by Tamara Lush
“Hmm.” My hand went between his legs and pressed against his erection. “Any particular reason why you want to tame me? Or punish me?”
“You mean, do I have any deep, dark secret buried in my past that makes me want to dominate you?”
I nodded, cupping the outline of his hard length.
“Nope, I’ve told you plenty of times. No hidden damage in my past. No childhood abuse, no former lover who introduced me to whips and chains, no deep scars. I was intrigued by the whole concept after we talked about the plot of your story the other day. And you’re a bit of a wildcat, Emma. The idea of domesticating you is appealing to a man like me. I always get what I want, and people always say yes to me. Except you. You challenge me.”
Laughing, I unbuttoned the rest of my shirt and showed him my breasts. He caressed one with his big hand, then again pinched my nipple. Harder.
“I like the idea of turning you on so much that you fall apart. Then I can put you back together. Wouldn’t it be interesting to see what happens then? For research?”
Little did he know I was already falling apart, for different reasons. I didn’t disclose any of that, though. “So you think you’d get ideas—or we’d get ideas—at a BDSM club?”
“Maybe. Probably.”
“We’d have to have a safe word.”
He cocked a brow and removed his hand from my breast, resting his hand on my face. “Explain.”
“A safe word. For the submissive. For me. So all activity stops if I’m uncomfortable.”
“A good idea.” He paused. “What’s our safe word?”
“Hmm.” Again, I pressed my hand into his erection. “How about…trust?”
He smiled. “Trust?”
I nodded and laughed.
“Okay, Emma doll. Trust, it is.”
* * *
We were a few blocks away from the club when my stomach began to quiver. Why was I so nervous? I wrote about sex. I had plenty of sex with Caleb. I loved sex. What was this apprehension about? As I researched the club’s website on my phone, I realized lately everything made me feel ambivalent. My relationship, my desire to have a child, and now my eagerness to experience something new sexually.
Normally I was excited to do everything, try everything, go everywhere. Now I second-guessed it all.
“It says here Playville is open for pansexual action until 3 a.m.,” I read aloud from my phone, then glanced up and saw a sign for a medical supply place. “Are we in an industrial park?”
“Mmhmm. Offices and warehouses,” Caleb murmured mildly, then turned his Mercedes down a quiet street filled with unmarked, flat buildings with gray facades. His hand drifted to my knee, then up my bare thigh, pushing the hem of my dress toward my hips. I shivered from his touch.
“I think it’s right…here.” I squinted at my phone, then at the parking lot, where there were several dozen cars. Caleb maneuvered the car into a space and killed the ignition.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes. It’s research. You?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Okay, but…” I paused and rubbed my lips together, feeling the slick of red lipstick coat my mouth. “I want to make one thing clear right now. I don’t want to have a threesome. If that’s what people even do in there. I don’t think they do, but I want to set the ground rules.”
“Oh, Emma,” Caleb sighed, then smoothed my hair back with both hands and gently combed my curls with his fingers. “That’s not what I want either. I’m here to share this with you, for your research and maybe for us. I can’t guarantee I won’t get turned on by watching, though. But I love you and I want only you. Remember that, okay?”
I nodded. Maybe this was a bad idea, going to a club like this under the guise of research when I was feeling so unsure of my relationship with him. Or maybe, I thought as the heels of my four-inch black Louboutins struck the pavement, acting out dominant and submissive roles would bring us closer together. Make us trust each other more. And it was his fantasy, which I was happy to indulge. I wanted to never stop showing him how much he meant to me.
“Hey. Come here.” He took me in his arms, right there on the sidewalk near a night jasmine bush blooming with a sultry scent. The night was humid and still, and frogs from a nearby retention pond screeched at a loud pitch.
Caleb kissed up my neck, then paused at my ear. “I love you.”
Not wanting to get my red lipstick all over his skin, I stroked the back of his head, his short hair silky under my fingers. “And I love you. Let’s go have an adventure.”
