What the hell? Was he so sex-starved that watching other people turned him on so much? Then again, he’d always enjoyed sneaking a peak at people gyrating at a club, or snogging and groping at a party. But those events had been few and farbetween in the last two decades. He’d been turned on by men before, even if he’d rarely followed through with that attraction. But the pull towards the Dom was so intense, it was downright scary.
“Uh huh,” Finley agreed without moving his gaze from Master Kage’s hand, reaching for a riding crop.
It was like watching a play in the theatre—him leading the scene, the Sub reacting to his every move, a conversation based on touch rather than words.
Master Kage walked around the young man, tracing the riding crop over his clamped nipples, then on the inside of his parted thighs. Finley shifted his stance wider as his hard cock hurt in his tight trousers.
A lock of Master Kage’s black hair fell over his forehead, shining in the overhead lightning of the stage. How soft would his hair feel sliding between Finley’s fingers?
With gentle movements, the Dom smacked the Sub’s thigh with the riding crop several times, and he writhed in his bindings, his cock bouncing on his abdomen, pre-cum shining at the tip.
Master Kage leaned down and whispered into the Sub’s ear while massaging his balls with the flat leather of the crop. When he straightened up, he wrapped his fingers around the man’s dick and stroked at a languid pace. The black glove added to the aura of power and distance, helping define the roles of the people onstage. When the young man’s breathing grew ragged and his body strained, the Dom smacked his balls with the crop in rapid succession. He stopped stroking, but kept up a clock-like rhythm, landing the crop on the inside of the Sub’s thighs, then on his sac.
The young man arched on the bench, taking a gulp of air before he let out a wail so loud it reached Finley’s ears. Hewas coming, shooting into the air and over his chest, his cries carrying over the music.
Master Kage let the crop clatter to the floor and massaged the Sub’s balls with one hand while unclamping his nipples with sharp pulls. The young man cried out again and jerked his hips up as far as his bindings allowed. He wasn’t protesting though. Quite the opposite—he moaned as his eyes rolled back only to follow his Master with an unfocused gaze.
Fucking hell, Finley was at work and he would have to return to tending the bar any moment, but he was also human, and the display of Master Kage’s skill weakened his knees and hardened his cock.
The way the Dom took his time and kept communicating with the Sub, and how the Sub seemed to be having the most erotic experience of his life showed the complicated mental aspects of a scene. Finley hadn’t realised before that raw dominance wasn’t the only way to treat a submissive. Witnessing Master Kage’s calm demeanour and sure movements opened his eyes to how planned and well-executed the scene was.
Master Kage released the Sub from his bonds, wrapping his arm around the young man’s slender waist. Spent and visibly exhausted, the sub’s slack body slid into his Master's embrace. They descended the stage, and the crowd parted for them to pass, some watching them with awe, others heading towards the bar.
“Where are they going?” Finley turned to Lucy.
His leather trousers squeezed his cock with the movement and he bit his lip not to squeak. Fuck, he was so desperate for a wank he felt his balls might explode.
“To the back rooms,” Lucy said, not hiding her smirk at Finley’s discomfort. “Some are for hourly rental, well-stuffed for private scenes, others are designated for aftercare. People can choose to receive it from the Dom with whom they had the scene,or have their partner take care of them. Today, it will be Master Kage. He usually uses room fifteen. He has his own room too, but no one except the cleaning staff has seen the inside of it.”
“What’s aftercare?” It sounded like post-surgical rehabilitation.
“Whatever the Sub needs. It can be a gentle cuddle, soft words of comfort, a warm bath, or just a chat. Depends on whether the scene led to a sub-drop or not, and how the Dom is feeling as well.” Lucy shrugged as if what she was saying was obvious. “Master Kage is so famous for a reason. His job doesn’t end with walking off the stage. It ends with a happy Sub leaving the premises, as it always should.”
Finley hadn’t pondered what happened to the subs after a scene, but he couldn’t think of a better place to recuperate than in those luxurious rooms while wrapped in the arms of a sexy dominant. He needed to do more research about the lifestyle, not only the club. It was a completely different world, and he hadn’t expected to be drawn into it so quickly. He had so many questions.
“Right. How do people sign up?” Finley passed over a fresh glass for Lucy. “Is there a waiting list? Can anyone do it?”
Lucy gave him a knowing look over her shoulder, her hands automatically making a screwdriver someone had ordered.“There’s a form on his website. He’s not employed by the club—he rents the space whenever he needs it. So everything, including who comes for the session and what happens during it, is up to him.” Lucy passed the drink over and took payment from the customer.
“Isn’t it risky from the club’s point of view?” Finley prepared a set of shots for an awaiting couple. “Him doing whatever he wants?”
Lucy shook her head, her blonde strands shining in the lights above the bar. “He’s been using the club for six years now,Finley. Jagoda trusts him. Besides, you’ll learn soon enough that we’re all a bit of a family here. Wonky, weird, and defective, but a family nonetheless. Give it some time. Besides, I hear you already know some of the fam.” She winked. “Mat doesn’t visit often anymore, but he told me to take good care of you.”
Finley’s brain was overloaded with the new information. He mulled over the technicalities as Lucy turned to a client dressed like a cowboy in a very draughty outfit. They exchanged a laugh and Lucy took his payment as she handed him a set of colourful drinks with umbrellas.
“He chooses the people personally, then?” Finley asked, when Lucy was free again.
“Yeah. He prepares bespoke scenes based on the information the Sub provides. And holy hell, his hands can do wonders.” Lucy sighed, her expression dreamy before she snapped out of it and waved to someone in the distance. “Take out six shot glasses, please,” she instructed and reached for a bottle from the bar.
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” Finley fumbled to arrange the glasses on the counter, his mind full of images of Master Kage.
“I am.”
Finley’s head whipped so hard to the side his neck cracked.“Really?” He didn’t hide the surprise in his voice.
“Do you think I’ve been working here for four years and managed to refrain from applying? Oh, love, I had to find out how it feels to fall apart under Master Kage’s hands.” She patted Finley’s cheek. “He’s unlike any Dom I’ve met before. Many of them don’t require that amount of paperwork and prep. As you know, all playing members of the club are screened in advance and given appropriate wristbands or cuffs, so some doms pick people on the day to do scenes. But not Master Kage.”
During the training, Jagoda had told the new employees about the cuffs and their significance. Doms who demonstrated different techniques on stage or took part in scenes wore a black cuff. The most treasured participants, the service subs who were willing to play at any moment they were at the club, wore a steel, gold-painted band around their wrist—their golden handcuffs.
