Read Casey's Warriors (Bondmates) Online
Authors: Ann Mayburn
Casey's Warriors (Bondmates) (45 page)
A flicker of real interest surfaced. “What color are the masks?” She had an extensive collection of leather and latex dresses, not to mention a drawer full of corsets that she wore to the clubs. Mentally flipping through her clothing, she tried to decide what to wear.
Daisy tossed one of her dreadlocks over her shoulder. “Shan, you're going to love this place. No one will judge you for your needs, and you will adore all the effort people put into creating a scene. It's really almost like a theater performance...with orgasms.”
Excitement, worry, and anticipation flooded her body with a heady mixture of adrenaline. She took a deep breath and prayed that she was making the right choice.
****
Devon King crossed his heavily muscled arms over his black-leather-clad chest and examined the submissives offering themselves for the evening. Men and women wearing everything from suits with strategically cut out breast and crotch panels to nothing but skin covered in glittering body paint huddled together like a bunch of nervous rabbits. There were mostly women standing around, but also few unattached male submissives who darted glances at the section of the club where the single Doms tended to hold court.
Behind the unattached subs, a club Sentinel carefully kept watch over the main floor. Part of the appeal of this private club was the knowledge that safe, sane, and consensual was strictly enforced. It didn't hurt that most of the Doms were part of various Temple Guards, trained for battle and possessing the instinct to protect. From his seat on the black leather couch, he counted at least two dozen male and female guards roaming the room.
Toward the back of the small group of men and women, a stunning brunette caught his eye then sank to her knees with a pleading look. Thin, dressed in a see-through cream sheath, she arched her back and mouthed the word, “please.” Biting back a sigh, he shook his head and purposefully looked away from her, signaling his disinterest in dominating her tonight.
Her name was Maria, and he had played with her once, weeks ago, and now she seemed fixated on him. Gods knew why. He wouldn't hurt and debase her like she wanted, and her attempts to top from the bottom totally turned him off. With a bitter twist of his mouth, he remembered the way she had lied about what she wanted and tried to goad him into really beating her. So much of the D/s relationship was built on trust, even during the casual encounters at the club. No matter how beautiful and willing, her dishonesty was a total turn-off and he kept his distance from her.
His best friend, Malik, adjusted the leather mask he was wearing and equally ignored Maria and her silent pleading. Unlike Devon's solid black mask, Malik's had traces of gold that gleamed against his dark brown skin. Big and solid, the men filled the couch they shared. Though the club was crowded, no one sat near them, and a circle of masterless submissives whispered and admired them from across the room.
“I thought Maria got kicked out for causing that fight between Master Greg and Master Dane,” Malik muttered as he scanned the crowd.
“Ben let her back in. From what he said, she recently got away from a fucked-up Master who put her in the hospital. Said her head is all messed up and she needs the good influence and safety of the club before she goes out and finds another abusive asshole. You know Ben. Show him a wounded sub, and he wants to make it all better.”
Malik grunted a laugh and shook his head. “That girl is nothing but trouble. I've watched her play the baby Doms, bending them around her little finger and making them jump through hoops.”
Shrugging, Devon minutely relaxed as he watched Maria pair off with an older sadist and head for the playroom downstairs. Despite the small amount of pity he felt for her, he was glad she wouldn't be following him around tonight. Something burned in his blood, and he felt an eager sense of anticipation he hadn't experienced in years. Almost as though he was waiting for something wonderful to happen. Snorting at his own foolishness, he cracked his knuckles for the third time in less than ten minutes.
Malik carefully scanned the floor. “What are you in the mood for tonight?”
Shrugging his broad shoulders, Devon ran a hand over his tight brush cut. He tried to keep his words light, but his tension crept through. “Something soft.”
Malik grinned, his teeth a flash of white in the subdued lighting of the Steel Chalice. “The need is riding you hard tonight, isn't it?”
Instead of answering, Devon nodded. His gaze locked on a full-figured submissive with short red hair and skin as pale as cream. Her nice full hips would be a pleasure to grip. She noticed him watching her and dropped her gaze to the ground, toying with the ends of her fringed black dress.
“Being the Chosen of a War God isn't easy,” Devon admitted and continued to watch the submissive. He drank in the hesitant way she edged across the floor toward him, the fear and anticipation coming off her in waves.
“Especially when you're already an arrogant prick.” Malik turned his attention to the submissive who paused at the end of the stairs that led to where they were sitting. His voice dropped an octave. “The need to dominate, to own and possess, can become overwhelming.”
Making up her mind, the submissive went to her knees and began to crawl up the steps toward them. Both men took a deep breath of her scent and sighed in disappointment.
“Human.” Devon breathed out. “A little gold mist in her aura. I'm going to guess she's a Priestess of Zeus.”
Malik leaned forward, his attention on the doorway. “What I wouldn't give to find an unattached submissive Chosen.” He rolled his shoulders beneath his black leather shirt and cracked his neck. “All the good ones are taken. What I wouldn’t give to find a single, hot submissive Chosen tonight. I need to let out some tension with a woman who can take it.”
