“Tell me what you want,” she instructed.
“More, Mistress. Please.”
She went back to the bag and pulled out another clamp. I sucked in a breath, suspecting where that one was going to go. She didn't disappoint. My own balls tightened in sympathy as she attached the clamp to Jason's balls. When she hung a weight on it, the sound Jason made wasn't a pleasant one, but he still didn't use the safe word I was sure he and Miranda had established.
For a moment, I wondered what it would be like to have Kyndall here with me, to have her sitting at my side as Miranda gave her Sub what he needed. What Kyndall would say if I told her I wanted to find out what she needed, that I wanted to take care of her like Miranda was taking care of Jason.
What would she think of Miranda's expert use of a crop on Jason's ass and cock? Would she be able to recognize that the cries he made weren't solely pain, no matter how violent Miranda's treatment might've seemed? If I slipped my hand between her thighs, would I find her wet or would she be so horrified that she'd run as far away from me as possible?
I shook my head. I couldn't be thinking like that. Kyndall wasn't someone I was casually dating or a friend with benefits. She wasn't anything to me other than a girl I spent one great night with. One night. That was all we planned on, so there was no reason for me to be thinking of anything else.
A sound from the stage caught my attention. Miranda had pulled a giant strap-on out of the bag and was liberally applying lube to the slick surface. I'd always considered myself to be well-endowed – and the women I'd been with had supported that opinion – so I knew how much preparation needed to go into anal sex, but Jason and Miranda had clearly done this before because the thick shaft disappeared with relative ease.
And that brought up another question.
Was Kyndall the sort of woman who'd find it hot, but only for the domination quality, or would she think of it as something she'd want to do herself? She was confident, but that didn't mean she wasn't submissive. It didn't mean she was either. She could've been neither.
Hell, for all I knew, she'd think that the whole BDSM lifestyle was disgusting and be appalled that she'd been anywhere near me, spoiling the memories of what we'd shared.
I sighed, the sound lost in the murmurs of arousal and excitement that were building throughout the club. Both Miranda and Jason were approaching climax, and the energy in the air was palpable. As soon as they were done, the music would come back up, and dancing would resume, most couples moving with more deliberation, working toward their own eventual release.
I stood, but it wasn't to return downstairs and find a partner. There were plenty of Subs down there who I was sure would want to join me for whatever I wanted to do, but I wasn't into it, and I didn't go into an encounter without being fully committed to it.
I wasn't into relationships, but that didn't mean I was a complete bastard.