Bottoms Up (7 page)

Thank God he’d turned off the monitor in his bedroom Saturday night. If anyone had witnessed his performance with Destiny, he’d be the laughingstock of the Norton BDSM community. His play had been soft and sloppy, and his self-control had been missing in action. For God’s sake, he hadn’t even instructed her to call him
Sir
, something so basic to BDSM play that it was almost a necessity, a way for both of them to internalize their roles.

That first night, when she had been slow to obey, he should have punished her, not fastened the chain around her pussy himself. He had wanted to make her submit, and he had, but he hadn’t expected to enjoy her defiance. He hadn’t known he’d love her sense of humor and the way she gave as good as she got. He’d thrown away a prime opportunity to curb her wild streak and spent the weekend enjoying it, instead. What the fuck? He had never behaved that way with a sub in his life.

Some Dom he was.

Every taste of her had dissolved another layer of his control until it had felt like she, not he, was the one in command of their play. He was shocked she hadn’t noticed his poor form and called him on it. She was an experienced Dominant, after all. All that kissing? Making love in the bathtub? Calling her back Sunday night for what—a date? Dinner and dessert and a whole lot of straight-up vanilla fucking? There had been no discussion, no negotiations, and nothing to set boundaries on a relationship that needed structure and rules to exist. With behavior like that, he’d kick himself out of his own BDSM club.

Her effect on him was as unique as she was. His hand on her bare ass had felt like a key in a lock. Now he couldn’t shake their perfect fit. After last weekend, he knew he should stay away from her. Girls like Destiny were unpredictable. Thrill-seekers. They took every dare that came their way and did dangerous things when they got bored. He’d learned that lesson a lifetime ago with Lisa. Her quest for adventure had killed her, and from what he had observed of Destiny, she was made from a similar mold. Still, she fascinated him.

Johnny stood under the scalding spray, rinsing off the soap and struggling to pull something positive out of the weekend. She had clearly enjoyed herself, in spite of his poor performance. Maybe she would consider last weekend a warm-up in her submissive training and give him a chance to redeem himself. He could invite her to play with him again Friday night, at Master and slave night Upstairs.

If she said no, he’d know that submission was a one-time deal for her, that she was already looking for a new adventure, and he’d forget about her.

But if she said yes, he could prove himself to be a real Master, and, as an added bonus, their public play would give his reputation a boost…just in case she spilled the beans to anyone about that whole crazy bathtub and cheesecake episode.

He turned off the water and grabbed a towel, drying himself as he padded into his bedroom to find his cell phone.

First he would call his bar managers. Then he would put the Upstairs staff to work protecting the furniture. After that, he would have plenty of time to call Destiny to set up their date. This time, he’d make sure she understood everything he expected from her. Respect. Consideration. Obedience. And he’d make damn sure he stayed in control.

Chapter Five

Destiny swore as the loud ring of her cell phone nearly made her nick her ankle with the razor. She dried her hands and answered the phone, glad she had brought it into the bathroom with her. “Hello?”

“Hello, Destiny. How are you?”

Ever the solicitous Dom. She grinned. “Wet. I’m in the tub.”

As usual, the rumble in his voice woke her body. She gripped her phone carefully and settled back in the water to enjoy the effect he had on her.

“How wet are you?” he asked. She could hear the grin in his voice.

“Do you want me to check?” Destiny’s hand was already sliding under the water.

“I do.”

The hot water didn’t prevent her own moisture from coating her finger. She sighed.

“Do you miss me?”

“Maybe. Less now.” She circled the tip of her clit with her middle finger.

“I’d like to scene with you at the club this weekend, Destiny.” A thrill shot through her. “It’s Master and slave night Upstairs on Friday. Are you ready for that?”

“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “Let me think about it.” She hadn’t figured out where she belonged in the power dynamic yet, but the idea of sitting naked at his feet in a submissive pose in a room full of people made her want to stroke her clit hard and come fast against her fingers. How much more thought was required?

“We could practice first,” he suggested.

“What do you mean?”

“Right now, we could practice. Will you follow my commands?”

