Time Out of Mind (Suncoast Society #43)(42)

He turned to Doyle. “Really?”

“Really. I’ll be there, don’t worry.”

“But we won’t,” Landry said with a smile, pulling Cris in for a kiss. “I plan on doing a little play of my own.”

“Save some for me, buster,” Tilly snarked.

“We will, love. I promise.”

The two men sent Tilly, Doyle, and Mevi out to the pool house, leaving them to clean up from dinner. When Tilly snapped on the lights, Mevi saw she’d already prepared. On the floor, she’d spread out a towel, and on the kneeler she’d laid out leather cuffs and collars.

His cock throbbed in anticipation.

Doyle put his bag down and started setting out the implements for her.

Tilly turned to Mevi and held out her hands. He placed his in hers and forced himself to not drop his gaze.

Her voice changed, into who he now knew was “Mistress Cardinal,” the mode she shifted into when topping. “Safewords still in place tonight, but I’m going to go harder on you, in many ways. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m going to put play cuffs and a collar on you tonight. You’re also going to get a blindfold and ball gag. For the duration of our play, unless you safeword, you’re to do everything I tell you. Understood? You either comply immediately, or safeword.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Strip. I want you to kneel on that towel and wait for me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”





Mevi started to do it. Doyle had agreed to stand by to silently observe, not to verbally object to anything, but to give her a hand signal if he thought Mevi wasn’t safewording when he should, or if she needed to back off because Doyle wasn’t comfortable with what she was doing.

When Mevi knelt, Tilly stared down at him. “Knees together, heels tucked under your ass, and bow forward, arms stretched out on the floor ahead of you, thumbs touching, forehead touching the floor. Stay like that until I say otherwise.”

He smoothly bent to do it and it was only Tilly smacking Doyle’s shoulder that got him moving again when he’d frozen.

Mevi looked…

Perfect.

Gorgeous.

He finished laying out the implements and stepped out of the way to watch, his cock now throbbing.

“Good boy,” Tilly told Mevi, and Doyle was certain a soft moan escaped the other man.

She squatted next to Mevi, one hand stroking his hair. “Who’s going to be a good boy for me tonight?”

“Me, ma’am.”

Fuuuuck.

Even his voice sounded slurred, like he was in subspace already.

She stood and circled him, nudging a foot with hers, tweaking where his arms lay, until he was perfectly the way she wanted him. And Doyle knew damn well what she was doing, because he’d done it himself when playing. It was a way to make sure the bottom—or sub—was in the right headspace, wanting to please, and earning praise for complying.

“This is a formal bow,” Tilly said. “People have their own version. If I ever put you into a formal bow, this is how I want you. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now sit up, eyes on me. Hands palms up on your thighs, keep your feet tucked.”

He immediately complied, staring up at her.

It took every ounce of self-control Doyle had not to walk over and stroke his hands down Mevi’s body.

Tilly made Mevi formally bow again. “Ask me to play, boy.”

“May I—”

“No. ‘May this boy.’ Start over.”

“May this boy play with you tonight, ma’am?”

“Good boy,” she cooed, leaning in to ruffle his hair again. “Yes, you may play, because I reward good boys. Up on the bench. Now.”

Mevi sprang up and got into position immediately. Tilly had the collar and cuffs in her hands and buckled them around his neck, wrists, and ankles. Then she blindfolded him and put the gag on him. “When I ask for a color, you can still speak around the gag. If you need to get my attention, scream loudly three times. Do it now.”

He did, and she once again ruffled his hair. “Good boy.”

She clipped his wrists and ankles to the bench and immediately started in with her hands, settling him, lightly slapping his ass, thighs, working him up.

Never in Doyle’s life had he ever wanted something so badly.

To be Tilly, right now, running hands all over Mevi’s body.

Marking him.

And, to be honest, owning him, at least temporarily.





There was something so different in her mood and manner tonight. And every time she said “good boy” it nearly made Mevi come.

As she started playing with him, he tried to pretend it was Doyle’s hands on him, Doyle owning him.

Doyle calling him his good boy.

Mevi literally lost track of time, only yellowing once for cane strokes, but Tilly stepping up the play to a far heavier level than ever before.

And he loved it.

Craved it.

Knew that if he couldn’t keep doing this, he was going to have serious issues. This was a part of him.

And nothing in the world would be more perfect than kneeling before Doyle and being his boy.

When she finished playing with him, his wrists and ankles were unclipped, but she didn’t remove the blindfold or ball gag. A throw was draped over him, and fingers caressed his hair.