AngelinLeather Page 3

  This time it was Kevin who made a soft sound and his hips rocked lightly. The men at the bar watched her openmouthed. Malcolm adjusted his arousal as if he wasn’t aware of what he was doing.

  “If you stand where he cannot see you, keep your hand on him at all times. A light touch will assure him of your focus, that you’re there to care for him while he’s vulnerable.” She leaned forward and brushed her lower lip against Tracy’s ear. “Touch him with your fingers,” Brenna suggested. “Lean your body into his. Kiss the back of his neck. Whatever part of him captures your interest, reward it with your touch.” She stood very close while Tracy ran her hands over her husband’s back, the line of his thigh, the curve of his ass.

  “Hmm. Very nice,” Brenna cooed then stepped back. “Now, when you use a flogger such as this, let the weight do the work.” With the handle in one hand, she used the other to hold the tips of the tresses. She pulled them back toward the middle of her chest. “Hold then release,” she said, letting go of the leather strands. The potential energy that had gathered in the flexible handle swung the tresses forward. “You know your stroke is good if you hear this sound.” Extending her leg, Brenna pulled back on the tresses again, released them and grinned when she heard the familiar frawp sound as they hit her thigh. “Where you aim is just as important as how you hit,” she added, tucking the flogger beneath her arm and turning back to Kevin. She kept her voice deliberately quiet so no one would be tempted to approach, breaking the intimacy she’d created between the three of them. “On the back, strike him here only,” she said, outlining an oval that began at the top of a shoulder and extended down over his shoulder blade. “Never hit his spine. Never hit across the small of his back or his sides. Stay away from unpadded bones, areas with thin skin, and places where nerves are close to the surface. The buttocks are perfect for flogging but be very gentle around the tops of his thighs. Same for the backs of his legs in general. Would you like me to show you?”

  Kevin groaned his agreement but Brenna ignored him. “On you, I mean,” she qualified and looked Tracy directly in the eye.

  “H-how…?”

  “How do I know you have submissive tendencies?” Brenna asked and brushed a strand of short, golden hair back from Tracy’s face. “When I demonstrated the flogger, you looked at my leg being hit, not at the hand doing the hitting. It’s a subtle tell I look for. My guess is that your husband adores getting his ass whipped and he’s talked you into doing it for him. Problem is, I think you’d like to be whipped too. With your permission, I’ll introduce you to the flogger. We’ll see how you react to the reality of it.”

  Tracy nodded dumbly and her wide, blue gaze fixed on Brenna’s lovely, oval face.

  “Not good enough, Tracy,” Brenna cautioned her sternly. “Answer with a clear yes or no. Remember, you’re giving me permission to do something that’s intended to cause physical discomfort. The potential is there for me to hurt you. You must be clear, for your sake and mine, about giving me that permission.” Reaching up, she began to loosen the chains holding Kevin to the pillars.

  “Yes. Absolutely,” Tracy answered enthusiastically. “I mean, this is why we came here, right? To learn about this stuff. How else will I know what it feels like for you?” she asked Kevin as she undid the bindings on his ankles. When he moved aside, watching the two women with open titillation, his wife started to wrap one of the leather bindings around her own ankle.

  “No restraints, Tracy,” Brenna said in her best Domme voice, filling it with quiet conviction and confidence. “You don’t know me. Don’t give your trust away. Make me earn it by proving my trustworthiness.”

  “Oh. All right. What do I do then?”

  “Stand here,” Brenna said, maneuvering the woman so she was facing one of the posts. “You’ll lean forward a little, put your hands on the pillar and brace your weight against it. Feet shoulder-width apart.”

  “Okay. That’s easy enough.”

  “Now, take your top off.” Brenna was watching Tracy’s face as she spoke, watching for signs of alarm, embarrassment. Hesitancy she’d expect but outright skittishness was a sign Tracy wasn’t ready for the public intimacies of the playroom. Bless her heart…Tracy obviously had a touch of exhibitionist in her. Slowly, almost coyly, she undid the large, flat buttons that ran down the front of the leather vest she was wearing. As Brenna had expected, Tracy wasn’t wearing a bra underneath and her pretty little breasts swayed when she handed her vest to her husband.

