Page 3 of Inhuman Natures #1

DJ

Brighton, England

Present Day

The sub was there again.

Despite DJ’s current position—kneeling at Rake’s feet—his attention didn’t sway from the red-haired wisp of a thing who trailed his Dom across the club.

The sub hardly looked old enough to be there at all, but DJ had seen him twice before.

Given the stringent checks that DJ and Rake had recently gone through to join the club, he doubted that anyone underage could get away with tricking the staff.

The sub’s delicate throat was encircled with a thick, red leather collar covered in spikes, with a large buckle at the back that looked notched one hole too tight.

Now, DJ wasn’t the most discerning when it came to matters of fashion, but he knew his collars.

If there had been any indication that the sub liked it, DJ wouldn’t have blinked.

He’d seen all sorts of getups, both here and at their previous club.

But, given the sub’s expression as he followed his Dom, he wasn’t into anything being offered .

DJ touched his own skinny collar as he watched the progress of the Dom and sub. Touching his collar grounded him, but also reminded him to take stock of everything his body felt at that time. He shuffled on his knees, letting out a breath as his recently paddled buttocks rubbed against his calves.

“Are you all right, sweetheart?” Rake asked.

DJ tore his eyes away from the sub and instead met Rake’s intense, dark gaze. Rake’s brown eyes—framed with thick lashes of the type mascara advertisers could only dream of—captivated DJ, right along with his dark skin and stubbled beard.

“DJ?”

Oh. He’d got distracted. “I’m fine, Sir.” DJ looked at the pale sub once again. “It’s just that he always seems so miserable.”

The signs of the sub’s discomfort were subtle, and could easily be mistaken for someone playing in a high protocol scene: his downcast eyes lowered in respect for his Dom; his shudders eager anticipation.

But the set of his shoulders told a different story.

“Who are you talking about?” Rake asked, his fingers trailing over DJ’s head.

“The ginger sub over there with the tall blond Dom.”

Rake glanced over before focusing back on DJ. “He looks fine to me,” Rake said, his short nails scratching over DJ’s scalp. It felt less satisfying now that DJ couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away from the other sub.

“Rake. Listen to me. Something with that sub is wrong.”

Rake’s thick eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. “You’re out of the scene? ”

DJ hadn’t even realised he’d used Rake’s name. “Yes. I’m done.”

Rake frowned, but took another look at the other couple’s scene as it played out in front of them.

They were in the public room, where voyeurs could spectate on any scene.

Equipment of all kinds—such as the T-bar being used by the Dom and sub sat in designated spots around the room.

The rest of the space was dotted with sofas and chairs, with a bar area near the entrance for downtime between play.

The changing room and a few private spaces sat past the bar, along with the door that led to the private upstairs area for staff.

The last room, just off the main area, was accessible only to those with a premium membership. Sadly, DJ and Rake made do with the basic, because Brighton was expensive enough to live in without paying gold-tier kink club fees.

The Dom strapped his sub’s wrists into the cuffs at the ends of the T-bar, leaving the sub kneeling with his back against the bar.

DJ catalogued the sub’s every reaction, from his tensed jaw as he balanced uneasily on his knees, to the split-second look of dismay that crossed his face as his Dom fastened leather mittens around his fisted hands.

Not the most extreme bondage DJ had seen in the club, but more than the average scene.

The final addition was a large spider gag, which stretched the sub’s pink lips wider than it looked like they should go.

DJ rubbed at his own mouth. Rake didn’t often employ the use of gags, only using a small ball gag on occasion to help DJ stay quiet if they scened at home and didn’t want to upset their neighbours.

Wearing something like the spider gag required training, and the sub looked far too young to be a seasoned BDSM practitioner.

Rake hummed unhappily, now laser-focused on the unfolding scene. “Have you seen them in here before?”

Classic Rake. DJ was normally happy to be Rake’s sole focus when in the club, but sometimes he wished Rake paid a little more attention.

“Yes,” DJ said. “Twice before now. The sub always looks like he’s having the most shit time.”

“Language,” Rake said absently. Whilst he only really cared about swearing during scenes, he enjoyed tallying up every time DJ swore.

“We should rescue him,” DJ said vehemently.

“He’s not a lost puppy, Deej.”

DJ didn’t respond. He watched, discomfited, as the Dom unceremoniously shoved himself inside the sub’s stretched mouth. He and Rake sat too far away to overhear the scene, but he could imagine the sounds.

