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Glancing over to the Masters’ booth, he saw Evander heading back toward them. Behind him, one of the club hierarchy passionately kissed his submissive—a gorgeous, curvy brunette—before following Evander.
Game on.
Callie whined softly, trying to ride his hand without bumping her clit. She was hot and swollen, juices dripping into his palm. Once she made it through the lesson, she was going to come like a fucking freight train.
Already anticipating how she’d feel around his cock, he stifled a groan and adjusted himself in the punishing confines of his pants. Mounting her on the bar, however appealing, probably wouldn’t go down well with management.
Evander stepped up behind Callie, curling his arms around her waist. “Is the sadist being a mean Daddy, babygirl?”
She gasped; her eyes started to roll back in her head. “Help.”
Because he was indeed a mean sadist Daddy, Elias brought her to the edge of the orgasm she was chasing. He sensed her striving for it, opening herself to it, battling back the bitter voices in her head telling her she didn’t deserve to come.
“We need to forgo introductions for the moment. She can meet everyone later.”
“Yes, I agree. Are we ready to go upstairs?”
“That’s probably wise.”
Evander scooped her up effortlessly, nodding to the man approaching them with a pronounced limp. “Eli, meet Thane.MasterThane. He’s agreed to be our scene monitor.”
The guy had a military bearing about him, Eli mused. Not the rigidity of one fresh out of the service, but a more relaxed version. It was in the set of his shoulders, the carriage of his head.
“Thane, this is Elias. My partner and Callie’s co-Daddy.”
Of course, Thane offered his hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Elias. Any friend of Evander’s is welcome here.”
Remembering his own hand was soiled in the best way, Eli declined to shake. “A pleasure, Thane. Thank you for helping us with this.”
“Not at all. My wife and I have experience in dealing with these kinds of lessons. A wounded sub is a delicate creature. It’s good you’re taking precautions.” Amber eyes, shrewd and knowledgeable, flicked over to Callie. “Is she aware of what’s happening?”
“Say hi to Thane, sweetness.”
Dazed gray eyes managed to focus on Thane’s face. She shrank back into Evander, her mouth working without sound before she turned her face into his chest.
“She doesn’t know the details,” Elias supplied as Evander comforted her. “Her anxiety gets the best of her sometimes, and she can be shy. The clit clamp won’t be helping much.”
“Ah. Yes, that’s understandable. Are you removing her safeword completely?”
“No,” both he and Evander said immediately.
“Good. We don’t approve of that here.” Thane looked around, tilting his head toward the doors across the room. “Why don’t we move this to your private room? The first set of players will be filtering out of the aftercare room soon, and it’ll get busier.”
“Lead the way.”
With Thane in front, Elias at the back, they wound their way toward the doors. Evander stayed in the middle, keeping a firm grip on Callie as she squirmed.
“Take it off, Daddy. Please. It’s biting me.”
“I know, sweetness. Soon.”
Thane limped up the ramp connecting the social area to the public play space, veering right to go into the corner where—if Eli remembered the blueprints correctly—the elevator was located.
He paused, surveying the impressive range of BDSM equipment available to members. Most were what he considered the standard range—spanking benches, rigging for suspension, stocks, St. Andrew’s crosses—but he spotted a couple of things he wouldn’t mind taking a closer look at; a scorpion-like chair, for one.
That looked like fun.
He heard a tantrum-esque squeal above the beautiful music of a club in action. The cries and moans, the smack of leather on skin, flesh slapping on flesh.
