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“Uh, oh, damn it, I’m not sure. I forgot to ask.”
I’d been so irritated when I left the table that I’d just jumped to my feet and took off. Most Doms didn’t drink alcohol when they played, though. Did that mean I should get sodas? Water?
“Well,” Lawrence said, “usually Master James drinks Diet Coke, and so does his sub. Your Master likes sparkling water.”
“Oh. Thanks, Lawrence. You’re a lifesaver. I guess I’ll try that then. Just a bottle of plain, old water for me though.”
“Coming right up,” he said, and turned to get the drinks. I probably should have gone back to check that order with “my Master,” but I couldn’t face the walk of shame back to that table. Lawrence put the drinks on a tray, and I thanked him again profusely and headed back.
When I arrived, I managed to put the drinks on the table without spilling anything—a minor miracle in itself, considering how awkward I’d been accused of being, and then I lowered myself to the floor beside Michael again. I went in a little too hot, though, bumping my knee on the floor, which made me grunt in pain and elicited a little worried frown from Michael. Hell, I’d been proud I’d managed not to curse. The other sub smirked before settling himself more comfortably against his Master’s knee. I decided I truly hated him.
I made the mistake of reaching for my water and got my hand slapped for my trouble. Instead, Michael held it up to my mouth for me to take a sip.
“That’s my job,” he told me. “Just tell me if you need a sip,” he whispered to me. I felt like my face was about to burn off. He tipped it up against my mouth, but I didn’t get it open in time, and then I started to cough and spilled most of it down my chest. Michael had to beat me on the back so I wouldn’t choke. He rolled his eyes a little.
“We haven’t seen your flogging techniques lately, Michael,” Master James was saying, interrupting my little drama. “How about a demonstration with your new sub?”
Before I could totally panic and choke to death on my tongue, Michael shook his head. “No. Cruz isn’t ready for that yet. Maybe some other time.”
“Use my sub then. Toby loves to be flogged, don’t you Toby?”
The little brunette batted his eyelashes at Michael. “Oh yes. Please, Master Michael.”
Michael shook his head again, so I chimed in. “You should, Sir,” I said, putting my two cents worth in.
He gave me a long look of disapproval for weighing in, but I could see in his eyes he wanted to flog Toby. So did I, for that matter, but that was beside the point. I tried a little smile to show him I meant well, and he got to his feet. “All right then. Let’s go.”
We all stood up and followed Michael as he went to the main play area, known as the dungeon room. The clank of chains, the sound of leather slapping against skin and the occasional gasp or cry filled the air. It was dimly lit in the dungeon room, which totally suited the dark vibe in my opinion. Totally suited my thoughts too.
Michael had stopped in front of a St. Andrew’s cross, and he and Master James got busy attaching the cuffs to Toby’s slim wrists and ankles. He seemed to lap up the attention he was receiving like a little poodle.
I stood back a little from the front, not really wanting to see Michael give this man what he could never give me, and what I wouldn’t even allow him to try on me anyway. A small crowd was beginning to gather to watch, and James, who left to go get his own floggers, since Michael hadn’t brought his that evening, passed me by with a mean, little smile. Fucker.
Meanwhile, Michael was fiddling with the restraints, bending down to speak in Toby’s ear and being solicitous and professional and far too intimate. I hated it.
James arrived back with his floggers, which all looked about the same to me, but Michael looked them over and seemed to debate the merits of each one. Finally, he selected one. I had a vague feeling of impending disaster as I stood there and watched, somehow knowing that this might change everything. Michael looked excited and happy and when he finally began, he made it look effortless from the beginning.
The tails of the flogger flew over Toby’s back, falling in a wild and intricate rhythm that was really something to see. I could finally understand why everyone thought Michael was so good at this. Toby’s body relaxed into deep surrender, probably not even aware of the noises he was making, low moaning sounds of pleasure and submission. They were absolutely decadent. And for a while that’s all that could be heard—Toby’s sounds under the slap and swish of the leather falls.
Michael stopped for a moment to add the other flogger to his routine, and he glanced over at me for a moment. His eyes were glowing and aroused. A fine bead of sweat had formed on his brow, and he turned back eagerly to have another chance at Toby’s glistening, beautiful, reddened skin. He bent and said something else in Toby’s ear and Toby smiled up at him bravely. It was almost unbearable for me to watch.
As Michael began to wield the flogger again, I quietly took a step backward, melting into the small crowd. And then I took another… and another. Finally, I turned and walked out of that dungeon. Pretty soon, I was running, because I didn’t belong there, and I knew with sudden clarity that I had just been fooling myself.
I never would. There was no use pretending any longer that I ever did, or that I could ever give Michael what he needed.
Chapter Eleven
The problem with making a dramatic exit is that you must have a clear destination in mind, or you just stand there dithering and wringing your hands and looking foolish. I had no clue where to go.
If I went to get changed into my other clothes, Michael would know exactly where to find me in minutes if he came looking, and I simply wasn’t up to a long heartfelt discussion. Not just then. I simply couldn’t face him at the moment. Even if I made it out of there before he found me, where could I possibly go that he wouldn’t track me down eventually? My apartment would be the first place he’d look, and I didn’t have the money for a hotel.
What I wanted more than anything was a dark room, Fozzy and maybe my thumb, but that just wasn’t going to happen. My things were tucked away in a bag inside a closet at Michael’s condo, so they might as well have been on the moon. I settled for a bathroom stall to hide in. Once I thought I heard someone come in quickly and check the stalls, but I had my feet raised up and kept as quiet as I could. They finally left.
I was heartsick and sad, and I needed comfort, because in my mind, at least, I’d just lost the most important person in my life. Oh, Michael would say all the right things when I saw him. He would try to comfort me and tell me I misinterpreted what I’d seen and that he didn’t have to have that in his life if I objected that strongly to it. He’d also say I rushed to a decision, and I guess I did. But I’d seen his face, and that look in his eyes and I knew better.
On the other hand, it could go the other way, and Michael could tell me he’d basically had enough. He could say that he needed a sub who was a real submissive and not just playing at it. That he felt disrespected as a Dom and that if I couldn’t trust him with my real feelings, then we had nothing between us.
The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that he would say exactly that.