  Brenna smiled her approval when Kevin held the garment up to his nose, inhaled his wife’s scent then stepped back to watch.

  Dressed in only a short black skirt, mesh stockings and high boots, Tracy leaned forward, braced her hands on the pole and let her head drop forward.

  “I’ll stand directly behind you,” Brenna said and rolled her wrist so the flogger moved restlessly. The tresses sung quietly but could still be heard above the low techno music throbbing through the club. “That will ensure my aim and that every stroke will hit you with even force. What’s your safeword?”

  “Umm…strawberry.”

  With her fingers, Brenna caressed Tracy’s skin. “Hmm. Warm, soft,” she breathed and stood close enough so her breasts and belly nuzzled the sub’s back. Passing her nose over the crease behind Tracy’s ear, Brenna drew the braided leather handle of the flogger down the side of Tracy’s body then teased the underside of her breasts with it.

  She glanced back at the bar. As she’d hoped, she held the two new men’s attention. Was she doing this only to help Tracy and Kevin? Brenna admitted to herself she was also showing off for two subs.

  “Are you ready to begin?”

  “Gawd yes.”

  Holding back her delighted laughter at the sub’s unguarded enthusiasm, Brenna took a few steps back, angled her body so it was directly behind Tracy’s, pulled the tresses forward and measured the distance between them and the sub’s back. Shuffling just the tiniest bit closer, Brenna braced her feet, pulled the tresses back this time then released them. Frawp. Tracy moaned quietly and her left leg trembled. Brenna pulled the tresses back again.

  Obeying a sudden compulsion, she again glanced at the men at the bar. With her fingertips stroking Tracy’s shoulder, she watched them watching her. Malcolm was staring at the flogger, entranced by the deliberate yet gentle swish of the tresses. He licked his lower lip and it seemed unconscious and dead sexy because of it. Rick was staring at her. She’d caught him looking at her legs but he made no sign of embarrassment or even discomfort when she did. Instead, he let that intelligent, sensual gaze move up, trace her curves then focus on her face as if nothing had ever captured him so completely, and just might never again.

  The man could heat up a room without even trying.

  But it was Tracy who needed her attention and Brenna set up a slow, steady rhythm with the flogger, with a count of five between each strike. Shoulder, shoulder, buttock, buttock then she repeated the cycle. It was a sensual flogging, the strength of each blow deliberately negligible. After each short round she stopped, touched Tracy’s skin without rubbing it, judged the warmth of it and was pleased by its growing pinkness. She found herself wondering if Rick’s skin would pink up just as nicely, or Malcolm’s. Quickly she squashed those thoughts. A beautiful sub had graciously placed herself under Brenna’s control and she would not lose sight of that.

  “On a scale of one to ten, one being a tingle and ten it hurts so bad you can’t take any more, tell me how much it hurts?”

  “One. Maybe two.”

  “Good. Always start very slow. A sub’s body needs time to acclimate, their head needs adequate time to process the sensation as pleasure instead of pain. Build gradually. Eventually, let the pain hover around seven. Never let it get above eight. Are you ready for me to begin again?”

  “Yes. Yes.” Tracy nodded fast then groaned when the tresses fell on her shoulder.

  As hard as Brenna tried to focus…as much as she knew she had to focus…she couldn’t sh
ake her awareness of Rick’s attention. She finally gave up deluding herself and admitted she was instructing Tracy and Kevin, yes, but she was also putting on a show designed to entice the tall, dark-haired sub. But if she was reading them right, Rick and Malcolm were a package deal. She didn’t think they were gay or even bi. Some guys, maybe for the security factor or machismo or because there were so many more subs than Dommes, liked to scene together. Men were visual creatures and the sharing heightened their pleasure.

  A package deal was okay. She’d participated in a few, to everybody’s satisfaction. The trick was to always, always treat your subs equally. Hard experience had taught her that. This time it might be a problem because she couldn’t keep her focus off Rick.

