Shades of Pleasure: Five Stories of Domination and Submission (18 page)

Britt dropped onto the couch. “Did you really think this
game was a good idea?”

“Naw, but I could tell when she called me that your mother’s
mind was made up. You know how she is. Although I admit, now that it’s here, it
does sound intriguing. It might be fun.”

Britt considered Mary’s suggestion for a moment. Fun—in any
form—was one of her favorite things in world. She’d never backed down from a
challenge. Skydiving, white water rafting, bungee jumping, she’d eagerly
tackled them all, and had a riot. “Okay. Shuffle the deck. I’ll draw a card.”

Mary grinned and held the cards in her upturned palm.
“Already done. I knew you’d say that. Pick a good one.”

“You didn’t stack the deck, did you?” Britt teased, plucking
the top card from the stack.

“Heck, no!”

Britt studied Mary’s devious smile—the woman was guilty as
hell!—and read the card. “Go to the nearest BDSM-themed dance club and get the
name and phone number of a Dom,” she read aloud. “What the heck kind of dating
game is this?”

“We’ll just call it Extreme Dating,” Mary said, laughing.
She ran to her duffel bag and dropped it on the coffee table.

“What do you have in there? And where do you suggest we’ll
find a BDSM club? I can’t imagine one anywhere near here. We’re smack-dab in
the middle of the Bible Belt. Heck, the raunchiest billboard we have along the
highway is the one with the donkey.”

“You’d be surprised.” Mary pulled out a fistful of black
leather and shoved it at Britt. “Here, this is for you.”

“What is it?” Britt unfolded what looked like a miniscule
dress made to fit a small child. “You’re not suggesting I wear this, are you?
And how do you know about these places and I don’t?”

“I have my sources.” Mary fluttered her eyelashes and held a
racy red leather dress, nearly the same shade as her pony-tailed hair, getup to
her chest. “How do you think this’ll look?” One hand reached up and pulled the
ponytail holder out of her hair, and she shook it, letting it fall in
shoulder-length waves. “They say redheads can’t wear red, but I happen to think
this looks fantastic. What do you think?”

“It looks great, I guess,” Britt said, admittedly
sidetracked. She wanted to hear more about the club. “So, fess up. Have you
been there? What’s it like?” Britt waited impatiently, watching Mary pull out
spiked leather wristbands, fishnet stockings and various other accoutrements and
set them on the coffee table.

“I’m not telling. But if you’d hurry up and put that dress
on, you could go find out for yourself!”

Britt didn’t need to hear another word. She raced to her
room to dress.

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Not exactly trusting
her friend, since Mary had driven them to what looked like an abandoned
warehouse out in the middle of nowhere, Britt hesitated before getting out of
the car. At this point, she wasn’t sure which would be worse, Mary being right,
or Mary being wrong and them both being jumped by a group of misguided
teenagers out looking for a couple of lost women to mug.

For one thing, the dress—which hardly covered more than a
bathing suit would—kept riding up her legs when she moved, the bottom of the
skirt seeming to like resting right around her crotch. How in heaven’s name
would she dance—or even walk—without giving everyone in the place a free show?
The rest of the outfit wasn’t bad. The heavy silver jewelry was kind of sexy,
and the stilt-like shoes made her legs look forever long.

Not good for walking on gravel though. She glanced out the
window and grimaced.

“Yes, we’re in the right place. Trust me.” Mary climbed out
of the car and waved for Britt to follow her.

She did. “You’ve been here before?”

“Yes.”

“How did you find out about this place? It’s in the middle
of nowhere, looks like an abandoned warehouse—”

“I’m not telling. Suffice it to say, you don’t know your
best friend as well as you thought you did.” Mary smiled over her shoulder, the
expression clearly meant to jibe Britt.

Britt gritted her teeth against the comeback rearing up in
her throat and smiled back as she stumbled across the gravel parking lot. When
they approached the heavy steel door, Mary motioned for Britt to keep still
then knocked in a short pattern.

The door opened, and a very tall guy in full gothic
regalia—including multiple piercings on his face—opened the door, gave them
both a once-over and motioned them inside.

“Wow, it’s like ‘Open Sesame’. Is there a code word too?”
Britt murmured as she stepped inside the dark club. “Reminds me of a cave,” she
added after an initial sweeping glance. Dark, dingy, and echoey. Although this
cave was packed full of people—mostly clad in black leather. Strange music
played softly in the distance.

“You might want to get a drink before we go inside. It’ll
help you relax,” Mary suggested.

“Why would I need to relax? I’m fine.” She rolled her head
from side to side. “See? As relaxed as can be.”

