Stray (2 page)

I studied his clenched hands and the cords on his neck, but aside from his narrowed eyes, he looked just as he always did. Calm. Completely in control.

When he spoke again, his voice didn’t betray him. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you with a collar.”

I drew in a breath, happy that he’d changed the subject. “It’s the first time I’ve ever worn one.”
Out in public, that is.

“Anthony never…?”

Yes, but it’s not what you think.
I was shaking my head before he could even get the words out. Anthony, being the bastard he was, had locked me in a crate like some kind of animal. But because I had been a new sub, I hadn’t known the difference. I’d followed his orders because it had been what I’d thought I had to do. No one had ever told me any differently.

“You’ve never been owned?” Dylan asked.

“You mean have I had another Dom since we split?” I shook my head again. “I’m a stray.”

“That explains your trips to all of the local munches over the last few months, then.”

“But it doesn’t explain yours. I expected you to have a sub on either hand right about now. What happened?”

Dylan laughed. “Not my thing. You know I’m just a trainer, right? I don’t keep my subs.”

“What about Marnie?”
You kept her.

“Not the same thing. Granted, I love her and would do anything to protect her, but there’s a different bond when it comes to subs versus slaves. Subs require a more emotional tie.” He looked away for a split second, and I could tell what he’d said was a lie.

I ignored it for the time being and continued, “So, what exactly do you do as a trainer? I thought Doms who taught new subs were just teachers or mentors.”

“If you were just a sub, yes, I would be a teacher. But seeing as you’re a shifter, you must be trained to know when to shift, when to hold back and how to obey your Master. Shifters aren’t as submissive as others.”

“How did you know I—?”

“You mentioned being a stray. That sort of thing doesn’t just slip out, and if you’ve done your research, which I know you have, you’d already know all of this. You’re living two lives in a single body. If you suppress one of those halves, the other will eventually lash out.”

You aren’t kidding.
I looked away. He didn’t have to know about that, about how Anthony had locked me in a wolf’s skin, locked me inside a crate and used a shock collar on me. That wasn’t what Doms did. It wasn’t what Dylan did. Anthony wasn’t a Dom—or a Master.

Dylan cleared his throat. “You need a Dom, a trainer who can help you balance those aspects of your life. And that’s what I do.” His eyes narrowed then, and I wondered if I’d done something wrong. “But seeing as you aren’t entirely new to the lifestyle, are you sure you require my services?”

“You’re the only other Dom I know. The last time I was approached by a Dom…” I trailed off, dropping my gaze down to my hands, which sat in my lap.
Only this time it was the other way around.
Even so, when Dylan reached over to caress my cheek, I pulled back. “I’m sorry.”

He moved his hands down to mine, squeezing them gently. “Why are you apologising for a bad Dom?”

I looked him right in the eyes. “Because a sub isn’t supposed to discuss her past Masters.” I corrected myself. “Doms.”

Dylan stopped me before I could finish. “I want to continue this discussion but feel it may require a little more privacy. Would you be okay with that?”

My hands were clammy. “Yes.”

Dylan placed his arm around my waist and led me over to one of the rooms attached to the main area. He nodded to one of the dungeon monitors nearby, signalling that we’d like to use the room. The monitor bobbed his head, unlocked the door and backed away so we could step inside.

“Tissues, lube and condoms are available on one of the tables, free of charge,” the man said before excusing himself.

Dylan glanced down at me, then said, “We won’t be needing those. Not tonight.”

He guided me inside, then left me to inspect the rest of the room while he locked the door behind us. The music from the central area of the club was barely noticeable inside the playroom, and I waited for my heart rate to return to normal.

“Sit wherever you’d like,” Dylan murmured, padding over to a purple couch. I moved to sit at his feet, but he pulled me up off the floor. “We’re equals tonight,” he told me, nodding to the cushion beside him. “When I said to sit wherever you like, I meant it. You aren’t my sub or my slave. We’re just old acquaintances trying to get reacquainted with one another.”

