Chapter 2 #2
Natalie, the third submissive, wasn’t as thrilled. “I wanted Pete to just…just take complete charge, but he kept stopping to ask if I liked each thing he tried.” Her brows drew together. “I mean, I want him to care, but not to care.”
From her perch off to one side, Gin played with her braid and considered. She’d had the same complaint about a couple of lovers. Wanted to kick them into gear and say, take me already.
“Domination is a balancing act, especially if you haven’t worked with your partner before,” Atticus said to the men, not singling out the unhappy Dom.
“And with some timid submissives, checking-in isn’t a bad idea.
For the rest, make sure they know their safeword, and then the onus is on you to read their expressions, muscle tension, and breathing.
“I hear what you’re saying”—Pete pulled at his blond mustache—“but I’m not sure I know what to look for.”
“Fair enough. Let’s have an assessment lesson before we start on bondage.” Atticus raised his voice. “Jake?”
No answer.
After a brief wait, Atticus said in a dry voice, “Apparently they’re…occupied.”
The group laughed.
Atticus straightened, looking around. “Let’s see…”
When his gaze hit Gin’s, her table seemed to slide downward a couple of feet.
“Ah, Jake left me an assistant,” he said. “Gin, come over here, please.”
“What?” She shook her head. “No. I’m not supposed to be part of…of the lessons.”
Atticus glanced at the others. “See how her arms tightened around her knees? I’d guess surprise and a little fear.” His baritone voice lowered even further. “I need your help, Virginia.”
“Shi-sugar,” she said under her breath, realizing she didn’t have much of a choice. Not and be polite. After all, Kallie had been generous enough to let her be part of the weekend. How could she tell the teacher no? Her reluctant feet carried her to the Dom.
Why did being rude seem like a worse offense than a nice, simple murder?
He held his hand out to her, waiting until she gave him hers. “Cold little fingers,” he said to the others. “Is she chilled—in which case we need to warm her up—or is she frightened?”
Still holding her hand, he regarded her thoughtfully, his eyes dark in the flickering firelight.
She frowned at him.
“Easy, magnolia. I’m not going to ask for anything dire.” Smiling slightly, he drew her up to sit beside him on the picnic tabletop. When he put his arm around her, the heat from his body felt like a blast furnace, and she couldn’t help but lean into him.
“Got yourself chilled over there, didn’t you?” He pulled her closer, his body all muscle against her side, and massaged her chilly hands.
She needed to make things clear. Somehow. “I’m not here to play.”
“No problem, darlin’.” The laugh lines beside his eyes deepened. “I’m just going to use your body for a bit—this won’t be a real scene.”
“Excuse me?” Her breathing went into its own hissy fit.
His lips quirked, and he lifted her chin with a finger. “Gin, these Doms need to see what I’m talking about. I need an assistant here. Can you help us out?”
Oh, his question was purely manipulative. She recognized the technique and still couldn’t find it in herself to refuse. She nodded.
“You’re a good sport. Thank you, sweetheart.” When he smiled at her, her insides swirled right into a gooey mess.
“What do you need me to do?”
“I’m going to have my hands on you—above the waist only. Your only job is to keep your eyes shut and not talk unless I ask you a question. Can you do that for me?”
He’d touch her. Above the waist. Her breasts. To her dismay, her skin tightened as if her breasts were totally onboard with the idea. “Okay.” She closed her eyes and braced herself.
“Her cheeks flushed when she thought about being touched,” Atticus was saying to the others. She heard something slide on the table. Then he put a set of headphones on her, destroying her ability to hear him.
Her eyes popped open. “Wait.”
Atticus grinned. Damn, the little subbie was cute.
He’d been aware of her sitting over in the corner, all big eyes.
Jake’d said she was a sweetheart, so Atticus had observed as she cooked, served, and waited on the group during supper, bustling about to ensure everyone was well fed.
She’d beamed at their reaction to her food.
The need to please was a bright light in her.
And now, although clearly uncomfortable, here she was…because he said he needed her.
He touched the corner of her eye to remind her of his order.
Her reluctance was obvious, but she closed her eyes.
“All right. Submissives, get rugs from the pile and spread them out on the far side of the fire pit. Then either sit or kneel over there and wait for us.”
As the women left, Atticus turned to the Doms. “Gentlemen, tell me how you know Gin’s not a happy camper now.”
The men all studied the redhead.
