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Lukus
“Iate too much. I feel fat.” Tiff groaned.
“Baby, you’re absolutely perfect. Don’t you dare call yourself fat.”
“If you keep taking me out and making dinners like that, I’ll be fat soon enough.”
Lukus grabbed the plates and took them to the dishwasher. “Never fear. I have an excellent exercise plan to help you keep the weight off.”
“Let me guess. It involves bedroom exercises.”
“Bedroom. Living room. Kitchen. We already took care of the bathroom portion before dinner.”
Tiffany’s joyous giggle was music to his ears. For a brief moment, at the height of her punishment, he’d been gripped with a fear that he was pushing her too far, too fast. For a man who had punished wayward subs on a near-daily basis for years, Lukus was still not used to the foreign emotions her tears evoked in him. He had never before been as aware of a sub’s vulnerability—so in tune with her internal struggle between submission and strength. Maybe that was because he’d never met a woman with the kind of inner strength Tiffany had, unless you count her best friend, Brianna.
Finishing up the post-dinner clean-up, Tiffany broke their easy silence with a surprising question. “So, when are you going to tell me why you don’t want me to go to the club?”
He took a few seconds, gathering his thoughts before turning to face off with her. Even after all the times he’d seen her now, the sight of her still knocked him on his ass. She was the perfect vision of his dream woman; at least, physically. At five-six, her curvy body was the perfect mix of soft and toned. He could lose himself in her expressive, ocean blue eyes. Her long blonde hair was so sexy, whether it was up or like now, flowing down her back, framing her tanned face…
Or grasped tight in my fist as I fuck her hard from behind.
True, he’d never dreamed of being with a woman with her intelligence and spunk—with her ability to challenge him. Like now. She didn’t shy away from a topic that less than an hour ago had been the spark of a disagreement which led to her sitting on a cushion at dinner
Her expectant look reminded him she’s waiting.
“It’s not a simple answer,” he said.
“I sort of guessed that.” As if to make sure he knew she was still waiting, she crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the kitchen counter as if to say, “I’m waiting, buddy.”
“Careful with that tone. I’d hate to have to add another punishment on for sassiness.”
Her face softened, but she kept holding her ground.
The woman is fearless.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to go to the club. On the contrary, if we keep seeing each other, I’m going to want you to spend as much time as possible here with me. Let’s face it. I own the place. I live here. I work here. It’s gonna make it hard to be together if…” He’ was not sure why he stopped. She had him off base.
“If I run screaming from the building.” Her grin told him she was teasing, yet her answer wasn’t far from where his thought process had been heading.
“Not exactly, but close enough. This is all your fault, by the way.”
“My fault? How so? I haven’t freaked out yet. Well, except when you turned all Neanderthal man on me here tonight,” she said.
“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll talk about the club more if you tell me why you won’t go through the D/s contract with me.”
At the mention of the contract, her annoyance was obvious. They’d gone around and around about it daily since they first met, and he was as clueless tonight as he’d been every other day as to what her problem was with reviewing the contract. She finally broke their stare down to look away nervously. He forced himself to wait patiently for her answer. When she connected with him again, she looked confused.
“It’s hard for me to put into words,” she admitted. “I know it seems like a normal thing for you, but most relationships don’t start with a piece of paper—with lists of do’s and don’t’s. It just feels so… stilted. Fake even. Like we’re too lazy to put the work in to talk to each other and communicate.
“Baby, nothing could be further from the truth. The paper is just that. A piece of paper that’s meant to spark our conversation. To help us understand what turns us on and off. Without it, I feel like I’m flying blind.”
“That’s such bullshit, Lukus. You already know me better than you think you do.”
“Maybe, but like it or not, you’re still a newbie. There are so many hard-core kinks you haven’t even dreamed of, let alone tried. I know you and Bri used to go to clubs years ago, but the members of The Punishment Pit live at the far edge of BDSM play. It’s a smaller, more intimate club than any other one you may have gone to before. Where you might have gotten away with just blending in and being a voyeur at the clubs you’ve been to downtown, that isn’t gonna fly here. You got a small taste of that tonight with Robinson,” he told her.
“What? No one can come here alone? And just showing up means you want to get your ass wailed on?”
“No, of course not. But, we do have a lot of club rules that the other clubs don’t have. The vast majority of the members join as couples. We do have a singles group that likes to meet and play together safely, but we don’t have any street traffic. Everyone who’s here has gone through a rigorous membership process to make sure they are a good fit for our, shall we say, unique activities. The membership fees alone keep the clientele limited. We have a couple of switches, but the vast majority of the members are issued a leather cuff for the Masters and Dommes, and all subs must have a collar on at all times to show who they belong to. Unattached subs are given a pink house collar which will identify them as a single. It allows them to come and mingle without fear.”
