Page 15 of Their Perfect Kisses
SETH
Getting Madison to agree to this date was harder than I anticipated.She argued that she didn’t feel like putting herself on display, that she just wanted to be comfortable and stay in.
“I’m worried that you’re angry with us, and that you’re hurting,” I finally said.
“No, I’m not mad at you,” she argued back.“I’m just…thinking.”
“Enough thinking.We’re going to Low Vice.”
Because she wasn’t thinking—she was freaking out.To a lesser extent, so am I.Although I thought they were too young to get married, I’d fully believed Kyle was besotted with Madison.And even at the time, I could see why.She was cute, funny, flirtatious.Although she was far too young for me then, I could also understand her sexual appeal.
To hear he was sneaking over to Eliza’s house in the dead of night—it’s a mindfuck.The Kyle I knew wouldn’t have pulled that shit.If I’m spiraling over signs I might have missed about his character, Madison has to be feeling even worse.
She’s quiet on the drive to Low Vice.I sit in the back seat with her, holding her hand.Her outfit is also subdued.No dancing servant costume like she wore to the Low Vice masquerade in October.This time, she’s in a black, knee-length dress.Her hair is wrapped up in a messy bun.Her make-up is understated, her lips painted a soft pink.
“You look beautiful.”Damiano catches her gaze in the rearview mirror.“Thank you for coming out with us tonight, bella.”
“Thanks.”She gives him a smile.“It’ll be fun.”
She doesn’t sound like she believes it, but we’ll let it slide.For now.
Low Vice is crowded for a Sunday night.I’m not sure if that’s better or worse for Madison’s mindset.We claim a booth against the wall.Damiano and I sit on either side of Madison, although Damiano first gets us some drinks.Madison sips her lemonade, thoughtfully watching the Low Vice patrons who circulate through the room, their kinky outfits and power exchanges on display.Madison can’t stop staring at a woman wearing a schoolgirl outfit who sits on her partner’s lap.From my vantage point, it appears her partner’s hands are beneath her plaid skirt.The woman in the schoolgirl outfit squirms in pleasure.
“Does that look like fun?”I slide my hand along her knee.
Madison blushes.“It might.”
I tease her, touching the smooth skin of her inner thigh, but I don’t travel farther up her leg.Not yet.There’s still so much more to see.
Two men set up at the Saint Andrew’s Cross, a big, black X formed of two wooden beams.The dominant partner straps cuffs to the submissive’s wrists and ankles.The submissive, wearing nothing but a thong and a black leather vest, faces the cross with his back to the rest of the room.
Fascination fills Madison’s face as she watches the Dom pull a paddle from his black leather bag.
“What’s he going to do?”Madison asks in a low voice.
“Guess,” I say.
She purses her lips, shakes her head.
“Come on.”I stroke her thigh.“Do you think he’ll paddle his partner’s ass?”
“It’s the obvious answer, isn’t it?”She shakes her head again.“It was a stupid question.”
“Not stupid at all,” I say.
Her lack of confidence is heartbreaking.I had hoped that our interlude in the car would restore that confidence, but perhaps we should have talked more, instead of fucking.At the moment, it felt like the right course.
I feel like a complete asshole.
The Dom whispers something in his sub’s ear.The sub nods.The Dom pulls back his paddle and brings it down on his sub’s nearly-bare ass.
The sub arches against his restraints and groans before wiggling his hips, silently asking for more.
I turn to watch Madison as she watches the scene play out.Her plump lips are parted, and her chest rises and falls with barely-contained excitement.
Damiano leans toward her, nuzzling her neck.Madison licks her lips.I lean over and kiss her.Briefly, though, so I don’t obstruct her view of the man being paddled.
“Is it the restraints that you like the most?”Damiano asks.“Or the pain?Or is it perhaps the display—being disciplined in such a public way?”
