Page 200 of Pucking Them
Quietly, as if he’s a perfectly obedient sub, Shay sits up straighter and raises his gloved hands like paws to beg.
D’Angelo loosens his hold, until he is petting, rather than tugging. “Good boy. But if you challenge me again, then I will make you roll over and present your stomach to me on the middle of the dance floor in front of everyone. Do you understand?”
Shay shivers.
He opens his mouth, as if to say something.
Instead, he barks.
D’Angelo’s eyes spark. “Good boy.”
This time, it sounds genuine.
He shoves Shay back onto all fours. “Now, crawl and follow us.”
D’Angelo doesn’t glance around at me but strides confidently down the painted yellow brick road, which leads onto the dance floor.
I peek at Shay, whose eyes are glassy.
He’s slipping into subspace.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper.
Shay smiles at me gratefully.
Careful to walk slowly and not yank Shay, I stroll after D’Angelo onto the dance floor with my beautiful Omega crawling at my side.
My skin prickles with the awareness that I am being stared at.
It’s different being in the club as a Mistress, rather than as a sub.
Yet I am staring around me too at the dancing, laughing, and relaxed groups of Glindas turned bad, subs in nothing but emerald latex, Scarecrows who are enjoying playing with the fear effect, and a naked Wizard of Oz in nothing but a cloak.
Electro music pulses with warpedThe Wizard of Ozsamples.
I am used to everyone greeting D’Angelo like he’s as much a star in this BDSM world as he is in the hockey one. But I am shocked how many subs nod their heads in respect to me now, as well as the number who look at Shay with a mix of joy and jealousy. They seem to be happy to see that D’Angelo has a sub crawling at his feet but also wish that they could take Shay’s place.
Shay notices too.
He lifts his head and crawls more proudly. If his tail was real, then he’d be wagging it.
I notice Fleet, dressed in black with a DM band around his arm, weaving through the crowd. He is working as a Dungeon Monitor tonight to make sure everyone is safe.
When I glance over at the bar, I glimpse Noah deep in conversation with Garcia.
Noah is unsurprisingly also dressed in a lion costume. Except, unlike D’Angelo’s, his is sweet, rather than dangerous. He is wearing a velvet bodysuit, fur cuffs and collar, which compliment his shock of mane-like hair.
Garcia is acting like a bodyguard for him as a Winkie Guard in an intimidating ornamental military uniform, which suits him.
It makes him even more intimidating.
Noah is laughing.
Did D’Angelo encourage Garcia to support him? Or are they friends?
“It looks like Cas isn’t innocent.” D’Angelo glances over his shoulder at me. “This road is a trap. It leads to the wicked witch’s lair.”
I stare around me at the area in front of the raised stage, which has been decorated like the Wicked Witch of the West’s castle, if she was into kinky shit.
