Bow to Your Partner (7 page)

"I'm pleased. Do you want to go in?"

The formation of dancing ants covering her skin no
longer felt threatening. This time, tingles of anticipation bombarded her instead.

She wanted to see inside the club, wonder what
Callan liked, and whether they both had similar interests.

"Yes, please."

Callan unlocked the left hand of the three doors and
stood back to let her precede him. She walked into his office and looked around
with open interest. They said your surrounding reflected your personality. She was
glad the outer room didn't reflect Callan.

He stood just inside the door, and Mason became
conscious of his gaze on her as she wandered around. The classy room, with deep
rosewood furniture, sleek cabinets and an abstract painting of blues and orange
which reminded her of a summer sunset over the Western Isles suited him. A tall
coat stand with long hooks on it made her start, and she gave him a quick look.
He leaned back on the door, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankles. The
stance tightened his trousers over his body, and Mason couldn't help but notice
how it stretched over his thick cock.

"Yes, it would make a superb cradle for me to
tie you to, wouldn't it?" he said in a conversational tone.
"The perfect height and shape.
Maybe
another time?"

There was no way her skimpy thong could contain her
gush of arousal, and Mason forced
herself
not to cross
her legs and rub her thighs together. Of course he noticed, and grinned.

"Is that thought making you all hot and wet, Mason?
Of me tying you up and spanking you? Or using a nice stingy or thuddy flogger
on you? I'm looking forward to finding out your likes and dislikes, and pushing
you even further than you thought possible. What do you think?" He put his
finger under her chin and forced her to look upward. "Tell me the truth. If
I lift your skirt and put my hand inside you what will I find? I bet you're so
wet I'd need no other lubrication to fuck you long and hard, would I? Even to
take you over the desk. We don't have to go into the club, I could make you
come so loud and long, your cries would drown out any other noise.
So."
He took his hand from her chin, and slipped two
fingers under the collar of her dress. “Do we?"

Mason gulped. He stroked the slope of her breast,
creating beautiful tingles that ran through her. Dare she submit?

Do it
cara
,
it's what you are.
The voice was inside her mind again.
Time to move on.

Callan's hand moved once more and he crossed his
arms. The reaction to the loss of his touch surprised her. She felt lost and
alone. That plus the almost forlorn look on his face made her mind up. Mason
slipped to her knees in front of him. Before she lowered her head, his cock was
at eye level, and pushing hard against the cloth of his trousers. She imagined
the way it would feel in her hand or mouth.
Hot, hard, and if
she tasted him, all male musk and saltiness.
Mason shook with the need
to experience both of those things, before he came inside her, filled her, and
fucked her until they were both spent. It was up to her to show him she was
eager and ready for whatever he desired to show and ask of her.

"Please, Sir." Her voice was husky and she
cleared her throat. "I'm ready, and would like to try and see if we work
as Sir and sub."

He stayed silent for so long, Mason was desperate to
look up, to gauge his mood or intention. Somehow she managed not to, sure it was
a test. Eventually, just as she was ready to scream, she felt his hand on the
zipper of her dress.

"Then show me." He slipped the dress over
her arms, and lifted her to her feet so it pooled around her on the floor.
"Step out."

She obeyed without looking up. Once more he tilted
her face toward him. "Good girl. Safe words red, yellow green?"

She nodded.
"Yes, sir."

"Now?" he asked as he stroked his finger
under her thong and scraped the entrance to her channel with his nail.

The sensations that delicate touch set off were
perfect. Her body sang and she tightened her muscles on his digit as best she could.

"G-green sir."
How her voice didn't
tremble with passion when she spoke Mason had no idea. Here she was, standing
in his office in her bustier and he was fully clothed. Public scening hadn't
been part of her life, and she wasn't sure how she'd cope if it came to it.
This was well public enough for now. Mason reasoned there must be people who had
access to the room.

She was correct. Another door, one she hadn't paid
much attention to opened. She shut her eyes.

Chapter Seven

Callan turned to the door, and put himself between
it and Mason. He felt her trembling, and no way was he going to give her the
opportunity to renege, whatever happened. Not before they'd sorted out her
limits and played a little. Even though he had no intention of pushing very far
or even engaging in very much, nothing, but nothing, was going to interfere or
upset her.

The tall, dark-haired man who walked in checked his
steps and blinked.

"Thought it was your night off?"

"It is, and I thought your office was next
door?"

Sean grinned. "I need some more candles and
Ryan mentioned you said you had some to spare. I tell you Cal, that new trainee
Dom, Kieran, needs a lot more attention before he's let loose, if ever."

Mason stiffened behind him and Callan put his hand
out to drag her into his arms. She resisted for one brief second, and then
curled herself round him, her face hidden.

Sean raised one eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Candles, sure."
Callan motioned with
one hand. "Second cupboard, help yourself."

"Cheers, are you coming in?" Sean walked
across the room, and Callan noted how careful Sean was not to look at Mason,
who visibly shook.

"Not tonight, but can you make this room off
limits? We might be here a while."

"Sure." Sean took out some candles and
walked out. Callan waited until the door closed.

"Give me a second, I'll double lock it. One
step too far eh?" He loosened the death grip she had on his jacket, and
kissed the top of her head. "Go and sit down, I won’t be long." He
patted her butt to point her in the direction of the sofa. She didn't look at
him as she did as he requested, and Callan was damned sure it wasn't subbie
obedience but blind terror or some similar reason that made her behave like
that.

