week."
She stood and took a step away, rubbing her behind as the shirt settled back in place.
"Until then…" He grinned and gestured toward the door.
Pink-cheeked, she slid into the overcoat Trey had tossed on the bed and headed for the door. Trey moved aside as she passed. Her perfume inflamed his senses almost as much as her appearance. It was going to be tough to have much self-control that evening.
* * *
Liv had been to hundreds of parties as part of her job. She attended a much smaller subset because she liked the people involved. In the case of the BDSM Boot Camp opening party, she didn't know quite how to prepare herself. Trey was with her, and she was confident that if she hated the experience, he'd take her back to her cabin and say a polite goodnight. Of course, it would be goodnight forever.
Hopefully, they wouldn't have to go there. Liv intended to do her part to make their evening a success…even if that meant stretching herself into new experiences.
Out of consideration for Liv's towering footwear, Trey drove them to the convention center in his truck. He explained that the building used to be the family's house, but had been renovated to suit the Boot Camp requirements.
It was a sprawling two-story brick ranch house, with white trim. As promised, two security men stood at the front door, checking people's invitations as they arrived. They were not uniformed, but their size was plenty intimidating. They knew Trey on sight and addressed him as "Mr. Journey" though they stumbled over "Mr." as if they normally called him something else.
There was a little foyer inside, with scuffed parquet flooring and freshly painted pale cream walls. A large gilt-framed mirror made the small space seem bigger and gave guests a chance to have a quick look at themselves before entering the main room.
Liv took a look at her reflection. She was not wind-mussed, but she did feel butterflies. She had a momentary chill when the heavy overcoat was lifted off her shoulders by a woman wearing a lacy teddy and a lot of cheap perfume. The cold sensation was compounded by the fact that she wore no underwear. The pinstriped oxford shirt she wore with a loosely-knotted necktie, was starch-slick against her scorched bottom, and rubbed sensuously against her nipples. She worried that her imperfect body was too accessible, too easily exposed to all these people. She worried that the people would be weird and repugnant. That she would be repugnant. Her hands grew clammy with anxiety. Despite it all, she put on her best smile and followed Trey through the foyer and into a warm welcome.
There were about fifty people there and many large pieces of equipment. Liv didn't know what each piece was used for, but she was willing to be educated—academically, at least. Small groups were gathered in several scene areas. A woman was suspended on what must be an x-frame, her bare back lightly striped. There was a man behind her with a multi-tailed whip. A clutch of people were watching and chatting.
Nearly everyone knew Trey, of course. The men—largely dressed in jeans and dress shirts, or sometimes in leather pants—patted him on the shoulder, and the women, dressed in bright latex or silk and looking like tropical birds, turned their eyes down toward his boots and called him sir.
For Liv, the kind of respect he garnered was not particularly surprising, but the way it was shown was an eye-opener. Was she supposed to be avoiding eye contact with these unknown men as well? They looked respect-worthy, but how could she know? Didn't they have to earn her respect? She'd never demurred from a strange man in her life.
Trey introduced her around, telling his friends that she was new to BDSM and "untrained." Whatever that meant.
A slightly older man, his rugged features so similar to Trey's that they had to be related, was the last to greet them.
"Little brother! I was beginnin' to wonder if y'all had gotten lost on the way to the party." He smiled
She stood and took a step away, rubbing her behind as the shirt settled back in place.
"Until then…" He grinned and gestured toward the door.
Pink-cheeked, she slid into the overcoat Trey had tossed on the bed and headed for the door. Trey moved aside as she passed. Her perfume inflamed his senses almost as much as her appearance. It was going to be tough to have much self-control that evening.
* * *
Liv had been to hundreds of parties as part of her job. She attended a much smaller subset because she liked the people involved. In the case of the BDSM Boot Camp opening party, she didn't know quite how to prepare herself. Trey was with her, and she was confident that if she hated the experience, he'd take her back to her cabin and say a polite goodnight. Of course, it would be goodnight forever.
Hopefully, they wouldn't have to go there. Liv intended to do her part to make their evening a success…even if that meant stretching herself into new experiences.
Out of consideration for Liv's towering footwear, Trey drove them to the convention center in his truck. He explained that the building used to be the family's house, but had been renovated to suit the Boot Camp requirements.
It was a sprawling two-story brick ranch house, with white trim. As promised, two security men stood at the front door, checking people's invitations as they arrived. They were not uniformed, but their size was plenty intimidating. They knew Trey on sight and addressed him as "Mr. Journey" though they stumbled over "Mr." as if they normally called him something else.
There was a little foyer inside, with scuffed parquet flooring and freshly painted pale cream walls. A large gilt-framed mirror made the small space seem bigger and gave guests a chance to have a quick look at themselves before entering the main room.
Liv took a look at her reflection. She was not wind-mussed, but she did feel butterflies. She had a momentary chill when the heavy overcoat was lifted off her shoulders by a woman wearing a lacy teddy and a lot of cheap perfume. The cold sensation was compounded by the fact that she wore no underwear. The pinstriped oxford shirt she wore with a loosely-knotted necktie, was starch-slick against her scorched bottom, and rubbed sensuously against her nipples. She worried that her imperfect body was too accessible, too easily exposed to all these people. She worried that the people would be weird and repugnant. That she would be repugnant. Her hands grew clammy with anxiety. Despite it all, she put on her best smile and followed Trey through the foyer and into a warm welcome.
There were about fifty people there and many large pieces of equipment. Liv didn't know what each piece was used for, but she was willing to be educated—academically, at least. Small groups were gathered in several scene areas. A woman was suspended on what must be an x-frame, her bare back lightly striped. There was a man behind her with a multi-tailed whip. A clutch of people were watching and chatting.
Nearly everyone knew Trey, of course. The men—largely dressed in jeans and dress shirts, or sometimes in leather pants—patted him on the shoulder, and the women, dressed in bright latex or silk and looking like tropical birds, turned their eyes down toward his boots and called him sir.
For Liv, the kind of respect he garnered was not particularly surprising, but the way it was shown was an eye-opener. Was she supposed to be avoiding eye contact with these unknown men as well? They looked respect-worthy, but how could she know? Didn't they have to earn her respect? She'd never demurred from a strange man in her life.
Trey introduced her around, telling his friends that she was new to BDSM and "untrained." Whatever that meant.
A slightly older man, his rugged features so similar to Trey's that they had to be related, was the last to greet them.
"Little brother! I was beginnin' to wonder if y'all had gotten lost on the way to the party." He smiled
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