Brat and Master (4 page)

“Mistress Elizabeth,” said Amanda when she got there. She curtsied.

“Hello, Amanda. Everything okay?”

Amanda knew why Betsy was asking. Amanda was one of the dungeon monitors at Excess, but she rarely intervened directly when she saw a problem. A lot of doms took it badly to have their scenes interrupted by someone they saw as a sub, although they’d take it from Gray or Elizabeth. Amanda could usually make them understand her authority if she needed to but not without making far more of a fuss than there would be if someone else intervened. If they were way out of line, Amanda took delight in dressing them down, but otherwise, she tended to pass problems on.

“The club seems to be running smoothly. I thought I’d try to see if one of the new people wanted to do a scene with me, though, so I’m going off duty, if that’s okay?”

Elizabeth smiled. “Of course it is.” She narrowed her eyes. “You usually prefer the more experienced dominants,” she observed.

That was true enough. Amanda liked people who knew what they were doing. But she was firmly fixed in the eyes of the regular doms in the club as a person who was fun to play with but who didn’t need to be cared for.
And maybe I don’t. But I want to have the possibility, just this once.
“Well, you know me. I like variety,” she said, using a light tone to mask the melancholy turn of her thoughts.

“Mhmm.” Betsy’s tone was noncommittal.

Amanda didn’t want to discuss it further. “Anyway, I had a favor to ask.”

“Sure, Amanda.”

“Don’t you want to know what it is first?”

“I trust you. What is it?”

Trust. How many times did doms tell her to trust them? But it was so rarely returned. “Well, just, if I’m playing with a novice…”

“You want someone to watch over you,” Betsy finished. “I’ll keep an eye out, and I’ll let Gray and Vincent know too. If you go into one of the side rooms, catch my eye first and make sure I know which one you’re going into, and we’ll keep checking in on you.”

Amanda hugged her. “Thanks, Betsy,” she murmured softly enough no one could hear. “I appreciate it.”

Betsy smiled. “Have fun, dear.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Amanda grinned and looked about. Her quarry, Jeremy, was leaning against the rail, watching a scene taking place on a big St. Andrew’s cross in the middle of the room. Master Imad had Sofia chained up and was applying fierce blows with a slender rattan cane, intermixed with soft caresses. The alternation between tenderness and brutality provided a stark contrast and had attracted a number of rapt observers, both new and experienced, some of whom looked horrified. Jeremy, on the other hand, looked only half-interested; he appeared to be neither repelled nor transfixed.

Amanda moved behind him. “What do you think of them?” she asked.

He looked up. “Ah, it’s you.”

Amanda raised her eyebrows. “Is that a good thing?”

In answer he moved a few inches, making room for her, and tapped the rail next to him in invitation. She took the place he offered.

“I think he’s very caring,” he said. “And the marks he’s making are going to stay with her for a while. I’m not sure I could use a cane in such a fashion.”

Ah, newbies.
Although he was a perceptive newbie. “Even if I—I mean, she—wanted to be marked?”

“There are marks, and there are marks. It’s a matter of degree. I presume if she didn’t want it, she’d use her safe word. But she’s clearly suffering; she’s not an out-and-out masochist. So yes, I presume she wants the marks. Still, he takes pleasure in it that I could not.”

Amanda nodded. One session with Imad had been enough for her. He was kind and considerate, but he was also a sexual sadist. Giving pain was what got him hard, and he made no apologies for it. The more it hurt, the more he liked it. Amanda liked intensity, but what gave Imad pleasure and what she enjoyed were too far apart for them to be good partners. She had to hand it to Imad, though. When he realized it wasn’t working, he’d made sure of her pleasure rather than his own. He deserved someone compatible.

“What
would
you take pleasure in?” she asked.

Jeremy turned to her, and she was struck by the sudden intensity of his gaze. “I’d like to bend you over my knee and spank you.”

“Oh.” She’d asked an abstract question, and he’d suddenly made it about him and her. An image of herself, ass skyward, flashed through her head. She waited.
He’ll turn away, shy when he doesn’t get an answer right away. And then I’ll tell him I’m interested.