He checked the door was locked and slipped the
deadbolt, mentally cursing he hadn't thought to do it before. But then all the
owners agreed each could enter the others office when needed. As it was Callan's
night off Sean would have no need to assume Callan was in residence and knock.

"That's us secure. Now, how about telling me
why the over reaction? He's a Dom, and he's going to see you in much more
provocative clothing or situations if we do get together."

Mason lifted her head to look at him. He'd never
seen such abject misery, and his body tensed at the thought she was going to
safe word out before they'd even been together.

"I know." Her voice was low and he
couldn't decide if she sounded sad or annoyed. "But I've never done
anything in public, and that was Sean O'Connor. He's a mate of my cousin."

"So am I." Did he sound as bewildered as
he felt? Callan had no idea why she worried.
"A friend
of Marco's."

"Yes, but Marco set us up or we think he did.
Sean didn't and he'll know why I'm here."

"And you know why he's here," Callan said.
Talk about stating the obvious.
"So
what's the difference?"

"Argh, men, Sir."

Her words were so contradictory, Callan bit the
inside of his lip to stop himself grinning. He reckoned it wasn't the right
thing to do, he needed to sooth her fears not increase them.

"Love, explain. You said you were in the
lifestyle with your husband, and now hopefully you're in it with me. Michael
joined you both up here, so he was obviously going to bring you."

She bit her nail. "But we hadn't.
Been here or anywhere.
He'd always been adamant, what I did
was for him and him alone. We were a partnership, albeit a D/s one. So no one
really knew. Okay, Marco guessed, after all I was collared, and we did live our
lives to our own way of the lifestyle, but for Sean to walk in and see me half
undressed was more than a shock. I just got
every insecurity
known to humankind in spades. And then he went for candles."

Callan sat down on the settee and pulled her onto
his lap. "Are candles a hard limit, love?" He decided they might as
well talk about limits whilst she calmed down and realized there was nothing to
fear.

"Nope, I got all shivery in a good way. They
were Michael's though, as he'd been burned by one as a kid." She wriggled
and smiled as his cock settled between her butt cheeks. "I so wanted to do
some wax play, but no dice. My hard limits are piercing, cutting, and butt
plugs. Oh and to be honest, I've never enjoyed going down." She blushed
and bit her nail again

Butt plugs? That's a
weird one.
Callan decided to talk about that later. What a strange set of limits she had.

"So you won't put my cock in your mouth and
love me? Let me swell and fill you that way? Don't you like the thought of
swallowing my juices and knowing how I taste?"

She went white, red then white again. Her skin was
flushed and
a sheen
of perspiration coated her skin,
making the fine hairs stand out slick and proud. "Ah. Oh, damn it. See
when you—oh lordy, sorry, Sir." She touched his arm. "God I'm shite
as a sub, aren't I? No wonder Michael
never
let me sub
in a public scene. I'd show him, and now you, up."

She looked close to tears.

"Do you want to?" he asked quietly. Even
the air in the room seemed to await her answer. "Scene in public, not show
me up?
Which for the record you'd never do.
Believe
me. I'd be proud of anything you did. So?"

"Maybe.
Oh
help,
I'm a mess aren't I? Yeah I think so, but well, maybe."

Callan stood up abruptly and took her arm.

"Remember you can safe word at any time.
Remember where you are, don't speak without my permission, and accept my
diktats okay?
Color."
He snapped the words out.

"Yes. Yellow."

Callan held his groan back. He should have known.

"Why love?" He gentled his tone.

"Please don't scene with me, or make me strip,
please." She begged and he was disgusted with himself. She was pleading
him not to do something he had no intention of letting happen any time soon.
What a bastard I've become.

"Mason, do you trust me to know what's best for
us? Do you trust me, period?
Because if not, there's no point
in going on."
This time the silence continued for so long, he convinced
himself her answer would be in the negative. Eventually after two minutes and
twenty-nine seconds—he'd counted them off on his watch—she took a shuddering
breath.

"Yes, Sir.
Sorry,
Sir."

He hoped his relief wasn't obvious. Seriously she'd
put him through the wringer more times in such a short time, than everyone
during the rest of his life.

"Mason, listen to me. We won't scene tonight,
maybe not for ages. Who knows?
Maybe never."

How someone who he'd only met so recently mattered
so much confused the hell out of him. Callan was the person who never rushed
into anything.
The one who stood back and pondered.
Who
evaluated and debated before he made decisions. His nickname at University—Cautious
Cal—was apt. Now, after just a few hours with Mason, he'd turned that sobriquet
on its head. "Tonight we'll watch for a while, that's all. Let you see how
the club works. Then we'll talk to discover if we want the same things.
Yes?"

She nodded, and the relief in her eyes warred with
the tears she brushed away impatiently. "Yes, please.
Um,
Sir."

"Then come with me, and do as I say. You look
beautiful and that bustier has my cock demanding release, so this is a lesson
in restrain and trust for both of us. That afterwards we've come to a place
where we're both happy to carry on." He paused and grinned. "And I
can fuck the living daylights out of you. Be it this week, next month or next
year. We're not going to rush, pet."

She giggled, and it was the best sound ever. Callan
walked over to unlock the door, changed his mind, and turned back to the long
mahogany cupboard before he swiveled and looked at her. Mason stood tall by the
settee, her hands behind her back, and her eyes following his every movement.

"In this club on play nights like this, if you're
taken or don't want to play, you can wear a sign. Will you? It's not a collar,
it’s a bracelet." He opened the cupboard and took out a delicate silver
chain with an intricate diamond knot on it. He'd never given it, or any form of
taken token to anyone before. His heart beat sped up as he waited for her
reply.