But that was then, this was now, and in the last ten years, I’d honed my skills to a fine point, accepted the role I’d opted to play.
Rather than respond, I pinned her in place with the expression I knew most submissives dropped their eyes from. Showing zero respect for the fact I was a Master at this club, the submissive before me continued to make eye contact, clearly not realizing her mistake.
“Liz?”
Her pencil-thin eyebrows rose, hope, clear and bright, shining in her eyes. “Yes, Master Cav?”
I doused that hope when I said, “Did I ask you to approach?”
Her tone was slightly hesitant when she said, “No, Sir.”
“Did I ask you to speak?”
“No, Sir.”
“Did I ask you to look me in the eye?”
She answered with, “No, Sir;” however, her gaze didn’t lower.
During my time in the scene, I’d visited all types of places. Some that focused solely on bondage, others that catered to the hardcore, even some that were merely brothels disguised as kink. Dichotomy was on an entirely different level from those places, and I was proud to be a part of it. I’d been a member since inception, had spent time in both the Dallas and Chicago locations.
What I liked about this one most was that Trent Ramsey, the owner, wasn’t a novice and his clubs reflected that. And the man he’d hired to manage this location ran a tight ship. Gregory Edge paid attention to every minute detail—atmosphere, hygiene, safety. He ensured the Dominants understood the rules, followed them, made safety their main concern. He insisted any and all submissives underwent the training necessary to interact with the experienced Masters of the club.
Evidently, Liz needed a refresher course.
“I’m going to ask you again; did I ask you to make eye contact?” I wondered if she was too eager to even remember the basic rules of D/s.
“No, Sir.”
As though it clicked, her eyes widened suddenly. A second later, her chin tilted low, her arms fell to her sides. Long blond hair slid like silk over her shoulders, covering pert tits cupped by a leather bra.
Even if she had a momentary lapse, she knew the rules. Speaking to me without permission was the fastest way to find yourself cut from my lineup for the evening.
Too bad, too. We could’ve enjoyed ourselves. For a little while. Unfortunately, her need for attention ruined it for her.
“Nice to see you, Liz,” I stated before walking past her. It was a definite blow-off, but in this scene, it was a move that was often necessary to maintain the upper hand in the constant shift of power.
I’d met more than my fair share of submissives who believed a partial glance was a sign of what was to come, but I had a reputation inside these walls, and most, if not all, of the club submissives knew who I was. They knew I didn’t roll that way. The submissives I’d played with in the past, of which there were many, knew I didn’t tolerate topping from the bottom.
I didn’t live the lifestyle twenty-four seven, likely never would, so I enjoyed the time I did get to spend here, though thanks to my schedule, it wasn’t much these days.
A couple of submissives cut their gazes to me as I moved toward the Dom lounge. I gave them a quick once-over, tipping my Stetson slightly, ensuring I showed a modicum of interest but not enough to invite them to come over. A cute brunette started my way, but her redheaded friend saved her with a firm hand on her arm and a few whispered words in her ear.
Smart girl. Maybe I’d have to go in search of the little redhead later on. She might be fun to strap down and spank until she was begging for both mercy and my cock.
Of course, that would have to wait. I wasn’t that easy.
“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”
I pivoted around to see who the sexy voice belonged to, my gaze landing on the petite Dominatrix everyone referred to as Mistress Jane. I couldn’t hide my smile. “I tend to be the one doing the dragging,” I assured her.
Jane chuckled. “I’ve heard that about you.”
She offered a quick hug and I had no choice but to hug her back.
When she looked up at me, she was grinning. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
“I could say the same to you.”
“On the contrary”—Jane cocked a hip—“I’m here more often than not. But it’s been a long time since you’ve graced us with your presence.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been busy.”
“I heard you moved back to Chicago.”
“That’s a nasty rumor,” I teased.
Her expression said she approved of my attempt at humor. “So, it’s not true?”
“Not completely. Yet. Provided all goes well, I’ll likely settle in for a bit.” At least, that was my plan as of this morning. I was one of those guys who went where the action took me. And for whatever reason, it had brought me back to my home away from home this time around.