Grinning, Caleb splayed his hand on the small of my back as we reached an unmarked door. I was about to ask if we were in the right place when a couple emerged. They were older than us, maybe in their fifties, and dressed in Florida-formal: the woman had on a thin, black dress and black heels, and the man wore a black shirt and jeans. They smiled and greeted us. Maybe I was reading too much into the tone, but the way the man said “good evening” was infused with knowing.
We must be in the right place.
It was instantly cool, quiet, and darker than the outdoors when we stepped inside, which was why a woman’s voice sent my heart rate into overdrive.
“Welcome to Playville.” I spotted a striking woman with short, dark hair in her twenties sitting at an illuminated window, like any other club. As if we were going to pay a cover and dance to a DJ. Caleb propelled me to the window, and I listened as they made small talk. He paid the entrance fee, and then she handed us a list of rules.
No alcohol, no sex, no touching unless given permission. Watching was okay; interrupting others’ play wasn’t. I nodded thoughtfully as I read while Caleb kept his left hand firmly on my back.
“I’m going to have Doug show you around, give you the official tour.” The woman’s voice was perkier than I would have anticipated for a BDSM club.
Then, a man appeared. He was around Caleb’s age with a bald head, glasses, and a goatee. He wasn’t handsome, wasn’t ugly, wasn’t anything in particular. Just a regular guy, which put me at ease. He had an easy smile, though, and his warm, professional tone also soothed my nerves.
He shook Caleb’s hand, then mine. “So I’ll take you around the club and answer any questions you might have, and then feel free to wander and explore. You did read the rules, correct?”
We answered yes, almost in tandem, and I noticed Caleb’s posture, normally excellent but on the casual side, was military-straight. We followed Doug into what he called the main room, awash in dark purple walls. Inhaling deep, I detected a scent I couldn’t quite place. Perfume? Air freshener? A few more deep breaths and I realized what it was: clean sheets. Huh. Odd.
I immediately recognized the various pieces of furniture from my research: a St. Andrew’s Cross, a chair with arm restraints, a spanking bench. Doug patiently explained what each piece was for, and after a few pieces, we stopped at a respectful distance to watch a woman strapped to a bed by her ankles and wrists. She wore a tiny black dress, not unlike mine, and her smile was blissful, her eyes gently closed.
Caleb’s arm was around my waist now, and my gaze flickered to his face. He’d tilted his head, and by slight raise in his eyebrows, I knew he was aroused. I mean, I was, too; the woman was curvily sexy and I imagined it was me, strapped to the bed. What would Caleb do to me if I was in her position? A ripple of desire went through my body as I imagined his mouth between my legs, consuming me as I was restrained. This was definitely an intriguing scene, although I didn’t think I’d want anyone else watching me and Caleb play.
Or would I? I wriggled out of Caleb’s arm so I could hold his hand.
We moved away, following Doug down a corridor, and I wished I could take notes for my book. Probably wouldn’t be the best idea, though, if I whipped out my phone and started typing. One of the rules was no photos, and I knew using my phone wouldn’t be respectful of others. I was hyper-aware, trying to record everything to memory.
We came
to another window, similar to the reception one. “Here is where you can borrow our paddles and floggers,” Doug said, and Caleb grinned. Interesting, what he reacted to.
Following Doug a few more steps, he pointed out several more play rooms, each with an open door. The array of different scenes soon became dizzying; a woman suspended by straps and pulleys, wrapped in cellophane; a school room with a desk and a blackboard; a dungeon-themed room with chains on the walls and a woman on the cement floor, bound with black straps around her chest and her legs.
“What’s that restraint called?” I whispered loudly.
“Frog tie,” Doug replied.
We came to another, a medical examination room with stirrups, and I visibly shuddered.
Doug pointed down the hall. “Let’s move on. Clearly that struck a nerve and not a good one. You need to remember three words together: safe, sane, and consensual.”
We nodded.
The last few rooms down the seemingly endless corridor had doors, and Doug explained those were for private play. He asked us if there were any questions, and I shook my head. So did Caleb.
