DJ touched his own skinny collar as he watched the progress of the Dom and sub. Touching his collar grounded him, but also reminded him to take stock of everything his body felt at that time. He shuffled on his knees, letting out a breath as his recently paddled buttocks rubbed against his calves.
“Are you all right, sweetheart?” Rake asked.
DJ tore his eyes away from the sub and instead met Rake’s intense, dark gaze. Rake’s brown eyes—framed with thick lashes of the type mascara advertisers could only dream of—captivated DJ, right along with his dark skin and stubbled beard.
“DJ?”
Oh. He’d got distracted. “I’m fine, Sir.” DJ looked at the pale sub once again. “It’s just that he always seems so miserable.”
The signs of the sub’s discomfort were subtle, and could easily be mistaken for someone playing in a high protocol scene: his downcast eyes lowered in respect for his Dom; his shudders eager anticipation.
But the set of his shoulders told a different story.
“Who are you talking about?” Rake asked, his fingers trailing over DJ’s head.
“The ginger sub over there with the tall blond Dom.”
Rake glanced over before focusing back on DJ. “He looks fine to me,” Rake said, his short nails scratching over DJ’s scalp. It felt less satisfying now that DJ couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away from the other sub.
“Rake. Listen to me. Something with that sub is wrong.”
Rake’s thick eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. “You’re out of the scene?”
DJ hadn’t even realised he’d used Rake’s name. “Yes. I’m done.”
Rake frowned, but took another look at the other couple’s scene as it played out in front of them.
They were in the public room, where voyeurs could spectate on any scene. Equipment of all kinds—such as the T-bar being used by the Dom and sub sat in designated spots around the room. The rest of the space was dotted with sofas and chairs, with a bar area near the entrance for downtime between play.
The changing room and a few private spaces sat past the bar, along with the door that led to the private upstairs area for staff.
The last room, just off the main area, was accessible only to those with a premium membership. Sadly, DJ and Rake made do with the basic, because Brighton was expensive enough to live in without paying gold-tier kink club fees.
The Dom strapped his sub’s wrists into the cuffs at the ends of the T-bar, leaving the sub kneeling with his back against the bar. DJ catalogued the sub’s every reaction, from his tensed jaw as he balanced uneasily on his knees, to the split-second look of dismay that crossed his face as his Dom fastened leather mittens around his fisted hands.
Not the most extreme bondage DJ had seen in the club, but more than the average scene.
The final addition was a large spider gag, which stretched the sub’s pink lips wider than it looked like they should go.
DJ rubbed at his own mouth. Rake didn’t often employ the use of gags, only using a small ball gag on occasion to help DJ stay quiet if they scened at home and didn’t wantto upset their neighbours.
Wearing something like the spider gag required training, and the sub looked far too young to be a seasoned BDSM practitioner.
Rake hummed unhappily, now laser-focused on the unfolding scene. “Have you seen them in here before?”
Classic Rake. DJ was normally happy to be Rake’s sole focus when in the club, but sometimes he wished Rake paid a little more attention.
“Yes,” DJ said. “Twice before now. The sub always looks like he’s having the most shit time.”
“Language,” Rake said absently. Whilst he onlyreallycared about swearing during scenes, he enjoyed tallying up every time DJ swore.
“We should rescue him,” DJ said vehemently.
“He’s not a lost puppy, Deej.”
DJ didn’t respond. He watched, discomfited, as the Dom unceremoniously shoved himself inside the sub’s stretched mouth. He and Rake sat too far away to overhear the scene, but he could imagine the sounds.
The Dom displayed little finesse in the way he pressed deeper into the sub’s throat, holding his curly hair in a punishingly hard grip. Seconds passed, stretching into minutes, and DJ almost got to his feet to run over. Nobody could hold their breath for that long, but he didn’t see any obvious safe signals being used.
