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“That’s my own indulgence, I’ll admit. Female subs are a basket of kittens, endlessly fascinating, fun and sweet.”
“You said that in a very non-condescending way,” she managed. “It’s impressive.”
His mouth had a stronger tug on the right side than the left, when it curved in a near smile. The wistful quality contrasted with the still and focused eyes. “I’m an impressive man. Brick should have told you that.”
“Yeah. I didn’t.” Brick gave him an amused look. “Thanks, Mick. Appreciate the backup.”
Mick rose. “My pleasure. You didn’t anticipate her reaction to this. You’re usually a hundred percent ahead of the curve. Interesting.”
Brick’s gaze narrowed, but Mick merely nodded to him, then to Les, before he moved away. He slipped through the crowd, a nonintrusive shadow, yet with enough presence people unconsciously shifted out of his path. “Does he supervise the whole event?” she asked.
“He pitches in when he sees the need. There are DMs all over the place. They’re the ones in purple shirts with black skirts or slacks. They also have black neon-lit lanyards with DM ID tags, to make them easy to notice and find. Dungeon Monitor,” he supplied at her blank look. “They monitor activity in a BDSM play space, which is sometimes called a dungeon, because…”
“The restraints, torture and—” She turned her head, squinted to be sure she was seeing what she was seeing, “people in cages?”
Brick’s gaze became amused again. “Yes. But consensual restraints and torture.”
“Like forced orgasm. Orgasm and torture in the same sentence. Something I never thought about before.” She rubbed her forehead. He took the juice box from her lap where she’d left it and poked the straw in it.
“Sip,” he instructed.
“Okay. Can we turn the chair around?” She wanted to see what was going on, but with the steadying buffer of the chair and more distance.
“Sure.” He did that without her having to move, then brought another chair so he could sit next to her. She opened the fruit and nut bar, broke it in half and offered it to him. He shook his head. “You have all of it. You got way too pale on me there. He’s right. I should have been ready for that. Some of this stuff can seem pretty extreme on first look.”
He drew her attention back to the forced orgasm scene. “But watch and see what’s happening now.”
The submissive must have reached that final orgasm her Dom had told her he wanted her to endure. He’d removed the vibrator and was untying her, even as he kept touching and talking to her.
While Les couldn’t hear what was being said, he wasn’t detached, even if he’d physically appeared that way for some of it. So much more was happening. They were going through the experience together.
As he released her bonds, she slumped, but he was there to catch her. They’d been doing the scene on a raised platform, so he sank down onto the top step with her on the step below him, but still between his spread thighs. One of her arms was wrapped around his leg, her painted pink nails overlapping the denim. Her head rested on his thigh. If she could climb inside him, Les thought she would. The teddy bear and good girl tattoo was a soft blur against her skin.
“Edge play can be incredibly intimate, Les. There are also a lot more casual kinds. Sometimes it’s about nothing more than that, everyone going their separate ways at the end of the night. Everything you see, every scene, can be as different as the reasons any two people or more hook up.”
“Like you and Tish?” she ventured.
“Yes. I’m not in love with women who want to scene with me. But I take care of them as long as they’re my responsibility. That’s part of being a good Dom.”
“Mick’s a Dom, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged at the surprise in her expression. “He refuses classification, and I’ve never seen him do anything other than primal play. Though that was with a Domme. She used to be a prison guard, so it was an interesting thing to watch.”
She bet it had been. “You’re right. I liked Jace and Millie. I love all of this, but I do want romance.”
His face creased with a smile. “That’s good. I love doing romantic shit for and with my girl.”
His girl. She liked the sound of that. But she sobered. “I’m not used to turning this much control over to someone.”
“Not used to being able to, maybe. Not without giving up too much. You’ve worked hard for that autonomy, the right to choose your direction.” He met her gaze. “I respect those boundaries. If ever I don’t, I expect you to remind me.”
She believed him, but… “If I do, will you listen?”
“Because you know I’m every bit the testosterone-poisoned, protective bastard that your brothers are?” When she gave him a guileless look, he chuckled. “You’re pleading the fifth.”
“Or not seeing the need to repeat what you’ve stated so brilliantly.
“Remember what I said about a smart ass?”
