Several of the subs laughed while the men looked on with sympathy.
Emily’s brows lifted. Equal parts titillated and mortified, she drawled, “Moving on…”
Alec smirked but said nothing.
The Sensory Gauntlet was next, the station twice as large as the others.
“That sounds interesting,” Emily murmured, slowing.
Alec guided her to the edge of the crowd, his breath brushing her ear as he explained. “Participants are blindfolded and led through a maze of textures—fur, silk, ice, feathers. Every right guess earns a point.”
A woman in a silk blindfold wearing nothing but panties and nipple jewelry gripped the guide rope and stepped into the gauntlet. Dominants lined either side, implements in hand. The crowd hushed.
The first touch came from behind—a soft, whispering stroke across her shoulders.
“Ooh,” she said, shivering. “Fur?”
“Very good, Lauren,” the domme praised. “It’s rabbit, but I won’t be that much of a stickler. One point.”
She smiled, emboldened, and moved forward.
A moment later, Lauren giggled. “Feathers,” she called, as a boa slid over her breasts.
“Correct.”
Next, a flogger connected crisply with her bottom.
“I’m not sure about that one.” Lauren arched, grinning. “May I have another to be certain?”
“Nice try,” the flogger-wielding dom said, grinning. “Only one to a customer. But you can meet me later in the playroom for a full demonstration, naughty subbie.”
“Yes, sir,” she said brightly. “And that was a leather flogger,” she answered, correct again, before moving on.
A few chuckles rippled through the crowd at her daring. Emily grinned despite herself. Could she ever be that open and uninhibited?
Metal kissed Lauren’s inner thigh. “That’s cool and it tingled a little. Is it… a tuning fork?”
“How did you know that?” the dom asked, suspicious. “Are you peeking?”
“No, sir! I’d never.” Lauren beamed and advanced, clearly enjoying herself.
Droplets hit her shoulders. She hesitated, as the thick substance slid down her chest. “Hmm, it’s sticky. Kind of thick.” She wrinkled her nose. “Maple syrup?”
“So close, but wrong again,” the domme said. “It’s honey.”
Alec leaned in, voice a low rumble. “Mmm. That’s always been my weakness.”
Emily’s breath caught, fingers curling at her sides.
She remembered him at sixteen, sitting at her mother’s kitchen table, devouring buttered biscuits slathered in golden honey and licking his fingers with boyish greed. A far more adult image entered her mind—Alec nibbling and lappy the sticky stuff from her breasts while her hands were bound behind her. Her thighs pressed together involuntarily.
“I remember,” she said, breath hitching.
He glanced down, reading her too easily.
The final implement tapped rhythmically up Lauren’s calves. “Drumsticks?” she guessed.
“Correct,” the dom said, giving her a final tap on the hip.
