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Putting it off would only delay proving she was right, that this whole scene wasn’t her thing. “No, I’m ready. I came tonight to satisfy my curiosity. I’m sure it won’t be more shocking than what’s been flitting through my imagination.”
“Let’s see.”
Okay, maybe I spoke too soon, Lillian thought as they reached the top floor and her eyes landed on a webbed swing in the corner. The dim lighting didn’t allow for a clear view of Nan’s displayed crotch even though her raised legs were cuffed above her head in a wide vee. Dan stood at her side, a fierce look of concentration on his face as he flicked a multi-strand flogger directly on her sensitive, bare flesh. There was no mistaking the rapture spreading over her friend’s face, or Lillian’s confusion at her response to both the humiliating pose and what must have been blistering pain.
Mitchell gripped her chin and pulled her head around, holding her there as he said, “That’s her thing, and her Master’s. Some enjoy that extra bite, a few a more rigid, rule-structured approach. Most members in this club concentrate on the physical aspect. None of this is wrong.”
Standing in bare feet brought Lillian’s head only up to his chest and the way he held her head arched back emphasized his towering height. She didn’t care for the intimidating tactic or his cool tone insinuating she was silently judging the couple. “You misinterpreted confusion with distaste. Let me go.” To her surprise, he released her chin immediately and stepped back, a closed expression on his face. A wave of disappointment swamped her, whether from the loss of his nearness and touch or that unreadable look, she couldn’t figure out, adding to the jumbled chaos of her thoughts.
Lillian shifted her eyes away from Mitchell’s ever observant gaze in time to witness Dan snapping those leather strips on Nan’s tender flesh again. His other hand had scooped out one breast, and whatever he did to her nipple coincided with that strike, causing his wife to jerk her arms and legs against the restraints and lift her hips with a supplicant cry. Watching Dan’s face soften with approval and love elicited a stab of envy she wasn’t prepared to deal with.
“Come on, pet. Let’s see what you think of a few other scenes.”
Mitchell’s use of that epithet defused the effect of the warmth lacing his gruff voice and she let him hear her irritation. “You know I don’t care for that label.”
“Yes, I do. The club safe word is red, but a lot of times a submissive will prefer choosing her own, something she can relate to and remember easily.” He stopped by a large wagon wheel suspended from the roof, a much smaller version propped next to it. “We call this apparatus our Wheel of Misfortune.” Giving the small one a spin, Lillian watched the little flapper snapping between the spokes until it came to rest on one as it stopped spinning. Mitchell leaned forward and read, “Back to wheel, sideways position. Can you picture yourself up there, strapped on naked, in that position?”
“No.” She didn’t have to think about it. Not only did it sound uncomfortable, but mortifying.
“Then we’ll move on. Tell me when you see something you wouldn’t adamantly oppose trying.”
“And if there’s nothing?”
He shrugged, as if he didn’t care one way or the other, the move producing another stab of unexplainable regret. “Then you’ve appeased your curiosity and can set it aside.”
They walked slowly down the center of the loft, Mitchell pausing to explain each piece of equipment. He pointed out Master Devin, leaning against the back wall, and explained he was on monitoring duty, which entailed keeping an eye out for anyone breaking the safe, sane and consensual rules. Lillian wasn’t ready to admit it out loud, but every time she saw unabashed pleasure on a submissive’s face, regardless of the torment her Dom was heaping upon her body, and his approval of her acceptance, her curiosity and the slow spread of heat increased. She was starting to get a grip of what her friends meant when they said the lifestyle met their needs.
Lillian couldn’t help leaning on Mitchell each time they stopped, the brush of his leg against hers, his firm hold on her arm and deep voice vibrating above her all worked to set her at ease while she reconciled with her arousing response. She quit wondering how her nipples could peak and her pussy swell and dampen when he annoyed her with his commands and continued to use that ‘pet’ name, but by the time they reached another woman bound to a dangling chain, her body was ablaze with a fiery need she couldn’t disclaim, admitting only some of it was due to the erotic displays. It was more proof she didn’t require to confess the ‘spanking’ lesson last week failed to work him out of her system.
