Chapter 15 #2
As she moved into the socializing area outside the dungeon, a het couple walked past, both giving her appreciative glances.
She glanced down, still a little shocked at the sight of her body in the black leather corset.
Her waist was tiny, and her breasts were pushed up into prominent mounds.
The bottom half had only thigh-high fishnet stockings held up by the attached garters and a tiny black brief.
Talk about feeling almost naked. Reminded her of the nightmares where she’d show up for a gallery opening in only her underwear.
At least, her corset wasn’t too tight, since there’d been no one around to tighten the laces in back. When she’d zipped the front, she realized the fit was from the vendor room when she tried it on over her clothing.
Looser was fine, considering she was already short of breath from anticipation of what the evening might hold.
A group of Doms saw her, and she caught their approving smiles. Well then. Her pulse started a trippy rhythm. Will Drake be pleased with my outfit?
The pre-function and foyer areas outside the dungeon were even busier than last night.
A group from one club was showing off their purchases of fetwear and toys from the vendor room.
The sitting areas were filled with people, some full of energy and others exhausted, their clothing damp with sweat.
They’d obviously already done a scene in the dungeon.
From behind her came Drake’s deep, smooth voice…speaking French. None of which she understood. Hell, was she going to have to learn the language?
Strong hands gripped her shoulders as he turned her to face him. His gaze swept over her, and his eyes darkened to pure black.
Her heart rate quickened. No one had ever looked at her the way he did.
As he examined the O-rings on the sides of her waist, his mouth curved. “Mmm. These will be fun to make use of…and you, ma chérie, will have an interesting night.”
She swallowed hard. “R-right.”
The sound of muted applause caught her attention. A wall screen displayed clips from the award presentations earlier. Drake was one of the presenters, all broad-shouldered perfection in his charcoal-colored suit, with his dark facial hair and white smile.
She noticed he’d switched out his onyx studs for black diamond earrings. So fucking elegant.
Even here, in his vest and white shirt, he was collecting appreciative—and flirtatious—smiles from many in the room. Of all genders.
Don’t be jealous, Ray. You don’t own the Dom. She made her voice light. “Don’t you clean up nice, Master Drake.”
“Thank you.” He motioned to the screen. “Your paddles were some of the first to be gone. They were very popular.”
“Really?” Her heart lifted as she watched an award recipient get applauded before moving to a table piled with fetwear, impact and sex toys, and bondage gear. The person picked up one of her paddles, weighed it, swung it, stroked it.
Yes! All those hours of sanding and glossing were worth it.
“There’s a happy smile.” Drake gave her a light kiss. “You’ll probably see some of them in use tonight in the dungeon.”
Her smile faded. “And see the submissive getting hurt from something I made?”
“Aralia.” He waited until her gaze met his. “Did you forget Casper’s pleasure in being paddled?”
“Oh. Oh, right.” Intense pain wasn’t her kink, but Casper had loved getting spanked. And her paddles were far better than any Drake had shown her.
Drake cupped her cheek, running his thumb over her chin. “When Jasira received an award for mentoring other Dommes, Casper yelled from the audience demanding a Ray paddle. He let out a shriek of happiness when she picked one of yours.”
Delight bubbled up inside Ray, and she couldn’t keep from grinning. Although… “I hope he doesn’t get in trouble for being pushy.”
“Oh, he’ll get punished.” Drake chuckled. “In his case, probably making him wait a couple of days before getting to try out his new paddle.”
Ray blinked, then laughed. “Right. Paddling a masochist wouldn’t work as a punishment, would it?”
“Precisely. Thankfully, it will work quite well for you.”
“Wait, what?”
Drake’s grin flashed. Putting an arm around her waist, he guided her toward the ballroom dungeon.
“Ray!” Near the middle of the room, Hope bounced up and down, waving. Peter stood next to her along with Alex and MacKensie. Hope wore her new corset and looked fantastic, although her mascara was smeared and her hair in tangles.
“I think someone had a good time,” Ray whispered to Drake.
He chuckled. “A submissive who finds crying to be a release will usually have a Dom who finds the sight of her smeared makeup rewarding.”
Huh, who would’ve thought? Maybe I’ll wear more makeup next time.
As they got closer, Hope pursed her lips and studied Ray’s attire. “The corset is perfect for you.”
Peter’s gaze was on the O-rings, and he grinned at Drake. “And for you also.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Drake murmured.
