by Stasia Black
No, what Miranda saw I needed, and what she needed to, though from the opposite end of the spectrum, was the control. The power exchange.
The first time we did a scene together—a real scene—and she gave herself up to me in total trust that I’d catch her? Well, it started the long road to healing what Gentry had broken. For both of us, I think.
I follow Callie’s gaze. Mistress Nightblood rubs the skin of her sub’s cock up and down over his shaft, all the while hissing in his ear, “don’t you dare come. If you come, I’ll be very, very disappointed in you. What happens when Mistress is disappointed in you?” She rubs her cheek against his, her hand still firmly on his cock. With her other hand, she reaches down and pulls on the weight so that his balls are dragged down. He squirms against his cuffs and his face twists in a mixture of bliss and agony.
“Answer me, slave,” she says in a tone both calm and menacing. “What happens if you disappoint Mistress?”
Callie’s breaths grow more uneven the more she watches. She licks her lips and there I go again, hard as rock. Because it’s impossible to miss that she’s getting turned on by what she’s seeing. She shifts in her boots and I wonder if it’s because she needs the friction, so she can get the seam of her suit to rub her just where she needs it—
“I— I—” the slave-boy stutters, “I get put in chastity,” he finally manages to say even while he thrusts his constrained hips toward his Mistress’ palm.
Callie shakes her head like she knows Mistress won’t like that.
And indeed, the next second, Mistress tuts, “Ah ah ah,” and pulls her hand away. “Stop pushing, slave. I give and you receive. You know that’s how this works.” She turns her back to him and walks toward the back of the room.
He whines, sounding absolutely pitiful as he turns his head toward her, begging with his eyes and then his mouth when he realizes she’s not looking at him. “Please, please Mistress. I’ll do anything. Anything. I’ll worship your pussy for hours with my mouth. I’ll cook your every meal. I’ll make up your bath and give you the most glorious deep-body massage you’ve ever received.” Words pour out of his mouth, one after the other. “Oh God, just come punish me some more. I’m a naughty, bad, bad little cunt boy. Just give me what I need and I’ll give you anything. Everything.”
His body goes taut with excitement when Mistress Nightblood comes back toward him, closer and closer. Then she detours and picks up something from a table set up along the wall opposite us.
Callie bites her lip and leans in like she’s straining to see what Mistress picked up. It’s hard to tell in the dimly-lit space outside the spotlight, but I can guess.
When she brings it into the light in front of the man’s face, I can see that I’m right.
“It’s a ball gag,” I whisper in Callie’s ear.
She jerks a little at my voice like she’d forgotten I was here beside her. But now that I’ve gotten close, I can’t bear to pull away. And for once, she’s not jerking back, so I continue.
“Watch,” I say, no doubt unnecessarily.
“No,” whines the man. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know you don’t like it when I beg. I’m bad. Bad slave. I just want to make you feel good. Mistress, if you would just let me—”
“What’s your safe word once the gag is in place?”
“Mistress please—”
“Safe word or it’s chastity now, slave,” she demands, looking like she’s on the edge of getting pissed off. The sub must realize it too because he starts to snap both fingers.
“Good,” she lowers the gag. “Open wide.”
He looks like he’s going to complain again but she gives him a sharp glare and his mouth pops open. She inserts the large ball into his mouth, then buckles the straps into place behind his head.
“Snap once if it’s comfortable and you are not in any pain.”
The man snaps once.
“Good. From now on only snap if you want the scene to pause or stop.”
He nods and she smiles. “That’s better, my little naughty cunt-sucker. You know I don’t put up with any fucking brattish behavior from my subs.”
She picks up the flogger she laid down earlier and moves back around his bent-over body to where his ass sticks out, spotlight right on it.
“I don’t know how your former Mistresses operated,” she raises an eyebrow and drops her voice, “but I will be breaking that habit.”
