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.

Dom known for his love of wax play, stood beside Anderson in the doorway. A pretty

her reward.” Master Benson shifted

in black wax—crawled toward the chaise. The other woman’s lips

labia. The egg buried inside her decreased its buzzing, allowing her to focus on the gentle pleasure of oral

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

your nipples. I want you to twist them until it hurts, then twist them

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

clit in wax.” Master Carter’s voice was cool, untouched by any

then back to circling. Fingers slid between the lips of her pussy, burrowing into her. The increased feeling

of sensations and actions, from the hours she’d already spent aroused and on edge, to the sub’s lips, tongue, and fingers

may I come?”

“Yes,” Master Benson replied.

in pleasure as the orgasm rolled

a break in the crowd. There were ten people clustered around the doorway. Saffron’s cries of pleasure were lovely,

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

When Master Carter was gone, only Master

nodded when he saw