When Sawyer smiled with such absorbed calculation in his dark blue eyes, Mallory’s heart turned over inside her chest, and her insides went molten. Oh, what he could do to her with just a look. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”
His fingers brushed down her cheek. “Don’t worry, little subbie. We won’t play with gags this time.”
This time. He hadn’t put any emphasis on the words.
He didn’t have to.
She tried to feel relieved he wasn’t planning anything scary tonight.
He wasn’t, was he?
“Sawyer, I believe?” The man who approached was probably around forty. Tall, leanly muscular, with aristocratic features. His wavy brown hair was swept back, his brown mustache neatly trimmed. And he was dressed as…hmm, Thor? Weren’t all the Doms supposed to be bad guys? So was this man submissive in spite of the authority he carried?
Almost matching his eyes, the predominant color in his aura was an unusual turquoise indicating he was an organized person, dynamic and influential. But the muddy brown and gray showed he’d suffered in the past and hadn’t worked through the issue.
“I’m Sawyer.” Sawyer pulled her closer and gave the man a once-over. “You’re dressed as Thor?”
“Actually, his evil brother, Loki.” The man gave a slight bow. “Or Ethan works.”
After the men shook hands, Ethan held up a leather bag. “Simon and Xavier were asked to assist with a scene and drafted me to find you. You have Xavier’s permission to play if you wish. Simon had a toy bag filled for you.”
“Simon read me well, didn’t he?” Sawyer looked down. “Mallory? Want to participate rather than observe?”
“I…don’t know.” Play? Mallory glanced at the scene to the left where a woman—a Mistress?—was flogging a burly older man so hard that tiny drops of blood had appeared. Anxiety shivered through her. That wasn’t what she considered fun.
He glanced at the nearby scene, and his gaze softened. “Nymph, I wouldn’t do that, even if you wanted me to.”
“Oh.” Her shoulder muscles started to unknot. “But we’d…play…in front of people?”
“Yes, in public, although we can find a quieter corner.” A corner of his mouth turned up. “If we’re here, you won’t have to call your friend to check in. Being in public means not worrying about the Dom turning into a serial killer.”
Ethan chuckled. “Or, more likely, disregarding your limits.”
His aura really was beautiful. Unthinking, she started, “I like your”—um—“accent.”
“Thank you, poppet.” He smiled and added, “It always reappears when I return to England, then fades in a month or so. Be that as it may, I think you’re stalling…” He glanced at Sawyer.
“Yes, she’s evading an answer.” Sawyer tilted her chin up with two fingers. “We don’t have to play, pet. However, in a public place, I can take you further than I did last time. Because it would be safer for you.”
Under the intense blue of his eyes, she couldn’t find a reason why not. In fact, her body yearned for his touch. For him. Her gaze caught on the slight curve of his firm lips…and the crease to the right of his mouth slowly deepened.
Oh. She was staring at him like a star-struck girl. Think, woman. Did she want to do a scene with him out where people could watch? “I’ll try.”
“The club safe word is red, Mallory,” Ethan said before asking Sawyer, “What kind of scene do you have in mind?”
“Bondage, definitely. I’d like to see how she does on a spanking bench, although we won’t employ it in that way. I’m thinking mostly sensual play. She’s new.” Sawyer looked at her. “I want to try a few things and see what you like, pet.”
She nodded. Trying stuff out was…well, what she was here for, although she’d thought merely to watch.
“Very good.” Ethan’s gaze traveled around the room. “Ah, I know just the device. The bench has a quite useful attachment. Follow me, please.”
Ethan wove through the room easily, collecting quiet greetings from various Doms and bowed heads from the submissives. A few looked as if they wanted to fling themselves in front of him to be noticed. Well, she could understand that—the Englishman was truly gorgeous, and the refined authority he exuded was compelling.
And yet, Sawyer’s rock-solid power was even more exciting. Ethan evoked an impulse to bow. With Sawyer, she wanted to salute…or kneel.
In a corner, Ethan stopped beside an odd device that vaguely resembled the other long, padded sawhorses in the room. Or maybe she should call them super narrow picnic tables. The submissive lay on the top, and her forearms and knees were strapped to the planks on either side, putting her into a doggy posture. This table was wood with black padding, but the top was shorter than the lower boards. And she saw various attachment-like things under the table.
After a slow look, Sawyer grinned. “Perfect. And in a corner, no less.”
“I’m glad you approve.” Ethan added, “If you like, I’ll stay long enough to show you how the attachments work.”
“I’d appreciate it.” Sawyer pulled her closer. “I want you to strip while I check the toys Simon lent me.” Lowering his head, he kissed her lightly, teasingly, then deeper. Wetter. He gripped her loose hair, pulling her head back as his tongue stroked hers and explored. His other hand cupped her ass, pulling her against his hard erection, as he claimed her lips.
The room dissolved until all she felt was him—his mouth, his hands, his muscular body.
Straightening, he held her until her head stopped spinning, kissed her forehead, and…waited.
She stared at him for a second. Oh. Strip. Biting her lip, she glanced around. In the corner, the bench faced a wall, and a few chairs formed a boundary between this “area” and the center scenes. Farther down the wall was a scene with an X-shaped cross. Sawyer was right. The corner was quieter. Unfortunately, people still wandered past. They’d see her.
Mallory tried to slow her breathing. She’d gone skinny-dipping, and in many Peace Corps countries, nudity was common. But she’d never been publicly naked in a…sexual…type situation.
Sawyer leaned patiently against the wall with arms folded over his chest. His expectations were clear.