  With a slowness that was almost as cruel as it was seductive, Brenna gradually increased the force behind each strike. Between each short set, she stopped, caressed Tracy’s arms or steadied her hips. She laid a hand on Tracy’s abdomen, judged the tempo of her breathing, again asked her to rate the pain. When it crept up to four Brenna began to ease off. Three cycles later she was back to a light, sensual flogging then stopped entirely. Turning Tracy around, she hugged her, stroked her hair, pressed her cool palm to the hot spots on Tracy’s back.

  Only then did she allow her focus to again drift away from the sub. Kevin was standing to one side, watching raptly, his penis hard and pointing at the ceiling.

  “Dress,” she ordered him in her most commanding voice. “Did I say I wanted to see your cock?”

  “N-no, Mistress,” he blurted out and glanced up at her with adoring puppy-dog eyes as he scrambled to get his clothes on.

  When Tracy’s breathing had returned to normal, when she took her weight back onto her own legs instead of leaning on Brenna, Brenna released her and stepped back. She picked up the other woman’s leather vest, slipped it on her and fastened the buttons.

  “But what about my seven?” Tracy blurted out. “I only got to four.”

  Grinning, Brenna kissed each side of the sub’s face then released her. “That was simply a lesson, not a real session. Go home and practice on each other. Save your sevens for somebody you’re really into, not somebody who’s just got good whip technique.”

  By then Kevin was fully dressed and Brenna turned to face both of them. “If you’re interested in pursuing membership here,” she said, “there are members—couples and singles—who would enjoy talking to you about dominating you, either together or separately, without sex. That part you’ll take care of yourselves once you get home,” she added with a saucy wink and a deliberate glance at the prominent bulge in Kevin’s pants. “If you’d like, I’ll add your names to the guest list for next Tuesday. I’ll ask a Dom I think you’ll like to come in and chat with you. A little information, nothing more,” she added quickly. “But if things progress, you can negotiate a scene.”

  Tracy and Kevin agreed quickly and, after thanking Brenna and saying goodbye, they packed up their flogger and hurried out of the club, hand in hand.

  Smoothing her hands over her leather-clad hips, Brenna shook her hair behind her shoulders and walked back to the two men at the bar. Her lips were parted and her eyelids felt heavy. Her walk was predatory, seductive and she loved the feel of her hips swaying, the strength of her thighs propelling her, the hard click of her heels on the wood floor. She was a sexual being, confident and in her element.

  When she slid onto the stool, let her skirt ride high up her legs then crossed them slowly, she saw the two men watching her. Felt dozens of other eyes on her, male and female, felt powerful, sensual, desired, lusted after. Flicking her gaze from one man to the other, she picked up her drink and took a sip. Rick stepped off his stool, moved in front of her and dropped to his knees. The angle of his body showed her the outline of a hard, impressive cock straining against his pants.

  Before he could say anything, she brushed her thumb over his mouth. His skin was warm and smooth and she wasn’t sure if the sensual rush she felt was from the flogging she’d just administered or if it was simply him. The eyes looking up at her were intelligent and told her he wanted her, even more than that bulge he was sporting did.

  The idea of playing with this man was definitely intriguing.

  Denial, however, was one of the best weapons in a Domme’s arsenal and Brenna wanted to make sure this fine specimen of manhood was serious about handing over control. She finished her drink then set the glass on the bar. “It’s late and I’ve got a long commute ahead of me. Goodnight. I hope you’ll come back next Tuesday. I’ll have your names added to the guest list. Perhaps we can discuss a scene then, something safe, gentle. Well, perhaps not too gentle,” she added, stood and let her hips roll as she strolled away.

  Chapter Three

  The following Tuesday, Rick arrived at the club promptly at nine p.m. He gave his name to the doorman and was admitted without question. Like last week, low techno music throbbed through the main playroom. The lighting was bright enough to see everything yet low enough to be flattering. Also like last week, he asked himself if he was nuts for coming to a place like this not wearing a mask.

