“I’m pretty new to the area, so yes, this is my first time.”
“I see.” Angelique’s finger tapped against her lip as she thought for a moment. “Well, let’s get you checked in so you can start your evening, shall we?”
“Thank you.” Erin’s nerves began to settle with the friendliness of Angelique’s disposition
.
“First thing, Erin, I need a current STD report dated within the last two weeks, a photo ID, and your seventy-five dollar cover charge.”
Once Erin had provided her with the requested report, along with her credit card and driver’s license, Angelique opened a large register and handed her a pen.
“Please sign your full name and status into our guest log.”
“Sorry, status?” Erin questioned.
“Yes, dear. We color code our guests. It lets everyone inside know in which way will be acceptable to approach you,” Angelique explained. “I need to know if you are a Domme or submissive, trained or not, available or not, that kind of thing.” She laughed again, and the sound caused a shiver to run down Erin’s spine.
“Oh, of course.”
Erin nodded taking the pen from Angelique’s outstretched hand.
She’d read about it on their website. It was part of why she’d chosen to come here in fact. The pen flowed seamlessly over the old-fashioned log when she signed in:
Catherine O’Chancey, available, trained submissive
. Taking a deep breath, Erin laid the pen back down. This was going to happen again for real.
“Can I ask why the old pen and paper way, Angelique?”
“Of course, dear. It is to protect your privacy from computer hackers, and to protect us from being accused of setting you up in an unclear position. No one but trusted staff has access to these records.”
The explanation made sense to Catherine so she nodded and smiled.
“Here you go, pretty Erin.” Angelique handed her a purple band, which she slipped onto her wrist. “This will let the people beyond those doors know that you are an experienced guest who is here looking to play. Normal rules of play are in effect. You may decline any advances without fear of consequence due to your guest status. The color safe-word system is in place if you do choose to play tonight. If they are club members, the Sirs and Ma’ams will be wearing green bands, yellow bands if they are a guest. They are aware of proper activity areas and club etiquette, and had to provide the same proof of cleanliness as you. If you should require assistance at any time this evening – for anything – you are free to ask any of the dungeon masters who wander the club. They’ll be in black pants and a white shirt with the club logo over the pocket – just like Warren was wearing outside. Do you have any questions?”
Erin thought for a moment and then replied, “No, ma’am. I think you have covered everything.” Her adrenaline began racing through her while her excitement spiked.
“Alright, just a little more paperwork, and then you can be on your way. I need your signature on this confidentiality form. It’s a basic agreement that states anything you see or hear beyond these doors will not be discussed in any way with the general public, media included.”
Skimming over the agreement, Erin ensured it was the same one she’d studied in detail on their website. Finding no discrepancies, she signed, her heart rate further accelerating in anticipation.
Angelique smiled, and Erin wondered if she could hear her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest.
“Relax, dear. We offer a warm atmosphere under the ‘Safe, Sane, Consensual’ motto. Nothing will happen tonight that you don’t want.” Angelique came around the counter and opened the interior door. “Pleasant dreams, Catherine.” She waved her arm, indicating Erin should step inside.
Erin straightened her back. The tender nipples she’d all but forgotten in the excitement of getting through the doors throbbed, reminding her of their presence. When she entered the club’s inner sanctum, it was with a slow sureness while the door closed behind her with a dull echo. The music was just loud enough to recognize the song without it being deafening. Conversation would be easy enough to manage with no need to lean into the other person and yell. Couples swayed on the dance floor, their bodies writhing in hypnotic tandem to the music. The feeling of the rhythm soaked into her limbs.
Private sitting areas were scattered around the room with one or two recliners and a table for drinks to each section. Most of those were occupied. Both males and females knelt next to their Masters with their heads resting against thighs. In the sitting area closest to Erin, a female submissive was pleasuring her Master with her mouth while he carried on a conversation with the Domme in the seat next to him. The soft slurping noises being emitted were ignored by both Masters.
The sight made Erin vibrate with longing.
Erin gravitated toward the open bar on the left side of the room when she decided a little liquid courage might do her good; help relax her nerves. According to the website submissives were allowed one drink at the bar. The wristband would be hole-punched when the drink had been collected. Sirs and Ma’ams were not allowed alcoholic beverages on the premises for the safety of the submissives. Another reason she’d chosen the club. Drinking and playing could prove to be a bad combination; Erin could attest to that from personal experience.
Following protocol with a lowered gaze, Erin didn’t see the man with the spiky, blue hair that had stepped in front of her until she bumped into him.
“Oof!” She caught herself, and glanced up into steely eyes in a childlike face – complete with pimples – which made Erin wonder if he was even old enough to be in there. “Sorry, Sir. This girl was not watching where she was going,” Erin offered, and was surprised by how easy – how
right –
the old habits felt.
“No worries, beautiful,” he leered at her. “But how about you come with me to a private room and show me how sorry you are?” He did that disgusting tongue-in-cheek motion, paired with a distracting eye twitch, and Erin had to fight a laugh at his attempt at a pickup.
She noticed the yellow band and wondered if he’d be invited back anytime soon.
“Thank you for the offer, Sir,” she said while her gaze returned to the floor, “but this girl wishes to decline.” She side-stepped around him and kept walking toward the bar, hearing him holler after her, “Just ask for Master Dominick if you change your mind!”
“Isn’t he just dreamy?” came the scratchy voice of the bartender when Erin stepped up to the length of high-glossed, polished wood.
With a cursory glance up and down the bar, Erin noticed there were O-rings mounted along it every three feet. Their purpose made clear by the blonde who stood at her Dom’s side with a length of chain descending from her neck that tethered to one of the rings.