She didn’t want to disappoint him.
Well, she didn’t have much to remove, at least. Because of the sheer dress fabric, she hadn’t worn underwear. Casting her inhibitions away, Mallory pulled her dress over her head and stood there. Naked.
Sawyer’s gaze warmed. “Good girl.” He glanced past her. “Lovely, isn’t she?”
Mallory felt the heat of a blush in her face. Spit and hiss, she’d forgotten all about Ethan.
When Sawyer smiled, she realized his gaze had never left her face; he was reading her expressions the way she did auras. He pointed to the floor beside the bench. “If you’ll kneel there, I’ll check what Simon lent me.”
The floor was hard against her knees. Cold. Her breasts wobbled, making her all too aware of her nakedness in a room of strangers. She felt appallingly exposed—and excited.
Sawyer had set the toy bag on a wooden rolling table in the corner, and as he pulled out various things, the knowledge that he’d use whatever he found on her sent goose bumps parading up her skin.
He took out a paddle and a cane, and to her relief, returned both to the bag.
A mushroom-headed thing stayed out. Sawyer glanced at Ethan. “Electric socket?”
“Beneath the bench.”
Sawyer caught her staring. He squatted on his haunches, putting his hands on each side of her face as he looked into her eyes. “You’re doing very well, Mallory,” he murmured in his smooth voice. “Now, go one step further. Submissives in the kneeling position keep their backs straight—and their eyes down. Look at the floor.”
She searched within herself for her instinctive need to refuse such orders…and found only pleased acceptance instead.
When her resigned sigh escaped, his lips quirked up. He pressed a light kiss to her lips before he rose.
While looking down, she couldn’t see what he was pulling from the bag. Her anxiety rose a few degrees, which was probably the entire point, wasn’t it?
“This should be a good start,” he said finally. “Ethan, let’s get her onto the bench.”
“Permission to touch?”
Sawyer bent, took her hands, and pulled her to her feet. What did ‘permission to touch’ mean?
She found out seconds later after Sawyer guided her to the end of the padded stomach-height table.
“Face-down position, pet.”
She put a knee on one low plank and swung her other leg over. The long, narrow length of the top supported her torso. Sawyer positioned her right knee on the lower padded board. On the other side, Ethan did the same. Although Sawyer stroked her leg as he drew a strap over her ankle and secured it, Ethan’s hands were firm and impersonal. They moved up and strapped her forearms down in the same way.
When they finished, she was restrained on her forearms and knees with a long bench under her torso. The lower benches were far enough apart to force her thighs open into a wide V.
She lifted her head and looked around. It was humiliating to have her nether side facing the room. Otherwise… “I guess this isn’t so bad,” she said, half to herself.
Ethan’s clear blue eyes met hers—and she saw his amusement before he reached under the table beside her waist, pulled out a strap, and waited.
At the bottom end of the table, Sawyer gripped her hips and pulled her toward him until the table edge was under her pelvis. And her ass stuck way far out. Too far.
Even knowing her behavior wasn’t obedient, she attempted to wiggle back up the table.
The reason for the strap—and Ethan’s amusement—was clear when he handed it over the table to Sawyer, and Sawyer pulled it snugly over her waist and secured it.
Her next attempt to move up on the bench failed completely. Her ass was going to remain stuck out in the air.
Sawyer was watching her face, and laughter danced in his eyes. He glanced at Ethan. “I love bondage.” With an intimate smile for her, he reached under her chest and moved her half-squished right breast out to the side, then nodded at Ethan—and the other Dom did the same.
It felt…weird…to have a stranger touch her. Yet, Sawyer’s gaze was on Ethan, monitoring everything. The feeling of being protected was lovely.
Sawyer pulled the equipment table closer, removed something she couldn’t see, and both Doms crouched under the bench, messing with the equipment. Absentmindedly, Sawyer was stroking her thigh, and his warm touch was incredibly reassuring.
“When you’re ready,” Ethan was saying, “simply turn it on and lift up. It takes a firm grip to move it side to side. This is the release lever when you’re ready to lower it.”
“Got it.” Sawyer chuckled. “That’s a nice design.”
“It is indeed quite useful.” Ethan rose and looked at her. “Again, poppet, the club safe word is red. Will you remember that?”
With a slight smile, he touched her cheek. His gaze lifted to Sawyer. “If you have everything in hand, I’ll check on a couple of other scenes. However, I’ll be in the area and will return off and on to monitor. Don’t hesitate to ask someone to find me if you need anything.”
“Will do. Thank you, Ethan.”
As the Dom strolled away, Sawyer ran his hands down her back. His callused palms were hard—and ever so gentle, despite his strength. “Relax, Mallory.”
She closed her eyes, hearing the sounds of the dungeon around her, the snapping of some sort of whip, moans, low-voiced directions. Under it all was the low thrumming music of Mechanical Moth. “Black Queen Style”. Her heart took a rhythm in time with the beat.
As Sawyer’s strong fingers massaged the tightness from her shoulders and the muscles down her back, she felt as if she were melting into the table.
Bending, he kissed her nape and down her spine.
Her toes curled with delight.
“Such a beautiful ass,” Sawyer murmured. He kneaded her cheeks, edging ever closer to her exposed…wet…pussy.
When he finally slid his fingers over her folds, a shuddering heat coursed through her.
Oh, sun and stars. With a low moan, she wiggled, wanting…needing more.
“Easy, baby. We’re not in any hurry tonight.” He drew his finger slickly around her clit.
He might not be in a hurry; she was.