Taylor’s knife clattered to the table as his eyes flew open. “You call him what?”
Vincent froze like a cornered rabbit.
I smiled, calmly chewing. After I swallowed, I said, “Vincent calls me Sir because I’m his Dom. And, Vincent, you don’t have to apply any label to yourself you’re not comfortable with.”
Taylor’s eyes went as round as saucers as a yell came from the basement, then a loud groan and Daphne’s voice—“What a good slave. Now clean my boots and you can go.”
“Oh, my fucking God,” said Vincent, hiding his face.
“So,” Taylor said, gesturing at me and Vincent, then toward the basement. “Are you all—”
“Daphne does her own thing. Unfortunately, she has to do it in our basement because her dungeon is undergoing extensive renovations.”
He cocked his head, trying to figure us all out. “But you and Vincent…”
“I’m Vincent’s Dom. He is my submissive. But we also have an equal partnership.”
“Oh,” Taylor said, still confused.
Vincent lifted his head and folded his hands in front of him on the table. “I don’t call Nic ‘Sir’ all the time.” He looked at me and blushed more, then shrugged. “Most of the time, maybe.”
Taylor slowly grinned at us. “You kinky fucks. I think that’s amazing.”
“You do?” Vincent said.
“Yeah. I just got a lecture on how the lifestyle I’m ‘choosing’ is the Devil’s playground and I think I’m the most conservative person in this house. Because all I want is dick. Although, you’ve got me thinking.”
“Great. You’ve been here all of an hour and we’ve already corrupted you,” I said, just as Daphne led an attractive man out of the basement on the end of a leash.
“Hey, Nic. Can I get some water for Cameron?”
Cameron was six-foot-plus and stunning. I mean, cover of GQ handsome, with a scruffy beard and messy brown hair and a muscular build. He wore a pair of tight lycra shorts and a leather collar. I had a feeling he only had the shorts on because he was in my kitchen.
I got up and grabbed a glass out of the cupboard, but Daphne told Cameron to stay where he was and followed me, saying, “No, I just need a bowl.”
I raised my eyebrows as she took a small bowl and filled it with cold water from the tap. She brought it to Cameron, who stood obediently with his head bowed by the table where Vincent and Taylor sat, frozen in place.
“There you go, you dirty dog,” Daphne said, placing the bowl on the floor.
“Thank you, Mistress Daphne,” Cameron whispered, then fell to hands and knees and lapped at the water, splashing it everywhere in his haste to quench his thirst.
Daphne lifted her booted foot and pressed the heel into Cameron’s bare calf. “Be more careful. You’re making a mess on Nic’s floor.”
Cameron gasped at the pain and apologized, attempting to be neater.
All of us—me, Vincent and Taylor—tried to comprehend what was happening.
Daphne stopped torturing Cameron and looked at the table. “What are you eating?”
I raised my eyebrows at her gall. “Daphne, can I speak to you for a second?”
“Sure.” She turned to Cameron. “Keep drinking. I want all that water gone. You need to hydrate.”
I walked with Daphne to the entryway. “Daphne, that’s Vincent’s seventeen-year-old cousin, Taylor.”
“Oh? He seems cool.”
“He is cool. But I can’t help thinking this might be more than he bargained for. We invited him for supper, not a peep show.”
Daphne had a saucy grin on her face before I finished speaking. She folded her arms across her bustier, which pushed her voluminous tits even higher. I wondered if her nipples would pop out.
“I think he’s okay with it.” She gestured at the table.
Taylor leaned forward, petting the top of Cameron’s head as the handsome man lapped carefully from the bowl on the floor. Vincent’s gaze met mine and he shrugged helplessly.
Are you ready to jump right in?