Page 30 of What About Love

With his hand at her lower back, he guided her from the entryway, which resembled more of an alcove, to the top of the short set of steps that led down to the main floor. There he paused, letting her take it all in.

Although she’d been there twice before, Dan had only given her a brief tour, the sizeable crowd keeping her from much of anything. Tonight, the bar and lounge were overflowing, leaving the playroom practically empty. In the immense space, the equipment was so plentiful, it would take her hours to absorb it all, from the padded benches and tables, to the wooden crosses, and dozens of other strange-looking devices, the purpose for which she could only guess at.

A bare-chested man walked by wearing only black pants. Following a step behind him was a woman in a black corset and nothing else. It started below her breasts and ended at her hips, so everything showed. Looking around at the few other women who were in only cuffs and a collar, she felt woefully overdressed.

Her hand rose, first touching the thin leather collar he’d buckled around her throat when he picked her up earlier. Then it fell to her dress, which T had picked out along with the shoes. It was black in honor of LBD Wednesday and made of a shiny clingy material that hugged her hourglass shape, but it covered the important parts. It had thin straps and a modestly draped neckline. From the front, the little black dress looked like something she could wear out to dinner and no one would bat an eye. From the back, maybe not because there wasn’t one. The straps reached to a deeper drape at the small of her back. It was tasteful, almost prim, for which she was grateful.

T’s taste ran more to sexy elegance, while Dan’s was more like trashy chic. Remembering her short purple skirt and how her breasts had been on the verge of bursting out of her top both nights, she amended that to just trashy.

With his hand riding low on her back, his pinky dipping beneath the drape and grazing the uppermost curve of her ass, T guided her down the steps and onto the main floor.

“Skipping the show worked well for us,” he said, glancing around. “With everyone crowding the bar and lounge to see Elena, we have our pick of stations.”

“Lucky us,” Angie deadpanned.

“Most doms don’t appreciate sarcasm. It’s usually rewarded with prompt retribution,” he advised in warning. “If you relax, you’ll get more out of the lessons I have planned.”

Relax...right. She rolled her eyes. Easy for him to say, since he wouldn’t be on the receiving end.

“Uh-uh! Eye rolling is another definite no-no. Didn’t Master Dan teach you about basic respect?”

“He did. I guess I forgot now that it’s show time.”

“As soon as we enter the club, whether here or in LA—” He pounded his fist against his chest and grunted, “Me dominant.” Rotating his hand, he poked two fingers lightly against her chest and finished, “You submissive.”

She smothered a grin at his Tarzan impersonation and quipped, “Ah, so that’s what the T stands for.”

“Come. Jane,” he ordered, in the same king of the jungle manner. “Me want to play.”

The cross he led her to stood at least eight feet tall. It was black, thickly padded, and scared the crap out of her. He positioned her facing it then moved in behind her, towering over her as he enveloped her in his arms. With his chin, he brushed the hair away from her neck, his warm breath fanning across her cheek and ear, sending a shiver coursing through her.

“We’ll go nice and slow tonight. You don’t worry about anything except the sound of my voice and responding to my commands.”

He eased away, his fingers slipping beneath the straps at her shoulders and easing them down. She stiffened, opening her mouth to protest. Without the dress, she’d be naked without even the skimpy lace thong Dan had allowed. She’d be more exposed than on the bench, for all to see.

T sensed her distress and was quick to reassure her. “Easy, little bit. We’ll start out facing the cross. No one will see anything other than your lovely backside. I’m going to touch you—everywhere—but I won’t do more unless you ask me to.”

Lulled by his deep, seductive voice, she wasn’t aware he’d lowered the straps further until her dress fell with a whoosh to her feet.

“Step out,” he ordered, his sultry tone unchanged.

She obeyed without question, though her hands rose instinctively to cover her breasts.

He didn’t say a word as he stooped to pick up her dress and drape it over a small table nearby. As she watched, Angie noticed a black bag lying open on the same table. She’d seen other doms, including Dan, carry a bag like his, filled with BDSM toys. It seemed odd to call whips and canes toys.

A leather-wrapped handle was sticking out of the top. Was it the paddle he’d mentioned earlier?

“Where did the bag come from?”

“An attendant brought it to me.”

“I didn’t see you ask anyone for it.”

“That’s because I didn’t have to. Our attendants are efficient, silent and nearly invisible. Besides, owners’ needs are anticipated. It’s one of the many perks.”

“I bet,” she stated vaguely, her focus fixed on the handle. “Are you going to spank me with what’s in your bag?” she asked abruptly, needing to know with an urgency bordering on desperation what lay ahead for her.

“Sir.”

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