The Exhibitionist (The Submissive #6) (2 page)

There was probably some truth to that. The submissive certainly didn’t appear to be tempted to look our way again. Then again, Cole had placed his hands on her shoulders and started a slow stroke up and down her arms. All the while, he kept his eyes locked on hers. I doubted there were many women who would be able to think about anything else if he was looking at them like that.

After a few minutes, he stepped back and spoke to her again. “As far as you’re concerned, you and I are the only people in this room. Understand?”

She answered with a softly spoken, “Yes, Sir.”

“Louder,” he said. “Own your words.”

“Yes, Sir,” she repeated, this time with more confidence.

“You are to keep your eyes on mine the entire time we’re together unless I tell you to do otherwise.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“What’s your safe word?” Cole asked.

“Red, Sir.”

“Thank you. Take your shirt off.”

Her gaze briefly flickered to the floor.

“That’s one, sub,” Cole said, and she sucked in a breath. “Tell me what you did.”

“I looked at the floor, Sir.”

“And what were you supposed to do?”

“Keep my eyes on yours.”

Cole nodded. “Take your shirt off the proper way.”

This time, she kept her focus on him while she unbuttoned and slid the shirt off her shoulders. It fluttered to the floor.

“Very nice,” Cole said. “Now remove your bra.”

I wasn’t a Dominant by any stretch, but I’d been an active submissive for long enough to know and recognize hesitation. Hell, I’d done it often enough myself, but I always learned something new when I was an observer. It was certainly interesting seeing things from a different perspective.

Cole took a step toward her. “On the checklist you filled out, how do you have
public nudity
listed?”

“As
won’t object
, Sir.”

“And how else am I to interpret your hesitation as anything other than objecting?”

“I don’t know, Sir.”

“That’s because there is no other way. That’s two. Now remove the bra.”

She quickly reached behind her back to unsnap her bra, but my own focus was suddenly shifted to my husband’s two hands, which were unbuttoning my shirt.

His voice was rough in my ear while his fingers stroked my breasts. “You like watching, don’t you?”

“Especially with you teasing me like that with your hands, Master.”

“You like teasing?” he asked.

I realized what I’d said and how he’d probably interpret my words. “Uh, well …”

He chuckled. “Too late. I’m going to thoroughly enjoy teasing you tonight, but for right now, watch Master Johnson.”

In front of us, Cole had bound his submissive for the night with her arms above her head. Two identical floggers sat on top of a bag off to the side of where they were standing. From the look of them, he’d be demonstrating Florentine flogging.

Cole went right into the scene with both floggers, warming up the submissive with light and easy strokes. Interesting. Whenever Nathaniel used two floggers, he’d start by warming me up with a single one first. But the technique appeared to be working. The submissive’s expression transformed into a look of complete bliss, and by the time Cole started putting more power behind his swing, she was in subspace.

I was transfixed by the sight of them. It appeared almost like a choreographed dance, the way his arms moved in time with her side-to-side sway.

“Very nice,” Cole said to her. “I’m going to bring you down. No climax for you tonight, since you didn’t follow directions at the beginning of the scene.”

She started to protest, but he cut her off. “Unless you want me to demo how to properly discipline with two floggers, you’ll keep that comment to yourself.”

She wisely didn’t say anything else and Cole’s movements grew slower and slower.

I jumped when Nathaniel slipped a hand down my skirt.

“Someone liked watching,” he said.

I pressed back against him and wiggled my butt across his erection. “Yes, Master.”

“I’m going to flog that wiggly ass. Let’s go to the garage.”

The garage was set aside for public play and filled with all sorts of fun toys. Plus, there were always people observing the play scenes. It would be our first time being in the garage, and I smiled at the thought of finally being a participant.

I walked in front of him, nodding and smiling at the people we passed on our way. The party had been going on for about an hour and a half, so the house was filled to capacity. About half of the partygoers were in the garage. A laughing couple pushed past us on their way into the popular play space. I feared the garage would be too crowded, but when we made our way inside, I was happy to see that wasn’t the case.