I swallowed around the lump in my throat and sat beside him, hands folded in my lap. We were silent for a long time—me trying to regulate my breathing, and Dylan? I could only imagine what he was thinking. I’d never met a Dom who wouldn’t leap at the opportunity that came with so much privacy. But aside from a few gentle caresses, we hadn’t touched.

When he finally spoke, I almost jumped out of my skin. “In the past, what did your Anthony do for aftercare?”

I didn’t look at him.

“Nothing at all? Not even a bath or a little bit of cuddling?”

I shook my head.
Not unless you want to include getting thrown in a crate.
Tears pricked at my eyes and I pushed them back.

“Fuck. I am so sorry for that. Had I known…”

“Had you known, tonight would’ve been just as awkward as it is now,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Did he ever offer safe words?”

I shook my head. I’d used them all—’yellow’, ‘red’, ‘stop’—but none of them had mattered to him. If anything, ‘red’ had been his signal to go faster, to push harder. To break me.

“Hard limits?”
Nope.
“Subspace? Dropping?”

“Dropping?” I asked.

“Coming down from subspace and crashing.”

“Oh, I’ve crashed before, many times. I—”

“No need to explain.” He wrapped his arm around my middle, pulling me to him so my head rested on his shoulder. He stroked my hair as he spoke. “Aftercare can help with that. I’ll show you what it means to reach subspace, to come down slowly without crashing and how to accept proper aftercare. I promise to show you all of this, and then we’ll begin your training.”

We exchanged glances. “I thought you only trained new subs.”

“You are a new sub. You may have had an experience, but I assure you, that wasn’t the experience of a normal sub.” He cleared his throat. “And if you’ll have me, I’ll train you and help you find a Dom who can fulfil your needs well after I’m gone.”

“So you really are a trainer, aren’t you?”

He canted his head to the side. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

“Don’t you ever feel something? Get connected?”

His eyes softened. “All the time. Training a good sub is like owning a dog. You can try all you like not to love the thing, but it happens anyway. I’ve just learnt to stop trying and to enjoy my subs while they’re with me.”

Yeah, try telling that to Anthony.
I had been his dog, and he’d treated me like shit.

“Alyssa?”

I shook my head and continued, “But why put yourself through that? Why train for other Doms when you can have a sub of your own?”

Dylan cradled my chin in his hand, kissing me on the lips. “You aren’t the only one who has been burnt, little one. At least through training, I can control when she leaves.”

You mean when
I
leave.
“And what happens if I don’t want to leave?” What the hell was I thinking? I’d just met the guy, and already I was asking about the length of our relationship?
Sub 101—never, ever tell a Dom what to do.
Granted, I wasn’t really telling him much, but it was still way too early to even ask anything remotely close to that. I bowed my head, and said nothing else.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Chapter Two

I’d been more than willing to go with him after that, which—thinking about it now—would have been extremely stupid of me. It didn’t matter how much I’d heard or how many munches we’d seen each other at. I’d known very little about him, his preferences or what he, as a Dom, would have had me do. We weren’t ready, and he’d known that.

At the end of the evening, he’d told me to give it a week.

“Think things over,” he’d said, opening the door to the playroom. “You have my number if you have any questions. We’ll meet here again in one week.”

“In this room?” I wasn’t sure if he’d meant the room we were getting ready to leave, or the club itself.

“The main room will be fine.”

And with that, he’d kissed me on the lips and we’d parted ways.

However, that wasn’t the last time we’d had contact since I'd been with him at the club. As the days went by, we texted more and more. I was too overwhelmed to talk to him over the phone, and for the time being, he wasn’t asking me to.

My cell vibrated on the top of my desk as I finished writing my latest article. At least that was one good thing about my job. As a freelance writer, I was able to work from wherever I wanted—which, in the end, would make being a sub to another Dom that much easier. No need to quit a job. At most, I’d probably just have to cut back my hours.

I saved my progress and opened my phone to read Dylan’s latest text.

