Trent met my gaze. His eyes seemed harder than before, the wicked gleam completely absent.
His tone came out harsh and matter-of-fact. “Tonight, the two of you belong to me. As my submissives, you’ll obey accordingly.”
Not sure what to say to that, I looked at Troy again. He was watching me closely and there was something in his dark eyes that seemed almost like a warning. I wasn’t sure what it was, nor was I positive I wasn’t merely imagining it.
Regardless, he looked rather impressive in those leather pants and the collar. I’d never found men in collars attractive, but I figured that was because I was a submissive. Yet there was something about Troy.
“Sunshine,” Trent called, pulling my attention from Troy.
Realizing I’d been ignoring him, I turned my body so that I was fully facing him and placed my hands behind my back. I was in Trent’s club and there were protocols that needed to be followed. I reminded myself of that as I dropped my gaze. “I’m sorry, Master.”
Trent’s fingers tilted my chin upward. “None of that tonight. I want you to forget every ounce of training you’ve received, and I want you to follow my instructions. You belong to me tonight. Your pleasure is mine. Every orgasm you have belongs to me. Do you understand what I’m telling you, sunshine?”
Oh, I understood, all right. This man—this Dom—wanted me to set myself up for failure. Too bad that wasn’t going to happen. Even if I wanted to, forgetting my training would be nearly impossible. Granted, if we could rewind a good twelve hours and change the outcome, perhaps I would try. Since we couldn’t do that, I would at least lead him to believe I would.
Nodding, I met his gaze. “Yes, I understand, Master.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. I glanced down to see a collar in his hand. Oddly enough, it looked as though it had been designed to match my corset perfectly. Didn’t surprise me.
“Lift up your hair,” he instructed.
I hesitated for only a second, but then I did as he asked. Trent reached around me, placing the collar against my neck before fastening it in the back.
“Is that uncomfortable?”
“No, Master.” I wasn’t used to wearing collars, but I didn’t have an aversion to them, per se. Some Doms preferred them simply to lay claim while at the clubs. Since it was obvious Trent was the master of his domain, it made sense that he wanted everyone to know what belonged to him. This was probably just one of Trent’s many rules while here in his club. I was sure plenty of these submissives had worn his collar at one time or another.
That thought made me slightly queasy, but I battled it back. It didn’t matter.
Once my hair fell down my back again, I reached up and fingered the soft leather.
“Look at me, pet,” he commanded.
I lifted my gaze and I noticed he had a leash in his hand. Now those … those weren’t really my thing. I didn’t care to be leashed, to be dragged around like an animal.
Without asking, he reached up and attached it to my collar and I let him, remembering this wasn’t about me. It was about proving a point. Trent tugged on the lead, pulling me closer until his mouth was centimeters from mine.
“You belong to me, sunshine. I expect to have your full attention and your complete submission tonight. Do not question my authority.”
“Yes, Master,” I whispered.
“I’ll show you around, but while we’re here on the main floor, I want you both to walk one step behind me, Troy on my left, you on my right. If I stop, you both stop. Do not speak unless spoken to, and do not make eye contact with any of the Doms we encounter unless I specifically instruct you to.”
One thing I had going for me was the fact we were in a club. My brain had been programmed to treat this setting differently than in other social situations. I knew my place and I could play my part perfectly. Trent would soon see that.
With a leash in each hand, Trent turned, and I fell into step behind him, my arm brushing against Troy’s. I repeated Trent’s instructions in my head over and over—on his right, one step behind at all times.
Trent led us into the large open area as the door to the small room closed behind us. I was inundated with the familiar sounds of a club. The music pulsed and throbbed, a deep, sensual beat that blended well with the modern décor. There was a sexiness about the space, even though there were only a few people milling about.
He guided us toward the side of the room, then tugged on the leashes until we were standing at his sides. He placed his hand at the small of my back and pointed out an area where a couple of women were seated, chatting quietly.