The thought of him telling her to do things—and her doing them—made her tremble. Her knees fell open against the sides of the tub. “Yes.” She would follow his commands.

“Good. Are you finished in the bath? Have you prepared yourself for me?”

“Not quite.”

“Finish up, then. Dry yourself. Before you call me back, I want you to find a butt plug and put it in your ass. Do you have a toy like that?”

“Yes.” Her voice was husky, and because he hadn’t told her not to, she slid one long finger into her pussy. She ground her palm against her clit.

“Don’t touch your clit or your nipples yet.” His voice was hard, and she snatched her hand away, hoping the splash didn’t betray her. “When you are properly prepared for me, sit on the edge of your bed and pinch your nipples until they are very hard. Make sure your pussy is wet. And Destiny?”

His stern command was a promise and a warning. “Don’t forget to call me
Sir
.”

Chapter Six

On Master and slave night, Destiny called for a taxi, enjoying her pantyless state this time. Johnny had been quite specific about what he wanted her to wear—a little black dress and the same boots she had worn the other night. No bra, no panties.

Mac waved her in.

Tonight, Johnny was sitting at the bar, not standing behind it. His gaze slid over her body with approval. Her breath stopped in her throat as he casually slipped his hand beneath her dress and caressed her bare bottom. One finger slid between her cheeks and she shuddered.

“Let’s get you upstairs.”

She followed him down the hall and up the short flight of steep stairs. He pushed open the door at the top and stepped through. She followed.

The large playroom had been torn apart. The couch had been broken down and scattered throughout the room to form more intimate seating arrangements. Small tables with shelves held drinks, water bottles and toys. The space held both dark corners and spotlit play areas. It throbbed with sensual music pitched just low enough to allow the sounds of leather on flesh and the moans of the slaves to rise above the steady beat.

Johnny snapped his fingers. Two naked women came forward. They didn’t wear traditional collars but instead had matching bands of colorful Celtic tattoos around their necks, very similar to the ones that covered Johnny’s arms and shoulders.

“Eyes down, Destiny.”

She obeyed, but tried to catch as much as she could with her peripheral vision. One woman reached for the hem of Destiny’s dress and pulled it over her head. The other bent to remove her boots.

“Leave them.”

“Yes, Sir.”

This was a world she had read about, dreamed about, but never thought she would experience, especially as a slave. She had always fantasized on the other side of the fence. Or had she? How else would she have known how to please a sub except by dreaming of being one herself?

Johnny led her across the room and pressed her down to her knees next to a low leather chair. With his booted foot, he nudged her thighs apart. Her breasts, with their hard, flushed tips, filled her vision. Lower, the plump lips of her sex were also visible. She felt so secure here, with him. Naked, exposed, aroused, trusting him to keep her safe and make her happy. She hoped she had done that with her subs, hoped she had made them feel honored and peaceful.

Johnny’s low voice broke through her reverie. “You may look around now, Destiny.”

She raised her head. The focal point of the room was a small raised dais which held a St. Andrew’s cross. The height from the floor was perfect for a whip. For closer work, there was enough room on the stage for a Master to use a flogger or a crop—even a cane. A scene was just ending. One of the nude servant girls stepped onto the stage with a towel and a spray bottle of disinfectant.

Across the room, throaty moans sounded from the lips of a slave who had been bound with black silk. Her arms were crossed behind her head and her calves were bound to her thighs. Her position forced her breasts high and exposed her bare, pink pussy to the room. Destiny watched, enthralled, as each person who stopped to talk to her Master was invited to finger the slave’s pussy or pluck her rouged nipples.

“See anything that interests you?” Johnny’s black eyes were intent on her face. His body was tense. His erection bulged against the front of his leather pants.

Before she could answer, a familiar whisper sounded above her.

“Destiny?”

She scrambled to her feet as she recognized the shocked face of Damian Boudreaux. With a jolt, she realized she hadn’t thought of him all week. Damian was being led by a silver chain attached to a ring in his hard cock. She stifled a hysterical giggle as she realized his jewelry still matched her own—the last link between them.

