EXTRACT FOR
Take Down
(Terri Pray)

"What the fuck have I gotten myself into?" Kyle Orion muttered through clenched teeth. A well-lit stage stood front and center of the room. A St. Andrew's Cross, a spanking bench, a table on a tilt frame, and a small table covered with a black cloth decorated the stage. "This is insane!" Dozens of men and woman mingled, laughing, chatting in low voices, some on their feet while others knelt at the side or feet of apparent Dominants.

Apparent was the word. Some were blatant posers. You only had to look at how they "handled" the submissives around them. Arrogance incarnate, strutting around the room and snapping orders at submissives who obviously weren't in their care, yet they still expected to be obeyed.

Losers.

You found them everywhere in chat rooms, e-mail groups, munches, lectures, and demos like this one and full-blown play events or clubs. There had been a rise in them, men and women who walked in and expected all those who identified as submissive to fall to their knees, willing to obey everything that the Dominant demanded of them. Not how it worked, but they'd learn that one the hard way. Kyle had witnessed one would-be Dominant escorted out of the event. The man hadn't gone quietly, but his protests and removal had toned down the worst of the behavior from others.

"Find somewhere to sit." Jake rested one hand lightly on Kyle's shoulder. "If you try hanging out in the shadows, you'll only draw attention to yourself."

"Yeah, okay." He nodded but didn't move. "Lot of people."

Jake smiled. "Mistress Lyn is well-respected in the local community. This isn't her first demo and info night with us. We sold out long before you contacted me. I had to call in a few favors to get you in." Jake met Kyle's gaze. "Don't blow this for me."

"Thanks, man, appreciated." Kyle owed Jake, but in their world, friends helped each other out. "Anytime you need something from me, you've got it." Blow it? No, that wasn't on his agenda. If the presenter, Mistress Lyn, was his target, he'd make a grab for her well away from the club.

"It's nothing. You've had my back time and again." Jake shrugged it off. "About time I had the chance to pay off at least one debt."

Kyle turned his attention back to the stage. Watching a target out in the open went against everything he'd ever been taught. Staking out a target required a low-key appearance, not pulling on leather pants, a chest halter, and leather cuffs. Shit, even finding cuffs that were comfortable to wear for more than twenty minutes had been something of a battle until he'd bitten the bullet and walked into a high-end sex shop that specialized in leatherwork and custom orders. Now here he was, walking around a group of kinksters in garb that marked him as a submissive, despite the fact that he never played the role in his personal life.

Kyle nudged Jake before walking past into the large room. So not sitting at the front. Kyle meandered out, trying to match the general pace that the other observers used, found a chair toward the back, and settled into it. At least back here it was unlikely that those on stage would be able to make out his face. Tension tightened his back and shoulders, and he breathed slowly, forcing his muscles to relax despite the situation. He'd already drawn unwanted attention from more than his fair share of the men and women in the room.

Well, if they approached him, he'd deal with it. Politely. An experienced Dominant or even a newbie who had taken the time to read the rules and do a little research into lifestyle would accept a refusal without raising a fuss. Fine, so the cuffs he'd chosen marked him as a submissive, but the rules were clear, and this wasn't a hook-up event.

Lighting changed, the main body of the room growing dim as spotlights focused on the stage. Conversation ceased, and those who had yet to find seats scurried to do so moments before a middle-aged man in black jeans and a simple black T-shirt walked out onto the stage, mic in hand.

"Ladies and gentleman, Dominants, switches, and submissives, welcome. As you know, we're fortunate to be able to welcome Mistress Lyn and her submissive, Bella. Mistress Lyn is well known as a professional Dominant, with a specialization in working with new submissives, helping them find their limits, understand their desires, and introducing them not only to the basics of physical play but the safety aspects of our world." He turned and waved toward the left hand side of the stage. "Please put your hands together to welcome Mistress Lyn and Bella."

Enthusiastic clapping rose from the audience, and Kyle added his own polite claps to the mix.

Two women strolled onto the stage, and Kyle let his gaze move to the second of them, the submissive. Slender and petite, with long, red-blonde hair and a sensual sway to her hips. This was so not the woman he was looking for.

Well, shit, this is a bust.

He scowled and leaned back in the chair, casting a quick look at the Dominant. Spiked black hair, a PVC cat suit with the zipper pulled down beneath her bra, exposing a tantalizing amount of cleavage, eight-inch spike heels, and an arrogant strut to her walk. Every inch the stereotypical pro Domme right off the pages of a porn site.

"Thank you." Mistress Lyn turned to face the crowd. "This is what you were expecting, right?" A cold, crisp voice carried easily to the back of the room.

A low, nervous chuckle rippled through the audience.

"All a part of the deal, when you hire a pro Domme, isn't it?" She gestured to the PVC cat suit. "Heels, suit, whip, and attitude! The real deal!" She reached for the curled single tail on her hip and slipped it out, letting the long length of braided leather unfurl. "An act, ladies and gentlemen, one I might put on for a client asking for a specific scene, but this is not how Mistress Lyn normally appears."

Confusion rumbled through the crowd.

"No, in fact you wouldn't catch me dead in heels like that without a damned good reason." This time it wasn't the woman in PVC who spoke. Dressed in torn black jeans with long purple hair, a black sports-bra-like top, and black Darcy boots, the new speaker strode in from the right-hand side of the stage. "Personally, I'd rather be able to move, stretch-and yes, sweat-when I'm working with a submissive." With a brilliant smile made all the more unexpected by the black lipstick, the curvaceous woman with her full breasts and tempting curves turned to look out over the audience. Piercings glinted from multiple points in both ears, her left eyebrow, and left nostril. Curved over her right breast vanishing beneath the cover of her top was a tattoo of a raven.

Not the only tattoo either, from the brief glimpse he'd caught when the woman had entered the stage.

Kyle swore under his breath, his gaze locked on the Dominant who now commanded the stage.

Beneath all of the hair dye, tattoos, piercings and attitude, Mistress Lyn was his target.