outburst, Sir.”
“Accepted, my girl.” Franz threw a grin at Max. “Guess we’ll both have our hands full tonight, buddy.”
The pronouncement actually gusted Dan with relief. He’d bit off more than he could chew tonight. Mix, mingle, and make-nicey were normally smack-dab in his wheelhouse but that was in another life, a Dan with another face—a guy who’d walk into a club as incredible as this and barely pause at the bar, let alone think of camping out at it all night, nursing good Scotch and Shazzam-ing tunes from the stream of sensual EDM flowing from the speakers. By this point, he’d have a sweet subbie writhing under his ropes as he contemplated which flogger would make her screams the loudest, her pussy the wettest…
Fuck.
He was going to need a lot more Scotch.
But wondered why Max contemplated the bottle with equal intensity. “Go have your fun, dude,” he told Franz. “I think I’ll be pulling public duty for a few more hours tonight, at least.”
“Huh?” Franz volleyed. “Why?”
“We have a new girl in the house.”
He nodded toward the second living room area that the bar overlooked. Both spaces were crowded tonight, lots of people hanging out in couples or small groups, chatting or snacking before deciding what playrooms they’d be going to. In general, the crowd struck Dan as experienced and informed—not that newbs had the word stamped on their forehead—but there was a nervous energy that first-timers to the scene usually gave off, especially women. It made them as detectable as cheese to rats—a perfect comparison, since that was usually how the Doms in the room behaved once the chase was on.
Dan gazed across both rooms again. No swarming rats yet though there was a lone figure, sitting in a wingback chair, at the back of the second room. From here, she could only be viewed from mid-torso down. And damn, what a torso it was. Even half her cleavage was a pleasure, imagining how high and pert her tits likely were, spilling from her red latex corset. Delicate tattoos feathered from her bare shoulders to just above her elbows. Her stiff forearms led to the tight clasp of her hands in her lap—perhaps because she knew that from there down, the ensemble needed an overhaul. As in, huge. Where the hell had she gotten that black lace skirt? Its layers looked more Dolly Parton than dolly kinky, stopping at the tops of lace-up boots that looked like she’d really tromped across the desert to get here tonight.
“What the hell?” Dan groused.
“Right?” It came from Tamago, who glanced up at Max for the clearance to say more. When he nodded, she went on, “After Master gave her the orientation three nights ago, I tried talking to her about the Little Match Girl look. She’s been too nervous to give it up.”
“Too nervous ?” Dan echoed.
“She won’t come out and say it.” Tamago shrugged. “But a girl knows when another girl says she’s ‘fine’ and means it—and when she doesn’t.”
“Is she in the right place?” he inquired. “She had orientation three nights ago?”
“And keeps coming back,” Max filled in. “And just sitting in that same chair.”
“And not a single Dom’s requested her?”
Tamago offered, “Well, she also insists on the mask.”
“The—” Dan couldn’t help his double-take. “There’s a mask involved, too?
“Well, it’s a super pretty mask.”
“Pretty or not, she’s a bank of virgin snow at this.” Which had its own set of plusses and minuses, though the mask clearly belonged in the latter column. “How’s a Dom supposed to read her if she’s wearing a damn mask?”
Max spoke for everyone with his weighted exhalation. “Now you know why I’m a little uppity.”
“Uppity?” Franz grunted. “You did not just say ‘uppity.’”
Max rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have a subbie to flog?”
Franz’s lips lifted again. “Now that you mention it…” He shoved to his feet. “You all know where I’ll
“Accepted, my girl.” Franz threw a grin at Max. “Guess we’ll both have our hands full tonight, buddy.”
The pronouncement actually gusted Dan with relief. He’d bit off more than he could chew tonight. Mix, mingle, and make-nicey were normally smack-dab in his wheelhouse but that was in another life, a Dan with another face—a guy who’d walk into a club as incredible as this and barely pause at the bar, let alone think of camping out at it all night, nursing good Scotch and Shazzam-ing tunes from the stream of sensual EDM flowing from the speakers. By this point, he’d have a sweet subbie writhing under his ropes as he contemplated which flogger would make her screams the loudest, her pussy the wettest…
Fuck.
He was going to need a lot more Scotch.
But wondered why Max contemplated the bottle with equal intensity. “Go have your fun, dude,” he told Franz. “I think I’ll be pulling public duty for a few more hours tonight, at least.”
“Huh?” Franz volleyed. “Why?”
“We have a new girl in the house.”
He nodded toward the second living room area that the bar overlooked. Both spaces were crowded tonight, lots of people hanging out in couples or small groups, chatting or snacking before deciding what playrooms they’d be going to. In general, the crowd struck Dan as experienced and informed—not that newbs had the word stamped on their forehead—but there was a nervous energy that first-timers to the scene usually gave off, especially women. It made them as detectable as cheese to rats—a perfect comparison, since that was usually how the Doms in the room behaved once the chase was on.
Dan gazed across both rooms again. No swarming rats yet though there was a lone figure, sitting in a wingback chair, at the back of the second room. From here, she could only be viewed from mid-torso down. And damn, what a torso it was. Even half her cleavage was a pleasure, imagining how high and pert her tits likely were, spilling from her red latex corset. Delicate tattoos feathered from her bare shoulders to just above her elbows. Her stiff forearms led to the tight clasp of her hands in her lap—perhaps because she knew that from there down, the ensemble needed an overhaul. As in, huge. Where the hell had she gotten that black lace skirt? Its layers looked more Dolly Parton than dolly kinky, stopping at the tops of lace-up boots that looked like she’d really tromped across the desert to get here tonight.
“What the hell?” Dan groused.
“Right?” It came from Tamago, who glanced up at Max for the clearance to say more. When he nodded, she went on, “After Master gave her the orientation three nights ago, I tried talking to her about the Little Match Girl look. She’s been too nervous to give it up.”
“Too nervous ?” Dan echoed.
“She won’t come out and say it.” Tamago shrugged. “But a girl knows when another girl says she’s ‘fine’ and means it—and when she doesn’t.”
“Is she in the right place?” he inquired. “She had orientation three nights ago?”
“And keeps coming back,” Max filled in. “And just sitting in that same chair.”
“And not a single Dom’s requested her?”
Tamago offered, “Well, she also insists on the mask.”
“The—” Dan couldn’t help his double-take. “There’s a mask involved, too?
“Well, it’s a super pretty mask.”
“Pretty or not, she’s a bank of virgin snow at this.” Which had its own set of plusses and minuses, though the mask clearly belonged in the latter column. “How’s a Dom supposed to read her if she’s wearing a damn mask?”
Max spoke for everyone with his weighted exhalation. “Now you know why I’m a little uppity.”
“Uppity?” Franz grunted. “You did not just say ‘uppity.’”
Max rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have a subbie to flog?”
Franz’s lips lifted again. “Now that you mention it…” He shoved to his feet. “You all know where I’ll
Similar Books