“Just try to keep an open mind, okay? This is the
lounge-slash-bar area. In the next room are the other parts.”

“Other parts?” Now, she was curious. “What kind of parts?
Body parts? Car parts?”

“Wine first.” Mary pulled her to the bar and ordered them
both a glass of red wine.

Britt sat on a barstool, swiveling around to check out the
crowd. All types of people milled about, mostly young, mostly attractive,
mostly dressed in black. Some wore collars and leashes and were led around the
room by masked masters. Those—who she assumed were the submissives—were notably
silent. The Doms—often men but not always—paused occasionally to speak with
someone. “How do we find a Dom who’ll talk to us? For some reason, I’m getting
the impression this won’t be easy.”

“It might not be. Can’t say I’ve tried to talk to one
before. Sometimes, they’ll come to you.”

Suddenly nervous, imagining some masked, scary stranger
approaching her, she swallowed half her wine. “What do I say if I’m not
interested?”

“Thanks, but no thanks?” Mary suggested. “Seriously, it’s
all a game, and there are rules, but they’re still just people inside that
leather and latex.”

A huge man wearing a leather mask and carrying a horse crop
stomped by, his gaze cold and threatening.

“That’s hard to remember.” Britt looked away, hoping he
wouldn’t think anything of her staring, and finished off the rest of the wine.
Within minutes, she felt braver, thanks no doubt to the alcohol. “Okay. I’m
ready. Are you going to give me a rundown of the rules so I don’t do something
stupid?”

“Sure. I don’t know everything, but this is what I’ve been
told. Don’t talk to the subs unless they speak to you. Keep quiet, don’t
interrupt the play. No catcalls or cheering. Keep your distance from the Dom’s
tools. Don’t touch anyone’s equipment—”

“As in genitals?”

“As in cat-o’-nine-tails.”

“Gotcha. What else?”

“No pictures. And once you leave here, you don’t know any of
these people. They all have lives, families, jobs. What happens here, stays
here. Oh, and since we’ve drunk alcohol, we cannot play.” Mary hesitated at a
pair of double doors.

“Really? Why’s that? Er, not that I was planning on playing.
At least, not the first time.”

“It’s not safe.”

“Oh.” A lump formed in her throat.

“Ready?”

She swallowed hard. “Yeah.” For a split second, Britt tried to
prepare herself for what she’d see, but having no idea of what to expect, she
couldn’t.

The doors opened, and a strange world opened with them. A
dark world, with people in small fenced-in areas playing out their most secret
fantasies in the middle of a small but milling crowd. As they walked past one
“stage” after another, she became both more uncomfortable and more intrigued.
The good news, the position of her dress was much less of a concern.

Then a familiar voice, male, smooth, sexy, made her turn around
.
It can’t be…
She scanned the crowd for Andre’s face but didn’t see it.
Strange coincidence.
I could have sworn I heard his voice.
“Mary, did
you hear Andre’s voice, or am I hearing things?”

“Nope,” she whispered, motioning for Britt to lower her voice.

“Wishful thinking, I guess.” She turned back around to watch
the scene in front of them. A tall, muscular Dom was demanding a woman clean
his shoes. With her tongue. “Ewww.” The Dom glanced at her, and she clapped her
hand over her mouth and whispered, “Sorry.”

“Would you please be quiet?” Mary whispered.

“Sorry, but that’s gross. Why does she have to lick his
shoes?”

“It’s a submissive’s role to do whatever pleases her Dom,” a
male’s deep voice whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

“I…see…” She turned her head to see who the speaker was.
Andre! It had been him!
I’m not losing my mind! What a relief. My medical
coverage doesn’t pay squat for mental health care.
“Andre? Fancy bumping
into you here, of all places.”

“Hi. Yeah, I had a change of plans. The weather forecast
calls for rain all night. I won’t be able to work on the porch tomorrow and a
friend called me…” Dressed in the same fashion as everyone else, including
tight leather pants that hugged a huge bulge front and center and a net shirt
that gave her a glimpse of the muscles she’d only caught a touch of
earlier—along with a pair of pierced nipples—Andre appeared to fit right in
with the rest of the crowd. His gaze dropped to her breasts then climbed
steadily lower. “Nice dress.”

“Thanks.” She tugged the hem back down her thighs. “Leather
is tricky to wear.”
Does wonders for you though.
Her gaze dropped to his
crotch
. Please, tell me that’s real.

“You’re doing fine. What do you think of this place? First
time, I’m guessing.”

“Is it that obvious?” She felt her face heating and wished
she hadn’t guzzled that glass of wine.

“Yeah, but that’s okay. It’s hard to hide.”

“So, you’ve come here before?”