She brings down the flogger on his ass, working her way down with smacks on alternate cheeks until the whole thing is bright red. She keeps up a running commentary about what a slutty little slave he is, how she wants to fuck him with a giant strap on, what a fucking clit-tease he is, and most of all, how she expects her slave to obey her in thought, word, and action.
I whisper in Callie’s ear, explaining that is more than just a one-night encounter like some of the other scenes we passed by. Mistress Nightblood likes to make arrangements with a submissive man to be her weekend slave. She has exclusive relationships with these men that last anywhere from two months to several years.
The more I talk and Callie watches, the more fascinated she seems. She clasps her hands together and I wonder if it’s to stop herself from fidgeting. She loses the battle against squirming in her suit, too, and watching her watch Mistress Nightblood is the most erotic thing I’ve seen since having Callie herself in my bed.
I chose Mistress Nightblood on purpose because she’s not just flogging her sub. She stops constantly to touch him, to give a tug to the ball weights, to rub his hip, to caress down his spine. Or to move around and look him in the face to check on how he’s doing. Which is generally just looking blissed the hell out.
She’s mastering him but caring for his needs at the same time. She’s everything I want Callie to see being a domme can be. She’s in complete control.
At least she should be.
I don’t know how long the whole scene has been going on—fifteen minutes? Twenty?—when everything suddenly comes to a full stop.
“Stop that.” Mistress Nightblood’s voice is like a bucket of ice water. She’s moved in front of us so I can’t see exactly what’s happening. “Don’t you dare—” she says in a deadly warning tone.
She drops the flogger and jumps back.
“Slave!” she barks furiously. Before now, her voice was calm. Dominant, yes, but there was an undercurrent of affection.
That’s completely gone now. She just sounds pissed. Did that little bastard do what I think he did?
“Acknowledge your action.” Her movements are stiff as she goes around to his head and unbuckles the ball gag.
“Acknowledge. Your. Action.”
Silence.
“Acknowledge your action or find another Mistress.” She doesn’t shout or even raise her voice, even though it’s obvious something’s happened to make her absolutely furious. On the outside, she’s projecting totally calm, but damn.
“I— I came,” he finally says in a contrite whisper. Yep, that’s what I thought.
It does not move Mistress Nightblood. “Tell the truth.” Her voice is like a whip.
The whine is back in his voice. “I—it’s just, you’re so beautiful and you were making me feel so wonderful for so long and I just couldn’t help it—”
Mistress Nightblood walks to him and quietly starts to undo his ankles from the cuffs keeping him spread eagle.
“What are you doing, Mistress? I swear, it won’t happen again. Mistress, if you just let me explain…” His words fade off at her continued silence.
She walks around to where his hands are cuffed on the other side of the bench. Without a word she undoes the straps binding him.
“You know your way out, Samuel.”
He recoils at the name as if she struck him. It’s a response much more violent than any when the actual flogger was coming down on him.
She stands and goes to turn when he cries out. “Mistress.” For the first time throughout the entire session, the whine is go
ne from his voice and it sounds like a genuine plea. He looks absolutely devastated. “Forgive me.” Tears stream down his face.
Callie looks confused about what’s happening and she glances up to me. “Isn’t that the point?” she whispers. “Getting off? This is a sex club.”
I shake my head. “Just watch.”
Mistress is still as a statue, staring at him impassively as he falls to pieces in front of her. He peels himself off of the pommel bench and drops into a heap at her feet.
She stands there straight as an arrow, but for the first time tonight, indecision crosses her face. Does Callie get how big a deal this is? I know from talking to Patricia that she was really hoping for more with this sub and now it’s all breaking down right in front of us. Because he refused to give himself completely.
Callie’s eyes are glued to the both of them as Mistress’s expression gentles.
“Acknowledge your actions. This is your last chance.” Her voice is only the tiniest bit softer, but still hard as nails.
The sub looks up at her like she’s just offered him the sun and the moon and the whole wide world. “I made myself come by rubbing myself against the spanking bench. And I did not ask Mistress if I could come.”
