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“Ready, gramps?” the younger Dom taunted.
“Ready, asshole. You do know I’m only thirty-five, right?”
Lukus wondered if Maxim was doing it intentionally or if he was just a natural, but as soon as Lukus had turned around, Max had started talking louder—projecting his voice across the music and chatter of the other club members. Lukus felt all eyes in the stage area on them, people crowding in closer.
Instead of backing down, Maxim grinned, upping their little pissing contest. “What’s next? You gonna share your favorite color?”
“It’s black and blue, the color your face is gonna be if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
“So, let’s do this,” Max added. “You got me here. Lay down the rules.”
“Simple. We can use any impact implements available to us on our sub’s bodies. No skin-to-skin connection, though. That includes fingers, mouths, and especially cocks. First one to push our sub into an orgasm wins.”
“Is that all? I thought it was going to be something hard,” Max said with much bravado.
Reaching into his duffle, Lukus came out with his leather flogger. Stepping into position, he landed the first light strike to Tiffany’s milky-white ass before adding. “Get to work, junior.”
Knowing how important it was for his wife to slowly build into her submission, Lukus started at a warm-up pace, while Max skipped anything that might be considered light weight and went straight to a wide wooden paddle. Not a bad choice for a pain slut since anything too light would be wasted on Fyre. If what Tyler had said was true, only the bite of agony would push her towards a climax.
Lukus and Max fell into a rhythm for the first several minutes. Lukus kept a pretty steady swish of Tiffany’s favorite flogger marking from her shoulders down to her knees, painting a rosy pink hue across her entire backside.
Meanwhile, Max provided a masochist’s warm up to Fyre’s ass, one hard swat with the wooden paddle about every ten seconds, changing sides and angles to make sure he laid a layer of heat to his sub’s bottom.
While the implements were drastically different in severity and heat level, it was music to Lukus’s ears that the two women were each making similar cooing moans as they slipped deeper into the power exchange dynamic.
Just as Lukus decided warm-up time was over, he glanced up to see Maxim finish a swat and then look his way. The guy had his pacing down, while also displaying a natural instinct for the showmanship of playing at a club. Without a word of coordination, only an almost unnoticeable nod his way, both men walked to their own bags of tricks. Max traded the wood paddle in for a long leather Dragon-tail whip, one of the harshest whips in the Dom toy box.
Lukus had only used one on his now wife once, and it was one of the few true punishments he’d delivered to one very sorry Tiffany. Here, tonight, he decided to step up the fun by commanding his wife, “Eyes.”
Tiffany had to struggle to lift her head while secured in her current prone position. He adored how her long, blonde hair was all askew from being upside down. There was a nice pink in her cheeks to match the rose of her butt. Once he had her attention, he slowly undid his belt buckle, pulling the two-inch worn leather quickly out of his pant loops, taking extra care to let it flick loud enough to give his wife a preview of what was coming.
As soon as he folded the belt in half, making sure the buckle was secured as to not hurt Tiff, she let her head drop to await the first bite of leather.
Lukus looked up to check on Max and saw him adjusting the angle of his sub’s bench so the crowd would get a better view. He then nodded before laying down the first line of fire across Fyre’s ass. This time, it was Max who did a quick triplet of three slices of the tail across skin before pausing to let Lukus deliver a trio of belt lashes, each about a half-inch apart, across Tiffany’s ass.
It was time for the ladies to take their different paths. Fyre remained stoic, moaning lightly as she wriggled her ass as her welcome to the pain. Tiffany on the other hand released a cute squeak as each lash landed.
Back and forth the men worked, varying their strength and spreading the heat across their sub’s bodies with Max showing Fyre’s breasts some attention with his Dragon-tail. It was around the third strike to her tit that the masochist finally released her first cry out, matching the louder protests from Tiffany. While both women were slipping deeper into the scene, neither was close to orgasm… at least not yet.
Max made the decision when it was time to move to another implement, and Lukus followed his lead. As he put his belt back on, he contemplated his next move. He’d known when he suggested the scene that it would be a long shot for Tiffany to come without any stimulation to her clit, but the crowd of club members growing in front of the stage didn’t know that. A quick look into the dimness showed the members having a good time, just as he’d wanted.
Sticking with their escalation plan, Max produced a rattan cane for his next implement. It was a punishment tool he would never use on Tiff. Instead, he pulled his own wooden paddle out of his bag. It was his actual pledge paddle from his fraternity days at Northwestern University. The only change he’d made was to drill a half dozen small holes in the wood to up the bite level.
He was careful not to let Tiffany see what was coming, knowing the anticipation was one of her favorite parts of the lifestyle. Before starting, he used his best Dom command voice to let his naughty sub know, “You’ll take twenty of the next one, Tiff. You’ll count.”
He grinned at her groaned complaint. “I hate to count… Sir.”
“I know, that’s why I make you do it. Make it loud so the huge crowd watching can hear you.”
He was an asshole. He knew it, but he couldn’t help it. Tiff pulled on her bindings, subconsciously trying to get free so she could cover herself from prying eyes.
No more warming up. His first strike with the paddle was a bullseye, covering the center swath of both butt cheeks in one swat. Her breath hitched—almost frozen—for several long seconds before a long scream shook the club. To his sadistic self, the shriek was like hearing his favorite song. That side of himself now warred with the newer protective husband faction of his brain, keeping him strangely off balance.
Meanwhile, on the other half of the stage, Maxim had finally got the first cries of pain from Fyre as he laid down three welts across the underside of her heavy breasts. Back and forth they went, each man driving their captive deeper into their submission.
She’d been shedding quiet tears almost since they’d started, but it was around her eighth paddle that Tiffany broke down crying, begging for him to stop. Between counting and words likestop,no, andplease, Lukus listened for the magic words—yelloworred. They didn’t come.
Fyre, was tearful too, but the words she was shouting wereyes,more, andharder, so Maxim obliged her. About every five cane strikes the Dom stopped to inspect his handiwork, moving to cane a new part of her body if it seemed he was close to breaking open her skin.