“Yeah.” A passing woman—a beautiful blonde with long hair
and a perfect body sheathed in black latex—tapped him on the shoulder and gave
him a coy smile, and he gave her a slight nod in response. “This place is
okay.”

Who was that? His girlfriend? A sex partner—or whatever they
call them here? What were the rules again?
What am I doing? I don’t belong
here.
For the first time since stepping foot in the bar, Britt felt
completely out of place. She wanted to ask who the woman was, but couldn’t. It
wasn’t her right. After all, she couldn’t even call Andre a friend, yet. “I’ve
seen a lot of things I’ve never seen before, that’s for sure.”

He chuckled, and the sound—plus his playful smile—pushed
aside some of her former discomfort. “I bet you have. The first time’s a real
eye-opener. At least you came dressed. First time I stumbled into this place, I
had on a golf shirt and khakis. I stood out like an Eskimo at a nudist colony.”

She shared a soft laugh with him, enjoying the way his eyes
sparkled when he smiled and noting the return of the hint of bad boy she’d seen
earlier. At least now, she knew where that was coming from. “Are you by any
chance a Dom?”

His eyebrows rose at least an inch. “Why do you ask?”

Because I wouldn’t mind serving you, you sexy hunk of
man. If you aren’t already taken.
“Well, you remember my birthday gift? The
game? Um, we drew a Challenge card. We have to collect the name and phone
number of a Dom.”

“I’m not your traditional, professional Dom, no. So, I’m
afraid you’re outta luck. Sorry.”

Darn! I mean, yea! I mean…oh, what do I mean?
“Traditional?
Is there such a thing? And professional? Are you telling me these guys are paid
to get their shoes licked clean? What a deal! Where do I sign up to be a
dominatrix? I have a few pairs of pumps that could use a good spit-shine.”
Although
being tied up, maybe teased with a little whippy thingy looks like fun.

“There’s a lot more to being a Dom than what you see.
Besides,” he leaned closer and whispered, “I think you’d rather do the licking,
wouldn’t you?”

She felt her eyeballs bugging from her head as the image of
her kneeling at his feet, her fist gripping his huge cock and her tongue
swirling round and round it like a lollipop shot through her mind. Her pussy
tingled.

“Wouldn’t you like to serve your master and receive great
rewards in return?”

More tingles skittered up her spine. Rewards.
Wonder what
kind he has in mind?
She imagined him knocking her flat on her back,
parting her legs wide and pushing his cock deep inside her pussy. A lump
completely closed off her throat.

“You’ve always wanted to be tied up, haven’t you? Forced by
a dark stranger.”

How did you know?

“You know,” His fingertip traced the line of her throat then
continued lower and stopping just above her exposed cleavage, “the beauty of
being a sub is in both the giving and in the receiving.” His other hand cupped
her chin and lifted it, and her gaze snapped to his eyes and froze there for a
moment before sliding south to rest on his broad, smooth chest. She swore she
could see his heartbeat pounding below the thick muscles. “When you please your
master, you receive pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. Let me guess…” When he
didn’t continue, she glanced up. His smile was more wicked now than she’d ever
seen it, yet she was tempted to press in closer to him rather than back away.
He licked his lips then continued, “You like to be bent over and fucked from
behind, right? That way, you can touch yourself and come over and over.”

A sudden case of dizziness left her staggering and wobbly
kneed. She gripped his upper arms and stared up into his eyes, eager to see if
he was simply teasing her, or making some kind of offer. She couldn’t speak.
Her tongue was frozen to the roof of her mouth, and her mind had become lost in
a hazy fog.

He released her chin and dropped his other hand from her
chest. “Have you ever let a lover take complete control? Let him push you to
your threshold then pull you back, over and over until you couldn’t take it
anymore?” While he didn’t touch her, he stood so near she could feel the soft
puff of air caressing her neck as he spoke. And heat radiated from his body.

“No
.” But it sounds damn promising at the moment.
Some of the heat seemed to soak into her pores and shoot down to her pussy.

“Would you like to?”

Are you offering what I think you are?
“Maybe.” She
felt the chill of wetness puddle in her panties.

He pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to her. “Call
me tomorrow.”

She glanced down and blinked away the blur of confusion and
desire.

It was a regular card, from his work. Andre Cruz-Romero,
Engineering Manager. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Andre Romero, Dom.
Specializing in erotic torture. “Okay.”

“And wear the dress. I’ll supply the rest. See you tomorrow
night. I’m looking forward to it.”

The tone in his voice as he said the last sentence left her
breathless, speechless and both shivering and hot at the same time. Glancing
around, she looked for Mary. She’d had enough teasing for one night. She needed
to pay a visit with her friendly vibrator. Now.