Lyon on a Leash (9 page)

“Hello, Henry,” Marcus said.

His Mistress looked at him and winked. She seemed pleased he didn’t say anything more.

“Well, well, well!” Madame Bree’s voice boomed as she walked toward them. “Did you have to make the rest of us look bad?” she asked, looking at his Mistress with a frown.

Marcus tensed, prepared to step between the two women.

His Mistress’ eyes lit up. “If taking what belonged to me is all it takes to make you all look bad, you’ve got a serious problem.” She stood and embraced the woman. “How the hell have you been, Bree? It’s been years since I’ve seen you.”

Marcus relaxed his shoulders. He watched with pride and amazement as his young Mistress interacted with Madame Bree. He’d been concerned the loud woman had offended his Mistress. Instead, they appeared to know one another. His heart warmed as he watched the easy camaraderie flow between his Mistress and the other Dommes.

My Mistress
.

Those two words chased away the chill of failure that had threatened to paralyze him earlier. Ada had predicted this time would be different and it was. Normally after the auctions, the Dommes held court in various sections of the room. He was curious how things would fall today. Already, his Mistress and Mistress Em held a joint court with their submissives.

“I see you bought the pick of the litter.” Madame Bree looked at him. “He’s one of the good ones, Rose. Take care of him.”

Warmth radiated through him from the compliment. Since he’d never been chosen before, he’d assumed he hadn’t measured up in some way. Hearing both Mistresses compliment him soothed his bruised self-image.

“I intend to do that.” His Mistress’ fingertips ran up his arm as she smiled at him. “Bring me some water and something sweet.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Nodding, he smiled and rising, hurried for the buffet table where a few other submissives were filling plates.

“So you’re the one who got the prize?” the black guy with the long dreadlocks asked Marcus as he reached into the ice bucket for a bottle of water.

“Hmm?” Marcus frowned, turning toward the guy. He wasn’t surprised the man wore a gold collar, given what he was advertising. But Marcus was surprised the guy was asking about his Mistress instead of serving his own Domme.

“Your Mistress. The pretty, young, rich one.” The guy’s voice hardened toward the end. “Everybody knows in order to even participate in these auctions the Dommes have to make at least six figures. It was one of the reasons I participated.”

Marcus wasn’t about to get into this type of discussion. “She’s my Mistress and I’m lucky she picked me.” He moved to grab a plate as another male walked up. He was the one with the dark hair and green eyes Michelle had pointed out earlier. Not surprising, he also wore a gold collar. For a brief second, Marcus wondered who had bought him, then dismissed it. He really didn’t care. Instead, he wondered if there’d be a repeat of his earlier kiss with Mistress. Her lips had been firm with determination and soft with desire. He scoffed at the poetic words.

“What I want to know is why you? What’d she see in you that was so special she paid the highest amount?” The green-eyed guy asked this as though Marcus was required to answer him.

Young and dumb
. Rather than react to the insult, Marcus recognized the jealousy for what it was. He had been there so many times and asked himself the same question when he’d been overlooked. But he wasn’t about to disclose what he and his Mistress had discussed. At least these guys had been chosen this time. Back then he hadn’t.

After placing the final pastry on her plate, he looked at the four collared, half-naked men who stood by, waiting for an answer. “I don’t know why. I’m just happy she did. Excuse me, gentlemen.” He walked around them and headed back to deliver his Mistress her food. For the first time since he’d begun attending these events, he was the center of attention and he didn’t like it. There were rude, dismissive stares, bewildered looks, and even thoughtful gazes. It seemed Madame Bree had been on the money about the feelings floating around.

No matter. He folded to his knees and held the plate for his Mistress to partake at her leisure.

Her gaze searched his, questioning him first. She must have been watching him at the table. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, knowing he spoke honestly. Those who were upset would have to get over it.

“I told you there’s some jealous busybodies here. They didn’t like being shown up like that,” Mistress Em said.

“Okay, okay,” his Mistress said, her voice tense. “I’m not going to apologize for spending my money. That’s what this is all about.”

“Normally when one of us bids hard, the others back off. Seems you don’t know how things work around here.”

Marcus tensed at the anger in Mistress Angel’s tone.

“Tough shit,” his Mistress shot back. Leaning forward in her chair, she pushed his hand, and the plate, aside. “It’s a damn auction. I don’t know you or the unwritten rules. Not that it would’ve mattered. I wanted him so I placed the high bid. You didn’t, so get the fuck over it. He is mine. End of the damn story.”

Marcus stood in shock. Not at Mistress Angel—she’d acted true to form—but at his Mistress. His cock throbbed in appreciation of the fact she didn’t take any shit.

“You won’t last around here if you don’t learn the rules.” Mistress Angel stalked closer to his Mistress.

She stood and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t give a damn about you or your rules or lasting around here. I got what I came to get.” Her tone said she was done with the conversation.

He stood and placed the plate on the table behind them.

There was a tense silence. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Madame Chertier heading in their direction. When she drew close, Angel conceded.

“I noticed that. At any rate, congrats. He’s one of the good ones.” Mistress Angel looked at him.

Nostrils flaring, he returned her stare. Her eyes widened at bit before she turned away. The way she challenged his Mistress pissed him off.

“Is everything all right here?” Madame Chertier asked in her no-nonsense tone.

“Yes.” Angel nodded and took a step back, pulling her long, blond tresses over her shoulder as though she could hide her part in the confrontation.

“Yes, he is special. One thing you should know.” Instead of responding to Madame Chertier’s question, his Mistress waited until Angel returned her stare. “I. Never. Share. Whatever, if anything, you had with Marcus before, will never happen again.”

“You don’t allow others to top your sub?” Em asked, surprised.

Marcus listened closely.

