Page 39 of Royal Pain

Chuckling, I led her from the suite and toward the elevator before answering. “It’s my choice of attire as a master. My costume if you will. It’s what I feel comfortable in.”

“A master. So you require a submissive.”

She looked up at me with huge doe eyes and all I could think about was how the fucker Joseph had almost broken her spirit.

“I don’t require one, Evangeline. When I play, I enjoy spending time with one.”

“Anyone special?”

“No one special and before you ask, I haven’t partaken in any aspect of BDSM in a very long time. I rarely do it here.”

“Why?”

We stepped into the elevator, and I pressed the button to the lobby. “I don’t particularly want my members to know what I prefer or enjoy. Just my personal perspective on the lifestyle.”

“Do you have a dungeon at home?”

What she thought about the lifestyle. “No, no dungeon but I do have some implements and one apparatus.”

“A cross. Everyone has a cross. Right?”

“Not a cross. Another special piece I had made in Denmark.”

“So you hire masters and dominatrices?”

“Yes.”

She chewed on her inner cheek, thinking about what I’d told her. By the time the elevator pinged, I could sense she was full of questions. She held them as I led her through the lobby toward one of my favorite little bars, my hand remaining on the small of her back. The electricity between us was significant, making her breathing ragged.

I already had lurid and filthy thoughts about what I would like to do with her, the aspects of the lifestyle I’d enjoy introducing her to, but I doubted she could handle being the center of attention and that was fine. However, I would show her enough for her to understand it wasn’t about inflicting abuse but about letting go. It would be a tough nut to crack but well worth the effort.

The bar wasn’t crowded, which surprised me. While we were walking, she did look over her shoulder once, likely expecting one of her friends to bound out from the shadows. I couldn’t help but find that amusing. From what I’d learned, she was a verygood person. She paid her taxes. She owned a nice little house. But that’s basically where the information stopped and I knew there was more.

I grabbed a table far removed from anyone else.

“You don’t live the lifestyle all the time then? I guess not if you don’t have a regular submissive.”

“No,” I told her. “I never have. It’s not something I’ve ever wanted, but certain people do.”

“I don’t get it.”

A waiter walked over and I allowed her to order before I did. Once done, she leaned over the table. “What’s not to get?” I asked.

“Do people dress up all the time?”

“It’s hard to say. What they do in private is, of course, their business, but for most enjoying living the lifestyle, they hold regular jobs and shop for groceries. They often act like a traditional couple in public or out with their friends. It’s behind closed doors where things change.”

“So the submissive caters to his or her every need.”

I nodded, reserved in my answer. “Usually, but not in a cruel way. The submissive has all the power in the relationship, enjoying the requirements and it varies from just inside the bedroom to providing drinks and being the dominant’s company while they enjoy watching television or reading.”

“I have a feeling that’s nothing like what I would know. Is she on her knees, her head on his lap?”

Laughing wasn’t about making fun of her but about trying to make her more comfortable. “Perhaps. To each their own. There are no real rules in privacy.”

“But there are here.”

“The club has particular rules, yes. While I keep watch, I don’t spy,” I told her. “I need to know if you’ve had any experience with a club, a private party, or the lifestyle.”

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