He watched her from across the bar. Mistress S. She was dressed in a stereotypical sexy devil's costume comprised of a red latex catsuit, spaded tail, and spiky horns attached to a headband. Dark blood-red dyed hair cascaded in loose waves to athletic shoulders which currently shook with laughter. A young submissive knelt at her feet, regaling her with a comedic story. A flash of teeth, pointy canines, and a flick of the tail across the sub's bare back proved it was more than just for show. A red welt appeared between his shoulder blades, a small reward for amusing her, leading to a hissing intake of breath and a joyful grin from the skinny lad.
It was Devil's Night at Club Morpheus and nearly everyone was in wilder-than-usual costumes to celebrate the holiday. Dominants and submissives alike were dishing out the treats and the tricks, mischief for once being encouraged by more than just the brats. The aforementioned loin-cloth-clad sub was entertaining a small group in the cozy circle of regulars. They were parked in a dim corner in cushy beanbag chairs and gothic velvet couches under red bulbs in wall sconces. Master Jacob and two of his long-term submissives were seated to the left, a petite bare-breasted Tinkerbell leisurely sucking his cock as if enjoying an Otter Pop on a hot summer's day. She would occasionally pop her head up to laugh along with the others and then return to the languid suckling.
Again and again, his eyes returned to
her
though. She had been a regular here for several months now. At first, she had been unsure of herself and her place within this world, but soon she was regularly offering comfort, both of the painful variety and not, to many of the others who frequented the club. She lifted her head and caught him staring and then excused herself, sashaying across the floor with that damned tail swinging like a red flag before an arena full of bulls. His gaze darkened as it landed on the men and women also watching her move through the crowded social area.
"Master H, why the scowl? It's supposed to be a magical night. The veil between worlds is thin." There might have been some innuendo in her words as she hopped up onto the bar stool next to him. Perhaps the veil was just as thin between their own worlds tonight. A night when spirits roamed in more than spectral form. Henry motioned to Thomas behind the bar who promptly deposited an 18-year Aberfeldy, neat, in front of Mistress S. She smiled her thanks over the rim of the glass as the first smooth sip slid liquid heat down her throat. She plunked down a bag on the bar and he heard the sounds of candy and chocolate wrappers along with the clink of metal chains.
"It sounds like you've got some interesting treats in there," he teased, deflecting from the question. She swiveled on her stool to face him and he did the same. Dark brown eyes were pools of endless black in here, and he allowed himself to get lost in them for a brief moment. Brief moments were all he could take from her.
Running her fingers along the puckered edge of the drawstring bag, her smile appeared more wistful than excited by her little gifts. "Well, I can't say people weren't thinking of me," she quipped. "But I have a little treat for you, Master H." She watched his expression phase through surprise to curiosity to something that might be hopeful. Green eyes swallowed by enlarging pupils and shaggy shoulder-length brown hair were the perfect backdrop for his Viking warrior persona tonight. The combination only lent more credence to Henry's usual feral appearance. They stared at each other, a game of silence, both of them watching the other for minute tells of who might break first. She caved with a dramatic sigh, her eyes skittering down to the bar and missing a fleeting grin of triumph from him.
"What is it?" He conceded his victory gracefully by breaking the silence first, a conciliatory act to soothe her inability to hold his eye contact. Her lips pursed into a small pout, drawing out the anticipation of the moment as was her way. One finger trailed lazy circles on the bar top as she shrugged indifferently.
"It's just a small thing. I thought you might enjoy it." Delicate fingers plucked at the ties holding the bag shut. She delved into it, sorting through the assortment, and finally drawing out a dark blue box. She placed it on the bar and meticulously retied the bag, taking her time to make the bow pretty and perfect. He was well aware of her tactics employing waiting...pauses...lengthening moments until the boredom almost set in. Henry was a patient man, however, and he knew she would eventually deliver whatever was promised. As she slid the box across the bar toward him, he lifted his hand and covered it, and her own hand, with his. It was all part of the dance they had been doing around each other for the last several months. Stolen touches and glances, innuendo, testing the waters as they grew closer as friends.
The sudden hitch of her breath when he touched her was covered up with another sip of the scotch. She was playing with fire right now and damned if she didn't just want to get burned but immolated by the mountain of a man in front of her. He took the box and she gulped the rest of her scotch, abandoning her aplomb for nervousness. Thomas whisked by and deposited another before her empty glass hit the bar.
Was she blushing? Thomas met Henry's eyes and winked broadly before bustling off to deliver more refills. Henry turned his attention to the box, lifting the plain lid to peer inside at delicate folds of gold tissue paper. Peeling back the layers exposed a slim pair of leather wrist restraints in dark teal with a forest green suede lining. He couldn't hide his pleased expression. "You made these?" he asked, tipping her chin up to look at him again.
She nodded, shy now, as he evaluated her workmanship. He had been helping her refine her leatherworking techniques, and she wanted to show off a bit all that she had learned from him. Hand-tooling created a thin line of knotwork around the edges of cuffs, and the center was embossed with a stylized dragon's head cameo, his personal design. The rings and buckles were gleaming titanium, but he was already envisioning them with the beautiful nicks and scratches that would come with their use. Spontaneously, his cupped hand tightened on her lower jaw. Her eyes shot back to his in surprise. A shiver quivered down her spine. Her brain suddenly screamed
retreat
! As if sensing the precipice upon which she balanced, his voice dipped into a soft growl.
"I asked you a question, kitten."
A flare of defiance in her gaze lanced him and blood rushed into his cock. He shifted slightly on the stool to accommodate the sudden bulge. He enjoyed a spirited woman. "Yes, Master H, I made them. For you," she added, as if that were ever in doubt. She might have corrected him for calling her kitten, but nobody had heard him except the two of them, at any rate.
His eyes narrowed pensively and he leaned toward her, lips brushing the shell of her ear while retaining his iron grip on her chin. It was a brazen act. He had never stepped over this line with her. "For me? Or for you?" he whispered in her ear and then sat back, releasing her physically but not mentally. It had not gone unnoticed that one of the colors was
