BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

“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.

Carter, an older Dom known for his love of wax play, stood beside

a good girl—perhaps it’s time for her reward.”

the sub—whose nipples were completely covered in black wax—crawled toward the chaise. The other woman’s

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

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

I want you to twist them until it hurts, then twist them more.” Master Benson’s voice was

index finger, she pinched. She twisted her hands, nipples held tight, until a fissure of pain raked through her.

sixty seconds to make her come, or I’ll coat your clit in wax.” Master Carter’s voice was cool,

of her pussy, burrowing into her. The increased feeling of fullness had Saffron moaning.

aroused and on edge, to the sub’s lips, tongue, and fingers

may I

“Yes,” Master Benson replied.

head back and screamed in pleasure as the orgasm rolled through

moments of Master Benson and Saffron’s scene through a break in the crowd. There were ten people clustered around

crowd dispersed, the scene easily forgotten as everyone returned to whatever task or pleasure they’d been headed toward when they were waylaid

face was shiny and slick with proof of Saffron’s pleasure. When

straightened and turned, nodded when