Stray (3 page)

He squeezed my hand, and for a brief moment, I could’ve sworn I felt him trembling. Just how long had he been without a sub anyway? He had Marnie, of course.
Subs and slaves aren’t the same thing.
If he hadn’t been so respected within the community, I would’ve backed out before now. But he wasn’t just known—he was known by pretty much everyone, and as if he were a member of royalty, a great portion of the community had him under a microscope.

Once Dylan had found his voice, he said, “Much more. Corsets aren’t honest. You don’t need to hide your figure.”

I smiled. “Into larger women, hmm?”

He shook his head. “Not large. Average. The women who eat bird food all day and have close to no waists at all and protruding ribs just aren’t my thing. They aren’t my clients’ preference, either. Just average.”

“You make it sound like it’s a good thing.” I took a peanut from the bowl on the bar and started trimming it with my nail.

“Oh, it is. Average is so wonderful when most of what one might see is too much or nothing at all. It shows me you’re healthy, that you look after yourself and won’t require as much micromanagement as some of the other subs I’ve come across.”

And it was then I realised why he’d been without a sub. Most of the ones I’d seen at the club, and even the munches, weren’t his type. I was.
Just average.

He cleared his throat. “Are you sure you want to do this? Be my sub, I mean.” He paused, then continued moments later, “I’ll mentor you and offer pointers no matter what your answer is. Just know that I can be a very demanding Dom. It’s sort of something I have to do to prep a sub for other Doms in the community.”

I nodded. There was nothing he could’ve said to change my mind. I was taking back a part of my life I’d thought Anthony had destroyed. As for Dylan, he was taking all the right steps, and anything was better than the hell I’d already been through.

Dylan stood from his stool, threw a tip on the bar and took my hand. “Shall we?”

I got down off my stool with his help and fixed the hem of my skirt. I grumbled under my breath at a loose thread, tucking it into the underside of the fabric while I glided close behind him.

As luck would have it, we grabbed the same playroom we had last time.
Sit at his feet,
I reminded myself. Just because he’d invited me to sit beside him before, that didn’t mean it was going to happen again.

Once we were inside the room, Dylan pressed his back against the door until it locked. I stood beside him, hands held behind me as I inclined my head. I closed my eyes briefly, but when I opened them, Dylan hadn’t moved. Something in him had changed since we’d entered the room.
So have you.

I drew in a breath, refusing to look at him, to study his face, his stubbled chin or his amber eyes. Unless he said otherwise, I wasn’t going to move. Out in the main room, we had been equals. But now that we were inside the playroom, away from the music and everyone else, our roles had changed.
I
had changed.

The air to my left heated, then cooled when Dylan strode past me, taking his place on one end of the couch. His clothing rustled as he got comfortable.

“Come.” His voice was terse, and my heart jumped at his change in character.

Breathe. Remember to breathe.
I wasn’t sure when I’d stopped inhaling, but now I exhaled until my lungs were empty. My hands shook a little more with every step I took. I didn’t meet his gaze, even though I was sure he was looking right at me.

When his shoes came into view, I focused on them, closing the distance between us before finally sitting at his feet. I folded my legs beneath me, repositioned my skirt so it made a full circle around my legs and locked my hands behind my back. My heart raced, even though I made multiple attempts to slow it down.

For all I cared, Dylan and I were the only ones there, inside the club at this very moment. When he moved again, the brush of fabric reached my ears.

His legs hadn’t moved. He hadn’t said a word. But I knew he’d reached for something, and when he exhaled along my neck, I trembled. Something jingled, and my heart dropped once the breath on my neck stopped.

He sat back, probably staring at my hair, which I’d left down, my lavender bra that was fully visible and the way my toes were trying to curl in my sandals. I stared at his feet, his dress shoes, white socks and the bottom of his slacks.

“I’m going to touch you now,” Dylan said, his voice just as short as before. He placed a hand on my shoulder, gently urging me to rest my head on his knee. I winced, thankful my body didn’t jump. “Relax your arms. You can wrap them around my leg if you like.”

