by Opal Carew
Then there was Simon and his little talk on sensation play. She’d been lucky enough to be called up and used as he gave examples of some of his toys. He might’ve only run the Whartenberg Wheel over her bare arm and across her upper back, but it had been enough to get her imagination going big time. She was starting to believe she truly did want to try everything.
One part of the class that made her cringe was Eden’s discussion on pain, and torture play. Thank God she’d only touched briefly on the part about cock and ball torture before moving on.
It had been during that demonstration that Ronnie noticed Adam watching them. She’d closed her eyes and tilted her head back to mentally distance herself from Eden’s words. When she’d opened her eyes she noticed that there was an upper floor to the club. Only four or five feet wide, it ran the perimeter of the room, and Adam was up there, leaning over the rail looking down on them. She’d wondered why she hadn’t seen him since the first night, and now she knew. He was up there, watching over them.
She’d settled back into her seat, feeling warm, and strangely secure.
It had been interesting to learn about all the technical aspects of things, but the best part had been in pairing off and trying things with the others. She seemed to end up with Conner as a partner a lot, but she didn’t mind. He was quickly finding his way, and she they had good chemistry together. He didn’t make her melt with just a glance, but there was no denying he aroused her when they partnered up.
“Bondage means to be restrained in some way,” Eden said from the stage on the last Tuesday of classes. “It could mean something as simple as cuffing your arms behind your back, or as elaborate as suspending you from the ceiling with ropes. My personal favorite is tape.” She held up something that looked like a roll of super shiny duct tape. “I can get real creative with this stuff.”
Ronnie wasn’t into women, but a shiver went through her at the look in Eden’s eyes when she said that.
“I need a volunteer.”
Hands shot up everywhere, and Eden called a blonde named Nicole up. Nicole was older, a little plump, and very eager. No one spoke as Eden went to work with the roll of shiny red tape, wrapping it around Nicole’s ribs and breasts. She talked to Nicole as she worked, but Ronnie couldn’t hear what she was saying.
When Eden stepped back, Nicole looked like she was wearing a corset over top of her tank top. It sucked in her waist and pushed up her breasts, but it was the expression on her face that turned her from pretty to beautiful.
“Sometimes Bondage doesn’t even include restraining someone.”
The two ladies stepped off the stage, applause following them. Ian stepped up and Ronnie's breath caught in her throat. He wore faded blue jeans and a plain white button up shirt, yet he looked every inch the Dom of her dreams.
He held a pair of leather cuffs in his hands. “Volunteer?”
Hands shot up in the air again, and he called Doug, the lone male submissive in the group to the stage. Ronnie tried not to let it bother her that he hadn’t even looked her way.
Ian put the cuffs on Doug’s wrists and hooked them together in front of him. Then behind him. He described how they could be hooked to any apparatus, or a chain hanging from the ceiling. He pulled another set of cuffs from a duffle bag at one of the stations and put them on Doug’s ankles. The ankles could be cuffed together, or the sub could be bent over and wrists hooked to ankles. Then he pulled out a wide leather strap with a variety of small hoops on it. Ian wrapped it around Doug's chest and proceeded to show half a dozen ways the cuffs could be used in conjunction with the strap.
God, the man had an imagination on him that had Ronnie’s pussy swollen and aching at the thought of being stretched wide and bound for use in any way he wanted.
As of he read her mind, Ian’s gaze went to her and for the first time in what seemed like forever, their eyes met. “Dom’s are creative creatures, and we enjoy testing not only your limits, but the limits of our own imagination. There really is no end to the ways a good pair of cuffs can be used.”
Emotions swamped her, swirling through her body and soul. Desire, need, and, Holy crap, love.
For the first time since she’d walked into Overwatch, Ronnie kept her head down and didn’t volunteer for anything. It was all she could do to make it through the rest of the class without snapping at people to leave her alone. She just wanted to sit in the corner and think, to sort through her emotions and try to make sense of what was happening to her.
When class ended she moved swiftly to the door only to be pulled up short when Ian called her name.
She turned, and struggled to remain calm as he walked toward her.
“You okay?” he asked, concern darkening his clear blue eyes.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“You looked like you were in a rush.”
“Nope,” she said with what she hoped was a careless shrug of her shoulders. “Just didn’t see a reason to hang around.”
He nodded. “Okay. Let’s go have a drink then.”
Huh?
He took her hand and led her up the stairs and out the first set of doors before she had a grip on herself again. “Is that allowed, you being a trainer and all?”
“There’s no rule against it. It’s the first time I’ve done it, but it’s also the first time I’ve known a trainee from outside the club.” He pushed through the last set of doors and turned left. “The coffee shop just up the road is still open.”
“Hey,” she said, stopping dead and tugging her hand from his. “Enough. What’s going on here, Ian?”
He stood stock still in front of her, expression blank. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you’ve pretty much pretended I don’t exist since that little negotiation demonstration last week and now you want to take me for coffee? What’s up with that?”
He stared at her, silent and inscrutable. When the others started coming out the doors he raked a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I’m sorry if it felt like I was ignoring you. I didn’t intend to make you feel that way.”
