Page 42 of Various Intentions
Two young people—one beefy and blond, the other slight with shoulder-length black hair—in leather collars and snug black rubber shirts sat, smiling at us in an amenable manner.
“Hi there. Are you on the list forBlast the Heat?” the beefy tow-headed man asked.
“Yes, we are. Nic Walker, Vincent Blake and Matteo Rossi.”
He scanned the list of names in front of him. “Ah, yes. Here you are.”
He checked off our names while the other person stamped our hands and gestured for us to go through. “Off you go, then. Have fun!” they said, their gazes lingering on Matteo and Vincent.
“Oh, we intend to,” I said, giving him a salute.
A young woman in a rubber body suit, also wearing a leather collar, stepped forward.
“Welcome toBlast the Heat. May I take your coats?”
“Yes, thank you,” I replied.
We let her look after our outerwear. Vincent brushed invisible dust off his glittery pants as a flush suffused his cheeks. His hands opened and closed with excess energy.
I gave him a kiss on the cheek to reassure him. “You. Look. Stunning.” I smiled, happy when he returned it. “Come on. Let’s own this party.”
He laughed and nodded. “Yes.”
I moved forward, my subs keeping step behind me. They caused heads to turn and gentle exclamations of astonishment. And if eyes had been hands, they would have needed a complete disinfect after crossing the room.
“Welcome toBlast the Heat!” said a man in diminutive silver shorts as he offered us drinks from a tray. “Would you care for some sparkling lemonade?”
“Thank you,” I replied with a nod, taking a glass. The server inclined his head and moved on. I turned to Matteo. “Here. Drink.”
Matteo’s eyes flashed with desire as I tipped the glass to his lips so that he could take a sip. Vincent watched with clear interest as a drop of lemonade escaped the glass and dripped down Matteo’s clean-shaven chin.
“Vincent, get that, will you? Use your tongue,” I suggested.
Vincent ducked his head and licked the drop of lemonade from Matteo’s chin. The sight was as erotic as if Vincent had gone to his knees to lick Matteo’s cock. Maybe more so.
“Now, why don’t you give Matteo a kiss on his wet lips.”
Vincent smiled and his ethereal beauty took my breath away. “Of course, Sir,” he said, cupping Matteo’s chin and leaning in to kiss him with a lackadaisical air that made me hard.
“Well, fuck,” I said, my smile wide. “Shall we go see what kind ofheat blastingis on offer this evening?”
“Definitely,” Vincent said as I drained my glass, placing it onto a nearby server’s tray, and moved forward into the dim space.
The cavernous basement of the heritage building offered a place for people to mingle, converse and listen to the quartet of musicians who were ensconced in the corner. Along two walls were curtained off areas, presumably where attendees were getting up to kinky activities. The crack of a paddle hitting flesh and the cry of a submissive broke the genial atmosphere. But nobody batted an eye or evinced the least bit of interest. If they were, in fact, intrigued, they would continue to make small talk, then excuse themselves and head over to the place from which the noise had come. The people in attendance at this event were invited guests, experienced with the concept and presentation of public kink.
Since we were already moving, I steered us in the direction of some beautiful sounds of supplication and distress coming from the nearest curtained area with several people gathered at the opening. They made space for us in a communal movement.
On his knees in the middle of the floor, with his wrists bound at his back with rope and a ball gag in his mouth, a young man gazed with rapt attention at the woman standing before him. His cock was confined in a clear polycarbonate cock cage.
“Everyone, this is Jamie. Jamie, say hello to everyone.” The woman with whom Jamie was so entranced waved her hand in a gentle arc over the crowd of onlookers.
Jamie did as she’d asked, his words distorted by the gag.
The Domme was of average height, but her sense of bearing and her avant-garde appearance gave her the presence of someone taller. She was beautiful, with deep brown eyes and skin a shade or two lighter. Her close-cropped hair hugged her head in tight curls. She wore snug black jeans, black suede ankle boots with a sharp heel and a tunic top of some glittering metallic fabric with the sleeves rolled up. On her hands were delicate black leather gloves that stopped just at the edge of her narrow wrists.
“Get up.”
Jamie struggled to his feet, almost falling but recovering himself.
