Chapter 73

“And when we weren’t at Las Palmas, she was my fiancée.”

“Oh.” Beth puzzled that over. “I don’t understand.”

James’s gaze met hers, and slowly the lines in his face melted away, his lips curling up in a smile.
“That makes two of us.”

“Your fiancée was your collared sub, and you trained her to come only when being beaten…”

Repeating it out loud didn’t make it any easier to reconcile the tale with the man she knew.

James sighed, nudging the cane, which he’d dropped to the ground, with the toe of one glossy shoe.
“We got into the lifestyle together. She was the one who found out about Las Palmas, but joining—
getting in—was a status symbol for her. We’d never been with anyone other than each other in BDSM
play, and a year after we’d joined, and she’d put on the collar, things fell apart. We were pushing each
other—using our sessions here to take out our aggression with the vanilla world. She started to fight
me, push back, then accused me of being weak. So I’d take it up a level, try to be the Master she
needed. Months would go by when we didn’t even have sex, here or at home, yet we were always
covered in bruises, especially her.

“Then she started asking to play with other Doms. So I’d give her to these other men, most of whom
were way more gentle with her than I was, and she’d seem to enjoy it, but when the sessions were
over, she’d break down and start sobbing, begging me to protect her. The next weekend she’d quietly
ask if I was going to give her away, asking in a way that I knew meant that’s what she wanted. And
every time she’d come back acting like she’d been the victim of something. Once I even started a fight,
accused another Master of abusing her. Right as I was about to throw myself at this guy I see her, out
of the corner of my eye, sort of smiling, like she’s enjoying this, enjoying watching me defend her.



“When it finally fell apart, she accused me of using the collar as a cover up for domestic violence. Our
breakup was messy, and the cops were almost involved. The overseers stepped in—they didn’t want
anything about the club being mentioned in police reports. The last time I saw her, she threw the collar
at me and called me a sick freak.”

* * *

Saffron arched her hips off the chaise as the tickling vibration of the egg intensified to a solid hum. Her
fingers clenched hard on her breasts. The men murmured their appreciation. Even in her pleasure she
wasn’t unaware of how she must look—elegant and sexual, chained by warm gold instead of harsh
steel.

“Lovely. May we help?” Master Carter, an older Dom known for his love of wax play, stood beside
Anderson in the doorway. A pretty sub knelt at Carter’s feet.

“Of course. Saffron has been a good girl—perhaps it’s time for her reward.” Master Benson shifted in
his chair, prepared to enjoy the show.

Saffron watched through lids heavy with lust as the sub—whose nipples were completely covered in
black wax—crawled toward the chaise. The other woman’s lips skimmed up Saffron’s inner thigh before
brushing against her sex. Saffron moaned and dropped her knees open even farther.

Lips and tongue played across the wet, sensitive flesh of her labia. The egg buried inside her
decreased its buzzing, allowing her to focus on the gentle pleasure of oral sex. Saffron continued to
clench her breasts, her nipples pink and tight with desire.

The egg’s vibration increased, suddenly enough that Saffron’s back arched. The sub between her legs
grabbed her hips, holding her down, and scraped Saffron’s clit with her teeth. Breath now hissing
between her lips, Saffron let her head drop back. The jewelry-like collar settled against the hollow of



her neck, its weight a reminder of her submission, another layer added to the delicious pleasure
coursing through her.

“Pinch your nipples. I want you to twist them until it hurts, then twist them more.” Master Benson’s voice
was thick with arousal.

Saffron turned slitted eyes to him, watching him watch her as she obeyed. Taking her nipples between
thumb and index finger, she pinched. She twisted her hands, nipples held tight, until a fissure of pain
raked through her. Twisting again, her thighs started to tremble.

“You have sixty seconds to make her come, or I’ll coat your clit in wax.” Master Carter’s voice was cool,
untouched by any obvious arousal. The sub between Saffron’s legs paused for just a moment in
acknowledgment of the command.

The tongue at Saffron’s clit settled into a delicate rhythm, circling once, licking twice, then back to
circling. Fingers slid between the lips of her pussy, burrowing into her. The increased feeling of fullness
had Saffron moaning. Then those fingers grabbed the string of the egg and pulled it, drawing it down
an inch before pushing it deeper once more.

Saffron screamed and moaned in pleasure, some part of her brain aware of the murmur of many voices
—the crowd of onlookers had grown—but the bouquet of sensations and actions, from the hours she’d
already spent aroused and on edge, to the sub’s lips, tongue, and fingers working her pussy, was her
focus. The egg slid over her G-spot as it was tugged, the heavy vibrations triggering nerve endings all
over her body to come alive.

“Master, may I come?” she gasped.

“Yes,” Master Benson replied.

Saffron threw her head back and screamed in pleasure as the orgasm rolled through her.



Master Leo leaned to the left, watching the final moments of Master Benson and Saffron’s scene
through a break in the crowd. There were ten people clustered around the doorway. Saffron’s cries of
pleasure were lovely, as was her mostly naked body in its delicate gold chains.

As soon as Saffron’s last moan faded away, the crowd dispersed, the scene easily forgotten as
everyone returned to whatever task or pleasure they’d been headed toward when they were waylaid by
this acceptable but unremarkable scene.

Master Carter recalled his sub, whose face was shiny and slick with proof of Saffron’s pleasure. When
Master Carter was gone, only Master Anderson remained of the onlookers, leaning elegantly against
the doorframe.

He straightened and turned, nodded when he saw Master Leo.

“Master Leo. Gabriela.” Gabriela, Leo’s bonded sub, who was kneeling beside Leo, dipped her head to
Master Anderson.

“Anderson,” Leo replied.

“I understand now.”

Leo raised a brow. “Understand?”

“I understand why you think we’re complacent. Why we need to shake things up.” Anderson cocked his
head towards the room, where Saffron was now slipping off the chaise and crawling toward Master
Benson, who was unfastening his pants. “That was pleasant, but forgettable.”

Leo, along with fellow overseers Mikel and Faith, knew that they risked losing members over this
checklist game, but they also had no intention of allowing this club to be diverted from its original
purpose. This was not a country club with a side of kink. This was meant to be a place where members



lived out their darkest fantasies, exercised their most base desires. There were members who still
pushed themselves, but the majority were becoming complacent.

“Do you intend to play, Anderson?”

The dark-haired man smiled oh-so-slightly, then walked away, without answering the question.

Leo turned his attention to Benson and Saffron. Benson’s head was back against the chair, his eyes
closed as Saffron sucked his cock.

How utterly boring. Benson had received his letter, and his sub assignment. He was clearly stalling.
Leo would give him a few days before prodding him into taking action. Saffron couldn’t yet play, since
her partner hadn’t been at the meeting. Mikel was contacting Hadrian even now.

Saffron’s pairing was one Leo was looking forward to. He glanced down at his wife, lover, and
submissive. Gabriela leaned against his leg, the picture of peaceful submission. She was the one
who’d campaigned to assign Saffron to Hadrian, proving once again that it was a very good thing she
was submissive, because her sadistic streak would have made her a very scary Mistress.


62fb1bb41dcb31934bd49bda