Page 98 of The Dom with the Kink Monsters

Saya licked at Winter’s lips, mewling and trying to push Winter’s hand under the hem of her dress. “I promise I’ll sing better than I ever have. Please?”

She pressed up between Saya’s legs. “If I lick you here will you come?”

“So fast you’ll barely have to touch me, I swear.”

Winter glanced at Ramsay to see what he thought, but he was distracted. The men were standing in the middle of the room. Ramsay had his hand down the front of Mack’s jeans and Mack’s head was pressed into their Dom’s neck.

With no direction to behave themselves forthcoming, Winter led Saya to a chair and eased her down.

“Thank you, Winter,” Saya whispered, casting a furtive glance over to Ramsay.

“If you’re that worried he’ll object, maybe we shouldn’t.”

“He didn’t say no, and I’m willing to pay the price.”

Winter bit her lip to keep herself from laughing. Where had Ramsay’s good girl gone? She felt slightly guilty, but Saya’s heated gaze and parted lips tossed Winter’s morality out the window.

She knelt in front of Saya and slid her skirt up her thighs. The scent of the girl’sarousal reached Winter and desire throbbed through her. Not much time. Quietly, she spread Saya’s thighs and slid aside her demure panties. Saya moaned as the air cooled her damp flesh.

There was a knock at the door.

“Fuck!” They all stared at Saya, who reddened and then covered her face with her hands. “Sorry.”

“Too slow, princess. You should have come to me first.” Winter tried to look smug, but now she was wound up, too.

Ramsay went to the door and spoke to whoever was there as Saya and Mack straightened their clothes.

“Time to go.” Ramsay smirked at all three of them, then locked their collars on. Leashing them took no more than a minute.

Nerves attacked her again as Ramsay led them backstage. Her legs felt as wobbly as they did after a good beating. Ramsay paused before walking out onto stage, and Mack grabbed her hand.

“You okay?” The din from the waiting crowd made Mack’s words nearly inaudible.

She nodded jerkily, but it was a lie.

Mack knew her better than that. He pulled aside the neckline of her t-shirt and hovered his mouth over the tender span between neck and shoulder for a moment before he bit down hard. Pain flared, and she grunted, heat streaking through her.

He kissed the spot, and she shivered. “There’s nothing to worry about. Just go out there and kick ass.”

Winter nodded, wishing she’d asked Mack to hurt her more before they’d left the room. The bite had helped though, and it throbbed pleasantly under her shirt – although people would notice it if she and Mack stripped to their jeans again during their break. It wasn’t like their sexual proclivities were a secret anymore, considering.

Ramsay led them on stage on their leashes. People might have thought it was part of their schtick, but really it was his reminder that no matter what happened, or how famous they got, he owned them.

The lights came up, hot and bright, and blinded her for a minute. Ramsay let them off leash. The venue looked both smaller and bigger when it was packed with people the way it was. They’d played gigs at places other than Sprawl, but the venues’ sizes hadincreased so gradually she almost hadn’t noticed until now.

Chain and padlock swung at her neck as she turned to look at the others. They were serious, even though they’d been horny as hell and giddy when they’d left the green room. They had fans now. Followers who not only left messages on their webpage or blogged about them, but made fan pages with biggish followings. The popularity of Mack’s webcomic had skyrocketed. There was so much speculation about their relationships with each other, and of course the matching collars Ramsay locked around their necks before they walked on stage fueled some of the theories. He’d said they all needed to be well marked.

It didn’t tell the whole story, though. It didn’t explain how she felt when Ramsay made her kneel at his feet, or how Mack tortured her in ways that spoke to her soul. It didn’t explain the intense love she had for Saya, the urge to protect, adore, and defile her.

With collars, many people just thought sex. They didn’t know about the love, the trust, the giving over of yourself. How Ramsay was the sun, but how his light didn’t matter if there was no one to shine it on. D/s was symbiotic. No one person more important than the other. Where most people gossiped about the kink, they had no clue about the love.

Double bass started behind her, vibrating the soles of her feet. Saya pirouetted, her cape swirling around her and giving the crowd a flash of the Lolita costume beneath. She couldn’t have been comfortable, considering how damp Winter knew her panties were.

A naughty smile crept onto her face and two guys in the front row snapped pics of her. With any luck she wouldn’t look like a demented, evil harpy this time. Action shots were always the worst. Somehow Saya always looked like a sweet little school girl, while the guys were beautiful and intense. Not Winter. Pictures of her on stage usually gave the impression that she’d recently escaped a strait jacket.

Winter joined in with Ramsay, and played the opening ofMaster’s Bitchon her bass. The crowd roared. Their energy buoyed her up, feeding her. Mack and Saya’s voices rose through the primitive beat, and his guitar cut into the fray.

Halfway through the song, people were already crushing against the stage barricades, screaming the lyrics along with Mack, their expressions reverent.

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