Chapter 13 #5
And shame and didn’t that piss her off. She’d been taught a good woman would never cause a loud altercation. Even as she told herself, to hell with patriarchal brainwashing, she couldn’t quite lose the guilt.
She heaved a sigh and… Oh great. Everyone was watching, including the snooty Justine and her friends who were staring at Ray as if she was the clown of the hour.
Talk about embarrassing.
“Needy men can be such dicks.” Shoving her bangs out of her eyes, Hope held up the blue corset. “So you think I should get this?”
Ray stared. When had they moved from an altercation to shopping?
Unless hyper-focused, her thoughts were a jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces would fit—except they were scattered everywhere.
Hope’s brain was linear. Like a train, only she could switch tracks at the drop of a hat.
Clothes. We’re now talking about clothes. “Ah, right. You should absolutely get the corset. It’s made for you.”
“It is!” Hope grinned.
Hmm. “You know, I budgeted money for clothes. A corset might be fun.”
“Yes!” Hope bounced on her tiptoes. “Let’s see. Maybe something turquoise to match your eyes? Or red-brown to bring out your freckles?”
“Hope,” Ray growled.
“Oh, right, I mean, to match your hair. Sorry.” Hope’s smile was unrepentant.
“I should have drowned you in high school.” Ray noticed a rack of leather corsets. Interesting. She pulled one—a black one. No, it stopped beneath a person’s breasts—and she’d rather be a bit more covered. The next one though went higher…
Zipper up the front, lacing in the back. Shoulder straps. Long though. The corset would go down to the crease of her hips, probably because it had O-rings with garters to hold up thigh-high stockings.
“I like these cups.” Rather than under or over the bust, it had semi-cups.
“Ooooh, nice. They’ll push your girls way up high.” Hope tapped the O-rings on each side of the waist. “I bet Drake could find something to do with those.”
Like…bondage? Ooooh, yes. Her insides went into the melting sensation she got every time she thought of sex with him. Or when he restrained her—no matter how he did it. With his hands or ropes or…
Begone, lusty thoughts. She shook her head hard, then glanced at the price tag. Way higher than she wanted but… The garment was well made. She could wear it again and again.
She put it on over her clothes and zipped up the front. “Can you tighten the laces, Hope?”
“Sure.”
Tugging and more tugging until it was nice and snug.
Ray looked down at herself. “Sweet. Okay, this’ll be my indulgence for this month and give me something special to wear tomorrow night.”
Grinning, Hope led the way to the register—and handed Ray a pair of fishnet stockings on the way there.
Drake exited the elevator and strolled down the hotel hallway, enjoying the cooler air and quiet. Nice.
It’d been a long day, but the convention was off to a rousing start.
It was a shame he hadn’t gotten more time with Ray, but the convention’s sponsoring clubs took turns with troubleshooting problems, and today had been Chains’ turn. Another club had the hot seat tonight, and he was off duty.
Earlier, Simon had texted to say they’d arrived but were booked for two workshops and would see him tonight. He and his submissive were staying in the other bedroom in the suite Drake had booked.
At the hotel suite, he used the key card to unlock the door.
“Drake, finally!” Rona rose from the sofa and caught him in a warm hug.
“Rona, it’s good to see you.”
A moment later, Simon took her place for a hug and a hard thumping on his back. Stepping back, he gripped Drake’s shoulders for a quick once-over. “You look in excellent health. A bit tired, but…happy.”
Interesting. “Oui, I am. Both.”
“So sit and put your feet up. Let’s talk.”
Before Simon could continue, Rona called from the kitchenette area, “Want something to drink?”
“Some juice would be good, merci.” He dropped down onto the other sofa as Simon resumed his seat.
She handed him a glass of apple juice, then joined Simon, curling against him in a way that made Drake smile. Simon had been alone a long time, and it was good to see him with a submissive who complemented the powerful Master so very well.
“How did your day go?” Drake asked. “Were your workshops well attended?”
Rona rolled her eyes. “Both classes were packed full.”
“Of course. You are well known, and dual-handed flogging is flashy enough many Tops want to learn how.”
“Not to mention it’s simply fun. Fun to teach as well”—Simon sighed—“except for pups who never held a flogger before.”
