Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I glanced around me as a rush of agreement came from the Tops, and a nervous laugh traveled through the groups of subbies. Cute.
“No, this is where you actually answer.” That was Walker, and his low voice commanded so much obedience that even I stood straighter. Jesus Christ, man.
“We’re clear!” someone called.
“Clearer than pre-come!”
I snorted at Noa’s comment. He sure knew how to break the ice, that boy.
The attention went back to Lucian after that, and he dove right back into the topic of posture and various positions. The intentional discomfort and endurance training that’d been mentioned before apparently excited a lot of Doms in the house. Through painful positions, Masters could challenge their subs to, basically, suffer for their Owners.
I understood the concept, much like I understood masochists suffering for their Sadists, but it wasn’t my thing. Hell, I didn’t even view myself as a Sadist, and I loved to incorporate pain in my play. I supposed, if I were to get technical, that made me a sadomasochist, since I wanted to apply it as much as I wanted to receive it. Not for the pain itself, though, but for how it fueled me. And, honestly, for how necessary it was for the kinks I enjoyed, like primal play, CNC, and so on. Kinda hard to engage in rape play without force, unless we entered the somnophilia kink.
At least here, I knew Lane and I were on the same page. He was as reluctant as me to use labels, and when it came to active playtime, we wanted fewer rules, not more.
The dynamic between Rio and Chelsea was beautiful as hell, but fucking Christ, they were next level. Using only hand signals, taps, and an actual clicker for dogs, Rio demonstrated a bunch of positions Chelsea had learned, seemingly one for every ritual they had.
The layout of Rio’s demo itself was more structured than anything I’d seen in a long time. One ritual, one pose, one rule. The coming-home ritual—for when Rio came home from work. Yeah, its own ritual. Chelsea had a pose for how she greeted her Master at the door.
“As for the next rule. Being a TPE slave is my girl’s way to de-stress and shut out the rest of the world, so the moment we enter a kink space, I put her on speech restrictions to make her world even smaller. Her focus is on me and only me.”
I drained my drink and contemplated watching the rest of the show between my fingers. Holy hell, was I out of place here tonight. I respected their lifestyle—I really fucking did—but when I tried to picture myself doing that with Lane…? Sweet mother of something, I just… The boy would take a swing at me, and I’d let him. Just imagining pointing a clicker in his face or having him parade around me like a show dog.
At the same time, I mean, it certainly fit those two, and they didn’t make it look ridiculous. I just saw a young woman devoted and dedicated to following and obeying, and he was clearly treasuring her submission. So fine. But for me? Fucking hell, no.
Rio went on to another ritual—cigar service—and in the middle of it all, I caught Colt glancing my way with a dumb smirk. Yeah, he knew what was going through my mind.
I coughed to hide a chuckle and then composed my face. Walker was coming up, and I definitely wanted to hear what he had to say.
To sum up my opinion on Rio and Chelsea, I could only say I admired their self-discipline. It was clear that they absolutely loved their core kink, not to mention how much they adored each other. This was their lifestyle. I just couldn’t relate one bit, and that was okay.
Lucian and Cam were more focused on domestic servitude—though, they had their fair share of rituals and poses—and the domestic part made things more relatable. Probably because I could see Lane’s needs easier in that arena. I could draw parallels between Cam’s duties at home and Lane’s behavior at my house in Florida. How he’d catered to everyone’s needs, mine especially, during our last couple days together.
If I wasn’t reading too much into the situation, Lane had indulged. That was the impression I’d gotten. He’d acted like how he would’ve in an established relationship.
Once it was Walker’s turn, I’d left my cocktail glass at the bar and found a good spot near the corner of the stage, with only a few subbie boys in front of me. I folded my arms over my chest as Walker and Macklin moved to the center, and I had a feeling I could count on this Master to bring it home for me. After our talk the other night, he was gonna make me understand.
Wasn’t that the kicker, though? We understood easier when we were emotionally invested—and some-fucking-how, I was emotionally invested in everything Walker did. Sure, I preferred the more laid-back version of him; he and I had so much in common, but I wanted to get to know him as Macklin’s Owner too.