“Well, you did.”
His mouth titled up at the corner. “Yeah, so you just told me.”
The pressure in her chest lessened and she smiled back at him. “Okay. Just so you got the point.”
His smile grew. “We okay?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “Let’s go get that coffee.”
They didn’t talk as they walked down the street. Once they got their drinks, they found an empty corner table and sat down. Ian didn’t make her wait.
“So”” he asked. “What do you think so far?”
“To be honest I'm loving it. It's a lot different than I imagined it would be, but that isn't necessarily bad.”
“What did you imagine?”
“That everyone involved would either be a sexy model in fetish wear or a dark and handsome Dom wearing leather pants and a sleeveless vest. You know, with maybe a whip or a flogger tied to their hip, and always demanding you drop to your knees.” She laughed softly. “Okay, so maybe I exaggerated that a little bit, but you know what I mean? I worried it would be the stereo-type of a cross between a porn movie set and a nightclub.”
He laughed. “Well, you’re not actually that far off. When you come to the club and it's open you’ll see it is a lot like a regular nightclub — except, yes, some people are wearing fetish wear and some people are wearing nothing at all. Not everyone will have a perfect body, but everyone’s pretty damn comfortable in their skin, if you get what I mean. You might even see a Dom in leather pants, although I'm not too sure about the sleeveless vests. Many of us do take off our shirts, though.” He met her gaze head on. “It can get pretty hot in there.”
She fanned herself with her hand. “Shit, it’s getting pretty hot in here.”
He laughed and pleasure burst through her. It was nice just sitting with him.
“So, is that what you found on the internet? Men who wore leather pants and demanded you cal
l kneel at all times?”
She sighed. “Yeah. It was real let down. A lot of puffed up idiots who thought that calling themselves dominant gave them the right to make it all about them. It was all about blow job's and booty calls, but not about dominance or submission. Except for the one’s who seemed to think the calling themselves dominant gave them the right to smack you around.”
Something deadly flared in his eyes. “Did somebody smack you around?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Do you really think I would let somebody smack me around?”
“Damn it. It’s a dangerous fucking world out there, Ronnie. What made you put that ad on the Internet?
“Look at me,” she said. “I'm almost thirty-five years old and sure I've had sex, even good sex, but I've never had a relationship before. I've never been in love, and I thought if internet dating could work for other people why not me?”
He visibly calmed himself, taking a deep breath before nodding at her. “I get it. It can be tough to find someone. What made you realize you were submissive?”
She blushed, but remembering how they met up again, she pushed past any nerves at speaking so freely. “I thought about the men I had been with, and which ones I thought were good sex, and which were just… exercise, and realized that the good sex had always been with a guy who took charge. It was like a lightbulb went off in my head, and once I realized that was what did it for me, I didn’t look back.”
When he nodded, she kept talking. The words just tumbling from her lips without thought. “I did internet searches, read some blogs and some books. Then I found the adult dating site, and thought it was perfect. Put up a profile, Bam! I had men emailing and asking to meet.” she stopped herself suddenly. Not sure she wanted to share the rest.
Blue eyes soft with concern, Ian reached across the table, putting both his hands over both of hers. “It’s okay, Ronnie. Nothing you can say will change the way I see you.”
Relief flowed through her. How had he known exactly what she needed to hear?
“At first I was like a kid in a candy store,” she admitted. “I met with too many men, and tried too many things. I look back now and think I’m lucky I didn’t get killed. I mean, I’m not an idiot, and I have good instincts. I never let any of them tie me up, or restrain me in any way, no matter how much I craved it. But I did let them do things like spank me, or fuck my face.” She shook her head and laughed softly. “I have to admit to having a bit of an oral fixation.”
He sat back in his chair, and folded his arms across his broad chest. “Oral fixation, huh?”
“Oh, yeah.” She flashed him a naughty smile and leaned forward staring deep into his eyes. “I came to the realization that I really love sucking cock. There’s just something about being on my knees in front of a man, serving him that way. The smell, the taste, the feel. Oh, god, the feel of a hard cock stroking against my tongue as he grips my hair and thrusts deep enough to hit the back of my throat so hard my eyes start to water and I fight to breath. I just love it.”
By the time she was done talking, Ian’s eyes blazed with a heat that damn near melted her panties off.
“You,” he said in a voice that sent shivers down her spine. “Deserve to be punished for that.”
Her nipples hardened to the brink of pain, and she wiggled in her seat, but she raised her eyebrows and tried to look innocent. “For what?”
He smirked.
She grinned.
He leaned forward. “For making my cock so hard all I want to do is bend you over and sink in so deep that I feel your soul surrounding me.”
Her eyes widened and Ian’s heart pounded as they sat there, just looking at each other, and breathing the same air.
She was beautiful. Beautiful in her honesty, in her desire, and in her eagerness. Ian had to remind himself that they were in a public coffee shop and it would be wrong to reach over the table and drag her into his arms.
Sucking in a deep breath, he shifted back in his chair again to try and ease the erotic tension that had flared between so quickly. Before he could say anything, change the topic, she straightened up and spoke again.
