Slice of Pi 2 (23 page)

Or so she thought.

“So, you going to tell me what you're freaking out about over there, or do you want me to guess?” His voice was startlingly loud after the silence.

She could avoid the subject like she usually did, but she had the sense he wasn't going to give up that easily this time. “I'm afraid of getting too serious with you.”

His sigh was full of exasperation. She rounded on him. “Hey, if you didn't want to know, you shouldn't have asked,” she said more snappishly than she'd intended.

“I can't believe you're still going on about this.” Owen turned the corner to his street. “I thought we were doing fine.”

“You're doing fine. I'm a total basket case. You want me to be this girlfriend person and I'm not that.” Iris shook her head. “I don't do this sort of thing, Owen. This is all new to me. I don't even know how to be a good partner.”

“Can't you just trust me when I tell you that I like being with you, instead of second-guessing me all the time?” Owen pulled up in front of his house and turned the car off, but he didn't get out. “We said we'd give this a shot for a couple of weeks, right? Am I that awful to spend time with?”

“No, not at all.” Iris closed her eyes. “Ugh, just forget it. It'll all be over with soon anyway.”

She heard him shift next to her. “What does that mean, Iris?” His voice sounded quiet, but with an edge of hurt and anger to it that cut her to her core.

Iris shrugged, keeping her eyes closed so she didn't have to look at him. “I just don't have high hopes for what's after next weekend. If you can get the kinky sex from somebody else, I don't know why you'd pick me.”

She didn't even realize she was crying until she felt his thumb on her cheek, wiping away a tear. Opening her eyes, she saw his expression was full of compassion, incongruous beneath his pirate regalia. “Do you really think you're worth so little that all I want from you is kinky sex?” Iris looked away, but he turned her face back toward him with a firm hand on her chin. “Answer me, Iris.”

She let out a deep, shuddering breath. “I don't know how to be in a relationship, Owen. I'm scared.”

He nodded. “That's okay. You can be scared. I'm scared, too. I'm scared that you're going to sabotage what we have because you think you're going to repeat your parents' mistakes.” Apparently the look on her face revealed that he'd hit the mark, and he dropped his hand. “That's it, isn't it?”

She looked away. “I know it's illogical, but I can't help it. I've done it before. I've ended every relationship I've ever had.”

He moved his hand to her neck, stroking the loose curls at the base of her scalp, “And were those relationships all worth keeping?”

Iris hadn't considered that question before. No, they weren't worth keeping. She didn't want to spend her life with any of the men she'd dated. None of them made her feel the way she felt when she was with Owen. But still, admitting that was acknowledging she was considering getting serious with Owen, and she wasn't ready for that yet. She shook her head. “I don't want to think about this anymore. I don't know who I am to you if I'm not your Domme.”

“Why can't you be my Domme and also my partner?” Owen tipped his head to the side. For the first time, she saw doubt on his face. “Am I nothing more than a sub to you?”

Their eyes met, and for a long moment, they were both silent. Iris was so afraid of saying the wrong thing, but instead she said the truth. “You're much more than a sub to me. That's what worries me.”

Owen nodded. “Okay. And you really think you'll feel better after this convention if we try things out with other people and realize we still want to be together?”

“I don't know. Maybe.” Iris shrugged helplessly. “I think I'll be reassured that you're picking me, and not my role.”

“All right.” Owen gave her a small smile. “If that's what it takes, I'm fine with that. If you want, we can take some time apart until then, clear our heads.”

Iris tried not to frown. She knew she was going to miss him, but it was probably for the best. “Maybe we should.”

“Okay.” Owen leaned in to her and pressed his lips against her forehead. The gesture was so compassionate that Iris felt another swell of emotion, a desire for more, a desire for forever. It terrified her.

“You want me to drive you home now?” he asked.

Iris thought about her empty apartment, where she would spend the week, then looked up at the darkened walkway toward Owen's front door, thinking of his bed, his body curling toward hers in the dark hours of the night.

“Maybe in the morning?” She played with the sash of her toga, running the thin fabric between her fingers. “It's late. I haven't packed.” True, but she also wanted to spend another night here in his arms without worrying about what the next weekend might bring.

Owen closed his hand over hers and squeezed. “Of course. Let's go inside.”

15 

Iris couldn't look away
from Owen as he climbed into her car so they could head to the convention. She had missed him, honestly, in just the week since they'd last seen each other. While she had managed to stay busy with work, as she'd anticipated, she hadn't expected to be so overwhelmed by the sight of him. She needed to get ahold of herself. He smelled like vanilla as always, and she took a deep breath, reveling for a moment in the “Owen and baked goods” aroma.

“Are you sniffing me?” Owen looked over at her, one eyebrow raised.

“I can't help it. You always smell like cookies.” She felt herself blush and pulled her car out onto the street. “And I like cookies.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Owen watching her. “I could make cookies for you,” he said. With that simple phrase, she thought about what they could have, the potential for a future together that Owen seemed to believe in, and she wished she didn't want it so much.

