“Is your wife here tonight?” Rory asked Tyler.

  “Most definitely.” The flicker in Tyler’s gaze, the trace of heat and pleasure in his voice, reflected his feelings for his spouse, even in her absence. “She’s handling other hostess duties while I greet you.”

  His attention moved briefly to Daralyn as he opened one of the double doors. “She’s particularly looking forward to meeting you, Daralyn. Julie’s told her a lot about you.”

  That surprised Daralyn. Rory, too. But Julie loved Daralyn as much as the rest of his family, and was equally protective of her. So maybe Marguerite and Daralyn had some common interests, though Rory wasn’t sure what those would be. He didn’t know a lot about Marguerite. He remembered a woman who had a unique kind of beauty combined with a strangely goddess-like vibe, for lack of a better word.

  No. There was a better word. A Domme vibe.

  Now that he had a different context in which to frame it, that was what he remembered about her. Since Tyler was obviously a hundred percent Dom, it created a puzzle with no ready answer in Rory’s mind.

  Well, Marcus had said seeing Dom/sub relationships playing out in real life, versus in a book or on a screen, might give him a whole different perspective on what the possibilities were. Not only how wide an area there was to explore, but the freedom to choose what corners of it fit him and Daralyn. Tyler and Marguerite’s relationship might be a case in point.

  Tyler gestured Daralyn in before him and stepped back so Rory could maneuver over the short stoop.

  Once inside, he counted himself fortunate that Daralyn took a long, jaw-drop moment to gaze at the foyer, because it let him do the same.

  A double staircase curved along the walls on either side to meet on a wide landing bordered with painted white iron balustrades. The window in the backdrop was the shape of a half moon, nearly ten feet in diameter. A glittering chandelier hung in the foreground, descending from a domed ceiling that showed a blue sky punctuated with soft clouds. On one of his mother’s trips to Vegas, she’d brought back pictures of the Venetian shopping mall ceiling, which looked a lot like it.

  They could hear the murmur of conversation somewhere, the faint notes of music. Pleasing scents filled the air. Fragrant and teasing, not overpowering. Though Rory couldn’t separate it out enough to figure if it was food or floral, something about the scent spoke of the erotic, sharpening his senses and making him want to slide his fingers along the lengths of Daralyn’s, stroke and play. She felt it too, her own fingers curling into his shirt.

  “Please take a seat here.” Tyler gestured Daralyn to a divan placed in the foyer, lots of gold velvet and dark wood. It had space next to it for Rory’s chair. Rory noted her eyes were everywhere, digesting the personal photos and colorful art on the walls, the flower arrangements, the French doors that led to a sunken living room where they could see a horseshoe of deep sofas and a giant flatscreen. Though their surroundings obviously said money, there were plenty of personal touches that projected a welcoming and inclusive atmosphere. This place was a home, not a showpiece.

  Reinforcing it, Tyler had sat down on the other end of the divan, one knee up on it to face Daralyn and Rory. He looked as relaxed as Rory would in his own home. Just beyond his shoulder, Rory could see beneath the right side of the curving staircase. A large oak door was flanked by the sculpture of a nude, dancing woman with long flowing hair. A vibration seemed to be affecting the door, as if the music they were hearing might be playing behind it.

  “That leads to the inside dungeon play area,” Tyler said, following Rory’s attention. At Daralyn’s startled look, he smiled. “That’s a common term in our world, but it doesn’t mean anything scary. Not that way. When I’m not holding one of these events, it’s a recreation area, including an indoor saltwater pool.”

  Except for their very brief discussion about her awareness of the D/s world, Rory realized he had no idea how much terminology or mechanics Daralyn knew about all this. Should he have shared some of the stuff Marcus had loaned him to read, discussed his own Internet searches? He’d figured those kinds of things would just unsettle her, but Tyler’s glance his way made him wonder if the guy was thinking the same thing. What kind of Dom brought his sub to this kind of party and didn’t tell her what to expect?

