by Ashe Barker, Katy Swann, Rosalie Stanton, Lucy Felthouse, Anarie Brady, Rose C. Carole
“Hello, Jessie.” Mark inclines his head in a slight nod. “How are you doing?”
“I…I’m not sure.” Subspace always leaves me feeling disorientated for several minutes. I hope they’re still in no hurry.
“Here, take a few sips.” Greg leans down and produces a bottle of water from somewhere beside him. He holds the open neck to my lips as I swallow.
“Thank you,” I murmur, then lay my cheek against his chest. His shirt is of a soft, comfortable fabric. It feels expensive and I wonder if my makeup might smear it. “Oh, I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t—”
“Shh, no problem. Relax.” He presses my face back into his chest and I inhale the clean, male scent of him.
Several minutes pass before Mark speaks again.
“Jessie, do you want to continue? We have more planned for you, but if you’ve had enough, that’s fine, too.”
I lift my head, look from one to the other, surprised. As far as I’m concerned the evening has hardly started. “You promised to fuck me, both of you, together. I didn’t miss that bit, did I?”
Mark laughs, the stern planes of his face softening. “No. You didn’t miss it. We prefer our subs to be conscious when we fuck them, that’s all. I take it you’re still up for something pretty intense then?”
“Intense? Yes, Sir. I-I think so…”
“And, of course, there’s always the matter of your caning.” This from Greg, who is holding the bottle of water out to me again. “Here, have another drink.”
I accept the bottle, this time holding it myself. The cool water is welcome, soothing my dry mouth and throat, and the action of drinking affords me a few moments to think. I could cry off now and they wouldn’t insist on administering the caning, but I’d also miss out on the double fucking. I make up my mind.
“Yes, Sir. I know I have a punishment coming.”
“You do. First, though, would you like to see the rest of the club?”
I nod, eager. I’m a member here now, however briefly, since I really can’t see my secretary’s salary running to the five-figure annual membership fee once my free month is over, but I intend to make the best use I can of my prize.
“Okay. Are you able to stand up on your own yet?” Greg tips my chin up with his fingers and I meet his gaze again. This is the first time I’ve really seen his features, and in contrast to his companion he is devastatingly handsome, quite stunning in fact. His emerald eyes are his most prominent feature, but his slightly long ash-blond hair comes a close second. His smile is warmer than Mark’s, his entire demeanor less intimidating. I know better, though—both men were equally adept with their paddles.
“I think so.” I slide from his lap and manage to stand on my own feet, though my knees are still decidedly wobbly.
Mark steps forward to take hold of my elbow. “Steady. Perhaps you should lose the heels.”
“I…oh.” I am surprised when Mark crouches before me to unfasten the straps holding my shoes in place. He slips them from my feet, giving each of my feet a quick rub as he does so. He stands, my gorgeous bright red stilettos dangling from his fingers. “We’ll ask Pemberton to put these with your other stuff, shall we?”
“Yes, thank you, Sir.” I wriggle my newly liberated toes and straighten my skirt. The latex barely covers my ass, but it will have to do. My discarded underwear is nowhere in sight and I opt not to request my thong back. It would only get in the way, after all. “I think I can manage now.”
Mark merely nods and steps over to the door back out into the anteroom. It’s Greg who takes my hand and leads me after him.
The tiled hallway is deserted as we pass through it toward the carpeted staircase. The men’s footsteps echo, but my stockinged feet are silent. I feel much smaller now, sandwiched between them as we ascend the stairs. My heels gave me an extra four or five inches—without them both Doms are a good head taller than I am.
“We have a number of private suites downstairs, several of them themed. You know the sort of thing—schoolroom, medical, nursery, whatever members want really. They’re in use just now, so we can’t show you all of those this evening.” Greg offers the information as we reach the upper landing. “This floor is where most of the public stuff goes on, though we do have a basement dungeon, too. That’s smaller than the first floor one, and caters much more to impact and pain play. And punishment, of course.” He leans in to murmur in my ear. “That’s where you’ll receive your caning, Jessie.”