“Well, take your time and absorb everything,” Doug said, opening his arms and gesturing wide. “You don’t have to do anything tonight. Some couples find they like to watch the first few times they’re here. Respect each other’s comfort level and have fun. I’ll be around if you need anything, have questions or want demonstrations.”
We thanked him and stood in the hall awkwardly, like two teenagers about to kiss for the first time in public before going to homeroom.
Caleb pressed his lips into my forehead. “You okay so far?”
I nodded. “Yeah. You?”
“Yeah. It’s interesting. Everyone seems professional.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist. “It’s a little different, even for me, for someone who writes about sex. Everyone seems nice. Respectful. It smells good. I like how there are cleaning supplies everywhere.”
Caleb cracked a grin. “Never thought I’d hear you say that.”
Giggling, I pressed my forehead into his chest.
He ran his fingers over my arms, leaving little trails of heat in his wake. “I have an idea,” he murmured into my ear. My heart jumped. Would he want to do a scene in front of other people? Was I ready for this?
“Okay.”
“Let’s go in one of these private rooms. It looks like this one’s open.”
Relieved, I followed him into a small, empty room. Three of the walls were red, the lighting low, the air almost cold. I shivered a little. One wall was covered in mirrors.
There was a heavy wooden chair and a black leather bench contraption and nothing else. It seemed like a modified exercise bench, only with straps that were obviously positioned for legs and wrists. Tilting my head back and forth, I pondered how one would sit on it. Like a chair or on one’s hands and knees? I gnawed on the inside of my cheek as I studied the bench.
He shut the door, then stood in front of me. Although my shoulders and neck felt tense, I was also damp between my legs from watching the woman. Caleb kissed me, deep, and I started to relax. My fingers flew to the first two buttons of his shirt, and I fumbled in trying to undo them. He wrapped his big, warm hands around my smaller ones.
“Shh,” he hissed.
His eyes went to the bench.
“That will do, I think,” he whispered. “Emma, will you allow me to restrain you? I want to see you strapped down. Can we try it? Please?”
“Only us, right? No one else?”
“No one else.”
“Okay. Yeah. We can.”
He kissed me again. “I’ll be right back I’m going to borrow a toy. While I’m gone, take off your dress.”
He shut the door softly behind him, and I pulled my little black dress over my head, leaving me in my tall black heels, scarlet lacy boy shorts, and a matching bra. I found a hook on the door and hung my purse and dress there, then sat in the chair.
I heard footsteps, then the jiggle of the door handle. It was Caleb, carrying a black toy that looked like a less-poufy pompom. From my research, I knew it to be a flogger. I giggled.
“Doug said this was a good beginner’s toy. It’s called a bunny flogger. It’s strands of fake fur and fake leather, so I thought it would make you happy as a vegetarian. Apparently it won’t hurt. Too much.”
I giggled louder. Caleb rested the toy in my lap, and I ran my fingers through the fur and leather and studied his darkened, blue eyes.
Caleb leaned in, putting his hands on the armrests on either side of me. I let go of the flogger and took his face into my hands so I could kiss him.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked.
“I want you to get on the bench so I can strap you down.”
I nodded and met his gaze. “Okay. But remember the safeword?”
He nodded slowly, gravely. “Trust. And don’t you be afraid to use it.” He backed away from the chair, and I stood, trying to control my breathing as I stepped to the bench. This seemed like a much more serious game than the ones we usually played in our bedrooms. I bent and rested one knee on a black pad platform, then the other. I folded forward so my torso lay across the padded bench and I rested my face downward, my cheek on the cool leather.
“Like this?” I asked.
“I don’t want you to speak unless I ask you a question, Emma. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Caleb.” I bit back a smile. He was being so serious. How fun!
I felt his hands run down my calves, which made me shudder into sobriety, then felt a strap wrapping around one ankle. He restrained the other leg, then came around to my face, which I’d turned on one cheek and rested on my folded arms, which acted as a pillow.
