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.
Daralyn’s hand was on his shoulder, and he touched her frequently. He noted the grip of her hand, the strength of it, varied from scene to scene, indications of her focus on one type of play versus another. And what specific aspects seemed to most absorb her.
The way a sub reacted when a restraint was tightened, and his Dom whispered to him. Or how another Master’s eyes held his female sub’s gaze with such absolute control… The arch of her body at the strike of his whip, his hand over her throat, the tug at her collar.
Rory realized it was the same for Daralyn as it was for him. It wasn’t so much the mechanics or tools holding their attention. It was what messages they drew out of the sub, out of the Dom, that grabbed them both.
They had worked their way over to the curtain-backed dais where Des and Julie’s demo would be held. He found a spot just off the nearby paved path, pushing his chair halfway onto the grass, in case Daralyn wanted to sink down at his feet. He had a towel in his pack to protect her dress, but for now he put her on his lap, facing the stage. He liked that position, her back against his chest, his arms looped around her.
By the time the curtain rustled and Des and Julie emerged, a couple dozen people were watching, sitting on the grass or utilizing an arranged group of folding chairs.
Julie wore a sports bra and dark clingy shorts. Rory found himself grateful for that. Julie definitely wasn’t his sister, but she was family. It would be easier to watch and get lost in this if she wasn’t naked. Though if this ended up with Des bringing her to climax in front of everyone, that comfort zone was out the window.
Julie positioned herself in the center of the dais, her eyes down. Rory could see her breath making her breasts rise and fall. She seemed calm and expectant both, focused on Des. He stepped up behind her and put a blindfold over her eyes, lacing it in back so it molded to her face. Then he ran his hands up and down her arms, a reminder of his presence.
He trailed