“A couple of lashes would have done it, by the way. Maybe a couple of decent slaps. A fuck you, Missy, I’ll be the one to tell you what you need, and then a proper pounding. Maybe in the ass, that would have been good...” I shrug.
“And I’m supposed to be a mind reader, am I?”
“A body reader, a person reader. We’ve been doing this how long? Six months?”
“Five,” he snaps. “What’s wrong with you these past few weeks? Nothing seems fucking right for you anymore.”
He’s right, nothing does seem fucking right anymore. Nothing at all. “I’m sorry, Cain.”
“Yeah, well, let me know if you sort your fucking head out, will you?”
He doesn’t hang around to hear my response, and it’s probably just as well.
***
“Whoa, baby.” Mistress Raven slid her glass along the bar in my direction. “You look like you need this a ton more than I do.”
“That obvious?” I took a seat, wincing as I sniffed the purple concoction. It smelt like liquid gasoline and gummy bears.
“A garnet crow,” she said, “vodka, rum and other unimportant shit. Get it down your neck.”
I risked a sip, keeping my eyes on Raven as Cain stomped away across the main dance floor. She’d dressed to match the cocktail, seemingly. A purple leather mini-dress over fishnets, and the darkest violet sweep of shadow over her eyes. She made my black-PVC ensemble look positively vanilla, her black-and-red-curled mane putting my straight blonde bob to shame.
“Great outfit.”
“Cara picked it out.” She gestured to the pretty little minx at her side. They really were a beautiful couple, solid in their love of gothic clothes and hardcore sex. I’d have envied them their solace in each other, but they were just too bloody awesome for bitterness. Some other couples, however...
Raven raised an eyebrow, mind-reading as usual. “So, what’s eating you, pussycat? Still pining for Masque? I know he’s left some big fucking boots to fill.”
And there it was, in a nutshell. The real reason for my frustration. Masque, the beautiful beast of BDSM club Explicit. The man I’d been relying on for my hardcore kicks for the past twelve months, and now he was off the market, shacked up in bliss with his green-eyed little submissive, Cat. Monogamous. Faithful. Taken.
I wasn’t the only one pining for him; he’d left a hoard of frustrated women in his wake. I hadn’t even subbed for him all that much, but he’d been there, available. His shadowy presence on the outskirts of our kinky little community offered absolute dominance, the shattering of boundaries you never knew you had. He was really fucking good. And really fucking gone.
“How are the perfect couple? Please tell me he’s bored of her already.”
Raven smiled, and it lit up her face. “They’re doing good. First proper holiday. Mauritius. Sun, sand and a fortnight of filthy sex...”
“You aren’t helping,” I groaned. But I was smiling. Raven’s smile does that to you.
“So, what’s gone down between you and Cain? I thought you guys were finding your groove,” she purred.
“Too much of a groove. I can’t reach the zone anymore. It’s all so... structured.”
“And you can’t switch it up a bit? Put the sizzle back in the spice, so to speak.”
“We haven’t talked about it,” I admitted. “Hence he’s pissed. Embarrassed probably. I was a bitch in there.”
“He’ll get over it. He’s a big boy.”
“Yes, he is,” I smirked. “But that’s not enough. Not anymore.”
Her eyes glinted with wickedness. “Maybe you need to show the old dog a few new tricks?”
“I don’t want to show him anything.” I tried to put my frustration into words, staring out at the familiar crowd on the dance floor, wishing I still felt the magic of the place. “I want something raw... something wild... something... I dunno...”
“Something dangerous?” she finished. “Someone dangerous? That’s dodgy ground you’re drifting into.”
“Maybe I need to expand my horizons.”
Raven moved in closer, red lips tight in an uncharacteristically serious pout. “Masque is a savage, Sophie, but he’s a sane savage. He wouldn’t actually fuck you up, not really. The guys in here don’t match his kind of brutal, sure, but some of the wackos out there, lurking around in the dregs of online chat, they really will fuck you up. Masque’s so good because he keeps his shit together. He’s in control of you, he’s in control of the scene, and he’s in control of himself. There aren’t many like him out there, but there are a shitload of weirdos who’ll get their kicks at your expense.” She waved to the barman for another cocktail. “All I’m saying is keep yourself safe, will you? This place is safe, the people here are ok. They might not give you the adrenaline spike that Masque did, but they’ll leave you in one piece.”