Saturday night I opened a chest I’d kept closed all these years, inside was my Dom gear—a chest harness, bicep harnesses, leather pants and a leather mask I’d worn to masquerades back in the day. At the bottom a photo of Layla smacked me hard. I’d forgotten that photo—white blonde hair and blue eyes stared up at me. She was gorgeous, naïve, and dead. Not even 18 when she’d killed herself, me barely a year older.
Do it. I forced myself to strap on the harness after I’d adjusted it out. My body wasn’t the same as when I was a kid. The metal ring pushed into my chest, and I focused on that sensation, letting the emotion, the memories fall away from me. I was doing what had to be done, and not even my promise could stand in the way of that. I slipped the mask the waistband of the leather pants, pulled out my shiny black boots instead of the shit kickers I wore most days and I was ready to go. The harness felt tight on my skin yet good like finally I’d come back home.
I climbed on my Harley and sped away from the clubhouse before I could change my mind. This shit was too real, too much, and my skin crawled if I considered what I was doing for too long, so instead I planned my agenda for the night. See and be seen, watch Ren, and bring Marr closer to me. She was the key to Bound, right now I wasn’t sure she even liked me, so I’d work on that.
Pulling into Bound, I was surprised at how full the lot was. Masquerades had become a lot more popular. Well that made my appearance twice as important. I parked the bike and considered doors. I’d take the front way in tonight I tied on the leather mask that also acted as a do-rag on the top of my head. Head held high I strode in the front door of Bound as a Dom for the first time in too many years.
Not two steps in the door and I froze. Marr was halfway across the lounge and she was beyond gorgeous dressed in her own body harness that outlined her tits and striped her torso and tiny waist. I started moving toward her, like a moth drawn to fire, I had to be near her. The harness attached to a g-string that left her pert ass bare down to those fucking red boots she’d warn in our session. A sensual creature, she soaked up the adoration as if it were her due, and of course it was.
“Marr.” I interrupted whatever man spoke.
She turned and her mouth formed a small o before she recovered and gave me her sex kitten smile.