Mistress Nightblood lets out the smallest breath of relief and then begins to discuss his punishment—two weeks in a chastity cage that she promptly secures around his cock.
I lead Callie out of the room afterwards.
“But I don’t get it,” Callie says. “She doesn’t get to have sex for two weeks either now.”
“That’s not what it’s about,” I explain. “And she doesn’t just want control. She wants the best for him. She wants for him to succeed.”
Callie frowns. “So all those things he offered—worshiping her and giving her all the orgasms she could want, cooking for her, giving her massages… I mean that’s the kind of thing you think of when you hear master and slave. But it’s not about that, is it? She wanted something,” the furrow between Callie’s eyes grows, “I don’t know, something deeper?”
She looks up at me and I nod.
“I wanted to show you Mistress Nightblood at work because she’s one of the best,” Jackson says. “The most important thing between a Dominant and their Submissive is the bond of trust between them. When you started watching the scene, you might’ve thought that she had all the power. But that’s deceptive.” He pauses in the corridor and looks down at me, those intense dark blue eyes of his. “Her sub truly holds the power.”
Callie scoffs. “He was tied up and gagged.”
I raise an eyebrow as I lead her to the right, taking us further down the hall of private rooms. We pass by a few more windows, some with patrons outside watching the scenes unfolding with interest, others just idly chatting. We go past all of them without stopping.
“Really? You saw in the galleria earlier—one snap of a finger and it all stops. A Dominant can only take a Sub as far as they are willing to go. I know at first it all just seems like ball gags and whips and paddles, but the really good doms, dommes, and subs know how to take it to another level.” I think back to Miranda and all she taught me. “They know how to help you discover parts of yourself you never even knew were there. It’s always a learning process. You learn from one another.”
Callie shifts uncomfortably and for a moment I wonder if I said something wrong but then she smiles at me. “Are you a good dom?”
I stare at her a long moment. That is the question, isn’t it?
“We’ll see, Callie. We’ll see.” I start walking again.
It’s not until we come to several solid doors that I slow down. These doors are numbered with fancy Victorian script. I pull out my wallet and grab the key card, then swipe it in front of the door. The light flashes green and then it unlocks.
I push the door open and Callie follows right on my heels. I can only hope her enthusiasm from the last scene carries into this. I only hope this isn’t too far too fast.
Because if it’s not—?
If it’s not, I could give her a taste of what it really feels like. The control I think she needs so desperately. I think of her this morning, the terror and pain in her eyes as she screamed no and shoved me away from her.
So I don’t turn around and drag her out of the room but I do pause before she can pass by me and see what’s inside.
“We can leave at any time. If you’re uncomfortable or you want to go, just say the word.”
Her frown comes back. “Just show me what’s in the room, Jackson.”
I breathe out and step back so she can pass by. They spared no expense with this room. Burnished wood floors, brick walls, and lights tucked away in wall sconces that imitate torches.
And in the back?
My friend Daniel shackled naked to the furthermost brick wall, face to the brick.
His arms are stretched in a Y up above his head by chains that attach to anchor points farther up the walls. He’s prepared just as I instructed, with only his wrists cuffed. His feet are free but no doubt it’s been uncomfortable, standing with his arms in that position for God knows how long.
Not that Daniel would care. The more pain involved, the more he’s on board. He and Miranda were best friends, they were both such pain sluts. In the end, it was one of the reasons Miranda and I parted ways. She did want me to hurt her and that aspect of the life never appealed to me. No matter how much I spanked her, she always wanted it harder. She wanted me to choke her during sex. She wanted it rougher. Meaner. And in the end that was the one thing I couldn’t give.
I watch Callie and she jerks her gaze away from Daniel, cheeks going pink. Because he’s chained to the wall or simply because he’s naked? But the next second her eyes flicker back to him like she can’t not look. Like earlier with Mistress Nightblood, she’s fascinated.