The room was large and clean and there were no cars. Different play stations had been set up with plenty of room between the areas for people to stand and observe without getting in the way of the people playing. Also, next to each station was a basket filled with cleaning spray and paper towels.

“I like the cleaning stations,” I said to Nathaniel.

“Yes, it’s important.”

I stood for a minute just inside the doorway and tried to take in the entire scene. Between fifteen and twenty people were in the garage, and of those, about eight were engaged in play. The two padded benches and the padded table were occupied, as was the St. Andrew’s cross. Both the people playing and those watching were being observed by the group Dungeon Monitor. He saw us and nodded.

I looked to Nathaniel for instructions and he nodded toward one of the remaining free areas: a whipping post. “On your knees in front of the post.”

I crossed the floor and knelt down while I waited. I closed my eyes to focus myself on serving him. I thoroughly enjoyed playing in front of others, but I never wanted my focus to drift from where it was supposed to be.

“So you like it when I tease you?” he asked.

“Most of the time, Master.”

“Whereas I, on the other hand, always enjoy teasing you.” He took a few steps and stood behind me. “And I love to hear you beg. So tonight, I’m going to start a scene and we’re going to finish it at home. How does that sound?”

“Like a long ride home, Master.”

He laughed. “And if you don’t want it to be an even longer night, you’ll behave.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Stand up and face the post.”

I rose to my feet and turned to the post, imagining how I looked to the crowd as I did, and positioning myself to please Nathaniel.

He ran his hands up my back and situated my arms so they were above my head. “You would enjoy this better if you were naked, wouldn’t you?” he asked.

“Most things involving you are better if I’m naked, Master.”

He gave my ass a slap. “Someone feels a little sassy tonight, doesn’t she?”

“Maybe just a little.” I wiggled my butt, hoping he’d spank it again.

But he didn’t. Instead he moved my hands to two grips on the post. “Don’t let go and no speaking unless I ask a question.”

He hadn’t brought his toy bag with him, so I couldn’t imagine what he was going to do.

“I’m going to lift your skirt,” he said. “Are you wearing anything under it?”

He was the one who had picked out my outfit before we left. So he knew the only thing under the skirt was me. “No, Master.”

“Everyone’s going to see your ass. The only thing better would be if everyone saw me spank you.”

I tried not to think about how much that thought turned me on. He said he was going to tease me, which probably meant he wasn’t going to let me climax at the party.

He drew my skirt above my waist and I expected him to continue his upward trail, but instead his fingers slipped behind me and he pinched my butt. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from making a noise.

“You’re being so good,” he said, keeping one hand on my ass and shifting the other to stroke my breast.

I relaxed against the post, enjoying the feel of his hands on me, the experience made more erotic by the accompanying sound track of sighs, whimpers, and moans from other couples in the garage. Nathaniel’s hands finally made their way between my legs and I held my breath, anticipating his touch right where I needed it and reminding myself that no matter how good it felt, I could not make a noise.

“I’m going to finger-fuck you.” Nathaniel’s warm breath kissed my ear. “You can’t make a noise and you can’t come. Do either of the two and I won’t let you come for two weeks.”

I wasn’t about to let that happen. I took a deep breath and started reciting German in my head, my tried-and-true way of delaying orgasm.

“Are you doing your German, Abigail?” he said, moving his fingers lightly over my clit and making me rise on my toes. “Are you?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Do you think the German alphabet is going to keep your mind off the fact that I have my fingers inside you?”

“No, Master. Not entirely. Just enough…” I arched against him as his fingers found that spot inside me that felt so good. “Just enough to help me … be good.”

“There’s a man in the far corner. He’s in the shadows, so I can’t make out who he is. He’s watching us.”

I sucked in a breath and almost let out a moan before I remembered I couldn’t make a sound.
Fuck.
When I knew I was being watched, my skin broke out in delicious shivers and I became a puddle at Nathaniel’s feet.

