Free Touch to Surrender by Cara Dee Page B

much like Lina has, but as for reality…it's a lot bleaker.
    "You ready to play, pets?" He smirks and extends his hand to us. By now, Lina and I have found seclusion in Mr. Ford's private booth near the bar—the booth with a ceiling and drapes and privacy. "We won't be in the Cave tonight."
    Huh. Where else would we go? Maybe to his place…but that doesn’t make sense. He specifically told us to be ready to scene at Switch the minute his shift ended. But instead of reading more into it, I brush all my questions aside, content to let my Master take the lead. It's so fucking relaxing not having to worry about anything.
    Lina slides out of the booth first, and Master kisses her knuckles before pulling out the collars he uses when we scene. Aside from those, we always wear our red rubber wristbands at Switch now. They tell others we're attached, unavailable—that we belong to someone, Master in this case. He's got one, too, as does everyone who's in a relationship or arrangement. And if you do wear a red wristband, you don’t also have to wear a yellow one for being new even if you are, because you're someone else's responsibility.
    "Will you please repeat the rules for playtime, kitten?" he asks and holds out the two-inch-wide leather collar with a soft inner lining.
    "Yes, Master. My safewords are green for safe, yellow for caution, and red for stop," Lina recites dutifully. "I will only answer direct qu estions unless you say otherwise, and the only other sounds you allow are, um, when I moan and stuff." Even in the darkness of the club, I see the blush gracing her cheeks.
    "That’s correct," Master chuckles. "When you moan and stuff." With a kiss to Lina's lips, he positions her next to him instead, then reaches for my hand. I follow obediently and stand up in front of him. Eyes on his. It's a rule for when he collars us. "Your turn, pup." He holds up my collar, identical to the one Lina has. "The rules, please."
    "Yes, Master. " I nod as a shiver rips down my spine. "My safewords are green for safe, yellow for caution, and red for stop. I will only answer direct questions unless you say otherwise, and the only other sounds you allow are sounds of pleasure."
    "Good pet." He fastens the leather around my neck. "Additionally, you will both keep your eyes on the floor until I say it's okay for you to look up. Understand?"
    "Yes, Master," we answer.
    "Good. Let's play."
    Doing as we're told, Lina and I follow Master through the club area, a few feet behind him, eyes downcast, and then we end up in the lobby, much to our confusion. But Master doesn’t stop; he continues past the bathrooms and then leads us up the stairs that are off-limits to regular guests. As far as I know, only Mr. Ford's office and a few supply closets are up here. Oh, and Kevin's office.
    "Here we are," Master murmurs to himself and stops in front of Mr. Ford's office. Producing a key, he unlocks the door and ushers us inside, and I take subtle glances around me while keeping my gaze lowered. "You may look up, and then you can sit down on the couch closest to Nicholas's desk."
    I obey and look up, taking in the large office, its honey-colored hardwood floor, erotic art on the dark red walls—black and white photos of Kayla in various states of undress—Mr. Ford's desk, filing cabinets, and small seating area. For such a vast space, he's really not doing much with it. It's very classy and sexy, though.
    Grabbing Lina's hand, we walk over to the two gray couches by a massive window, and we're both kind of awestruck when we see the view of the entire club. Just a floor down, everyone is having a blast: scening, dancing, drinking, socializing, and I get an odd thrill watching them. I already know it's one-way mirrored glass—I can see them, but they can't see me—because I know exactly what they see. I mean, I knew Mr. Ford's office was up here, but when you're down in the club, all you see is a blackened mirror. It's so private up here; not even the