Page 104 of Their Famous Dominant (Office Intrigue Duet 4)
I didn’t mind being in the dungeon, but I preferred something a little more intimate. I rarely experienced that with the Doms I’d played with. Most of them got off on showing me off, dragging me around, ordering me to do this or that. Naked, clothed, it was never the same in that regard, but all in all, it was still a monotonous routine. I’d never had a Dom who hadn’t been working, as one might say. The men I played with tended to be actors, if you will. Always putting on a show for everyone else. I’d gotten used to it.
My heart skipped a beat when Trent started up the stairs toward the playrooms.
During our brief intermission, quite a few more bodies had arrived. The club noises had intensified, the music a little louder, whips snapping, floggers thudding, chains rattling. The high-pitched screams were becoming more insistent, the deep bellow of instructions more consistent. The place was in full swing.
Once we made it up the stairs, I scanned the room. This floor was getting its intended use as well. Several of the rooms had people in them, some with doors closed for privacy, others with windows offering the voyeurs a view.
We stopped at a door on the far side of the room after Trent paused long enough to whisper something to one of the club-collared submissives I had noticed walking around. This cute little redhead offered a quick nod, then headed in the opposite direction while Trent turned back to the row of rooms lining the wall.
Trent opened the door, ushered us inside, then closed it behind him. There was a small window in the door, which would allow the monitors to check in to ensure everything was all right, but other than that, we wouldn’t have an audience that I could tell.
“Kneel beside one another,” Trent instructed, his voice hard.
Troy seemed to be watching me, as though trying to figure out how to take the position. If there was a right way or a wrong way. While I eased as gracefully as I could down to my knees, he did the same, although he lacked any grace whatsoever.
“I want you touching,” Trent insisted.
We inched closer to one another until our thighs were pressed together. The warmth of his body had me drawing a deep breath in.
“If you know me or know the way I do things, you’ll understand I don’t overly share my intentions with my submissives. I don’t seek permission. I expect you both to dutifully follow my instructions. Should you need to, you have a safe word. I expect you to use it if necessary. Otherwise, I will not be lenient. This is not a game for me. Your pleasure is of my utmost concern and I will ensure I pleasure you immensely. In return, I expect obedience. Especially here in the club.”
For whatever reason, that sounded like a spiel. As though he’d rehearsed it a million times and delivered it at least that many. He was certainly different than he’d been the last few times I’d seen him. Gone was his quick smirk, in its place an intensity that was almost overdone.
I had to keep in mind I’d never played with Trent. It was possible this was his tried-and-true method. It wasn’t my responsibility to determine a right or wrong way. I simply had to follow his commands, to please him. That was my job.
In order to have the experience of submitting to Trent Ramsey tonight, I had to remember that.
So, rather than dwell on it, I perfected my position, ensuring I was as pleasing to my Master as I could possibly be.
Trent
WHEN IT CAME TO PLAYTIME, I was a patient man, a controlled man. I could withstand quite a bit. An unruly submissive wasn’t abnormal and I’d learned to deal.
What I wasn’t used to was a robotic submissive, one who seemed disconnected from the situation, only willing to follow instruction without understanding the give-and-take required to make it an effective scene.
This Clarissa, the one who had arrived looking like an erotic fairy, was as robotic as they came. Every movement was measured, every inhale, every exhale timed perfectly. And that light I’d seen in her eyes, that sassy spark I’d come to admire, was nowhere.
I was trying not to let it piss me off, but it wasn’t easy.
Perhaps it was due to the fact that I was constantly letting my imagination get away from me while doing my level best to show them the sort of attention they should expect. I wanted them with a barely restrained passion, but I knew my role was important. My control was important. It wasn’t necessarily about my pleasure, it was about theirs. In return, when I gave them pleasure, I received the same simply from doing for them.