  But if he did, he’d be the only one. Various couples were already using some of the equipment and hiding their identities seemed the last thing on their minds. The Domme he’d met last week had intrigued him. Intrigued? Hell, he’d been on fire for her and had jacked off twice—once in bed and once in the shower—before he could pull his pants on for work the following morning. It had been a long time since a woman had turned him on so thoroughly. She’d done it with no more than a look and the touch of a single finger.

  What she’d also done was relegate him to observer status, for which he was grateful. He’d been ready to beg her to smack his ass, demonstrate to the whole room that Rick Finley, fine, upstanding surgeon with the rock-solid reputation, liked it when women beat him up.

  But the best part was he’d had a whole week to find out this club really was discreet. Nobody had contacted him. There’d been no phone calls or email solicitations. No incriminating brochures had come in the mail. The woman who’d answered that 1-800 number had assured him this place didn’t play games and dealt only in the currency of trust. He’d believed her.

  She’d been right.

  Most of the people tonight stood back, talking quietly and watching from a discreet distance. Again, the ratio of men to women was about sixty-forty. Rick thought he recognized a judge, a couple of Bay Street big shots and, if he wasn’t mistaken, the head of the Toronto Transit Commission union. If people like that were comfortable here, he could be too. Spotting Malcolm sitting at the bar, Rick made his way over to him.

  “Hey,” he said as he took a stool near Malcolm’s, greeted the bartender and ordered a soda water with lime. “Find a good place to park?” They were in the heart of the financial district, only a few blocks up from the lake. Parking, even at this time of night, was never a sure thing.

  “A block and a half away. I found out there’s underground parking here but that’s for members only. That’ll save us some bucks if we join.”

  Rick nodded and turned back to scan the room. His practice was midtown. Malcolm’s was a little further north. They could have driven here together like last week, but Rick knew why they hadn’t. Both of them were anxious to hook up with the lovely Ms. Brenna and neither wanted to be stuck without a vehicle if the opportunity to take her home presented itself.

  Not that he could blame Malcolm. His own head had been full of Brenna for seven days straight and his dick was actually raw from jacking off so much. The only thing that had irked him was, as sexy and engaging as Brenna’s voice had been, she definitely wasn’t the woman who’d answered that 1-800 number. The more he thought about it though, the more he realized he liked Brenna’s voice more. He liked her more. He’d never met a woman who’d captivated him so effortlessly and he guessed Malcolm hadn’t either.

  He and Malcolm had met in college then gone to the same medical school. Talking over a few too many beers
one night, they found out they were both interested in being dominated by women and, with growing regularity, had shared women. It was safer, kinkier and increased the odds of being dominated at all.

  Good Dommes were hard to come by—and the one who’d had had his libido fired up and red-hot all week had just walked into the club.

  Walked wasn’t the right word, Rick thought as he adjusted himself and tried to find a more comfortable perch on his barstool. She moved like a leopard—elegant, confident—and those gorgeous blue eyes scanned the room as if she was searching for her next meal. The corner of his mouth quirked up when that gaze settled on him and stayed there as if nothing in the world could tear her focus from him.

  Well, him and Malcolm, Rick acknowledged grudgingly and stood when she reached the bar. She slid onto the empty stool between them. Before Malcolm could act, before Rick lost his nerve, he dropped to his knees just like he had last week. Her beautifully made-up eyes shone with approval and that lush, painted mouth parted in a smile.

  “Hurt me. Please,” he blurted out and felt like kicking himself. Smooth, Rick, real smooth.

  Brenna didn’t laugh at him like he expected. Instead she touched his cheek, ran her fingertip over his jaw. “That’s a simplistic view of it but all right. Follow me,” she said. Her voice was a subtle growl, dark and commanding, and Rick didn’t care anymore if he looked like a wuss trailing after her with his tongue practically hanging out. His gaze was glued to that round ass of hers. Her dress was as short as the one she’d worn last week but this one was black latex. It hugged her every curve and the woman was blessed with curves. There was a little kick pleat in the back of the skirt and he stared at it, catching every revealed wink of her inner thighs as she strutted on those wicked high heels. She stopped near the back wall and Rick stood close behind her, ran his fingers down her bare arms, breathed in the scent of her hair.