But he didn’t.

“I meant in general,” she said.

“No you didn’t. You walked all the way around the room to talk to me.”

“You were watching me.”

“You’re a pleasure to watch.”

Amanda blushed. “Are you always so direct?”

“I don’t know.” He smiled. “It’s my first time, remember? But yeah, I’m straight with people. It saves a lot of trouble in the long run. What would you take pleasure in, Amanda?”

“Um. The spanking sounds good.”

She expected to find relief on his face, or excitement, but instead there was something unreadable.
He couldn’t have said it hoping I’d say no, could he?
But of course he could. He’s new. He’s not sure his desires are okay. I remember being uncertain once, half hoping that dates wouldn’t turn out to be all I fantasized about so I wouldn’t have to confront the reality that my wants were needs.

She’d run from herself several times after that, thinking she’d scratched a few items off her bucket list and now she could go back to being normal. Vanilla. But she knew now that it was a mistake, that kink was in her blood. And she wasn’t going to let him make the same mistake. “Let’s do it, then.”

He chuckled. “What? No negotiation, no discussion of limits?”

“You can touch me after if you want,” she said. “But no sex.” The thought of his fingers on her made her wet.

“No penetration of any kind.”

It sounded like a statement, but it had to be a question. “Fingers would be okay.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I have limits too.”

That didn’t sound like a personal limit to her. That sounded like the sort of limit a man had when they had another partner at home. “Are you married? Seeing someone?” It wasn’t a deal breaker for her, if he’d been given permission by his partner, but how to be sure of that? Guys would say all sorts of things.

He frowned, and then his face went blank. “No. Widowed. No other partners.”

She’d touched a sore point. “How long has she been gone?”

“Three years. We’re not talking about her.” His face softened. “This is about us, and a moment.” He reached up and put his hand toward her face, and then stopped. “May I touch you?”

She could almost feel his hand against her cheek already, it was so close. A moment. She was good at living life for the moment, especially at Excess. She nodded, wanting to feel his hand, afraid to reveal too much or too little of desire with her voice.

His fingers started at her temple and feathered across her cheek to the edge of her lips, his pinky tracing the line of her jaw. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. He touched her with total concentration, as if there was no bustling of half-dressed people around them, no scream at the strike of a cane. She couldn’t filter out all the distractions, but it was clear that he was utterly focused. His gaze was intense, demanding her attention as well.

A simple touch shouldn’t be so powerful.

He turned his hand, caressing her cheek with the knuckles this time. She shivered.

“Your reactions are beautiful, Amanda.”

“I don’t usually react this way. You’ve barely touched me.”
And I want more.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. She opened her mouth, expecting him to deepen the kiss, but instead he pulled back, regret and desire mixing on his face. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“This is a lot to take in.”

She nodded. Maybe he was distracted by everything after all. She couldn’t blame him. She had a hard time being completely focused at Excess, and she was used to the place. For a newcomer, it was overwhelming. She wanted him to take charge, but it was unfair of her. “I could show you around more, if you want. Introduce you to the owners. It’s a lot to deal with your first time. Just—”

“Just what?” He looked amused.

“Just don’t forget that you’re going to spank me.”

He chuckled. “Have you been a bad girl, Amanda?”

Her mind flashed to all the things she’d done, all the people she’d played with. “Oh, you have no idea.” She didn’t think having so much sex was truly wrong, but it didn’t matter. She loved to pretend she was being punished. If it made him hot too, so much the better. Some of the more jaded doms didn’t bother with a rationale for a scene. For them it was all about technique. She didn’t expect much technique from Jeremy, but if he made up for it with enthusiasm, she’d be satisfied. Besides, she could always offer helpful hints.

I can train him.
It wasn’t a very submissive thought. It was followed by a darker one. The old club owner, Vincent, had trained her once. As with everyone he trained, until he met Susan, he gave her up once his work was done.
If I train Jeremy, am I going to just be giving some other woman a good time, without anything for myself?

“I think I do,” he said drily. “By all means, show me around.”