Drake frowned. “The write-up for your class clearly states it’s only for those experienced in one-handed flogging. The title includes advanced.”
“The prerequisite should include ability to read.” Rona laughed. “Or the willingness to read, I should say. I have doctors who can write a page of orders but can’t be bothered to read directions.”
Rona had been a surgical and ICU nurse before going into hospital administration. Along with an incredibly caring disposition came a delightful helping of cynical.
“I assume you kicked anyone unqualified out or, maybe, used them as a demonstration dummy?”
“It was tempting,” Simon murmured. “I came close to thumping one fool who hogged the practice mannequin and refused to leave.”
Merde. A past champion of the MMA circuit, Simon could inflict an unimaginable amount of damage within seconds. “I appreciate your restraint.”
“It wasn’t restraint.” Rona elbowed her Master. “One of your volunteers intervened and told the idiot the security guard would color his badge yellow as a first warning—and no submissive would play with a tagged troublemaker. You would not believe how fast the wanna-be Dom left the room.”
“A colored badge appears to be an effective constraint. One I hadn’t heard of.” Simon raised his drink to Drake in a toast.
A yellow-tinted badge? Drake frowned. “As it happens, I’ve never heard of this deterrent.”
Simon started to grin. “The volunteer made it up on the spot?”
“So it seems. Did you notice the name of the volunteer? I’d like to speak with him.”
“Her,” Rona corrected. “Her name was—”
The door to the suite clicked open, and Ray walked in. She smiled at him, warm and—he could swear—lovingly, then noticed Simon and Rona. Her eyes widened.
“How convenient,” Simon said smoothly. “Meet the volunteer who came to our assistance.”
Oh, no, no, no. Ray couldn’t believe her eyes. The instructor and model from the Florentine flogging workshop were here. From the way Drake was eyeing her, the two had told him what she’d done.
Freak my life. She took a step back in retreat.
Laughing, Drake rose and captured her hand. “Non, non, you will be explaining this to me, mon petit chou.” He pulled her down beside him on the sofa and secured her with an arm around her shoulders.
“I-I’m sorry.” Twisting her wood-and-copper rings, she stared at her hands. “I lied to the neckbeard. I knew you’d be upset if an instructor and student had a fight and…”
“Ray.” Drake’s voice was deep and smooth as he lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I would be upset at fighting in a workshop. Thank you for keeping Simon from taking the miscreant apart. Bloodshed doesn’t belong in a classroom.”
She’d been thinking the conflict would be a push and shove or maybe a punch. “Bloodshed?” She eyed the instructor.
Drake made a French-sound of amusement. “Simon likes to grease his fists with blood.”
Ray saw the instructor had scars all over his hands.
The woman choked on her drink. “What a phrase. Isn’t there a law against allowing barbarians out in public?”
“Now, lass,” the instructor reproved, then smiled at Ray. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in a more relaxed environment. I’m Simon Demakis and this is Rona McGregor. Thank you for your help earlier.”
“Um, Ray Lanigan. Nice to meet you.” Ray wanted to slide behind Drake and hide. Simon and Rona were so very assured, at home in their own skins. Would she ever feel as comfortable with herself? With others?
Drake put his hand over hers, and it was warm and real, pulling her back to the moment. “Tell me about this yellow marking on the badge.”
“It…seemed logical. Young man, kind of insecure, poor hygiene and verbal skills. At a BDSM con. Of course, a wanna-be Top would daydream about playing in the dungeon. All I had to do was show him his behavior would shatter his dream.”
“Ingenious.” Drake ran his hand over her arm in a comforting stroke. “We should incorporate your warning system into the convention protocols.”
“I like it,” Simon agreed. “You have a good head on your shoulders for dealing with turmoil.”
Rona nodded. “I look for that talent in my charge nurses.”
“I might be good during a crisis.” Ray moved her shoulders and had to confess. “And then minor problems have sent me into left field.”
“I’d only be upset with you if you put yourself in harm’s way, but you didn’t.” Drake tightened his arm around her shoulders in a comforting squeeze. “So… If you manage the occasional disasters, I’ll handle minor problems—and you.”
The word was out before she even had a chance to think. “Deal.”