I swallow hard and clench my seriously tender buttocks. “Will…will it be in public?” I manage.
“Yes. Here at Vivant punishments are always administered publicly, unless the Dom specifically chooses not to. We find it adds a certain…intensity to the proceedings, whilst also ensuring the submissive’s physical wellbeing.”
“You mean, because people are watching…?”
Mark turns to face me. “Exactly. Pemberton is always present and he will step in if he has to.”
I draw some shred of comfort from that. “How many strokes am I to receive?”
The Doms look at each other, and it is Greg who replies. “For one stolen orgasm, and given we don’t know you very well…yet? I should think three will be plenty. Mark?”
Mark’s expression has taken on a stern look that I’m starting to recognize. “Fair enough. Of course, if you repeat the offense more will be added, and the evening is still relatively young.”
I nod. Three isn’t a lot, not really, though a public caning will be a new experience for me. The notion of being punished before an audience of strangers is daunting, but exhilarating, too. My pussy is already moistening again in perverse anticipation of the humiliation to come.
Mark stops at an imposing set of double doors. “Our main playroom. This is where members tend to congregate and most play happens. It is also the room we use for events such as auctions or demonstrations. We like to think we have equipment and toys to cater to pretty much every taste. Clothing is optional, though submissives are usually naked or topless. Your choice, Jessie.”
“Oh, I…I’d prefer to keep my clothes on for now. Is that all right?”
“Perfectly fine.” Mark opens the door and gestures me through.
* * * *
The huge space looks to have been a ballroom originally, and one that would have graced even the most sophisticated Georgian mansion in a previous era. The room has been refurbished to suit the needs of today’s BDSM community, with items of equipment and specialized furniture dotted around. A St. Andrew’s cross is situated right in the center, and a cluster of members are grouped around it watching a naked male sub receive a flogging. His soft moans and sighs indicate his pleasure, while his fierce-looking Domme paces around his writhing form, delivering occasional lashes with a long suede flogger. Mark strides past, but I pause to look.
“Do you want to watch, Jessie?” asks Greg in a low murmur. It’s important not to disturb the mood of the scene.
“May I? Just for a minute,” I whisper back.
Both men stand behind me as I take in the sensual beauty of the tableau before us. For the first year of my submissive journey, I did almost nothing but watch others playing out scenes, and it never fails to move me. In the past I ached to be on the receiving end of all that devoted attention, and I used to envy the submissives having such a heady time while all I could do was share in their pleasure vicariously. Then a kindly older Dom offered me my first proper spanking, and I was away. I have never been short of play partners since, and I like to think I’m a rewarding enough submissive, though I daresay I’m not the best judge.
My recent move to London to take up a new job has sort of thrown me back to the beginning. I’ll have to get to know a new fetish scene here, but this evening is a fabulous start.
The scene comes to an end and the Domme crouches to release her sub’s ankles. I turn to Mark.
“Thank you. I enjoyed that.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I think I might like to remove my co
rset.” It has not escaped my attention that there are no other submissives present who are wearing more than just a thong.
“Okay. Do you need help unlacing it?”
I shake my head. This one fastens at the front and it takes no time to undo the laces and peel it away from my body. I stand still, arms at my sides, shoulders back as both men peruse my naked breasts. I’m fairly comfortable with my body, as much as anyone is, I suppose. Even so, it’s always a little daunting to be naked, or as near as hardly matters, in front of men I only met an hour ago.
“Ah, such a gorgeous girl,” observes Greg. “Fucking you will be an absolute pleasure.”
I smile, relieved. “Thank you, Sir.” I steal a swift glance downward to observe two very promising-looking bulges in the front of their jeans.
“Do you want a drink, Jessie?” Mark’s invitation is casual enough. “We need to decide which of us gets to take your arse. Should we toss for it, do you think?” he addresses his final remark to Greg.
“Fairest way, I suppose.” Greg takes my elbow and guides me in the direction of a bank of comfortable sofas. “A beer for me, please. And for you, Jessie?”