They walked about, looking at scenes. Amanda gave him a running commentary. Jeremy asked the occasional innocent question. The knee-weakening moment of his touch was gone, and Amanda was back in charge, in her comfort zone. As she led him into the dungeon room, she yearned to feel that intensity again.

Lord Kelvin—not his real name—was doing fire play with Eric, another one of the regulars. They were doing it on a table that was set up to look like a medieval rack. “It looks dangerous, but it only burns for a moment,” Amanda said as Kelvin’s hand smothered a line of burning alcohol on Eric’s back. “It doesn’t even feel as scary as wax. Looks great, though.”

“It
does
look great,” Jeremy agreed. “Would you rather have your top make what he’s doing with you look great or feel great?”

For a newbie, it was an insightful question, she thought. “It depends.” She’d loved a few scenes she’d done that were just for show. She didn’t feel she looked that great most of the time. If a dom could bring that out, it could be wonderful, but she knew why a lot of doms concentrated on how it looked. They wanted other people to want to play with them. There was nothing wrong with that, but she didn’t want that from Jeremy.
For a while, I want to have him to myself. I’ll release him when I’m done. Oooh, that wasn’t a very submissive thought, either.

“What does it depend on?”

“On whether there’s someone else I’d rather be playing with than the dom I’m with.”

“Would you rather be playing with someone else, Amanda?”

That was direct.
“If I say yes, you’ll leave, won’t you? You’ve got to have a thicker skin than that.” Her default position was that she wanted to play with the best doms. Gray or Vincent or Betsy. But Vincent was totally unavailable these days, and time with Gray and Betsy was very hard to come by as well.

“I won’t leave. I just want to know.”

She didn’t have anyone she’d rather play with. She wanted, this once, to have at least the illusion there might be something more going on than the physical. With Jeremy, maybe she’d have it. Who knew what could develop. It seemed unlikely, but with a man who touched with that much intent, anything was possible.

“No. Not right now.”
I ought to play more hard to get than that.
“You suit my mood of the moment. Here, I think the caning is done, and Madam Ayako is going to do a suspension scene in the middle of the club. She’s incredible with rope. You should—”

She left the room while she was talking and walked toward the rail. Suddenly he stopped her with an arm around her waist. She shrieked as he pulled her back to him. She was aware of people turning to see what the noise was about.

“We’re done sightseeing,” he murmured fiercely. He picked her up off the floor, making her feel suddenly weightless.

He was in control. Her heart raced, and her skin tingled. A moment of fear was quickly doused be the fact that Betsy and the others were looking out for her. The worst that would happen was an uncomfortable scene as a result of him not knowing what he was doing.

He took her toward a table where there was one empty chair. When she saw who was there, she froze. Percival was talking to Lucy. The music shifted from soft, ethereal trance to driving, electronic body music, and the two leaned close to carry on what appeared to be an intimate conversation.

Lucy looked up. “Hey, Amanda.” Lucy’s dark hair was cut straight across her forehead in Bettie Page-like bangs. Amanda was surprised by the greeting, because she’d gotten the impression Lucy regarded her as unwelcome competition. She wondered what had provoked the change. Percival, on the other hand, glared at her.

She supposed she might as well make the best of it. “Jeremy, this is Sir Percival and his submissive, Lucy. Sir Percival, Lucy, this is Jeremy.” She wanted to make it clear to Lucy she acknowledged the woman’s claim to her man, even more so than the other way.

“Pleased to meet you both,” said Jeremy. “Mind if we take this chair?”

“Feel free,” said Lucy, but Percival glared.

Jeremy picked up on it too. “I’m going to move it away,” he said.

Percival nodded, clearly mollified but not entirely willing to give up on his scowl. He was apparently still in a bad mood.
Well, Lucy and he will have to work it out themselves. It doesn’t have to become my business at all.

“Thanks,” said Jeremy as if Percival had been perfectly gracious. He grabbed the chair with his free hand, spun it around, and headed back to the rail, his hand still wrapped around Amanda’s waist. He set down the chair about eighteen inches from the rail and then leaned over toward Amanda. “You seemed on edge there for a moment. You okay?”

He’d noticed. She smiled. “Just didn’t want to get involved in their drama.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.”