Free Velvet Memories by Violet Summers Page A

did know was her serene presence was one of the things that made working at Velvet Ice such a rewarding experience for the Club submissives.
    Ty tightened the Velcro straps around his wrists and ankles. He felt wonderfully stretched, a small stirring in the base of his balls signaling his growing excitement at what the night was to bring. She moved to the straps securing his biceps to the arms of the cross, then the straps around his thighs. A final strap around his waist ensured his back would be supported if things got strenuous. It would also give him an extra pinch of restraint that tingled in his balls like cayenne pepper on his tongue.
    “All set?” she asked as she stepped away from him with a final tug on the straps.
    “Always,” he replied with his naughtiest smile.
    “You know what to do if things get out of control,” she reminded him, indicating the alarm near one of his hands. He nodded and she walked away.
    Music blared announcing the arrival of DJ Wicked, and Michael settled back against the smooth leather-bound cross. It didn’t take long for the third floor to fill up, Doms and subs flooding the area.
    Club submissives were bound and presented on spotlighted pedestals around the room. Since it was a public play night, no alcohol would be served — that was reserved for nights when the dance floor served its original purpose. Part of safe and sane was being sober, and Michael knew Master Brady would never condone liquor being served when scenes were being enacted. Alcohol or not, the bar area filled up with people ordering from the extensive menu of non-alcoholic drinks.
    Anticipation flared in Michael’s stomach as a table was set up next to Michael with various play instruments, and he was itching to discover who would be the first to approach him. He absolutely wasn’t searching the floor for a certain dark head, a certain pair of dark emerald eyes. Absolutely not.
    It didn’t take long for a handsome older gentleman in a half mask to approach him. The Dom never said a word, merely ran his hands along Michael’s torso. He made a big show of examining every implement on the table before selecting a bottle of oil and filling his palm. Laying his hands flat along Michael’s pierced nipples, he rubbed the concoction on his flesh. Michael shivered. Peppermint oil, cool to the touch, sent gentle tingles over his skin and made his hips gyrate as the masked man flicked his nipples, teasing him to distraction. The pleasure bordered on torture because he knew this silver fox would never bring him to fulfillment. No this experience was all about driving Michael to the brink of insanity, but it was an insanity he fucking craved.
    The man leaned forward to flick his tongue across Michael’s nipple, and he writhed in his restraints. It felt good, so good, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t exactly what he needed to take him to the place where everything else floated away.
    A sharp snap of teeth brought Michael abruptly back to the present and the Dom who was watching him with cool eyes as his tongue and teeth drew Michael’s nipples to red, swollen life. Satisfied he had the submissive’s attention once again, the Dom gave each nipple a long, deep suck, tugged at each barbell with his teeth, and watched Michael squirm. When he had Michael helpless against his mouth, the man abruptly turned and left Michael alone.
    That was just the beginning. Michael was a popular submissive. He wasn’t a pain-whore like Trey, or a resistant brat like Mikki, the pretty blonde lashed to the spanking bench to his right. No, Michael’s allure was that he was strong, needed an even stronger Master, but he wanted to submit. Mastering Michael was a challenge, but not a fight.
    His sexual orientation was common knowledge at the club, and most of the Dominants to approach him were male, but the occasional female took a pass at him, too. He was disappointed to see his least favorite Domina, Mistress Anne, in attendance tonight.