Page 140 of Naughty Dreams
“Just remember, her husband can cut you up with his table saw.”
“She told me I’m bisexual but homo-monogamous,” DJ assured him. “That my heart belongs to a man.”
“Anyone I know?”
“I’ll let you guess.” DJ backpedaled, encouraging Roy to chase after him. His bodyguard would never do anything so undignified, but he caught up with DJ when the press of people slowed him down. Then gave him one of those bruising pinches on his ass that made him yelp. The man had to have crab in his DNA.
Before he could retaliate, they were in the stairwell and Roy pushed him against the wall, taking him over with a kiss before brushing a hand along DJ’s jaw.
“I was on my best behavior with Alan,” DJ informed him. “I waited to misbehave until you were present, because I knew you wouldn’t want to miss it.”
Roy rolled his eyes and gave DJ a shove to start them up the stairs together.
The third level was mostly whip play tonight, though the flash of flame at the far end suggested fire play might be happening there. Observers for the whip areas moved along perimeters marked by tape to keep them out of range of the throws.
DJ watched one man smoothly and continuously popping the fall over his submissive’s shoulders. Her wrists and ankles were bound to a cross to keep her range of motion limited, but she also wore a head mask with D-rings in front of the ear holes. The slim rope running through them had been attached to the cross to keep her facing forward.
“It’s protection for her,” Roy explained. “If she turns toward him when he’s not expecting it, he could strike her face.”
DJ had considered this kind of whipping academically, but it was different to see it firsthand, people dishing out pain, other people wanting it. Plus the one dishing out the pain being so careful not to cause the wrong kinds of pain, break the trust intrinsic to reaching those deeper levels.
The snap of the whips, the rush of sound, could become part of the music. The drums would start it off, and the guitar would reach down, like a strong Dom’s hand between the legs, stroking, arousing and bringing the beat into the overall rhythm.
Sy and Trey were part of this world, too. They would understand.
DJ took his notebook out and started scribbling. While he did, Roy’s eyes rested on DJ like a touch. When DJ pushed the notebook and pen back into his pocket, he met Roy’s burning gaze. His Master liked seeing him create, and that alone made him want to do it more.
They stopped at a scene where the sub restrained himself without bonds, gripping the handles embedded in the two top pieces of an X frame. His legs were spread to match the width of the bottom pieces. Since he was facing outward, the position kept his arms out of the way. His Dom was wrapping a thin chain around his cock.
Tightening it as he went, he made sure each wrap was against the next without pinching, from balls to just under the crown. He held it in place with a clamp, then attached the length left over to a bead at the end of his bottom’s cock. The bead marked the presence of a urethral sound.
Before he attached it, the Dom had strung several fishing weights on the chain, as well as a cluster of feathers. The weights pulled his cock down while the feathers tickled his thighs and testicles. The sub was licking his lips, face tight as he tried not to move. He was obviously suffering, but also wanting to stay right where he was.
Since canes in a variety of colors and thicknesses were laid out on a nearby table, DJ suspected this was just the beginning of the scene.
“That wrapping thing would be easy to do in our hotel room.” Roy startled DJ with a proprietary stroke of his cock over the front of his jeans, the heel of his hand making DJ push into his touch and swallow a groan. “I’ve seen it done with wire, too. As the cock gets harder, the wire can cut in, making the sub suffer more, even as he wants more. Depending on how his head space is with pain and pleasure. What do you think, DJ?”
“I…fucking hell.” DJ’s head dropped back on Roy’s shoulder. Roy’s other hand clamped over his throat.
“I asked you a question, boy. You better answer your Master.”
“Yes,” DJ managed. “Anything you want to do. Yes.”
Roy stroked DJ’s pounding pulse. “A Master likes it when his sub loses his mind enough to say something unwise. It’s all right, though. You’re always safe with me, DJ.”
It was amazing how powerful those words were, when they weren’t lust-fueled platitudes. Living up to them was the core of who Roy was. Even so…DJ knew it meant more with him. He wanted it to mean more with him.
In this moment, DJ existed only for his Master. He hungered for his mouth, for his touch to always be on DJ’s skin. “I’m here for you. Whatever you want and need, Sir.”
“Soon.” Roy’s voice was husky as he nudged DJ onward.
They found Logan. The hardware store owner wore jeans, boots and a T-shirt that clung in dedicated worship to his shoulders and chest. He looked as testosterone-fueled and edible as the last time DJ had seen him. Since he was holding a whip, it furthered the fantasy.
Madison was perched on a tall stool as she watched Logan instruct another Dom in the whip’s use. The Dom’s sub was nearby, bound to another X-frame and trembling with anticipation for the first kiss of the whip.
Madison had been easy to find, in a purple skirt with insets of orange fabric. Shot with shiny ruby-colored threads, they looked like flame rippling across a purple field when she moved. Her tunic top clung to her generous breasts and fluttered over her hips. Amber earrings dangled from her lobes.
The slim collar she’d worn at the shop, the one with the heart-shaped lock, drew the eye. In this place, it was the central and most important thing she wore.