“That’s exactly what I came to Overwatch looking for,” she said.
She wasn’t making sense. “What?”
“You,” she replied, looking right at him. “You’re not acting, or pretending. You and Simon and Adam and Conner, you’re all for real. Dominance isn’t something that can be faked, and I was tired of meeting men who considered it a game. Men who played at it. I want a real man, one who knows that true dominance is mental before it ever comes close to being physical. That my submission can not be demanded, it has to be earned, and when I give it, I give everything.”
Fuck. She made total sense.
A loud burst of laughter from the table next to them made her start. Red started creeping up her chest and neck and Ian gave himself a mental kick in the ass. “Thank you,” he said. “For sharing so much with me.”
“You’re welcome.” Ronnie smiled. “Now, I should go. It’s almost twelve.”
“Why do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?”
She laughed, taking the hand he extended and letting him pull her to her feet.
“No, but it’s past my bedtime, and if I don't get at least six hours of sleep I turn into a raging bitch the next day. The guys at the shop will not thank you.”
They walked back to the club, and he wasn’t surprised to see that she drove a pumped up muscle car painted in very pretty purple. It was just like her. Strong, but feminine, and very, very sexy.
Chapter Five
It was Friday night and Ian wanted to play.
His normal focus had gone to shit. Between his negotiation with Ronnie, Thursday night’s class on Bondage, their conversation, then not being able to really connect with her during the final classroom session the night before, he was a mess. Damn good thing he was his own boss, because anyone else would’ve fired him for sitting at his desk and staring blankly at the computer screen all day.
Only he hadn’t seen the computer screen. Instead, he’d been seeing Ronnie lick her lips hungrily when he touched her cheek, or the way her fair skin flushed bright with arousal as she watched him demonstrate the various ways to use a pair of cuffs on a willing sub. Shit, he thought she was about to come in her pants when their eyes met. It had been a struggle not to go to her right then, but he’d managed to wait until the end of the class. Then eh’d gone and fucked up everything by taking her for a coffee.
He’d meant to just be a friend, checking in on how she was doing, but the conversation had gotten away with him. No, that’s not true. He’d let the conversation go because he’d been intrigued by her. The way she lit up when she’d talked about discovering what turned her on had made it impossible not to encourage her. It was the Dom in him. He wanted to dig deeper, push just a bit harder to see what made her tick, and she’d responded to every signal he’d put out… and she’d brought him to his knees.
The only thing that had saved him from doing something very stupid was that they’d been in public. He’d gone home, jerked off, twice, then told himself she was another trainee, and he couldn’t forget it. Sure she was a friend, too, but that was it. He hadn’t been looking for a relationship when she applied to the club, and nothing had changed.
He’d gone back on Thursday night and opted to take the Top’s for their final session. Despite the way she’d kept glancing at him through-out the night, he’d kept his distance. That’s not to say he didn’t have to jack off, again, in order to fall asleep that night, but he knew it was for the best. The classes were over, and he’d focus on helping a couple of the other newbies in the club for the next month or so. Simon and Eden had both wanted Ronnie right from the start, so it’s not like she wouldn’t be in good hands.
He walked up to the bar in Overwatch just after nine p.m. and set his bag of toys on the floor next to Simon’s.
“Hey man,” he said. “How you doing tonight?”
; “Good, you?”
“Any of the newbies show up, yet?”
Simon shook his head and the two of them made small talk as Kalina got him a beer. After a long pull from the cold bottle, he turned and leaned his back against the bar so he could survey the room. Closing his eyes, he soaked up the atmosphere. The deep bass of the music that could be felt through the floor even though it wasn’t so loud you couldn’t hear the sounds of leather against flesh or the occasional cry of pleasure or pain that echoed through the room.
“You okay?” Simon asked.
Ian opened his eyes and grinned. “Yeah, I just needed to be here, you know?”
The other man nodded. “Training can be fun, but it’s not the same as being here and being part of the circus.”
There was no insult meant by circus, it was said with affection. Overwatch was more than a club, it was a community. Just then he caught sight of a scene playing out in the corner. The Dom had his sub on her stomach on the wide table with arms and legs bound behind her froggie style. A dental ratchet gag kept her mouth open, so was spread wide from a couple of angles. There was another couple on the sofa five feet away from them, fondling each other as they watched the Dom open his pants and stroke his cock only inches from the squirming subs open mouth.
Some might say Overwatch was a community full of perverts and deviants, but he loved it.
He turned away from the corner and began looking for someone to play his own scene out with. There were several subs he’d played with in the past still wondering around or dancing in the small space in front of the stage. He watched Erin, one of the subs he’d help train almost a year ago, dance on stage. She was nearly nude, and her curvy body moved to the music with a grace that few people could claim. When she’d first joined Overwatch she’d been shy, and self-conscious of the few extra pounds she carried. Now she was confident and didn’t deny her exhibitionist streak. He knew that he and the other Dom’s in the club had helped her realize that she was beautiful, and it filled him with a sense of pride to know that.