As she turned onto the highway, she said honestly, “I missed you this week.”

Owen reached over to where her hand rested on the center console and squeezed her fingers. “I missed you, too.” He slid his hand over to her knee, visible below the hem of her skirt, and his touch there kindled an entirely different fire inside her. He gave her knee a gentle pat before returning his hand to his lap, leaving her discombobulated and flushed.

The Geeky Kink Event was being held at a Sheraton on the outskirts of Kissimmee, not far from Orlando, but not so close that they'd attract theme park visitors. Apparently, the convention rented out the entire hotel, and freestanding dividers separated the lobby from the main venue. Iris wasn't sure what to expect on the other side. After checking in with both the hotel and the event staff, they were given name tags on which they could write whatever names they wanted to be called while at the convention. People probably wrote really funny things like Mistress Wombat and Captain Pantsless, but she just went with “Iris.” Owen looked at his for a minute as if contemplating writing something else, but then he wrote “Owen.” Apparently they were going to be themselves this weekend. At least, part of themselves. An anonymous “first name only” part of themselves. Then they crossed behind the dividers to find the main elevator.

Past the elevator, Iris saw a long hallway of vendors. Down that hallway wandered people in all manner of dress. Iris stopped short, making Owen bang into her before she kept walking forward. The scene laid out in front of Iris took her breath away. Every imaginable body type was represented. People of all sizes were in normal clothes, like she and Owen were wearing, but also in lingerie and skimpy outfits as well. It was refreshing, actually, to see so much diversity of body type; she'd been worried that everyone might look like a model like in most of the porn she'd seen. Owen rested a hand on her back as they walked, not possessive, but grounding. Even that gentle contact was enough to light her up inside.

They rode up in the elevator with a person in a fur suit and a woman in jeans and a plain tank top, both of whom got off on the floor below them. When the doors shut and they were alone, Owen grinned. “Okay, so, that was a surprise. This is a little outside of my comfort zone, that's for sure. How are you feeling?”

“I'm a little overwhelmed, but I'm excited.” Iris licked her lips. “I want to check out the dungeon.” She hadn't known that's what she wanted until she got there, but now that she was in the venue, she was eager to get right to the action.

Owen's eyes widened. After a minute, he nodded. “Okay. We can drop off our stuff in the room first, right?”

Iris laughed. “Yeah, sure.”

The room they were staying in was a decent size, complete with a king bed and a sitting area, and she set their bags aside with a tremor of excitement.

“So.” Owen sat down on the bed, which bounced a little beneath him. “You really want to see the dungeon first?”

Iris flopped down on her belly next to him and opened the photocopied schedule of weekend events that they'd been given at check-in. The dungeon was open all three days. Yes, she wanted to see the dungeon, but there were also classes she wanted to attend, and exhibitions, and she also wanted to visit the vendors. “Honestly, I want to see everything.”

“Well, let's take a look at the dungeon. I want to see what it's all about.” He gave her butt an affectionate pat. “Especially if you're so insistent that we try to play with others while we're here.”

Iris had been trying to ignore that this had been her main goal for attending the convention. Now that she was here, every event she read about, she imagined attending with Owen. As she read the description of the dungeon, she pictured bringing
him
. Not some other random guy, no matter how hot he might be. But she'd said they were here to play with others, and she should probably honor that. How else was she going to know whether Owen wanted her or just kink? “Okay.” She climbed to her feet. “Let's go check out the dungeon, then.”

After getting lost twice en route, they ended up in what Iris could only describe as the dungeon antechamber. It was actually the foyer outside the ballroom, since the ballroom itself had been transformed into the dungeon space. Rules for the dungeon had been posted on the door. Iris stopped to read them, as did Owen. His hand rested on her hip as they stood together, reading. The intimacy was both unexpected and nice, and even when she finished reading, she pretended she was still reviewing in order to savor that contact for another minute. The dungeon rules themselves seemed pretty clear. A tall broad-chested guy stood near the door with his arms crossed, looking imposing, but he smiled warmly at them when Iris made eye contact. When he spoke, he had a lovely southern drawl.

“Y'all just ask if you have any questions, now.” He nodded to the room. “You can go on in and watch if ya like. No pressure to participate.”

Iris looked up at Owen. He was so seldom standing right next to her, and she easily forgot how much taller than her he really was. His eyes were bright with interest.

The dungeon was much darker than the foyer. The room was lit with red lights, which upon closer inspection were just scarves that someone had suspended from the existing fluorescent lights in the ceiling, but the overall effect was nice, just dim enough to feel intimate. A pulsing, throbbing beat echoed throughout the room, dance music that drowned out the other noises.

Once her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, Iris started to identify a wide array of bondage furniture that she'd seen in her research online but never in person. There were a few St. Andrew's crosses up against the wall, places where one could shackle someone to keep them in a spread-eagle position. A chair against one wall had a V-shaped gap in front where the restrained party's genitals would be fully available, despite their arms and legs being restrained. Iris felt her palms growing clammy, and she discreetly wiped her hands off on her jeans. She took a few steps farther into the room and Owen followed.