The Dom displayed little finesse in the way he pressed deeper into the sub’s throat, holding his curly hair in a punishingly hard grip.

Seconds passed, stretching into minutes, and DJ almost got to his feet to run over.

Nobody could hold their breath for that long, but he didn’t see any obvious safe signals being used.

“I think—” As DJ began to suggest that Rake intervene, the Dom made a few jerky motions and pulled back.

DJ got a better look at the sub’s face as the Dom tucked himself away. His pale eyes looked empty. At least his face had hardly reddened, which DJ would have thought impossible, given how long he’d held his breath.

DJ should have known the worst was still to come, however.

The Dom pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote something across the sub’s cheeks, before giving him a pat on the head that looked anything but caring.

And then the Dom walked away.

DJ followed the Dom’s progress through the club, Rake doing the same above him.

There was a moment when he thought the Dom might be going to retrieve some aftercare items, but no.

He joined a group of Doms DJ somewhat recognised, and left with them through the door to the exclusive area.

DJ waited a beat before whipping his head back to the sub, who, as he’d thought, had been left completely alone.

“What the fuck?” Rake stood up so suddenly that DJ almost tipped over. “Sorry, sweetheart. It’s just… did that guy leave his sub by himself? That’s against the rules. You’re not supposed to do that. Ever .”

DJ stood on shaky legs. He’d barely realised he’d been kneeling for close to half an hour by that point. Even on a soft pillow, it still hurt. “I can’t see anyone else who’s in on the scene, can you? Like, he’s not left anyone looking after him?”

Rake shook his head, his fluffy black hair bouncing along with the movement. “There’s no one else. It’s against the rules.” Rake’s indignation would have been endearing if DJ hadn’t been so concerned for the other sub.

“I know, Sir. We should go over and see if he’s all right.”

That suggestion took the wind out of Rake’s sails, however. “We’re not supposed to get involved in someone else’s scene without their consent.”

“That asshole Dom revoked his right to consent when he left the room, and the sub can’t express his consent unless we ask him. So I say we do that. We have good reason to believe that someone has broken the rules. That means we should intervene, Sir.”

Trying to out-logic Rake was never easy, but the situation warranted it. Appealing to his dominant nature helped, but it was probably DJ pointing out the injustice that sealed the deal.

Rake nodded decisively. “Right. Come on, sweetheart.”

They hurried over to the sub, whose head hung low. He didn’t move, not even at their approach. DJ’s heart twisted in his chest. To leave anyone alone after a scene of that nature was beyond cruel, not to mention dangerous.

“Are you all right?” Rake used a softer tone than DJ had expected. For someone so strident, Rake knew how to come across as gentle when he needed to.

DJ fought to not outwardly react when the sub lifted his head. Combined with the sub’s desolate expression, the writing across his face reading free use slut had DJ squirming.

The sub looked between Rake and DJ, bewildered, his eyes flitting towards the room where his Dom had gone. DJ waited to see if he would give them any kind of answer to Rake’s question.

Of course, the sub couldn’t say much with the gag in, but he didn’t even try to communicate with them.

“I’m going to take your gag out so that you can talk to me,” Rake declared.

That got the sub’s full attention. He shook his head from side to side: a clear denial.

Rake hesitated, turning to DJ. “What should I do?”

Normally, DJ would say that Rake should listen. But DJ didn’t see in the sub a desire to keep the gag in to please his Dom, or because he was enjoying the treatment. All he saw was someone who truly feared any repercussions.

So, DJ knelt to face the sub directly, careful not to touch him. “We’ll only take it off for as long as necessary, okay? We want to check in on you.”

The sub appeared mollified by the promise, giving a hesitant nod. DJ looked at Rake, asking him silently to remove the gag, which Rake swiftly did.

Drool fell from the sub’s mouth as he stretched his jaw. DJ wanted to help him wipe it off, but he wouldn’t touch him without permission.

“Is someone here with you?” Rake asked.

The sub’s gaze rose to meet Rake’s before lowering again. “Yes, Sir,” he rasped.

“Are they in the room?” Rake prodded.

The sub glanced upwards. “My Master is in the other room, Sir.” His voice was stronger this time.

“What’s your name?” DJ asked.

“Shaun.”

DJ smiled. “Hi, Shaun. I’m DJ. This is my Dom and boyfriend, Rake. We wanted to check that you were all right.”

“I’m fine.”