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Besides, she didn’t want to come from masturbating. She wanted to come with his hands and cock on, or in, her. She wanted to orgasm when and how he commanded and allowed.
But he wouldn’t give her either.
It was frustrating, especially since the pussy whipping had made her sex highly sensitive and hard to ignore. If frustration was a reason to stop being submissive, the entire culture of BDSM would have crumbled.
As for the second order, the command not to take any kind of pain medication…well, that was a different insult. There were horror stories, the BDSM equivalent of boogeyman tales, of masochists who dosed up before a session specifically so they could be used and abused past their real pain tolerance limits. Kink urban legends insisted there were people who’d died from doing that.
Many of the activities that went on in BDSM were dangerous. Most practitioners at Las Palmas—which was a private club and so had far looser rules than any public club or forum—practiced using RACK rather than SSC guidelines.
SSC stood for “safe, sane, and consensual” but there were some activities that couldn’t be labeled safe. Or sane.
RACK was “risk-aware, consensual kink” and most people felt that was a much more accurate philosophy.
Ordering her not to take any pain meds implied not only that she was an irresponsible submissive, but was a bit of an insult to her masochist streak.
After going to all the trouble of becoming a submissive, joining an expensive BDSM club, and willingly submitting to having her pussy whipped, the last thing she wanted was to undo all that hard work by popping some aspirin to mute the delicious pain.
It had hurt, beautifully so, when he flogged her, but now it was just a sweet, throbbing heat.
Before exiting the Subs’ Garden, Mal used the facilities, washed her face, chugged some juice to help wash away the taste of the condom, fixed her makeup and her hair—this time leaving it down—and changed out of the white dress into a short purple wrap.
The wrap dress was technically a robe, but she’d discarded the belt and instead used the two side ties—one interior, one exterior—to hold it closed.
It was comfortable, flattering, and gave her partner easy access to her breasts, ass, and sex. The crossed upper panels parted easily, as did the skirt, and it was short enough that if she bent over, it rode up, exposing her ass.
Mal slipped into shoes once more, though she could have easily gone barefoot, then left the safety of the Subs’ Garden.
Benson was waiting for her.
* * *
The next part of their play would take place in public.
As Benson led her to the spot he’d staked out in the Sub Rosa courtyard, Mal glanced around.
“Public exposure, Sir?”
“Not yet. I will put you on display during this next scene, but it’s not the focus.”
He could see she wanted to ask what the focus would be. Instead, she rolled her shoulders back and lowered her gaze. Quiet, submissive acceptance.
Benson gave the back of her neck a gentle squeeze, and before he processed what he was doing, had pulled her into his body and kissed her hair.
Mal’s surprised gasp served as a wake-up slap.
It wasn’t a problem to be friendly and lightly affectionate with a BDSM partner, but it was an intimacy that should be agreed upon ahead of time.
Normally, his praise and affection was shown in other ways. Hugs or verbal commendations. Those were safer because they didn’t carry the emotional baggage and implications of a kiss.
Kissing Mal, even if it was just a thoughtless little peck, felt natural. Almost muscle memory.
He needed to get his hands off of her and get his fucking head in the game.
The quiet pseudo-alcove he’d chosen had a single chair situated between massive pots of wild desert roses, their woody stems climbing trellises to meet the canopy of vegetation overhead.
Benson sat, feet and knees spread. The comfortable outdoor armchair had wide wood arms and thick cushions for the seat and back. He’d prepped for this, and tucked the supplies out of sight beside the chair. The first thing he grabbed was one of the many floor pillows the club kept tucked away in baskets and trunks.
He placed the thick cushion on the ground between his feet.
