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Mal adjusted the blanket wrapped around her like a toga. Benson had changed into sweats midway through aftercare, and now he tucked his hands into the pockets. She was wearing his zip up hoodie over her blanket toga. There were goosebumps on his chest, and his nipples were hard from the cold.
She wanted to lean over and lick them.
Mal had been shocked to find out that their whole “severe pain” session had lasted only twenty minutes from start to finish. She would’ve sworn that it had been at least an hour, if not longer.
The aftercare had been several hours, and included not only physical care, but emotional. For them, that meant going to the dining room to a very late dinner and talking about nothing in particular. As they ate, he periodically stopped to remove the small ice packs he’d strapped to her arms and knees with ace bandages. A strict icing regimen was part of the physical aftercare.
They hadn’t actually discussed aftercare in scene negotiation, and they should have. But getting some food, sitting and chatting, had always worked for them. Apparently, it still worked.
They still worked.
If things were different and everything went the way she thought it should, this would be the start of their newly mended Dom-sub relationship.
But Mal wasn’t stupid. She knew that wouldn’t happen. This weekend was the last time Benson would ever take her as his submissive.
This was a weekend of closure. That she wanted this to be the end of one chapter, but the start of another was her issue.
“If you want to get some breakfast…brunch, really.” Benson frowned, as if he wasn’t sure how he planned to finish that sentence.
“What time do you want to meet?” Mal asked.
He glanced at the sky. “Eleven if you want company for breakfast. Otherwise, meet me at noon at the little stage in the Constellation Court.”
“A daytime outdoor scene. Public exposure?”
Now he smiled. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Oh, that’s just mean.”
Benson grinned, and the corners of his eyes crinkled in a way that made her heart lurch.
“Goodnight, Mal,” he said again, tone soft and intimate.
Mal opened the door to the sleeping room he’d booked for her. She paused, glancing back over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Benson.”
CHAPTER 11
“I don’t think there’s a way to do it and guarantee she doesn’t come.” Master Dev straightened, frowning.
Benson glanced from the other Dom back to Mal’s pussy, which they’d both been examining.
Mal was on her back on the stone platform in the Iron Court playroom. Unlike last night, the door was open, and cheerful sunlight filled the room.
Sarah, Dev’s submissive, was perched on the table at Mal’s hip.
“Here’s an idea,” Sarah said. “Why don’t you let her come?”
“That idea is certainly worth further exploration,” Mal said, while doing her best not to smile.
Benson shot her a disgruntled look, and that broke her control. Mal snorted out a laugh. She’d been a sub long enough that it didn’t seem odd to be teasing and joking around with people while she lay naked on a stone table that looked like an altar, her knees bent and legs spread so her Dom and a stranger could examine her cunt.
“You two could switch.” Master Dev’s grin was deceptively kind. It didn’t have the sinister cant of Benson’s. “You could take on her orgasm restriction for her.” Dev grinned at Sarah.
Sarah twisted and looked down at Mal. “Sorry, lady, you’re on your own.”
Mal laugh, a genuine belly laugh that made the bags of ice under her arms jiggle and clank. She had the beginnings of two spectacular bruises on the back of her arms. She’d stroked them affectionately when she’d seen them this morning, but Benson had cursed a blue streak, and was back to icing her for ten minutes at a time. There were two small ice packs on the sides of her knees, held in place with yet more beige ace bandages, while her upper arms rested on two larger bags of ice.
Weirdly, her lip hadn’t bruised, but it was definitely sore.