A two-tier table was constructed so someone could kneel on one level and rest his or her chest on the higher level, restrained in a kneeling position. There were also suspension racks. Iris wasn't sure she would have known what a suspension rack was, except that there was a woman currently using one. She was talking to the man tying her up, a role Iris knew from her research as a “rigger” or a “rope top,” the person who did the tying as opposed to the “rope bottom,” who was the one tied up. The rigger was expertly weaving rope around her body, and she was laughing while he worked on her. The position had her balanced precariously on one leg, her arms already bound behind her back, one leg arching up and back over her head. She was clearly quite flexible. The rope top was laughing with her. Iris was startled by the difference in tone from what she'd expected. She thought she'd see nothing but sheer intensity, whips and screaming and people in leather. Her expectations changing by the minute, she moved farther into the room.

The ballroom itself wasn't square, but was the combination of three separate meeting spaces forming a large “L.” As she walked forward into the room, she caught a glimpse of a “medical” setup in one corner, with a doctor's examination table and various straps. At tables throughout the room, people had set up disposable medical table covers, latex and nonlatex gloves, condoms, lubricant, and giant water coolers with paper cups. Very thoughtful.

A noise off to one side caught her attention, and Iris stopped, arrested by the sight before her. A woman was strapped to a cross on the wall, completely naked, the back side of her bare body exposed to the man behind her who was casually wielding two floggers against her skin. The woman was curvy, her body soft and round in places, her long hair tousled and falling over her shoulders. The man focused on her ass much of the time, which was already red and looked painful, but every so often he would move up to her back, and the woman's whimpers turned to moans. Even though she was making endless noises, not all of it happy sounding, she was smiling and her eyes were closed, her face resting against one of the arms of the big X. Her arms and legs were shackled, her hands limp, and she looked like she was resting all her weight forward on the slight angle of the cross. After a few more strokes, the man stopped flogging her and stepped forward to ask her something. The woman smiled, her eyes closed and her expression languid, and nodded. Iris couldn't hear what he asked her, but she could hear the woman respond. “Mmm. Yeah. Please don't stop.”

The man stroked a hand down the woman's back, then stepped back into place to begin flogging her again. He made eye contact with Iris and winked at her, then returned all his focus to the woman in front of him.

Iris could practically feel Owen's body heating up behind her, his hips barely touching hers, and she was suddenly painfully aroused. She didn't just want to view the dungeon. She wanted to tie Owen down and have her way with him, here where everyone could watch. They hadn't even discussed public play as a possibility, which now seemed to Iris a grievous oversight.

Iris and Owen made the rounds, walking around the entire room. As they neared the door again, they saw a man on a leash, kneeling before the feet of his master, who was petting his head while he also surveyed the room. Two people Iris hadn't noticed on first view were standing near the DJ, dressed in similar orange vests like traffic cops. They must be there to monitor the safety of the people in the room. Aside from them, the room was empty.

Iris turned, and as she did so, her arm brushed Owen's pants. It was a complete accident, honestly, but the contact revealed that he was hard as a rock. She wasn't the only one affected by this, apparently.

Taking a chance, she looked up at him. “You want to come back here later?”

Owen nodded, his eyes hooded with arousal. “Definitely.” She could barely hear his voice, but she could read his lips and the hope—and lust—in his eyes.

They left the antechamber and found a couch to sit on, far enough from the doors that they couldn't hear the pounding music but not so far that it left their minds. Iris's body felt electric with excitement. Owen pulled his schedule out of his pocket and opened it. “I'd like to go to the basic ropes workshop at seven, if you're up for it. Is there anything you want to see tonight?”

Iris looked over his shoulder. “Maybe the mixer right after that? Snacks at eight-thirty?”

“Looking to meet some people?” Owen was smiling, but there was a look in his eyes as though he was hoping she would say no.

“Maybe.” Iris nodded. This is what she was here for, supposedly. She checked the time on her phone. “The ropes workshop is starting soon. You want to go now?”

“Sure.” Owen got up. “Lead the way.”

---

Owen discreetly adjusted his erection while following Iris to the rope class. He knew they were here to meet other people. And yes, he'd seen a number of hot women already, just in the little while since they'd arrived. But he didn't want any of them. Walking through that dungeon, he was picturing Iris and only Iris, not some other woman. Iris tying him down and having her way with him. Iris making him submit in front of all these other people. They hadn't talked about public play before they'd arrived, and now it was all he could think about.

The ropes workshop was ninety minutes, but it went by so quickly that Owen was surprised when they were dismissing everyone. Iris looked surprised as well, glancing from the ropes to the clock on the wall.

“I learned a lot,” Iris said conspiratorially as they left, her eyes shining. “I didn't know if I'd be any good at that. I've never done well with macramé or anything like that.”

Owen laughed. “It's a little more interesting than macramé, isn't it?” He couldn't picture Iris sitting down and crocheting an afghan, but imagining her tying him up was a far more exciting mental image.