  The kind of Dom who didn’t know much himself. Who thought it might be good to see it unfold together. Except as the Dom, he was supposed to stay a couple steps ahead. He’d focused on the front end safety, like confirming this guy was okay through Marcus and Thomas. But maybe staying ahead was also about prepping her for what he was going to see, as much as he could. Christ, had he fucked up?

  “People who prefer to ease into play, who are still figuring out their preferences, usually like to start in the garden,” Tyler said, holding his gaze. “It’s a more open-feeling environment. There are also several socializing areas, so the intensity of the things you might see are tempered by that.”

  Rory nodded. Message received, and he didn’t feel judged, which helped. Tyler inclined his head, then included them both in the sweep of his gaze again. “We only have a few rules, but they are inviolate.”

  Rory saw Daralyn roll the word around on her tongue. Inviolate.

  “If these rules are broken, depending on the circumstances, you’ll be asked to leave. They’re simple rules, easy to understand, such that breaking them would be interpreted as a willful act.”

  Daralyn’s expression became wary, uncertain. Tyler reached out, took her hand. “Don’t worry, little one. I have no doubt you and your Master will be fine, but it’s best to be clear about these. They keep all of us safe, and ensure our enjoyment of our time together.”

  The way Daralyn looked toward Rory when Tyler called him her Master rolled a lot of powerful things through Rory. A stronger echo of when she’d called him “sir.”

  Tyler’s words also seemed to ease Daralyn’s tension, which was good. But with his serious Dom vibes and authoritative voice, Rory assumed Tyler could reassure a woman hanging off the edge of a cliff by her fingernails.

  “While you’re here, you’ll see people engaged in play they enjoy or are experimenting with,” their host continued, withdrawing his hand from Daralyn’s. “Don’t disrupt them with questions, or physically insert yourself into the scene without invitation. If they want you to participate, they will initiate that.”

  Tyler rested his elbow on the sofa arm, his hands clasped as he braced his long legs. “If you’re invited to play and don’t wish to do so, polite honesty is all that is needed. There are no egos to negotiate here. If you’re more comfortable with not being approached at all, we have a wrist band you can wear that tells people you are here to watch and learn only, not participate. You may take the band off if you get more comfortable.”

  That appealed to Rory. He’d likely go that route and see how things unfolded from there. Less pressure on both of them.

  “We do have alcohol,” Tyler continued. “But we expect everyone to be responsible with it. If you are playing and your level of play discourages alcohol use, we expect you to self-regulate.

  “Finally, there are no judgments here, except by our Dungeon Masters. They’re wearing black shirts and brown khakis, and a lit lanyard that says Dungeon Master on the tag. If they deem a scene is out of hand, they will intervene.”

  His gaze sharpened. “If you see something that concerns you, approach them, discuss it quietly, and they will handle it. They have in-depth information on those playing here tonight, their preferences and level of play. Since you don’t have that information, you may not know all the facts that make seemingly edgy play acceptable. But be assured, keeping everyone safe is the top priority. Some things are not everyone’s kink, so if you feel that way, keep the opinion to yourself. We don’t tolerate any discourteous treatment of our guests.”

  His pleasant tone returned. “If you want to use any of our equipment, and you’re not sure how it works, don’t hesitate to ask a DM. We also have plenty of Doms and subs willing to provide guidance. This is a big playground, and there’s always room for more people on the monkey bars.”

  That surprised a smile out of Daralyn, and Tyler answered it with one of his own. “That’s another important thing to remember. What happens here is serious, but it can also be about play, joy and laughter. It is a party, after all.”

  He kept his gaze on Daralyn now. “For almost everything else tonight, I would defer to your Dom and let him answer for you both, or wait until he’s given you permission to answer me. However, for this question, I need your direct answer. Have you understood the rules, and do you have any questions about them?”

  Daralyn shook her head. “Yes sir. And no, I don’t have any questions. Thank you.”

