7 With 1 Blow by Caraway Carter
The man of the evening arrived—late as usual, but no one was surprised. It was just his style. During his few short years in the Scene, Taylor Little had gathered quite a following between customers, hangers-on, flatterers, and the occasional scene partner. It wasn’t the most experienced or the most prestigious crowd in the local Scene—in fact, many of Little’s followers were even less experienced than he was—and people had noticed. Important people, people who could make or break a new Dom.
Not that Taylor Little cared. He’d ruined munches, crashed play parties, and generally acted like an arrogant banty rooster in a too-small hen yard. It wasn’t surprising when he would show up at a munch, poach an inexperienced boy, and put him on the web in a BDSM porn shoot a week later; it was just inappropriate.
His lateness was also par for the course. Taylor Little—who called himself “Dom Seven”—made his elaborate entrance. Normally, his slaves crawled before him, regardless of the venue or whether it was appropriate. The sharper-tongued members of the Scene whispered that it was because of his height, which, even with his heavy boots, topped out at five foot seven. But this time, his current slave walked in front of him, shirtless, his neck enclosed inside a black leather collar. A chain snaked away from the collar’s single jump ring and into Taylor’s black-gloved hand.
In an uncharacteristic nod to propriety, Taylor had had this slave wear dirty white Converse tennis shoes and tight black jeans, with a thick black leather belt. As they entered the room, a scowl crossed Taylor’s face. It were as if no one had paid attention to anything he had done with his slave; the crowd was still looking at Mistress Joan.
Taylor and his slave were the only ones not looking at Mistress Joan. Instead, Taylor looked around the room to see if anyone was checking out his new boy while the slave kept his own eyes focused on his shoes. Not a single soul was looking their way. With a frown and a muttered command, Taylor tapped the slave on the shoulder. The boy nodded his head and dropped to his knees as Taylor looked around for an open chair. As the boy fell to the ground, the door of the backroom swung shut so that no one, aside from those gathered in the room, was witness to the slave boy’s further humiliation.