Guess I'm not the only one being ridden hard by the need tonight
, Devon thought in amusement as he watched his friend. Malik was a Chosen of the Nubian War God, Apedemak, and he was the Captain of the Nubian Temple Guard like Devon was Captain of the Egyptian Temple Guard. They had been friends for over twenty years and were like brothers. “I know,” Devon murmured in a cold voice and tried to push back the dull pain created by Malik's words.
Malik glanced back at him with an apologetic twist to his lips. “Sorry, Devon. I didn't mean—”
“It's okay.” Devon glanced at him. “My mother knew the price she would pay when she married my mortal father.” Even though his mother, a Chosen of Isis, was thirty years older than his father, she looked like a woman in her prime while his father's fragile mortal body was showing the wear and tear of his ninety-two years.
Watching her suffer through his father's slow slide into death had made Devon determined to take another Chosen as his mate. Too bad only about two percent of the world's population had what it took to be a Chosen, and of that two percent, only a fraction were actually picked by a god or goddess as their personal hand on Earth. Oh, and he couldn’t be with another war diety Chosen. That relationship would be doomed from the start, two people determined to win. No, he needed someone belonging to a softer, gentler god or goddess. And, he had to like them. He really didn’t like many people. That cut down his odds of finding a Chosen who could soothe his need to dominate and crave his rough brand of pleasure down to one-in-a-million odds.
“Do you want to share her?” Devon asked in a voice too low for the human to hear. She stopped three paces before them and knelt. Thighs spread, head held high with her eyes lowered to the ground, she knew what she was doing. Devon felt a slight twinge of disappointment. While he enjoyed the pleasures of a well-trained slave, he preferred to do the training himself. There was nothing like helping a woman discover the overwhelming satisfaction of true submission for the first time.
Standing with a long stretch, Malik grinned at Devon. “No, you and I are both too close to the edge. Our territorial instincts would get triggered, and we'd end up fighting and getting kicked out of the club.” Unhooking the flogger from his belt, he twirled it in the air. “I'm going to see what lovelies are offering themselves on the lower level. I’m in the mood for a pain slut tonight.”
The noise of the club faded into the background as Devon slowly rose into the hyper-reality of his Top space. Every nuance, every detail of the lovely sub before him became magnified. His world focused on the woman before him and how far he could push her for their mutual pleasure.
“Come,” he said and watched the beat of her pulse increase beneath the pale skin of her neck.
She crawled toward him and looked up for permission with her lips hovering over his black motorcycle boot. Judging her need and desires, he nodded and felt the flow of energy from her as she kissed his boot. Though the soft press of her lips should not have registered through the heavy leather, in his magically heightened state, he could feel the warm press of her human aura against him. The favor of her god added a little extra zing to her energy but nothing like the psychic punch of another Chosen. What he wouldn’t give to feel that connection just once. He’d heard that when two Chosen had sex their auras merged, and it was amazing.
Closing his eyes, he forced his wandering mind to focus only on the woman before him. She deserved his total attention, and he needed her total submission. When she pulled away, a trail of her tangerine aura trailed from her lips to his boot.
As his attention narrowed, he scanned the club one more time out of habit. With his focus narrowed entirely on the woman kneeling before him the building could blow up, and it wouldn't have broken his concentration. It was a dangerous state for both him and the object of his desire, so he valued the safety and security of the Steel Chalice.
The building was magically warded and guarded so the servants of Creation could seek their release here without having to fear an attack by the agents of Destruction. And, right now, he needed that release like he required air. The last few weeks had been filled with one emergency after another and he hadn’t had the chance to take some time for himself. Now he was restless with the craving to lose himself in a submissive’s pleasure.
“What do you need?” he asked, needing to set up the ground rules for their scene.
“I desire heavy bondage and light whipping.” Her tone was matter of fact, and he appreciated that she knew what she wanted. He wasn’t in the mood for playing twenty questions to drag the answers he needed out of a sub.
“What is off-limits?”
“No excessive humiliation. No blood, burning, or wet play. No marks that can be seen in public.”
Leaning toward her, he watched her aura reach out to him, straining to bring him closer. “What’s your name?” he asked in a soft whisper.
“Kelly.” Her voice lowered to match his, easily giving herself to his control as her pale blue eyes flickered from his lips to his chest and down to his pelvis before flying back up to his face.
“Do you want to play with me, Kelly?” She was so soft and feminine and he loved full-figured women.
“Yes, sir.” The surrender and anticipation in those two words stiffened his cock.
“Your safe word is ‘ice.’ Once you use it, all play will stop, and we will be done. If you think something may be on the edge of what you can handle, say ‘cold’, and we may or may not discuss it.”
“My safe word is ‘ice.’ Thank you, sir.” Her nipples hardened to peaks, and her hips shifted as she clenched her thighs together.
Standing, he tried to shrug off a twinge of disappointment. He felt as though he was missing something, that someone else should be at his feet. Before he led the pretty little submissive to the main floor, he gave the club one last look. When no mystery woman materialized out of the crowd, he raised the redhead to her feet and removed the black wrist cuffs from his belt.
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A Thank you from Fated Desires
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