  Tyler glanced at Rory, and Rory gave him the same nod of acceptance. “Good. I’ll give you a brief tour of the garden area, and then you can decide how you want to enjoy the amenities. If and when you’re ready for the Dungeon, it’s a fairly self-guided space, and there’s sufficient room to navigate in there.” His gaze touched the chair. “I’m going to go ahead and give you the non-player bracelets, so you can decide whether to don them or not. Sound good?”

  “Yes, sir,” Rory responded. “Are Des and Julie here yet?”

  “Yes.” The pleasure in Tyler’s expression told Rory that the couple were well-liked by the host. “Their demonstration will start in about a half hour, so they’re off getting ready for that. They’ll join the party afterwards. I know they’ll be delighted to see you. They’re staying on my property tonight, so if you want to linger and visit them when the party officially concludes, you’re welcome to stay as long as you wish.”

  After another pause, during which Rory sensed Tyler was giving them one more chance to consider any further questions, he at last rose and gave them a smile.

  “Ready to go down the rabbit hole?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  With some wandering time before Des and Julie’s demo, Rory decided the several acres of impressive landscaping out back would be the best space to explore. With Daralyn’s love of gardening, he expected it would be a better environment for them both.

  In contrast to the festival, where she’d seemed more comfortable wandering, Daralyn stayed right with him. That was probably because there were plenty of distracting things on display in the gardens that had nothing to do with flowers.

  The scenes were similar to what he’d seen online, except there they sometimes came off more tawdry, off-putting and porno-like. In this setting, they called more to mind one of the movies he’d watched that Marcus had loaned him, something by the Andrew Blake guy. Graceful garden settings, bubbling fountains sparkling from the torches. Doms dressed in their best. Some of the subs weren’t wearing any clothes, but they were still formal, hair gleaming, skin smooth or oiled, displaying a collar that might be rich leather or studded with metal and diamonds.

  A sharp whooshing slap noise drew his attention to a woman who was tied on a giant spoked wheel. She had short dark hair and wore a pink thong. A tattoo of a tree followed the valley of her spine, with tiny purple flowers on the branch tips. They shuddered with the movement of her shoulders. The man flogging her looked like a charismatic Ichabod Crane, thin and bony but with piercing dark eyes. The fall of straps had made the whooshing noise. He wasn’t hitting her particularly hard, Rory thought, though her skin was red from the impact.

  She had a vibrator locked against her sex with the help of an adjustable bracket attached to the wheel. She was moaning against the gag. As he and Daralyn moved around to see her from the other side of the wheel, her body had that flush that said she was really close to…

  She climaxed. As she screamed against the gag, her juices bathed the bulbous head of the vibrator, making it glisten. The Dom traded out the flogger for a cane when she was right in the middle of it, and landed several far harder, quick strikes with it, which elevated those screams, made her buck harder.

  Daralyn’s grip dug into his shoulder. He quickly glanced up at her, concerned she might be upset. Instead, her reaction startled him. She looked almost hypnotized.

  They’d come to a halt to watch and Daralyn was leaning forward slightly, matching each breath the climaxing woman took. He moved his fingers on hers, a reassuring caress, and the spell broke, her glance flitting to his. He lifted his hand, brushed a warm cheek. She ducked her head, but he thought she was embarrassed the right way.

  It made him curious. He brought her around in front of him so he could put his hands on her hips, guide her down to sit in his lap, her feet braced out on either side of his. He wrapped an arm around her waist, put his head next to her shoulder. “Just watch,” he murmured.

  She gripped his forearm as the Dom circled his sub. She’d sagged against her bonds, then arched back as he took the vibrator up a notch. Her cunt had to be sensitive after that kind of climax. Her incoherent pleas confirmed she was uncomfortable, and yet as he told her how good she was, how she pleased him, Rory could see her struggling to bear it without complaint. As they watched, she passed that discomfort level and began to get aroused again. Her Dom bit at her thighs with light touches of the cane, which seemed to only increase the reaction. Pleading cries were replaced by soft moans.

  He picked up the flogger, and what ensued was a ballet of movement, the flogger straps falling against her breasts, her swollen nipples, her back, alternating with short strikes of the cane against her thighs and ass.