I moved again, slower this time. I coiled my arms around his right leg, and I closed my eyes as his fingers combed through my hair. He was petting me. It was a strange sensation, being petted like I was some kind of animal. But unlike the treatment I’d got from Anthony, what Dylan was doing now wasn’t offensive or demeaning. If anything, it was calming. Endearing. Gentle. Always gentle.

“Tell me if you start to drift off.” Dylan’s voice broke the silence.

“Drift off?” My mouth was dry.

“Some subs can fall into subspace just from petting. If you feel yourself drifting, if you feel lightheaded or if things get muffled, let me know. I’m not ready for you to go into subspace. Not yet.”

I swallowed hard. It amazed me to even think of reaching subspace from his gentle strokes. I’d reached it a few times with Anthony, but that was after being bound and flogged, well before his abuse had begun. I hadn’t known reaching subspace through pleasure alone was even possible.

“Alyssa?”

I heard my name, but I couldn’t remember if he’d asked me a question. Maybe I was supposed to reply to his last comment. Or maybe I’d said something, done something, touched—

“Alyssa, are you drifting?”

“No, Sir.”

His strokes through my hair slowed, then stopped. I whimpered and bit my bottom lip. I hadn’t wanted him to stop, and the absence of one hand from my scalp and the other from my neck was almost painful.

“I think you were,” Dylan said as he rubbed one of my shoulders. “Look at me.”

I raised my head to meet his gaze, and my breath caught. His eyes had the same intensity as before, but they were glassy. Glazed over. Was he crying?
Doms don’t cry.
“You were getting there,” he said, nodding to me. “When a sub, or even a Dom enters their equivalent of subspace, they almost get a look on their face like they’re daydreaming.”

“You mean your glazed eyes?” I asked, unable to help but laugh.

Dylan grinned. “Yes. That would be the beginnings of Domspace. It’s like subspace. It has the same kind of high, only I get it from gaining control over a sub, and even more so by earning her trust.”

“So which is it?”

“Which what?” He cocked his head.

“Is it because of your control over me, or my trust?”

“Your trust. I haven’t tried to control you just yet.”

Could’ve fooled me.
I certainly felt as though I was under his control. His hands moved from his lap and something jingled below my vision. The possibility of going down on him surged at the back of my mind. I didn’t look. If that was what he wanted, I’d wait for him to say so.

He caressed the side of my face with a hand until I gazed back at him. “What are your hard limits?” He continued when I shrugged, “What won’t you do with me or another Dom? What do you not want someone doing to you?”

I licked my lips and gave his question some thought. “Face slapping.” Just the thought of it caused a tremor to run down my spine.

“Anything else? We can change things later, but when you get into a relationship with another Dom, these limits will be recorded in a contract. So, for practice, make sure you don’t want anything else added to that list.”

“Needles and fire,” I added. “No breath play either.”

“Okay, so your hard limits are face slapping, needle, fire and breath play. What about pet play?”

“Pet play?”

“Puppy play, pony play—that sort of thing. Dressing you up and treating you like a pet.”

My throat tightened. Dylan’s description reminded me of what I had been through with Anthony, and there was no way in hell I’d go through that again. I opened my mouth to speak, but when the words didn’t come, I shook my head instead.

Dylan’s eyebrows rose, but either out of respect or a lack of interest, he didn’t ask. “Fair enough. What about bondage?”

I drew in a breath, held it, then released it. In through my nose. Out through my mouth. When the pounding in my ears had stopped, I spoke again. “I think I’d be okay with that.”

“We’ll go slow in the beginning, so if there’s anything you don’t like, you just have to tell me when it happens. You need to let me know if you’re uncomfortable. I can read most of my subs, but only after I get to know their body language. So, until we reach that point, you need to tell me when something isn’t right, understood?”

“Yes.”

“There are two safe words I expect you to use. Yellow for me to slow down or if something feels off, and red if you want me to stop completely. No questions asked. Some Doms, such as myself, go as far as remembering red and not doing whatever caused it in the future. So if say, a Dom starts anal with you, and you have a bit of discomfort, but you want to continue with it in the future, use yellow. If you say red, they won’t try doing anal again at all. Red warnings, unless the Dom thinks you can handle it, go on the hard limits list. Do you have any questions so far?”

