Chapter 2 #2
The dance floor was dark and crowded, but I definitely wasn’t in a dancing mood.
Sometimes people found trouble in the bathrooms and the patio, but I wanted something I could spend some time with.
The great thing about Rapture was that it was absolutely possible to go there and not be seen by anyone.
There were private playrooms and dark corners, but there was a blanket kind of implied consent there that if you weren’t behind closed doors, there was the potential for being seen.
Some people didn’t care and some people sought out that kind of attention, and my interest sat firmly with the latter.
I didn’t mind peeping in on people who’d simply gotten too caught up in the moment to close a door, but I wanted to watch people who wanted to be watched.
There was a different sort of performance to that kind of exhibitionism, and that was what I liked the most. There were, of course, times I’d come out to Rapture with the intent to play myself.
Damon hadn’t been pulling something out of left field with his earlier comment about my taste in submissive men, but what I looked for in a partner these days was far from what had interested me in my younger years.
Now, if I did find someone to play or scene with, I solely focused myself on two things—rope and their pleasure.
My plans that night didn’t involve either of those things, so after my cursory scan of the club, I headed into the new downstairs playroom.
The door was open, and I slipped inside.
Larger than some of the private rooms upstairs, this one had clearly been designed for group activities with a couch, a cross, a spanking bench, and enough room for an audience.
There were two couples in the room when I walked in, one on the cross and one on the bench.
They both would have been a delight to watch, but the woman standing over the spanking bench caught my eye as soon as I walked in.
She was gorgeous, short and curvy with short, manicured nails that matched her shoes.
She had a man bent over and strapped down to the bench, his already bruised ass on display for anyone who walked in to see.
I lifted my beer in greeting and sat down on the couch, angling my body so the bench was in my line of sight.
She smiled at me, lips as red as her nails, then she bent down to whisper something into the man’s ear.
The whole time she talked to him, she didn’t take her blue eyes off of me, and it was my pleasure to return the look.
There were some people, of course, who enjoyed voyeurism as a secret act, but I much more preferred when it was in the open.
After the woman finished talking to the man, she sank her teeth into his ear and he shook so violently from it, his chained restraints rattled against the bench.
She grinned and let go of his ear lobe, making her way down to the other end of the bench.
There was a paddle resting on the small of the man’s back, a mean-looking thing with silver studs on one side, and she rubbed them lightly all over his exposed ass.
He loosed another shiver, caused another rattle, and it was impossible for me to not think how much nicer he would have looked bound in rope.
And how much quieter he would have been.
I sipped my beer, a burst of heat flaring at the base of my spine when she spanked him the first time.
Another crack of the paddle against his ass and another, and a fair amount of blood relocated itself from my brain to between my legs.
I was half-hard when she traded the paddle for a flogger, but I had no intention of doing anything about it.
I watched them, and I enjoyed it.
Because I didn’t need to get off to enjoy it.
I appreciated the sounds the man made, and the way it made her smile.
I liked the way she touched him, the way her fingers trailed over his skin.
She was hardly ever not touching him in some way, and I briefly found myself aching for that sort of connection.
I pressed the heel of my palm against the base of my dick and shifted my weight on the couch.
There were plenty of times I’d watched people play with the intent to get myself off, but that hadn’t been part of the plan tonight.
I’d never been one of those men who needed to actually come to feel satisfied.
Most of the time, the act itself was enough to bring me all the pleasure I needed.
The pleasure I wanted.
The Domme flogged the backs of his thighs while I finished my beer, and after the last swallow, I raised my empty to her like a tip of the hat.
Disappointment flickered across her face, but she was quick to shutter it, tipping her chin up in an equally matched goodbye.
Her stare did flicker down to the bulge between my legs, which must have given her some satisfaction based on how aggressively she connected the falls with her partner’s ass on the next swing.
With that, I adjusted my semi-hard cock, tossed the empty beer bottle in the trash, and decided it was time to call it a night.