  When she was obviously close to coming again, he notched the flogger and cane, crossed in his grip, under her chin. He used that pressure to bring her mouth up to his for his kiss. “My sweet slave,” he murmured, and tears were on her cheeks, her trembling lips. “Come for me.”

  She obeyed, her body bucking in hard jerks, as he watched her with those piercing eyes, his lips so close to hers, brushing over them in teasing sips as she moaned, as her body strained, wanting more…

  It was mesmerizing to Rory, too. And it wasn’t the flogger and cane, not exactly. He liked the mental give and take, what the sub was giving her Dom, the way she was aroused by his command of her. How the Dom was goaded to take her to higher and higher levels of arousal because of her submission, her devotion. Because it was what they both wanted, to push those limits for each other.

  He had Daralyn’s waist banded in a hard grip. Suddenly the things he’d read or looked at online had become real, giving more scope to what he was feeling inside.

  “Ready to go look at something else?” he said in her ear.

  When she nodded, he eased her back to her feet and they moved onward. Next stop was a chess game. Two Dommes were the players, a guy on his hands and knees holding up the table. And he had a…holy crap. Some kind of machine had a dildo pushing in and out of his ass while he tried to hold that table still. It was a good thing the chess pieces were plastic, because Rory would bet good money they were going to end up on the ground.

  As they circled the tableau, he realized the guy’s dick was trussed up in straps that might make it impossible for him to come. Or really, really difficult, even as that dildo would be insisting. No wonder his face was contorted with the strain. The Dommes looked totally unconcerned, contemplating their next move and exchanging comments about mundane stuff, chatting and laughing like women at a coffee shop. One wore a little black dress, the other in sleek denim jeans with sparkles shot through them and a purple tunic top. A small audience sitting on nearby chairs watched the tableau as if it was theater, and he guessed it was.

  He figured out which Domme the sub belonged to within seconds. Though she was chatting and acting all casual, she had her hand resting on his hip, fingers stroking the upper curve of his ass. The calf of one of her crossed legs was pressed against his shoulder. He had his cheek against it, as if drawing strength from that contact she was allowing.

  It was interesting, thought-provoking, but Rory didn’t really care much about watching some guy take it up the ass. Daralyn seemed okay with proceeding. Nearby, one man lay on a table while a woman coated her hands in alcohol and set them on fire. The chemical reaction created a barrier that allowed her to move her hands gracefully over him without burning either of them. From the bliss on the recipient’s face, he was feeling the heat in the right way. The woman did the fire play so easily, Rory expected she might be another demo performer, like Des.

  The candle wax scene they found next kept their attention. Rory guided Daralyn to put a hip on his thigh, giving her a place to rest herself. He had his arm loosely around her hips, hers around his shoulders as they watched. The male Dom was finishing up a design on a woman’s back, the wax patterned like a cheetah’s pelt. Every drizzle of the hot paraffin had her twitching. She wore a tail in a plug up her backside and had on kitten ears, plus an eye mask with whiskers alongside the nose piece. She was on a table on all fours. As the Dom finished, she rubbed her head against his shoulder, just like a cat would.

  While a lot of this might not necessarily be his thing, watching it…that was a different matter, because the sexual energy swirling high around each tableau affected the audience. Every scene projected the absorbing connection between Dom and sub. Whether the scene was someone’s kink or not, from the rapt attention of each observer, including Daralyn and him, Rory deduced that connection was everyone’s thing.

  The two of them were moving through these sights like kids in a somewhat intimidating candy store. As the Dom, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be acting a certain way about this stuff. Nonchalant? Casual? Was he supposed to be telling her to pay closer attention to some things than others?

  It would be like offering direction when they were both uncertain of the map, where it would take them, what it would show them. He decided the way they were doing it was the best way. Whatever he felt, like putting her on his lap, holding her close while they watched the flogging, seemed to be the right thing. Just staying connected to her, tuned in to her reactions, making her aware he was here with her, for every part of the journey. For now, he thought that was enough. If questions or discussions were needed, they would happen when they happened.