“Okay. I’ll go along for a bit. Show me the room, Iris.”
A tiny squeal escaped her lips. “Follow me, Sir.”
He walked with her in silence. About fifteen feet after they passed the last door, a rosy glow illuminated the hallway.
“What is that light?”
“It’s coming from the Littles’ room, Sir.”
As Barron approached, he couldn’t contain his surprise. The pretty light spilled out because the door had been left open.
“May I touch you, Sir?” Iris asked gently. Barron nodded, and she held his wrist. The need to jerk away from her hit him instantly. Swallowing hard, he controlled the reaction and allowed her to lead him into the room.
A dungeon monitor sat by the doorway, supervising the activity in the room.
“Can we come in for a moment?” Barron asked.
“Are you both playing?” the DM asked.
“We’re not,” Barron replied. “Master Darius asked me to check out the new room.”
“Go right ahead. The dynamic in here is different. Be mindful of that.”
“They won’t know we’re here.”
That was a load of crap, and Barron knew it. Heads had turned with curiosity when he and Iris walked in. But now everyone returned their attention to their play. And what a play this room offered. If entering the dungeon had felt like crossing into a fantasy world, this room was the culmination of that sensation.
The semidarkness of the dungeon remained outside. Soft lights in pink and gold hues illuminated the cheerful space. Furnishings in pastel colors were smaller than regular adult-size to assist in the fantasy. Drawings and pictures of famous fairy tales, stories, and cartoon characters hung on the walls. Stuffed animals of all kinds, shapes, and sizes decorated shelves and were piled in tall baskets throughout the room. There were Legos and assorted games. Three couples, two Daddies and one Mommy, situated throughout the room, played with their Littles. Mommy and her adult boy, dressed in shorts and a baby blue T-shirt, pretended to cook breakfast in a play kitchen. One Daddy listened as his Little, in a cute pink dress, sat cross-legged and chatted happily while conducting a pretend tea party. The third Little, her hair in pigtails, colored a book under the loving gaze of her Daddy. Everyone had dressed their part and were fully engaged in age play.
At the far wall, a closed door caught his attention. He asked the dungeon monitor, “Where does that door lead to?”
“The room on the other side is for adult babies. It has cradles, playpens, diaper bags, and changing tables.”
“I see,” he murmured. Master Darius hadn’t exaggerated. This room had been put together to cater to every age-play need and to keep the play within its own safe environment. Separate from thegeneral population and those who might not understand or care for the kink.
Having seen enough and approving of the room, Barron made a move to exit. Iris held his wrist again. “I can be a little girl for you, Sir.”
He narrowed his gaze. “I don’t think so. There isn’t a single little girl bone in your body. Let’s be real. I know a pain slut when I see one. That’s what’s written all over you, and the outfit you’re wearing is asking for a Dominant’s whip or, better yet, a sadist’s, not a Daddy.”
“You could spank me. Daddies like to spank.”
“Wrong. Daddies discipline. And that comes in many forms. Spanking happens to be one.”
Barron exited the room in a hurry. The last thing he wanted was to get entangled with this submissive’s odd behavior. As he strode past the private rooms’ doors and reached the turn to the main dungeon, an unexpected presence froze him in place. He knew this man, even though he wore a black leather pants-and-vest set without Steel Wolves’ colors. This blond guy, with the SW Wolves’ insignia tattooed on his exposed biceps, was the same biker Weaver had asked Barron to check out during his visit to LaFayette and who’d suspiciously watched his every step.
Nightshade was fair game. The club sat on the boundary between Devils’ Spawn territory and the agreed upon no-man’s land of Savannah. Still, why the fuck would this Wolf come sniffing around a kink club four hours away from his home turf?
As Barron made a move to go after the guy, Iris whimpered behind him. “Please, Sir. I’ll do anything. I’ll be a good submissive.”
Turning, he exhaled in shock. Iris had lowered the catsuit to her waist, exposing both breasts, adorned with hooped pierced nipples. Desperately, she grasped his hand with a strong grip.Before he had the presence of mind to react and yank it from her, she pressed it to one breast and dropped to one knee.
“Stop this.” Barron jerked his hand loose. “You’re embarrassing yourself. Get up. People are watching you.” Quickly, he turned from her, trying to locate the biker again. But he’d lost track of the fucking guy. Shit. Maybe he’d confused the Wolves biker with an innocent civilian? Was his mind playing tricks with him?
“I don’t care. Shame me. Humble me,” Iris begged in a louder voice.
Barron watched her wide-eyed. Iris had dropped to both knees and pressed her hands together in supplication before him. Forgetting the Wolf ghost, he scanned the dungeon, searching for a DM who would help him out of this embarrassing situation.
“I’m not doing this. Iris, stop.”