“No.”
Safe words? Hard limits?
Anthony had never discussed any of this stuff with me. Were all Doms like Dylan?
He’ll make sure you get a good Dom,
I reminded myself. Doms like Anthony probably wouldn’t come my way again. And if they did, at least I knew what to look out for.

I breathed a little more easily. Dylan’s hands moved from his lap and the jingle I’d heard earlier returned. I froze up immediately, my attention floating from the collar around my neck to the one in his hands.
You can do this.
I stared at the band in his lap, breathing when I noticed it was just an ordinary length of metal.
Not a shock collar.

“Remove your collar,” Dylan ordered, his jaw straightening the slightest bit.

My hands shook as I reached up to remove the lock. I let it fall to the floor before opening the collar and removing it from around my neck. After fishing the lock off the ground, I handed both items over to Dylan, awaiting his next order.

“This is a collar of consideration and protection. Are you familiar with it?”

I shook my head. I’d seen other subs with collars before, but aside from the shock collar Anthony had used on me and the one I’d just removed, I’d never had a collar of my own.

“While you’re under my protection, you will wear this collar. It cannot be removed without my permission unless it’s an absolute emergency. This collar is for your own protection. Any Dom or sub who wishes to speak with you in the future will know you have a Master, and cannot do a damned thing to you unless I give my okay. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

Master—say Master.
“Yes, Master.”

“Good girl.”

His approval washed over me, calming the nerves that continued to twist in my stomach. With very little effort, Dylan placed my old collar on the couch behind him. Discarded. Forgotten. He then opened the one in his hands.

As a collar, it was fairly simple. The band was made from stainless steel and lined on the top and bottom edges with a thicker piece of metal. I stared at the foggy reflections on the metal, then looked away when I met my own eyes.

Dylan moved his hands closer to my neck, pausing in midair. “By wearing this collar you accept me as your Dom. You will not question any of my orders unless you feel I may be endangering your well-being. This collar not only shows other Doms my ownership over you, it also shows your loyalty to me. By wearing it, I expect your obedience and your trust. If you feel fear towards me or any other Dom I share you with, you must say so immediately. Doms aren’t supposed to scare you. Make you nervous? Certainly. But not scare you.”

 I bowed my head, and the collar locked into place.

After giving me an approving glance, Dylan continued, “You cannot remove this collar unless it’s medically necessary or unless we part ways, understood?”

“Yes, Master.”

“What do you pledge?”

My gaze shot up to him. “You mean like wedding vows?”

“Sort of. Not as serious, though. That only happens if and when a Dom gives you a more permanent collar. I just want you to tell me what you promise to do while this collar is on—with me as well as in my absence.”

I closed my eyes. I didn’t even know the first thing about collars, ownership or vows.
You wanted this, remember?
It wasn’t too late for me to back out, but then I’d be right where I’d started.
An offer like this only happens once.
Even so, if I did leave, he’d still be my mentor.
Why does everything have to be so fucking complicated?

I growled under my breath, which resulted in Dylan crossing his arms over his chest. “Sorry, Master. I—”

“You aren’t sure of what to promise.” He smiled. “It’s okay. You’re still very new. A lot of Doms like control, so offering that control to them is a start. It can be over your career, your clothing, your meals or even your orgasms. Your vows will tell me what you’d like to give to me willingly. I expect trust to be on this list.” He placed a hand under my chin, holding it steady so I couldn’t look away from him. “What do you pledge?”

I winced at the ache in my knees and shifted my weight. “As a sub to my Master…” I closed my eyes. “As a sub to my Master, I offer my trust and obedience. And if my Master would allow it”—I took a deep breath—”I promise not to come without Master’s permission. Not even when my Master’s at work. As a sub to my Master, this is what I pledge.”

Dylan was silent for a long, strangling moment. My body quivered, I strained to hear his approval, and as his breath whispered against my cheek, I knew I’d earned it.