“The only person I might allow to top him would be Marguerite. Even then, it’d have to be a special reason.”

Mistress Em nodded. “I can see that, since she trained you.”

“Trained her? What are you talking about?” Mistress Angel asked, looking at all of them.

Marcus wanted to know the answer himself. He had no idea who Marguerite was.

Madame Bree answered. “Rose was trained as a Professional by Kay. Mistress Kay in Tennessee.”

Professional? As in Dominatrix
? His lips pressed tightly together as he fought to hold back his shock. She’d said she had been in the lifestyle but he didn’t realize it was as a professional. That was awesome. While he’d been silently congratulating himself on how lucky he was, other Dommes were coming over to his Mistress to meet her.

One of the newer ones, in a red and black corset, black latex pants, and high-heeled boots, walked over smiling. “I’m Goddess Melinda. How is Kay? I haven’t seen her since she did a needle-play training session for our group in Austin a few years ago.”

“She’s well. She wanted to be here but had some personal things come up. Nice to meet you, Goddess Melinda,” Vera said, taking her hand.

He watched as his Mistress met all the Dommes and then they disbursed throughout the room, leaving the three holding court.

Madame Bree looked at Mistress Em with laughter in her eyes. “Nicely played, Em. Nicely played.”

His Mistress laughed. “The fear of Marguerite is still a powerful tool, I see.”

Em smiled. “It’s not fear, more like respect. And by her own words to me, you are her daughter.”

“Bullshit,” Madame Bree snorted. “Even I’m scared of Kay. Nobody wants to get on that Southern belle’s bad side. Not even the Angel.”

“She’s going to crack up when she hears how you played with the Madame and her new sub,” Em said chuckling.

Madame Chertier took the microphone again. “All right, gents, it’s time for the entertainment. If you’re performing tonight, come up and give Jonathan, our DJ, the name of your song. For some of you, this will be our last time watching you move that ass, so come on and give us a goodbye shake.”

A lot of laughing and good-natured ribbing followed. But Marcus remained behind his Mistress, hoping she wouldn’t insist he dance. The musical beats he processed in his mind were different from the actual beats. Often, he looked as though he were in the middle of some sort of spastic attack instead of actual dancing. That was the main reason he had never performed.

A tall, mahogany-haired man walked up to his Mistress and dropped to his knees. Tensing, Marcus stepped to the side, ready to remove the man if she wanted.

“Mistress Rose, I know I said I could not move to Georgia, but if I were able to rework things, would you reconsider and give me a chance?” The entire time he spoke he held his head down.

Marcus stuffed balled fists into his pockets to keep from grabbing the asshole by his collar and removing him from in front of
his
Mistress. Jaw clenched he waited, as did the other Dommes who watched, for her response.

Seconds ticked by in silence. Marcus’ brow broke out in sweat as he remembered there had been two men who’d caught her interest. The guy on his knees had to be the other man. Correction, make that the
uncollared
guy on his knees. She’d said she wouldn’t share him. Did that mean he had to share her? No, she didn’t do poly. He released a breath and forced his heartbeat to return to a slower tempo and waited for her reaction.

“Amelio, I’ve chosen my submissive and I’m pleased with him. Even if you moved to Georgia, he’d still be my choice. At this time, his service is all I need.” Her tone was soft and compassionate but there was no doubt she meant what she said.

Amelio looked up. Marcus inhaled and looked away at the pain he read there. It was such a private moment. No one should be privy to that degree of another person’s despair.

“Thank you, Mistress Rose. I am honored you sought me out and gave me the opportunity to talk with you. I assure you, it was the highlight of my day.” He stood and extended his hand to Marcus.

He grasped it and gave him a firm handshake.

Amelio looked at his collar. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Marcus released his hand and returned to his place behind his Mistress. His palms rested lightly on her shoulders. She reached back and patted his right hand.

No one spoke as Amelio walked away.

“Dance for me,” Em told Henry a few moments later.

He jumped up and strutted onstage while Michelle remained quietly next to his Mistress and stroked her hand. She turned and smiled warmly at him.

Mistress Bree looked at the two men at her feet. “What are you waiting for? Go dance for me.”

Marcus wasn’t surprised Bree had chosen a bald, muscular black guy and the other was the gorgeous Latino. He could imagine both men at her Vegas ranch. They strolled over to the booth, started talking to the DJ, and burst out laughing over something. The intimate way the black guy looked at the Latino suggested things were going to be very hot in Vegas, and not just from the high, desert temperatures.

Angel looked over at Marcus and then at his Mistress. “Marcus isn’t performing?” she asked, as though she and his Mistress were friends.

“No. I haven’t had the chance to unwrap him yet.”

“That’s right, you missed last night when they had to strut their stuff in the dungeon.”

His Mistress tensed and then relaxed. “He wasn’t there, either.” She dismissed the other woman and beckoned him closer with her fingers. “Tell the DJ to play Luther Vandross’ ‘Bad Boy’.”

She’s gonna make me dance.
His stomach dropped as he made his way across the room to the small area set aside for the music. When it was his turn, he spoke near the DJ’s ear and repeated the request.

The man nodded and winked. With heavy steps, he returned to his Mistress’ side. His face burned at the thought of dancing in front of all these people. He removed his jacket and placed it over his Mistress’ coat, on the back of her chair. Her brow rose as she looked up at him. He offered what he hoped was a nice smile, but it probably appeared as a grimace.

The music started. The green-eyed guy was up first and he gave his Mistress—one of the newer ones Marcus didn’t know—a decent lap dance. At least she seemed happy.

Marcus picked up a napkin from a nearby table and patted the sweat from his forehead. Since his Mistress knew he didn’t want to dance, this would be their first real D/s interaction. Knowing he would submit both aroused him and fed his anxiety.