“Could I have a small white wine, please?” Not all clubs serve alcohol but I appreciate the refreshment.
“Coming up.” Mark heads off in the direction of a small bar at the far end of the playroom while Greg and I make ourselves comfortable.
A few moments pass in silence, then I turn to Greg. “Do you and Mark always play together? As a pair, I mean?”
He laughs. “Hell, no. Hardly ever, actually, but we read your profile and we both liked the sound of you. And you requested a double Dom session as your prize, so you got the pair of us.”
“Oh. I see. So you don’t know each other that well then?”
“I didn’t say that. We’re friends and business partners, and we share a similar kink so that helps, as well.”
“Oh, what business do you run?”
“We import fine wines, mainly for the restaurant trade.”
“That sounds interesting.”
He grins at me. “No, it doesn’t. What is interesting is you. I can tell by your accent that you’re not from London originally.”
“No, Newcastle.”
“Just visiting then?”
“No, I relocated here for work a couple of weeks ago. I thought this evening might help me to meet other…” I hesitate, uncertain how to describe my motives.
“Others who like the same kinky games you do?” offers Greg helpfully, as Mark arrives with our drinks.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Is it working?” This from Mark.
“Oh, yes, I’m having a fabulous time.”
His dark eyes regard me over the lip of his opened bottle of Budweiser. “Will you be back at Vivant, then? After this evening?”
“Oh, yes, definitely, but only for the next month, while I have my complimentary membership. I don’t think I can afford it otherwise.”
Mark places his bottle on the table before him. “You could be an associate member, and then you could be signed in by any full member. I’d be happy to oblige, any time.”
“Oh! Would you?” I can’t conceal my surprise.
“Of course. Why would I not?”
“I thought… You seem to disapprove of me. You’re always frowning, and—”
He shakes his head, his grin amused. “Honey, I know I’m a taciturn bastard. It goes with the territory. For the record, and just so we’re clear here, I think you’re fucking gorgeous, a beautiful submissive. You’re welcome at Vivant any time. Right, Greg?”
“Fuck, yes.” Greg takes a drink of his beer. “Any time at all.”
I bask in their praise for several minutes as we enjoy our drinks and absorb the vibe around us. The mood in here is relaxed, easy, uninhibited. Several couples are making use of the facilities, and the occasional sound of a slap or a squeal punctuates the otherwise low hum of voices. The members around the St. Andrew’s cross disperse and the equipment stands empty.
“Looks like we’re up,” announces Greg.
“Right.” Mark puts down his drink. “Ready for a little more entertainment, Jessie?”
“What? Where are we going?” I take Greg’s hand and he pulls me to my feet. “What about our drinks?”
“Leave them there, they’ll be fine.”
I see no cause to doubt that, so I amble along in the wake of my now-stern companions. They lead me to the vacant cross.
“I think we might lose the skirt at this stage,” suggests Mark.
I glance about me, to find no one is taking any interest at all. I daresay that could change once the scene starts, but for now…
“Yes, of course.” There was never really any doubt. I peel off my skintight latex, to leave just my rather beautiful and ridiculously expensive stockings. “Should I…?”
“No, leave those. We love them.”
I nod and step up to the cross. “How do you want me?”
They grin and exchange a look. Greg’s lip quirks as he answers me, “Badly, little Jessie. Very badly indeed. For now, though, I think against the cross, facing out.”
Greg attaches the restraints to my wrists, and Mark deals with my ankles. Then they stand back to admire their handiwork.
“Very pretty. Still, I wonder if she’s missing something?” Mark cocks his head to one side, considering.
“I know what you mean. A little sparkle, perhaps. Our sub needs bling.”
“She does. I have just the thing.” Mark slips his hand into the pocket of his dark gray jeans and produces a pair of delicate nipple clamps attached to each other by a chain. He dangles them in front of Greg. “What do you think?”
“Ah, yes, perfect. And I have the clit clip to match.” Greg produces that item from his own pocket. “Shall we dress our little subbie then?”
