He'd never taken it to this level with his shy, tough farm boy, and now he was wondering if that was because of Thomas' underlying innocence, his gentle nature, or something else Marcus didn't want to face in himself.
There were a large group of unattached Doms trolling for partners. They would participate in the auction that would occur periodically, allowing a sub the thrill of a new handler, or his Master the opportunity to share him. Before Thomas, Marcus had shared subs when it would be a kick for both of them, something to increase the intensity. It usually involved laying out the slave over a bench to be fucked by him while his sub went down on another Master.
But he wouldn't share Thomas. Couldn't imagine or even countenance it. Marcus told himself it was too much; Thomas looked overwhelmed as it was. But that wasn't why.
I'd kill anyone who'd touched you. . . you're mine.
He hadn't intended to say those words that day next to the field, but in the dark shadows of his heart, the place he knew a pure spirit like Thomas should never come near, Marcus considered Thomas exclusively his.
He pushed down a sense of uneasiness. Thomas was ready for this. But was he?
He changed his mind about the leash and took it off, set it aside. Thomas obediently kept his gaze on Marcus' shoes. . . or thereabouts. Marcus suppressed a smile, even as it built the hunger in his gut to see the flicker of lashes checking out his cock.
Thomas was nervous, hell yes. But he was aroused and there was that sexy little tremor to his limbs that tightened all those pleasing muscles. Nerves, but more than nerves. Thomas still didn't consciously understand this type of intimacy enough to know his reaction was normal, but Marcus had been deep in this world a long time, and recognized every sign. As most submissives did, eventually Thomas would take the bit in his mouth and ironically pull his Master where they both wanted to go.
I want to call you Master again. . . for a week.