“Damian? What are you doing here?” This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. When she saw Damian again, she had planned to be surrounded by adoring male subs. Then he’d know that leaving her had been a mistake.

“Johnny, it’s been too long!” Damian’s Mistress had silky raven hair, sharp brown eyes, and wore slick, red leather the devil would envy.

“Karina, good to have you back.” Johnny pressed his lips to the cheek of the black-haired witch.

“New girl?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Destiny cursed the flush that crept across her chest. She was grateful to Johnny for not explaining further. At his sharp gesture, she sank to the floor and kept her head bowed to conceal her face.

“Are you planning to share her?” Karina’s voice held polite curiosity.

When hell fucking freezes over
, Destiny thought.

Johnny’s laugh was easy. “We’re still getting used to each other.”

“Too bad. Love her hair.”

“Thanks. Enjoy yourself tonight. Let me know if there is anything you need,” Johnny said.

Destiny lifted her head to watch Damian’s smooth, tan back as he obediently followed his Mistress. Of course, he’d have to follow her with that leash on his cock. God, he was still beautiful. Golden. His blond hair was long and artfully tousled, with thick waves that begged fingers to stroke it, tangle in it, use it to control his willing body.

Destiny’s heart lurched. The peaceful glow that had suffused her body—hell, her whole being—had been replaced by shame. She wanted her clothes, her leather, her dignity back. It was ironic that after topping every blond sub in Norton, she would see Damian again while she was crouched at the feet of a man who was so fucking Dom he made her own painfully acquired skills seem childish in comparison.

“Up, Destiny.”

Thank God, Johnny was going to get her out of here. She stood and followed him eagerly.

She swallowed against the knot in her throat when he stopped at a flat, padded table near the center of the room. Dread made the saliva in her mouth feel thick. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Damian’s Mistress sit on a couch to watch. Damian sank to the floor beside her.

“Facedown, slave. I’m going to paddle you for speaking out of turn.” Johnny’s voice was light, teasing, but there was hard steel underneath, and it made her angry. She fought the unexpected urge to run from the room and hide in a closet, preferably under a dozen blankets. It wasn’t too late to say no. She climbed onto the table slowly, trying to give herself time to think.

She had agreed to this, but her body was a tense, vibrating board. Unless she figured out what was going on in her head, she was afraid when Johnny struck her she might rise from the table and wallop him a good one right back. Damian’s presence changed everything.

She sensed his arm draw back and desperately tried to channel any one of the times Johnny had made her come last weekend, to remember the pleasure his spankings had brought her. She was going to embarrass them both if she couldn’t get a grip on her temper.

The paddle hit her ass with a sharp
thwack
. Destiny cried out. It was just a light blow, a warm-up, really, but helpless tears wet the cold leather beneath her cheek.

Johnny leaned over her, casting a shadow across her face and concealing her tears. “Who’s making you cry? Him or me?” he whispered tightly.

The hot tears fell faster. “Him,” she croaked.

“At least you’re honest.”

“I can explain,” she said in a broken whisper.

“I sure as hell hope so. I don’t know what that pretty boy means to you, but it’s something, and from the look in your eyes, something big.”

Destiny tried to rise from the table, but Johnny held her down with one hand between her shoulder blades.

“Yellow,” she said. It was more a breath than a word.

He released his hold on her. “You are going to absolutely ruin my reputation,” he said softly.

Destiny flinched. She couldn’t disappoint Johnny. Not this way, in his club, in front of a crowd. She pressed her chest to the table and forced the words out of her mouth. “I’m sorry, Sir. You may do whatever you like with me, as we agreed.” The words were dull and wooden, but she felt better saying them.

“Damn it, Destiny, I told you, it’s only fun if you want it.” His quiet voice shifted, lost its angry edge, and when she looked at him, humor lit his dark eyes, thawing the icy glare that had chilled her to the core. “Let’s split the difference. I’ve known Mistress Karina a long time. She’s a genius with a cane in her hand. Your little boyfriend must like it rough, huh?”

Destiny’s miserable nod made her cheek slide on the wet leather.