I cringe. Nipple clamps are not my favorite toy, though I seem to recall ticking them on my list of possible playthings. The urge to protect my vulnerable breasts is overwhelming and I tug against the straps holding me in place.
“Jessie, do you remember your safe words?” Greg’s tone is suddenly serious.
I nod. “Yes, but—”
“Color?” Greg demands.
“Green, Sir. But with a wide stripe of yellow.”
“Noted,” he responds. “Tell us if you need to stop, at any point.”
I manage another nod, and chew on my lip. Compared to the paddling this should be much easier, but I’m scared, anyway.
Mark steps forward, close in to me, and cups my chin in his palm. He holds my face steady for several moments, forcing me to meet and hold his gaze. The contact calms me, and I relax.
“Color now, Jessie?” he murmurs, his breath soft against my ear.
“Green, Sir.”
“Good. Shall we play, then?”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you.”
I draw in several deep breaths as they both move in, Greg to my left, Mark to my right. Each takes a nipple between their finger and thumb and they start to squeeze, to tug, to twist. The initial buzz of arousal soon builds into real discomfort, then pain. I let out a yelp as it becomes too much to bear.
“Yellow. Yellow,” I gasp.
Neither Dom releases any of the pressure, but they stop tugging and twisting for a moment.
“Steady, Jessie. Breathe in, then out. Breathe through it.” I’ve closed my eyes so I’m not sure now which one is talking to me. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I obey, concentrate on controlling my breathing as I become accustomed to the pain and settle again.
“Right, now we’re going to pull hard. You’ll come right up on your toes, and we’ll hold you there while we attach the clamps. Okay?”
I nod, though tears are pricking the backs of my closed eyelids. Moments later I am lifted up as they pull hard, outward and upward. I manage not to scream, barely. They each slide a tweezer clamp over the nipple between their fingers, and tighten them simultaneously. They step away
a pace, and I sink back onto the soles of my feet once more.
The clamps hurt, though the pain is manageable. I glance down, and have to admit they look pretty, sparkling against the deep pink of my swollen, pebbled nubs.
“Do you like them, Jessie? They’re a gift to you.”
“I can keep them? After…?”
“Of course,” confirms Mark. “A memento of a pleasant evening.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Now, the clit clip.” Greg had slipped it back into his pocket, but he produces it again. He crouches before me. “I’ll need another pair of hands here, to spread her open so I can attach this.”
“On it.” Mark slips behind me and reaches around to part the lips of my pussy. “Is her clit swollen enough yet?”
Greg scrutinizes my glistening folds for a few seconds, then leans in to draw his tongue along the length of my clit. “Perhaps not. I can fix that, though.”
He shifts forward again, and this time he takes my clitoris between his lips and he sucks. Hard.
“Ah, Christ,” I groan as sensation overwhelms me. “Sir, please, don’t—”
“Hush, Jessie. And try not to climax. You don’t want to add on more strokes to your caning, do you?” The warning comes from Mark.
I shake my head, helpless as Greg continues to suck and lick my clit. If he doesn’t stop…
Incredibly, mercifully, he does. He releases me and smiles up from his vantage point. “Looks just perfect now.”
Greg slides the clit clip over my engorged nub as Mark holds me open to receive it. He tightens the two arms by adjusting the position of a small bead. “Tell me when it starts to hurt. Not before. We don’t want this falling off, do we?”
“No, Sir. Aagh! Now!”
Greg seems satisfied and sits back on his heels. Mark’s fingers continue to slide between my folds, though, his touch gentle and reassuring. I realize I need the physical contact, I need at least one of them to be touching me all the time.
“Looking good, Jessie. So, we just need to connect everything together.” Greg attaches the slender chain that dangles between my breasts to another fastened to the clit clip. If they tug on the chain, the pressure is applied to all three points on my body. Greg demonstrates as I writhe in a helpless tangle of sensation. It hurts, it feels glorious, it’s everything in between.