Were all these men tall, dark and muscled? Lillian wondered, watching wide-eyed as this Dom wielded a long-stranded flogger with steady, constant flicks of his wrist, moving from the bound woman’s buttocks to her thighs then up to her lower back. Her acceptance of the reddening, hurtful swats baffled Lillian – she could still too easily recall the breath-stealing, excruciating pain of Brad’s fist and kick.
And then Lillian watched as her eyes glazed, her face softened into a rapt, contented expression, as if she’d drifted into another world. What would it be like to be taken to another plane, outside of yourself, away from everything stressful and hurtful and have a man look at her with the same warm approval etched on this Dom’s face? She glanced up at Mitchell as he led her away from the scene, almost stumbling as she realized that’s exactly what he had done every time he’d brought her to orgasm. He’d taken her outside of herself, given her a reprieve from grief through seduction at the cabin and the more light-hearted yet just as intense scene – at least for her – at the apartment.
She questioned the quick stab of longing for a similar look of approval from Mitchell that took her by surprise, a reaction she didn’t want but admitting it and then moving on seemed more productive than denial. His penchant for issuing orders pushed her buttons but she owed him for looking after her in more ways than one. Maybe someday she would find a way to pay him back.
“Come meet one of my favorite couples,” Mitchell said, steering her toward the last apparatus.
She couldn’t help it, her jaw dropped as they approached what looked like a gymnastics vault, the contraption rocking back and forth as the naked woman astride it gyrated up and down on a condom-covered, vibrating dildo. Her Dom, a stern looking man in his fifties, flicked the long narrow handle in his hand, snapping the square leather flap at the end on the blonde’s already blood-red nipple.
Mitchell pushed her jaw up, closing her gaping mouth as he leaned down to whisper, “They live a strict, twenty-four seven, Dom/sub lifestyle. Do not speak unless one of us gives you permission.”
As usual, Lillian bristled at the order, the tight squeeze on her elbow signaling he was dead serious. Swallowing the retort on the tip of her tongue, she nodded, amazed at the woman’s ability to maneuver up and down on the fake phallus using just her legs since her hands were cuffed behind her. She gasped as the man swatted the tender flesh of her bare folds clinging to the dildo, lifting her head to reveal wide blue eyes glistening with tears.
“Head down!” the Dom barked and she dropped her head again, her hair falling forward to shield her face.
Lillian’s fiercely held independent side rebelled against the woman’s subjugated pose and obedience, but Mitchell’s sharp, negative head shake kept her mouth shut. And then the man stepped forward, stopped the rocking motion of the machine, rooted out her swollen clit and pressed the sensitive nerve endings against the hard ridges of the vibrator with one word.
“Now.”
Climaxing as instructed, the woman’s whole body bowed with pleasure, her soft cries resonating around them. As erotically titillating as watching her was, it was the look the two of them shared as the woman opened her eyes, her perspiration-damp body still quivering, her face suffused with pleasure. Lillian couldn’t glance away from the obvious special connection the couple shared, the depth of their unguarded feelings exposed in their gazes for all to see. That closeness reminded her of the bond between her and Liana; different relationships for sure, but the same link that made them so unique.
Grief clogged her throat, forcing her to look away from the couple as he helped her down, his hands gentle on her red-marked body. Lillian’s eyes rose to catch a fleeting look of sadness and longing in Mitchell’s gaze as he looked at his friends, and she suspected he was remembering his wife. She didn’t doubt theirs had been as close a bond as this couple. Somehow, realizing how deeply his loss had affected him and his life, made her feel better about being with him now. They both were in need of healing before they could move on.
His eyes swung toward her, the shadow of heartbreak disappearing with a flare that turned them more green than brown. Her heart rolled over, her body quivering as if he’d touched her with his hands instead of his look. A craving stirred to life inside her, but was it born of lust or a need to temporarily fill the void in her life Liana’s passing left and help him in the process? Did she pine for physical distraction from the pain of unmitigated grief, or yearn for what she’d witnessed between the other couple, for what Mitchell had before?
Mitchell slid his hand from her elbow to her hand, tugging her forward with an unreadable expression. “Master Brett, this is our guest tonight, Lillian Gillespie.”
“Lillian, my wife and I have heard a little about you.” Holding out his hand, Brett checked her face carefully, looking for the bruises that had already disappeared.
