“Charming,” he said, his gaze on the two inches of cleavage created by the sweetheart neckline of her bustier top. And was that a hint of the smirk she’d seen the last time? If so, it vanished as quickly as it appeared when he ticked off some of her preferences aloud. “Mild pain, impact play, restraints, clamps, gags, toys, and sex. You’re not into humiliation, and nothing extreme like breath play, knives, etc., which aren’t allowed inside the club anyway. Everything on your list I can do for you, precious. No problem.”
She gazed at him, her mind awhirl with doubts and insecurities. Fiona looked around. Two other subs had joined her on the couches. A male, who she knew was only interested in a domme, and an older sub, early forties at least, who was already in negotiations. Mighty slim pickings. He obviously wanted to play and was settling for the fat chick.
He squeezed her hand, recapturing her attention. “Don’t let my choice of companions that night keep you from saying yes. Doc was out of line with his comments, and I told him as much.”
“It was Doc?” Fiona couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice. She’d hoped it wasn’t him, but hearing her worst fears confirmed was like a slap in the face.
“I hope you weren’t interested in him. Doc has a type. Regrettably, as you overheard the other night, you aren’t it.Forget about him. I’m more open-minded and enjoy women of all shapes and sizes. It goes without saying that I’ll accept if you decline my offer”—he laid his hand on his chest dramatically before continuing—“but I will be utterly devastated.”
She could smell the bullshit. He intended to use her to get his needs met, but wasn’t that what she had planned too? He was very good-looking, being polite, and, so far, had been quite charming. Why not use him for her own selfish gratification?
Taking a deep breath, Fiona nodded in agreement.
He grinned broadly. “I’ll take good care of you, precious. You won’t be disappointed.” His fingers banded her wrist and, without further negotiations, he stood and pulled her to her feet. “I see a free spanking bench toward the back. Let’s hurry and claim it before someone else does.”
Chapter 4
He Didn’t Give a Flying Fuck
AS RESTLESS AS A CAGEDcat, Noah walked the circuit. The single shot of Jameson he’d had at the bar had done nothing to take the edge off. He considered heading home early, but there was nothing but silence and loneliness awaiting him there. No longer in the mood to play, being shot down by a submissive ten years his junior had a deflating effect on the ego and other manly parts. Maybe it was for the best. She was too tempting by far.
When he rounded the last turn of the circuit, his gaze landed on a woman bound to a spanking bench. Her full ass was bright red.Not rosy but crimson and in stark contrast to the surrounding skin.
As he watched the scene unfold, a sense of unease washed over him. The sub, bound and gagged, skirt up and panties wedged between her cheeks, moaned with each hearty stroke. She tossed her head and pulled at her restraints.
He’d done his share of DM shifts, and years of experience on top of that had taught him the red flags to look for. There were precautions a good dom took when the sub or bottom was gagged. Instead of calling out a safeword to make it all stop, the players usually negotiated a nonverbal safe signal. Either hand gestures or dropping an object or squeezing a squeaky toy tosignal distress. But this sub’s hands were empty. Correction, her tightly clenched, white-knuckled fists were.
But this could be all part of what they had agreed upon. And it was against the rules to interrupt a scene. Only a DM should, but that wasn’t his role tonight. He looked around for someone on duty, but then a wail arose from the station.
Jordan, who was topping her, was more than a little sadistic. He had already progressed from a routine spanking. There were vivid handprints on her ass, and he could make out marks from the edge of a harshly applied paddle, and now he was using a crop. She’d received at least two strokes based on the fiery-red, crisscrossing lines, the ham-handed—or maliciously deliberate—dom using the shaft like a cane instead of the flapper on the end.
Noah pushed through the crowd. A few of the spectators were cluing in that something wasn’t right and started getting agitated. He heard another dom say, “Where’s a dungeon monitor? I’m not liking the looks of this.”
His instincts kicked in. As the dom drew back his arm in a high arc for another harsh blow, Noah shouted, “No more!”
His booming voice commanded everyone’s attention in and surrounding the station, including Jordan’s. When he saw who had stopped him, a sneer curled on his lips. “You’re interrupting my scene, old man. After I’m done punishing this fat cunt, I’m going to the master dom and issuing a complaint. See how you like being called on the carpet and threatened with a month’s suspension.”
He’d used the slur in his presence before. Directed at...
No. It couldn’t be Fiona. But as he took in the sub’s full bottom and lush thighs—also marked by the prick—and her long wavy brown hair, he knew it was her. He couldn’t see her face, but from the muffled sounds behind the gag and the way she wastrying to kick free and pull out of her cuffs, she was the epitome of a sub in distress.
When Jordan’s arm arced back to resume the cruel punishment, Doc hurdled the ropes and ripped the crop from his hand. His intervention coincided with Master Eric’s arrival. He had Val with him, and her wide, horrified eyes locked on Fiona.
“She’s bruised, and he broke the skin,” she said, her soft voice carrying.
