Where Lost Things Dwell: Night Creatures Book Two

Chapter Twelve - Changing Things Up

She'd realised what he intended when they returned to their room and he went to the closet, retrieving his leather trousers, riding boots, and silk shirt. Midnight blue this time, rather than the blood red one he'd worn last time. He tugged the black lace mask that 'Dominus' had given her from the top shelf, the one colour-coded to mean 'dominant, but only with a chosen partner', only he didn't hand it over, studying it instead.

"I've never worn one of these before," he noted, his thumb brushing over the lace. "I've always worn the solid colour masks which mean I'm open to playing with strangers."

"You can still do that if it's what you want," she replied, her head tipped slightly as she watched him, wondering what thoughts passed through his mind.

"That's not what I want. It's just an observation," he said before tugging a carrier bag from his chest of drawers, one marked with the Masque logo. He pulled a second lace mask from within, this one in the red that marked a 'submissive'. He held both masks out to her, offering, "I only want to do this with you, no one else, but you get to choose which role you want to try. I'm not forcing anything on you."

She knew that. More than anything, she felt sure of that. Still, she'd done the dominant thing with him already, and although she'd enjoyed it immensely, she also wanted to experience the other part of him. Reaching out, she took the red mask, saying without words that she intended to do something that terrified her even though it intrigued her. After what Wren Walton had done to her, she couldn't help her nervousness, but she trusted Dunstan. More than anyone, she trusted him.

"You sure?" he asked. "If you change your mind at any point, just tell me. We should have a safe-word too, just in case. Pick something that you'll remember but that you're not likely to moan or scream in the heat of the moment."

"Like what?" she wondered, having never needed a safe-word before.

"Anything. Some people use a traffic light system. Green for keep going, amber for slow it down, and red for stop. Some people only have a word that means stop. There was a dark elf I used to know whose safe-word was 'suitcase', no idea why." He shrugged. "He never actually used it, though he claimed I got him close a couple of times. As far as I can remember, only one person has ever used a safe-word with me. I try to walk the fine line that comes just before screaming a safe-word, where everything is almost unbearably intense but doesn't cross that line."

She couldn't imagine remembering to shout 'suitcase' and so she said the first thing that came to her mind instead, although she'd likely never figure out why it came to her mind.

"Popsicle," she breathed. "I want my safe-word to be popsicle."

Dustan chuckled but nodded. "Popsicle it is. You say that, and I'll stop immediately. OK?"

She nodded too, fingering the lace mask in her hand as she murmured, "How do you want me dressed, Lord Darkstone? Same a last time? Or do you want me in some of the bits I've just bought?"

When she'd filled out her half of his wardrobe, she'd gotten Isemay to help her pick some truly risqué pieces as well, with Masque in mind. Dunstan knew about them, of course - they lived in his closet and drawers, after all - but he'd never seen her in any of them. Still, as he was going to be the master this time, she willingly handed over the reins.

He considered her, then went back to the drawers and took out one of his own recent purchases, a length of ruby red rope. "I think I want you mostly naked when we get there. I want people to see what's mine. What they can't touch. But a rope harness always looks and feels good. Strip, love, and I'll get you ready so all you need to do is strip off your outer layers and kneel on the stage like a good girl."