Having been half-hidden behind Peter, Theodore stepped forward. “Ray! What are you wearing? You can’t…”
Oh Gods, what could she even say? “Theodore—”
Drake made a chiding sound. “You do not have permission to speak, bébé.”
What? When had he said she had to be silent?
His stern expression made her quail…until she caught the tiny quirk of his lip.
Ohhhhh. He was removing the pressure of dealing with Theodore. Refused permission to speak, she snuggled closer to convey her gratitude.
Peter frowned and turned to Theodore, saying in a barely audible voice, “Criticizing a Dominant’s choice of clothing for his submissive is considered rude. As is making anyone, submissive or Dominant, uncomfortable.”
Theodore reddened slightly. He glanced at Ray, then Drake. “Please excuse me.”
After regarding Theodore’s disgruntled expression for a moment, Alex smiled slightly and wiggled his eyebrows. “You’re getting lax, Drake. Withholding permission to speak is good. However, letting her touch you when she wants?”
Wait, Drake hadn’t said anything about that either. MacKensie’s Dom was not only making a point to Theodore but…also goading Ray into misbehaving? To get her in trouble?
Then again, I might get a kick out of being in trouble.
Lifting her chin, she deliberately hugged Drake’s arm, rubbing her cheek against his hard bicep. So there.
She could feel his ribs shake with his silent laugh before he tightened his arm around her. “It appears a naughty submissive needs to be punished.”
Punished? A flash of heat vied with pure worry.
“It’s best to keep them in line,” Alex agreed. “There’s a pommel horse in the dungeon. Or did you see the old-fashioned caning table with wooden restraints shaped like a pillory?”
“Mmm, oui. That has potential.” She could feel Drake focus on her. “Kneel, please.”
Here? Now? Hope and Mac were on their feet.
Master Drake’s silence carried a dangerous weight.
A flush warmed Ray’s face as she dropped to her knees. Back straight, hands on thighs, gaze down.
“Very nice.” The approval in his voice filled her with a disconcerting happiness. “For tonight, you will wear this.”
Something cool wrapped around her neck. His fingers touched her skin as he buckled on a…collar. A collar, gods help her.
Yet there was a sense of satisfaction, of pleasure, in feeling his hands on her, of wearing his—his mark of ownership, even if it was for only one night.
“Look at me.”
She lifted her head and met his dark focused gaze. Saw the flash of his teeth. “So we both enjoy you wearing my collar.”
There was no answer she could give. Or was permitted to give. And yet…and yet…it filled her with contentment to have all the words taken away.
He bent, his warm hand under her chin. “Punishment means I am going to restrain you and hurt you. And then take you. I will stay within the bounds of your limit list. Do you wish to negotiate anything?”
Her world narrowed to his eyes, so steady on hers. “I trust you.”
The lines beside his eyes crinkled with his smile. “Then let us begin.” He gripped her waist and lifted her to her feet.
Drake had to admit he enjoyed the feeling of a soft, naked woman more than anything else, but a submissive in a tightly laced corset was almost as fine.
And Aralia in a leather bondage corset was about the sexiest sight he’d ever seen.
Her curly hair danced along her shoulders, wild and free, a contrast with the ruthless constraints on the rest of her body.
The black corset set off her pale skin—and freckles.
He bent to kiss the top of one speckled shoulder, inhaling the light apricot scent that lingered from her bubble bath.
She smelled edible.
He nipped her velvety skin, enjoying how she never smelled the same way twice. So intriguing.
Nodding a greeting at a couple of Dominants, he headed for the bondage-pillory hybrid table. Ah, there it was. Not only empty but also close to the center of the room. Quite public.
Excellent.
He set his bag on a nearby stand and considered the table. Nice modifications. Pillory-style, wooden wrist restraints at the head of the table. Hinged wooden boards resembling stocks sat at the base of the table legs.
“Step here.” He opened the box-like contraption for ankles. “Legs wide.” Obviously, the table designer preferred a submissive’s legs to be widely separated when shackled.
Ray’s expression held worry, but she obediently set her feet by the box’s semi-circles next to each table leg.
He closed the box, trapping her ankles within the precut holes. “Bend forward on the table. Arms above your head.”
He fit her wrists in the half-circle holes and closed the hinged board over the top. “You should be grateful this design secures only your arms and not your head as a true pillory would.”
“I’m not sure it’s an improvement,” she muttered, making him laugh.
“I notice your corset is looser than it should be.” And how could a Dom resist? He tightened the laces of the corset before securing the O-rings on each side of her waist to the grommets on the table’s edge.