“Argh!” He stomped his foot so that the towel around his shoulders almost slid off. “You’re provoking me!”
It was working too.
“Enough with the tantrum, baby. Let’s see if you perform better at the taste testing.”
Penelope greeted us in the playroom, which still stood fairly empty. A chair was positioned in the middle, next to a small table with a row of implements. Whatever Noa was going to taste and identify must be hidden in the dresser under the window.
“Have a seat, little one.” Penelope gestured to the chair. “Welcome to my taste testing. Should you fail to identify a flavor, you’ll get a taste of something off this table instead.”
“How nice,” Noa said and sat down. I removed the towel from him. “You always want to hit me in this place. Have you considered giving us candy instead?”
I chuckled silently and joined Penelope at her side. “You’d be miserable without pain. Have you considered that?”
“Have you considered that?” he mocked. “Whatever.”
My boy was tired. He always became cranky sooner or later. And I couldn’t blame him. He’d been waterboarded, he’d been beaten severely on his legs and arms—since he was wearing a diaper—to guess various implements, he’d had his head fucked with thoroughly through blood play, and the aforementioned diaper was messing with his head too. Because I wasn’t letting him go to the bathroom.
After blindfolding Noa, Penelope walked over to the dresser and pulled out the first drawer. She placed it between us on the floor, and I peered down at the countless little cups inside.
“One correct guess is one point,” Penelope said. “You need ten points to succeed. Do you understand, Noa?”
“Yes, Mistress Penelope,” he answered sullenly. “And you remove a point if I guess wrong, right?”
“Not this time. Your Daddy cleared you for advanced play for all stations except this one.”
Correct. For as much as Noa and I loved food, we were horrible at guessing ingredients. Sometimes, Cam would have us taste something he was making, and he’d say something like, “The nutmeg really adds to it, doesn’t it?”
What the fuck did nutmeg taste like?
Either way, I didn’t want Noa suffering too much because he couldn’t taste the difference between… Well, with a downcast glance at Penelope’s selection, we were talking edible lubes, oils, hot sauce, and a few solid foods. The chocolate would make for a nice mindfuck.
Six points later, it was difficult to keep from laughing. Six points after having tried eighteen items. I had to stand behind him with my hands clasped on his shoulders to keep him still; he was so adorably furious that everyone in the house could hear him.
“Try it yourself—it tastes just like grape jelly!” he shouted.
But it’d been a tropical-fruit-flavored lube.
Penelope grinned and picked out a hickory switch with tightly braided leather strands at the tip to strike Noa with, this time…his armpits. I held up his arms, and she dragged the rough leather along his smooth, soft skin.
“This would’ve been easier for you if you hadn’t been wearing a diaper, boy,” Penelope pointed out. “Your ass can handle more pain.”
I tightened my hold on his arms and kissed his wrist. “Unfortunately, Noa really wanted to try diaper play today of all days.”
“That’s a lie!” Noa cried out. “That’s a lie, Daddy, and you know it! Ahhhh!”
Penelope struck him five times in quick succession.
Perfect time to gain an audience on the other side of the viewing window, the members consisting of participants who’d already finished the event.
To the sounds of my boy’s cursing and screaming, I sighed in utter contentment and planted more kisses along his arms.
Noa and I were one of the last couples, which allowed me to get creative for the fifth and final station.
To represent the sense of touch, this station was all about pain, and the monitors were happy to step aside to let Lucian run the show with me—with Cam as our little helper.
We knew the drill. We knew the pace to set. Noa would take the pain until he safeworded, and the time would transfer to points. But each Top had the right—and was encouraged to—safeword in the stead of their bottom if they suspected that said bottom was pushing themselves too hard.
That was something I was gonna pay extra attention to with Noa, because of how competitive he was.
“You keep in mind you’re not allowed to lie to Daddy, Noa,” I told him. “When the pain becomes too much, you safeword right away. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He made a face as Lucian restrained him to the wide sawhorse; it was similar to the one in the first station where he’d guessed the implements, only wider and designed to support a person’s weight when he draped himself over it. He was essentially on all fours, elevated, with leather straps restraining his arms and legs to the structure.