Page 64 of Masters of Control

She wasn’t sure he would understand. She was fairly certain he would want to fix things for her. It hadn’t escaped her notice that Q paid for as much as he could whenever they were together, which she didn’t feel comfortable with, but she tried to remember that it wasn’t always about her. Just like with Morgan and Noelle.

If he wanted to do certain things with her, like going out to dinner or ordering in, and was willing and able to pay for it—something she knew she would want to do if their positions were reversed—she did her best not to argue against everything. Though she did prefer it when they weren’t spending money or she could pay for herself.

For all that she’d occasionally wished for a Sugar Daddy, she was now living the proof that she would make a terrible Sugar Baby. So, there went that dream.

It wasn’t until after dessert was finished that Q put his hand in his suit jacket pocket, and she felt the vibrator hum to life again. Now that she was sitting down, it pressed even more insistently against her swollen clit, and the resurgence of stimulation made her squirm.

“Everything okay?” Q put his arm along the back of the booth and scooted closer, so the sides of their bodies were pressed together.

“Fine. Everything’s fine.” Jerk. She didn’t know why she didn’t just admit that he was driving her wild, but something about his smug expression made her want to pretend otherwise. Q’s chuckled, which was even more infuriating.

Their server appeared to clear away their dishes and give the table a quick wipe down, and as they were doing so, Q hit another button on the remote and the vibrator pulsed against her clit instead of the steady hum she’d been experiencing.

Sam bit down on her lower lip to keep from moaning, though she didn’t know why. No one here was going to judge her, least of all the server who had probably seen a hell of a lot more without batting an eyelash.

But just like when she’d answered she was ‘fine,’ some part of her balked at showing too much of her reaction.

Her pride was a thing of wonder.

The lights dimmed and Q’s smile widened.

“Looks like the show is about to start.” His arm shifted to drape over her shoulders, his fingers hanging down so the tips brushed against the top of her breast. Under other circumstances, the barely-there touch might not have even registered or felt ticklish, but with her senses already hyperaware, he might as well have pinched her nipple. It had nearly the same effect.

Sam sucked in a deep breath, which made her breasts lift in the corset, but Q didn’t take advantage to touch her more firmly, which was maddening. Pressing her thighs together, she tried to get more stimulation for her poor clit, which was being tortured by the gentle pulsing vibration of the panties.

The room went fully dark, indicating the start of the show, and Sam took another deep breath. Hopefully, the show would give her something else to focus on other than the throbbing need between her legs.

The room lightened just enough to see people moving in the darkness, bringing in equipment. In the center of the stage, she could see two people motionless—one on their knees and the other standing beside them, hand resting on her head. The lights slowly began to come up again, until everything on the stage was clearly visible, including the two people.

Holy shit, Mitch’s dad is HOT.

Damn. If that was what Mitch was going to look like in thirty years, good for Domi.

The Dom, Master Gavin as he’d been named in the program, stood in the center of the dais, drawing attention naturally. He was tall, well-muscled, and had a full head and beard of silver hair, sprinkled through with some black. He was bare-chested, showing off the curls of grey on his chest, as well as several tattoos on his arms, and wearing a kilt.

“Do you think he has an accent?” she whispered, without thinking about who she was sitting next to.

She could practically feel Q’s frown. His hand lifted and gave the top of her breast a little slap. Simultaneously, the vibrator on her clit went from a steady pulsing to intermittent, so she could no longer anticipate how intense the vibration would be or when it was going to hit.

Oops.

She hadn’t meant to make him jealous, but who could resist a Scottish accent?

Kneeling beside him, Mitch’s mom, Leah according to the program, was as blonde as Mitch was, very pretty, and appeared to be completely comfortable in her own skin. She was wearing nothing but a sheer slip. Yeah, Sam could understand why Mitch would want to miss this show, but she was glad she was here to watch it.

In the center of the stage was a piece of equipment she’d seen before, but never in a dungeon or sex club. Trust kinksters to pervert an inversion table.

“Up, lass.”

Yup, that was a Scottish accent alright. She smiled in the darkness when she heard Q huff. At least he couldn’t see her expression, but as if he knew what she was thinking, his hand slid down over her breast, into her corset, and he gave her nipple a sharp pinch, making her gasp.

On stage, the woman got to her feet and stripped off the thin negligee. They didn’t go straight into hanging her on the inversion table—they started with Leah facing it and using it for support while Master Gavin flogged her. The thuddy sound of leather against skin made Sam ache with envy, and she almost didn’t notice as the vibrations against her clit increasing until her pussy spasmed in response.

Her thighs quivered as she watched the two, her breath coming in short, steady pants — almost in sync with the vibrations rumbling through her. Almost. Her orgasm creeping closer and closer, she suddenly realized she was holding onto the table, her hips moving against the seat, trying to grind down on the vibrator.

Q leaned in, his hot breath sizzling her ear.

“Should I let you come, naughty girl?”