Wear something nice tonight.

Hadn’t what I’d worn last week been nice enough? I texted him back to clarify.

What did you have in mind?

The silence in the room was heavy on my mind as I stared at the screen. It was stupid, I realised, as he could’ve been just about anywhere, doing anything…or anyone. I shook my head.
He isn’t yours.
A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have even cared for a Dom’s approval, only now—since our meeting—I craved it. He wasn’t Anthony. Being a sub for him would mean something entirely different—an experience I’d never had the chance to have.

Still, I had no reason, no right to be jealous of whatever kept him from messaging back.
For Christ’s sake, Alyssa, you just contacted him. Give the guy a break!
But I had texted him right away. He couldn’t have got far.

I snapped the phone shut and set it back down on the desk. My attention floated over to my computer screen, and I started to check my article for any errors I might have missed.

The phone buzzed again, and I fumbled with the lid, then flipped it open.

I’d like to see more of you.

His short answers were something I had yet to get used to, but there was only one way to read the last message he’d sent. ‘Don’t cover yourself up.’

He wanted to see more of me.

My clit throbbed, and I crossed my legs to force it down to a dull ache. I bit at my bottom lip, mulling over the variety of replies I could send. In the end, I decided a simple
Sir
would do. I turned the phone off and got back to work.

* * * *

The club was just as loud as it had been during my last visit, and after dropping my jacket off at the reception desk I eased forward, slowly making my way towards the common room. They had the same electronic music playing as before, and my heartbeat matched its rhythm. I checked the collar around my neck and wondered if I should lock it or remove it completely.

I left it unlocked. Until Dylan said otherwise, I was still a free sub.
He just wants to talk.
My cynical side responded,
Yeah, you keep fooling yourself while I go over here.
I undid the top three buttons of my blouse, showing off some of my pale skin that was only accented by the blue fabric. I’d opted for a black skirt this time around, one that fell to just above my knees. I cringed. I’d never liked my knees. They were too bony and didn’t fit the rest of my body at all. But he’d said he wanted to see more of me, and unless I was willing to walk into the club completely naked, the mini skirt would have to do.

The corners of my lips curled when I spotted Dylan at the bar, looking right in my direction. Just how long he’d been standing there, all casual like, was beyond me, but once I saw recognition in his eyes I broke eye contact. I slowed my pace, each step more agonising than the last. The exit from the common room was only a few feet behind me.
I could always just—

“Hello, Alyssa,” came Dylan’s deep voice, the hint of cigarette smoke on his breath. He rested a hand against the small of my back, and I arched in his direction. “Second thoughts?”

I glanced over my shoulder, then back at him. A part of me wanted to shake my head, but I nodded instead. “A little.”

He made a sound of approval. “Honesty. I like it.” He directed me towards the bar. My gaze wandered in the direction of the playrooms, but he took my chin in his other hand, causing me to look back at him. “We’ll get to them,” he promised, sitting with me at the bar. “But I think a more public setting would be appropriate for the time being, don’t you?”

I didn’t think subs were supposed to set the pace of their relationships. I didn’t speak. Compared to Anthony, Dylan was too gentle, too kind and way too concerned for my well-being. I wasn’t used to it, and I started to wonder if he was a Dom at all.

When I didn’t speak, Dylan continued, “Communication—it’s something some Doms and subs forget. I’m not a mind reader, Alyssa. And this isn’t limited to verbal discussions either. If I’m going to take you on as a sub, you must be willing to communicate. If I do something you don’t like or that makes you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me. This isn’t to say I’ll stop what I’m doing. However, if I feel it is, in fact, pushing your limits, I’ll try something else. Just know that by requesting I stop something, you are accepting the resulting punishment. Do you understand?”

What punishment?
Nausea climbed into the back of my throat. “Yes, Sir.”

He placed his hand over mine, his gaze tracing the V of cleavage I’d left open for him. He licked his lips. “That blouse suits you.”

“More than the corset, Sir?”