All right then. We’re doing this. I walk forward toward the wall where the floggers and canes and paddles hang.
I pluck a wooden paddle off the wall and test its weight. I swing it through the air a few times with a quick whip of my wrist, creating a low whistle of air in its wake. That’ll do. I nod in satisfaction.
Then I go back to the wall and pick up another paddle. I test its weight and swing as well. I’m being a bit theatrical, if I’m honest. I want Callie to see everything first and have a moment to take it all in.
But finally, I turn back and hold the second paddle towards her. handle out. “Your turn.”
Chapter Six
CALLIE
I ignore the paddle and instead grab the fabric of Jackson’s shirt, dragging him over to the corner farthest away from the dude that’s chained to the wall. “What the hell?”
Jackson studies me with a dark intensity glinting in his eyes—like he’s been soaking up the energy of this place and getting his Dom on more and more the longer we stay.
“The hell,” he emphasizes the word as he steps directly into my personal space and firmly places the paddle in my hand, “is that you are going to take this paddle and spank that man’s ass.”
He jerks his head in the direction of Chained-Up Guy. Jackson comes closer till his chest is pressed up against mine and his voice is a growl in my ear. “I’ll show you how. The best way to learn is through hands-on experience.”
Sexual energy sparks off him.
“But—” I scoff at the ridiculousness of his suggestion. It’s difficult to think with him standing so close. Why does he always have to smell so damn good? And why the hell am I focusing on the way he smells? There are way bigger things to be focusing on here. Like the chained-up guy in the corner and the paddle in my hand. Yeah. Holy shit.
“You what?” Jackson asks calmly.
“I don’t know how to spank anybody!” I finally manage to whisper, taking a step back and tossing my hands slightly up in the air. There. With a little more distance between us, it’s easier to focus.
“Which is why I said I’ll teach you.”
I look back and forth between Chain
ed-Up Guy and Jackson. Of all the—I can’t believe the—I make my voice even quieter but say with no less vehemence, “I’m not having sex with some dude who’s chained up!” Though, even as I say it the already-moist area between the legs of my suit seems to get even more slick. I look down so Jackson can’t read it in my eyes.
“Who said anything about sex?”
Okay, wait. Now I’m seriously confused.
Jackson must be able to see enough of my face even though I’m not looking at him because he says, “Callie, this lifestyle doesn’t always have to be about sex.”
Okay, now I do look him full in the face. “But,” I say slowly, then gesture back in the direction of the main club. “Isn’t this a… sex club?”
Jackson runs a hand through his hair, something he only does when he’s really riled about something.
“Sure, in BDSM there can be sex,” he says, looking in the same direction I am back at the door.
Then his gaze lands back on my face. “But there doesn’t have to be. In fact, a lot of Dominants and Dommes work with clients that they meet on a completely nonsexual basis, just for the sake of fulfilling a need. People seek this lifestyle for all kinds of reasons.”
At my skeptical look, he crosses his arms. “Yes, sex can be a big part of it for a lot of people, but it’s not all there is. Many more are perfectly celibate for long periods of time. Then they come here to find what they can’t in the vanilla world for a release every few months.”
I’m about to call bullshit, when Jackson speaks again. “Take Daniel here.” Jackson gestures at the man chained to the wall. “He’s perfectly happy with a session whether it ends in orgasm or not.”
Jackson starts to walk toward the man and gestures me to follow.
I cross my arms but after tapping my toe and glancing at the door, I give up and hurry after Jackson. I mean, who am I kidding? Stay and see more of the craziest live porno I could imagine?
Fuck. I shouldn’t like this. After what happened to me, I should really find every bit of this repulsive. What the fuck is wrong with me that the crotch of my catsuit is so slick with my moisture I’m afraid anyone nearby might hear me squelch if they walk too close to me. I squeeze my eyes shut hard and breathe out a long, hissing breath through my teeth.