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the floggers and paddles and he simply couldn’t go through with it. Not in a meaningful way.
    Mark shook his head and smiled. His wife was insatiable; she could easily spread herself for five guys a day and somehow still wake up the next morning wanting more. He had been hurt and jealous once, when he realized that there was no way he could ever fulfill what she needed, not fully. But over time, he grew to realize that she did love him, even if she couldn’t tie herself to only one cock. She loved him even more for permitting her to exercise her needs with other men.
    He let her go, knowing that he’d be the man she went home with. Sometimes he found himself a good lay at these clubs as well, while she indulged her pleasures, but he wasn’t driven to it, as she was. Mark would have been happy to have fucked Rae and only Rae for the rest of his life. She was a dynamo in bed—not surprisingly, since she never tired of slapping the sheets. Mark wasn’t opposed to fucking other women…thanks to Rae, he’d met some amazing females in the past five years at clubs like this. But he didn’t need it.
    He couldn’t give her what she needed, that was for sure.
    She always begged for him to hit her harder, and then begged him not to make her beg. He knew that he could never give her what she craved and so he let her go find it elsewhere, praying each time that she still loved him enough to come back.
    And she always had.
    Across the room, he saw her hold her wrists up in complete subservience, asking to be bound. Mark watched her clothing slip to the painted floor. After a while, he heard the sound of her twisted pleasure bleating above the screams of the techno music.
    He edged his way off the dance floor after two men tried to sandwich him in a dance. In the regular world, Mark was pretty liberal—he let other men fuck his wife and had worn masks and costumes while fucking others himself. He’d given some floggings and taken them too, and he had no judgment on virtually any bacchanalia that Rae or his partners wanted to engage in. But he did have his preferences. And while he’d let a man flog him a time or two, he had no interest in dancing with one.
    At the bar he ordered a bourbon, neat. Sin-D delivered it wearing only a smile. He couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at her sultry brown skin. A pink jewel glimmered in the club light near the shadow of her belly button, and her breasts looked full and achingly ready for sin. She reminded him of the kind of girl you’d see playing volleyball in the middle of a summer’s day on Miami Beach. He realized that, below her neck, there didn’t appear to be a hair on her body.
    “Looks like you’re a free man already, and I’m just a girl trapped here at the bar. I need to get me a double shot of love,” she said, stepping around the bar to ease her legs up and around his. She straddled his knee and he smelled the scent of vanilla and liquor on her breath. “You buying?”
    Mark laughed at the bad pun and tilted back the bourbon, taking it all down with a burn and a cough.
    “Let me pour you some,” he said and pulled her fully onto his lap. He ran his hands up her naked back and felt knobs of scarred flesh there. So, she likes the taste of the whip too, he thought to himself. After a moment, she slipped off his thighs and led him around the bar to a couch tucked against the wall. “I might need to stop to pour a drink once in a while,” she warned.
    “Occupational hazard,” he began, but her tongue choked out the rest of what he’d been about to say.
     
     
    Amelia didn’t pause as she walked into tonight’s NightWhere. She knew the layout by now. No matter what old building they settled in for the night, the space seemed to look exactly the same. Just beyond the doorman was the rookie bar and grill. The newcomers fresh from the Triple A league of swingers clubs and peep show hallways clung there for a while before they discovered what the club was really all