“I know you like that. I know it gets you off.” His fingers moved faster. Deeper. “Too bad he won’t be able to watch you come.”

He stroked over and over and my release built within me. I started conjugating German verbs. Translated the preamble to the Constitution into German. Anything. Just when I thought my body was going to fall apart all over him, he slowed his movements.

He slipped his fingers out and straightened my skirt. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, Master.”

“You can let go of the straps and stand up.”

I straightened and turned. He watched me with his intense green gaze.

“You did very well, Abigail,” he said, and I felt my heart flutter at his praise. “I’m going to have to think of a suitable reward.”

He dropped his head and gave me a soft kiss, but his lips didn’t linger. Pulling back, he brought his finger to my mouth. Without being told, I sucked it inside and licked, tasting myself and cleaning him.

When I finished, he kissed me again. “Very nice, Abigail.”

I sighed and Nathaniel tightened his arms around me. The pounding need to have him inside me was still there. Yet it was tempered by the knowledge that he would reward me once we were home. Or, more to the point, when we were back at the hotel we were staying in for the weekend.

A few months ago when we were in Wilmington, Delaware, for a conference that Nathaniel was speaking at, we fell in love with the area and people. According to him, the tax rate was wonderful, so we decided to buy a place. Initially, we’d looked at the coast, but we soon discovered most of our time was spent in Wilmington and it only made sense to buy there.

I loved our new house. It was from early in the last century and filled with character. But more than that, it would be the first place we’d live in as a family that Nathaniel and I bought together. He’d inherited our Hamptons estate from his parents and our New York City penthouse he’d bought when he was still a bachelor. I owned a chalet in Switzerland that he had given me as a wedding present, but we only ever visited there. I was excited to have a space that was “ours.”

Wilmington, Delaware, was also where the Partners in Play BDSM group was. One of the group’s core Doms, Jeff Parks, had rescued me one night from a raunchy nightclub I’d made the mistake of going to with a friend and without Nathaniel. Another Dom, Daniel Covington, was a colleague of Nathaniel’s. That’s how we met the group. Since then, I’d become friends with both of their submissives. Dena was now engaged to Jeff, and Julie had moved in with Daniel a few months ago.

A phone call from Jeff a week ago had led to our visit tonight. Jeff had wanted Nathaniel to come down because there had been trouble within the group lately. Namely with two relatively new Doms. Nathaniel had been asked to help.

Now Nathaniel took my hand and we left our little corner of the garage. I was tempted to look around and try to locate the man who had been observing us. Without much thought, I decided not to. Sometimes the fantasy was better than the real thing.

He squeezed my hand. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, Master.” And sometimes reality was better than fantasy.

Nathaniel and I made our way into the kitchen, greeting only a few people. Nathaniel took a bottle of water from a cooler and we walked into the living room.

He nodded to the floor and I sat at his feet while he sat on the couch. We were experimenting with different levels of protocol to see what we liked and what worked for us. Sitting at his feet was something we’d been trying lately and I was surprised to discover I liked it. In that position, I felt protected and secure.

He opened the bottle and pressed it to my lips.

“Thank you, Master,” I said when I’d had my fill.

The door to the room’s left opened and Cole and the red-headed submissive stepped out. He spoke to her softly and stroked her cheek. She left him with a smile on her face and a spring in her step.

Cole was still somewhat of an enigma to me. According to Dena, he’d broken up with his long-term girlfriend several months earlier. He usually traveled for his work, and I gathered the breakup was his reason for staying in Delaware as long as he had. He was a journalist and a good one; I’d read some of his articles. I wrote for a national news blog, and since he was a writer, I was interested in getting to know him better.

Cole spotted us and headed our way.

“Master West,” he said, shaking Nathaniel’s hand.

“Master Johnson.”

Cole inclined his head in my direction. “I haven’t been formally introduced to your Abby yet.”

I wasn’t allowed to interact with Doms at a party unless Nathaniel gave me permission, so I remained where I was.

“We must correct that.” Nathaniel smiled at me. “Come meet Master Johnson, Abigail.”