“Too bad employees aren’t allowed to date the clientele,” the bartender sighed and leaned into her hand propping her elbow on the counter top.
“Uh, yeah, too bad,” Erin replied, pulling her gaze from the way the blonde’s Dom fondled her breasts with an absentminded touch while he was deep in discussion with the leather-clad man standing in front of him.
“So —”
The scratchy voice didn’t match the perky, grinning girl behind the bar.
“Welcome to D and D! I’m Natalie Brown – Natty to the regulars. What can I getcha tonight?”
“A glass of ice wine, please.” Erin requested. “If I have a one drink limit, I might as well make it a good one!” She laughed.
“I like the way you think, sweetie,” Natalie rasped.
If Erin had to guess, her money would be that the girl was a heavy smoker. Natalie’s short, brunette curls bounced while she bobbed her head along to the music and poured Erin’s wine after retrieving the bottle from the chiller.
Erin gave her thanks after her wristband had been punched, took the glass, and walked over to the edge of the dance floor where she found an open spot next to a column to lean against. From her position, she could take her time looking around – and get in a much needed arm brush over her breasts. She was going to need to think about finding the restroom before too much longer and taking off the nipple clamps.
The theme of the club’s décor was evident by its name. Cinder blocks made up the walls while the floor was a mixture of sealed concrete slabs and reclaimed hardwoods – dark and rich with age. Like with the bar, O-rings could be seen in random places: table edges, the floor, and the walls. Some had submissives attached. The furniture she could see: wide chairs, benches, stools, and tables – were all covered with leather and finished with bold rivet work.
Human-sized birdcages hung from the ceiling. The one nearest to Erin had a blindfolded man strapped in with steel manacles. His humiliation being furthered by the contraption affixed to his balls. They were purple and swollen much like his cock, which betrayed him. He loved the situation he was in.
The deep-bass, erotic rhythm of
Sadeness
was just fading to a close over the speakers. Erin closed her eyes wanting to just feel the room and the atmosphere. She wanted to soak it in and get high off the arousal tainting the air around her.
Erin began swaying side-to-side while listening to the primal grunts that trickled out of the dark recesses of the room. Another song came on changing the tempo to something faster, encouraging her to put more movement in her shoulders and hips. The silky fabric of her designer, red dress slid across her unencumbered breasts, dragging over the clamps, and creating a relieving tug as the blood flowed back to her peaks. Red jewels pinched her nipples while a connecting gold-chain draped across her low-cut neckline, giving the appearance of being part of the dress.
It had been almost a year since Erin’s nipples had endured any kind of pain so they were extra sensitive and needy. She’d worked herself up to the point of stifling a low, private moan when a warm hand wrapped around her empty one and began lifting it. Her eyes shot open while lips brushed across her knuckles.
The mystery man from outside.
He took the almost full wine glass from her hand and set it on the tray of a passing waiter.
His rich, commanding voice floated around Erin and she was done for.
“Follow me, slut. I want to see you come.”
“As you wish, Sir
.
”
~~~Chapter 2~~~
Jayden’s on the Prowl
He almost didn’t come tonight considering he hadn’t had any luck in the last three months. The class of women that were now showing up to these ‘open door’ nights were nothing more than scatter-brained girls who thought they wanted a little slap and tickle – one-nighters.
Fuck that shit.
Jayden needed a woman with some pain tolerance. One that found true pleasure in the pain that he could inflict.
He had Samantha to help fulfill his need to dominate, but her pain threshold wasn’t at the level he would like. Her role was that of a fill-in submissive – nothing else. For this reason, he never brought Samantha to his home. In fact, it was because of her that he’d had the playroom off of his office constructed. Even within his secret lifestyle, Jayden liked to have options. Variety was the spice of life and all that.
At the final hour after a long, stressful week in which Samantha had been on vacation, he’d decided what the hell and thrown on a casual outfit: his favorite loose, low-slung jeans and a tight-fitting, crème-colored Henley with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The crème was a striking contrast against his bronze-hued skin and brown eyes – he knew this, and that it defined his physique quite well. What was the point of spending hours in the gym if you weren’t going to show off the results? Jayden finished the outfit with his well-worn, oxblood red Doc Martin boots.
His chauffeur-cum-right-hand man drove him to the club in companionable silence. Letting himself out of the car, Jayden informed Micah he’d text when he was ready to head home.
“Yes, Sir.” Micah nodded, and his frosted brown locks fell into his blue eyes before he pulled away from the curb and back into traffic.
Turning around, Jayden took in the line of women waiting to get in. Was it possible that one of them could be what he was looking for? He sighed when he realized they all seemed to be in groups of two or three.
Well, shit
, Jayden thought. This was going to be another wasted evening. The serious ones never came in groups. Since he was already there, Jayden figured he might as well go in and enjoy the music, and say hello to some of the members.
He was nearing the doors when Jayden felt the air buzzing. He glanced around trying to find what was calling to him. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary except the lone woman with the deep, red hair pulled into a high ponytail. She wore a long, black dress coat with black, leather stilettos on her feet. He could tell she had a petite frame in spite of the coat. Jayden was intrigued by the mere fact that she wasn’t letting everything hang out like the wannabes in line.
She glanced at her watch and sighed. Was she squirming too?
Hm, he wondered. Had she been in line long?
Jayden resumed his stride to the front of the line blocking out the whispering, noticing the stares, and pointing fingers. He just wanted to get inside where he knew for sure who shared the lifestyle with him, and who didn’t, as opposed to the gaggle of women who were eyeballing him like a piece of meat. A slow grin spread on his face when he imagined how they would react to this particular piece of meat biting back. Hard.