“Give me your arms,” he ordered. I extended one, and he guided it into a leather loop, then buckled it tight. He did the same with the other, and I lifted my head, allowing my arms to suspend.
“Is this cutting into you too much?”
“No.” My voice, normally strong, was softer than usual tonight. I wanted to be a good submissive for him, at least for a night. Still, I was nervous. Would I please him? Would this bring me pleasure? How could Caleb not excite me?
“How about your ankles? Too tight?”
“No.”
Lastly, he took a strap around the middle of the bench and wrapped it around my waist, buckling it snugly. I turned my head and partially saw my reflection—our reflection—in the mirror, but my curly hair was getting in the way. Caleb smoothed the strands away.
“Look at how beautiful you are. Restrained, for me. But you want to fuck, don’t you?” His voice was a caress, his fingers, a whisper, down my back, over my ass, and across my legs.
“Yes.”
He tugged at the restraints at my ankles. “I love that you always want to fuck me. That you’re always ready.”
He ran a finger down my spine, making me shudder and squirm. “You’re sure this isn’t too much, Emma?”
“I’m sure.”
But then he stopped touching me, and I ached in his absence. My eyes followed Caleb as he sat, then went to the mirror. I had an unobstructed view of myself and of him. He held the flogger in his hands and stared at me. My mouth suddenly became dry.
I’d never been this helpless before. I started to perspire around my hairline.
Of course, I opened my mouth to ask a question, but he smiled. “Ah, Emma. Remember what I said. No talking unless I ask you something first.”
I pressed my lips together. Clearly this would be the most difficult part of being a submissive, the not-talking part.
Still, I expected him to do something. Flog me. Spank me. Something. Instead, he sat and stared at me with a satisfied smile, as if I were a piece of rare art he’d acquired. My skin was aflame, I was throbbing and wet between my legs, and I wanted sex. Hard and fast.
And yet, I was scared. What was he going to do with me?
I squirmed against the restraints.
Caleb stood up, leaving the flogger on the chair, and I inhaled sharply. Finally, he was going to act.
“I’d normally ask you what you want, but tonight I’m not going to. Tonight, I’ve got control over what we do. More control than usual.”
His warm hand went to my ass and caressed it, his fingers pausing at the damp fabric between my legs, stopping short of slipping under the lace.
“You get wet so easily. All I have to do is talk to you and you’re drenched. Do you know what that does to me? You must be going crazy right now.” He stroked the fabric lightly, and my clit pulsed beneath the touch of his finger. A few more moments and I would come. That’s how close I already was.
He took his fingers away, and I instinctively whimpered. “No! Please?”
“Emma, what did I tell you?”
“Sorry. No speaking unless spoken to.”
He caressed my ass, hoisting the fabric of my lacy shorts up my skin. Then he caressed more, and with a wide-palmed motion, he smacked me.
I gasped. It wasn’t as though he’d never spanked me before. He had, during sex. But never while I was restrained and never while he had so much power over me.
I gasped louder when he struck me again on the other cheek, and then a third time. He’d never hit me so hard, and it had never felt so incredible. My legs trembled involuntarily.
Tenderly, he lowered the fabric to cover my backside, then sat down. My skin stung where he’d made contact.
“Remember when we first met, how I made you wait for a kiss?”
I nodded. Did I ever. The build-up to our first time still inspired little pangs of lust when I remembered how much I wanted him before his mouth found mine. He loved to torment me, tempting my mind while making my body pause for pleasure.
“I might do that now. Make you wait for punishment. Tease you. You know what teasing does to me.” He smiled, and the ache between my legs pulsed and teased.
I inhaled, loud.
My arms were starting to hurt, and I writhed against the leather. I wanted to kiss Caleb, wanted to crawl in his lap and fill myself with him. I needed closeness. These restraints, I wasn’t so sure about. My ass felt like it was on fire. And yet, I was creamy and wet between my legs, and all I wanted was to beg for release of all kinds.