“Her fingers are clamped on the table.”
“Mouth is tight.”
“Jaw too.”
“Good,” Atticus said. “Notice her shallow breathing as well. Let’s upset her a bit more and give you a wider area to observe.” He unbuttoned her fluffy cardigan, then the light shirt beneath it. Inch by inch, he drew both garments down her arms and off.
She was as fair as the snow-tipped mountains, and he’d been right—her lacy bra was a silvery blue.
After a second of appreciation, he got himself back on task.
“See her struggle to keep her eyes closed. How she swallows because the worry has dried her mouth.” He tipped her chin up with two fingers and pressed his fingertips lightly on the side of her neck. Fuck, she had soft skin.
“You can touch your submissive’s throat here to check her pulse. Another location is here.” He flattened a palm over her sternum…above her breasts since he didn’t want to send her into cardiac arrest.
“Virginia’s heart is hammering, by the way.”
Grins appeared.
“Obviously we have a scared little submissive here.” He waited a few seconds to let the men grasp the lesson. “Let’s see if I can calm her down.” He put an arm around her, drew her to his chest so she could absorb his warmth and feel his even breathing.
She was definitely a tempting armful. The way she struggled to obey his orders, despite her nervousness and newness, tugged at every dominant instinct he possessed.
After he moved her braid out of his way, he ran his right palm up and down her back in long, slow strokes. Nudging her headphone top aside, he rested his cheek on top of her head. She had silky hair.
“See how her breathing slows? The positioning of her hands?” Her small fingers were curled over his left forearm. Despite her nerves, she was holding on to him.
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and, with surprising reluctance, released her to sit alone. “Isn’t it cute how her shoulders straighten as she braces for what I do next?”
He checked his audience. The Doms were leaning forward attentively, which boded well for their own submissives. Atticus glanced toward the fire pit. On their rugs, the women talked quietly. Good.
He turned his attention back to the Doms. “Before, during, and after a scene, what you need to watch is…everything. Skin color—and not just in her face. Breathing. Observe the muscles in her arms and shoulders and belly. Especially check her hands.” He paused.
“Each submissive is different. Do any of you play poker?”
Nods from all three men.
“This is the same as reading your opponent’s tells. Actually, what you learn here will serve you well in poker.” He grinned and brushed a finger over her chin.
A tiny wrinkle appeared between her brows. She gave a small shrug as if to dislodge an annoying insect.
“Now, did you see the little line that said she was worried?”
Two nodded. One had missed it.
Atticus tapped her lips this time, and the line reappeared. Then he rubbed his knuckles across her cheek, reassuring her again. “See which way her head tilts? Does her body move toward me or away? Is she welcoming my touch?”
Atticus pulled his hand away, and Gin tipped her face ever so slightly toward him.
“Damn, the reaction is subtle, but it’s there,” Ralph muttered.
“These are the types of clues you study during a scene. Again, each submissive is different.” Atticus flattened his hand on Gin’s stomach, enjoying the slight roundness, even as the muscles beneath flinched. “See the reaction. I’d call that surprise at an unexpected touch.”
He didn’t move, letting the heat of his palm reassure her. “And again, she relaxes back into me. Check her eyes, her mouth. See how her muscles have softened, her fingers opened.”
She was damn pleasing to watch.
“Now, I hate to do this, but…” He gave her stomach a light, stinging pinch and pointed out her gasp. How her lips pressed together again, the worried line between her brows. “Her shoulders are knotted now.”
A brush of his finger had her belly muscles flinching, had her whole body swaying infinitesimally away. “See how she flinches from my touch now? She doesn’t like being pinched.”
“Neither would my wife,” Ralph muttered to general agreement.
“When it comes to inflicting pain, even if for pleasure, you’ll need to acquire more assessment skills,” Atticus told the Doms. “But for this evening’s rope play, you’ve got what you’ll need. And you’ll get better with practice.”
He pulled Gin back into his arms, partly to reassure her, partly for his own enjoyment.
“Any time you’re unsure of what your submissive is feeling, step back and study her.
She’s under your control; she’s not going anywhere.
Take your time and read her body language.
” Atticus grinned. “And know that an intense scrutiny will increase her excitement more than you thought possible.”
All three Doms wore thoughtful expressions.
“Dismissed. Hydrate your submissives and take them for a bathroom break. When you come back, we’ll begin the bondage portion of the evening.”