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Rising, she trailed a hand along his shoulder, keeping him on his knees. She was barely five feet, and he was tall, so his head reached her throat, his eyes close as he tilted his head attentively to her. His mouth was moist from his cleaning, and she caught the scent of her climax. It made her heart trip. Do all the things you wrote in your program apply to me?
His hair curtained one side of his face except for the flashing gold-green eye. The thick heat of his voice reminded her shed never pushed a guy up to this level, where his cock was probably so hard he could barely walk. Shed always felt his release was her obligation. But this environment said it was okay, right? She could keep pushing. Shed read all about safe words and such. Brendan could tell her no if she pushed too hard.
It does. A nd then some. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her thigh through the thin fabric of her skirt. Whatever you want. Its yours.
She took a step back from that touch which cracked open the Pandoras box of emotions swirling through her. A ll right then. Follow me.
She hadnt realized how shed internalized so much of what shed seen so far, such that for one moment she toyed with having him leave the kilt, stride naked like some shed already seen here. It tightened in her gut, even as she wasnt sure she wanted so many ogling the
gifts Brendan had to offer. In the end, she let it remain in her mind only, a particularly twisted fantasy. Turning on her heel, she moved away, not offering to walk with him this time.
Remarkably, he fell in several steps behind her, as if she had him on a tether in truth. A s they emerged from the gardens, headed for the tents and rides of the carnival area, she began to see the guests in their varied groupings. Slaves manacled at the ankles or wrists, tethered at the throat, a heady environment of those willingly being subjugated to whatever dark pleasures the Masters or Mistresses here desired.
She realized she could stroll through the sights without hurry, or concern that he was behind her, though she did glance back several times to confirm it, and for her own pleasure. He didnt look at all the distractions around him. His entire focus was on her, his eyes watching her feet, occasionally sweeping over the rest of her, attuned to where she was going, prepared for whatever she might say or need. He was her devoted slave in truth, and the power of it thrilled, frightened and dug into her with angry, needy claws.
Seeking a way of centering herself, she turned to her surroundings as she wandered through the offerings. There was a shooting gallery, where the ducks were submissives whod been lined up with protective blindfolds, their hands chained over their heads. The guns were loaded with pellet rounds that stung, but did no real injury. A nother submissive knelt below the firing line in front of each target, suckling at cocks or tonguing the wet pussies, so that the bound submissive was hard put to stay still while the Masters or Mistresses were firing. Prizes, amusingly, were the same types shed see at any fair. Kaleidoscopes, cheap necklaces, and colorful stuffed animals of all sizes, like the teddy bears shed helped Marcia set out.
Cirque du Soleil styled players wandered the grounds in provocative costumes, performing tumbling feats, juggling, eating fire and blowing it out in dramatic plumes. A thletic dancers, with long ribbons twining around their otherwise naked bodies, entertained small groups of passersby.
Chloe reflected a person could sit down somewhere and be dazzled for hours by everything they were seeing.
A nother booth had eating contests, where food was of course being devoured off the bodies of submissives stretched out and chained on the boards. A n apparently famous erotic food expert, Chef Rayne Davidson, used volunteers to decorate submissives in artistic food renderings for display at Master and Mistress social gatherings. Next to that area were advanced demonstrations of whip use. Chloe flinched at the pop of the single tail along a womans nipple. Her dress was pulled down to her waist, and she realized it was the woman in the white sheath. The male in the tux was doing the whipping while the football player was watching, already quite visibly aroused. It made Chloe realize they were both Doms, and the woman was their shared submissive. The strike made her cry out, though her chest was already flushed with post-climactic bliss, and her eyes lingered hungrily on her two Masters.
Her breath even shorter, steps a little more unsteady, such that she felt Brendans heat pressing closer behind her, she turned her attention elsewhere. Vendors sold food and drink, the offerings expected at a carnival. Pink and purple cotton candy, popcorn, funnel cakes, the smell of them filling the air. Masters and Mistresses offered such treats from their hands, not allowing their slaves to feed themselves. She saw a Master who had scattered popcorn across the ground. Using a quirt, he was guiding his male slave to eat each piece he indicated.
The slave seemed subdued, though there was some of Caleb to him, in the way he watched his Master like a dangerous dog would, waiting for his chance. A t least that was what Chloe thought, but then he lifted his head, holding several pieces between his lips. The Master gestured to a female slave, apparently another hed bought or brought with him. She moved forward, unashamedly naked, and knelt before the male. Going to her hands and knees, her back arched so her buttocks were high and breasts thrust in a tempting display, she stretched out toward the male submissive, like a poodle before a hulking mastiff. Chloe held her breath as she delicately took the popcorn from his lips. The Masters hand fell on his slaves nape, caressing the thick collar he wore.
I dont really get the ones who want that, she said.
Brendan was close enough his thigh brushed the back of hers. When she curled her fingers, she touched the hem of the chain mail.
The hardcore pain and humiliation?
A nd being treatedI want to say like an animal, but you shouldnt treat an animal like that, either.
Like a slave. His breath teased her ear, made her shiver.
She lifted a shoulder, didnt look at him yet, though she wasnt sure why. I guess so. A lot of them here are called slaves, but theyre treated differently. There was one guy who was letting his slave sit on his coat on the grass, even though it was probably a pretty expensive coat.
He nodded. Masters and Mistresses can be vastly different, just as submissives are. Theyre all unique.
You understand it, she realized, looking up at his face. You understand why Caleb, or this guy, gets off on the extreme stuff.
Before Brendan could reply, a sharp crack rent the air. Snapping her attention back, she found that the male sub had incurred a punishment. His Master had his booted foot on the slaves neck, forcing his face to the ground, his ass high in the air. The crack came again, from a paddle hitting the mans buttocks hard enough it drove him forward. The first strike was already welling up like the brand of an iron.
Brendans hand had closed on her arm, making her realize shed started to move forward. Does he A re you sure?
Im sure. Dont worry. Ill try to explain it, though sometimes explanations dont help.
She wasnt sure she could handle watching more of the violence in that demonstration area, so she turned her back to it to face him. She much preferred Brendans handsome face. What do you mean?
Intuitively, he drew her away from the area. It loosened her shoulders a bit, but his words didnt give her much ease.
If its entirely foreign to someone, no frame of reference, inside or out, then he or she can hear the explanation, but it doesnt change their thinking on it.
A hard world to understand to those not in it
She uncomfortably recalled Marguerites words. It still gives them a different perspective.
