She was strong, but this required superhero strength. She didn’t have it in her.
“You’re trying to make someone notice you.”
She stiffened at the warm comment. Glancing up and back, she found herself flanked by a man with red hair to his shoulders and direct blue eyes. The calm confidence, even more than the black bracelet, said he was an experienced Dom. He looked in his late twenties.
“Are you looking to play tonight?”
She turned her back on Ben. “Yes. Yes I am.”
He took in the jut of her chin, the flash of her eyes. “I see. Have you played before?”
“Yes…but not like this. I was sort of…with a Dom, but now I’m not.”
“Would you like to hang with me a little bit, see what might pique your interest?”
When she took a deep breath this time, there was a little shudder to it that translated into a twitch through her limbs, a quick jerk. Damn it. “I’m sorry.”
“No apologies necessary.” Giving her a reassuring smile, he took her fingers in a warm hand and rubbed them. “Relax. It’s a playground, and we’re all children here, looking to have fun. Is it all right if I touch you a little bit, help you relax? You can tell me to stop at any time, or if I’m doing too much.”
She hesitated, then nodded. He slid his hand to her hip, his thumb coursing over the top of her buttock, a move remarkably like what Ben had just done to the blonde. His eyes darkened as her lips parted, moistened. “You wear the silver bracelet, but I’m thinking you’re still fairly new to it. You just didn’t want to be treated too gently. You’re on that beginning edge, wanting even more.”
She nodded. But not with you, as nice as you seem to be.
“I have another friend.” When he gestured across the play area, she saw an older man watching them. Her mouth went dry as she registered he was leaning against an empty St. Andrew’s Cross. “Would you like to be restrained on that? Let us give your beautiful ass a workout? We can do it over your clothes. Want to try it, see how it feels?”
She knew how it felt. She was glad the mask hid the stark pain she was feeling. “Sure,” she managed. “Over the clothes will work.” Hell, his touch on her hip had resulted in a reaction. Maybe it was all “touch button A to get reaction B”. Maybe that floating sensation that happened last night was purely chemical, and if they had the expertise to get her to that level she’d get lost in her head, cut adrift. Then it wouldn’t matter that the man she wanted the most wouldn’t have anything to do with her.
“You can call me Master L. What should I call you?”
“Whatever you wish, Master L.” She was just a faceless slave, here to be used. The thought tightened her stomach in a not entirely unpleasant coil.
She watched him kiss her knuckles. Was he the type Ben would put on his call list as the “perfect Dom” mentor? The thought curdled in her stomach like sour milk. But she followed him, comfortable in the span of his arm, one hand resting on her hip and the small of her back, the other holding her fingers as he escorted her. He smelled good, a nice aftershave. He was handsome but not overdone, wearing a simple pair of jeans and an untucked button-down. Cowboy boots with silver tips.
“Do you have a hat?”
Following her glance, he smiled, gave her a bit more of a Texas drawl. “Yes ma’am. But I don’t wear it indoors, or in the presence of ladies.” When he reached his companion, introduced as Frank, she found he was in his forties, with silver threaded through his dark hair. His eyes assessed her even more thoroughly, and he was more reserved, giving her only a courteous nod. It made her stomach flip inside that coil, gooseflesh rising on her arms as she recognized him as something closer to what her submissive nature craved. She had to steel herself not to drop her eyes in his presence. That wasn’t required at this level, and he wasn’t her Master.
Neither was Ben, was he?
They went over her safe word, what the boundaries would be. She explained the visible bruising on her upper body, saying she worked in a job that sometimes required full contact but that there was no injury. When they were satisfied they knew enough about her to keep her safe—she gave vague but accurate information about anything beneath the clothes—they lifted each of her hands, cuffed them to the cross, positioning her face forward against it.
The moment they started restraining her, that deep lower belly trembling started. But there was a wrong feeling to it. She put her forehead down on the wood crosspiece. She would do this. She could. She responded to Master L’s questions. No, cuffs not too tight. Nowhere near as tight as what was around her heart.
“I’m going to start with just my hand, and work up to some other things, all right? Frank will take over as things escalate.”
Frank stepped up behind her to test the bonds, pressing himself against her body. As he withdrew, he tangled his hands in her hair, gave her a sharp tug that elicited a gasp, a spiral of shameful pleasure at the rough treatment. When it turned into a desperate whimper, Master L stroked her back.
“It’s all right. We can stop at any time. You obviously want this. Don’t fight yourself. We’ll get you where you want to be.” He leaned in, touching her chin, and she stared into his knowing eyes. “We can take you to a place where
