Willow dropped her hand. “He’s a wannabe but never gonna be. At least you’ll still scene with him. But if yawning will get me a spanking from Master Nathaniel, I’ll never drink coffee again.”
“It wasn’t intentional.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if it was. He’s freaking gorgeous. You’re the envy of every sub here tonight, do you know that?”
“Even though I’m totally in trouble and got written up?”
“Every one of us would trade places with you. The write-up means nothing. You’re good; everyone knows it. It will be forgotten in a couple of days.”
She hadn’t known whether to expect support from her fellow employees or not. She’d been a bit embarrassed to return to the club, but Willow made it painless. “Frankly, I think Master Nathaniel is a bit of an ass.”
“But so incredible. C’mon, Alani, admit it. He’s hot.”
She shrugged.
“C’mon.”
“Yeah,” Alani said eventually. “All right. He’s hot. If you go for that type.”
Willow rolled her eyes. “What type is that? The tall, dark, and dangerous type? Hell, I’d sign up, but turns out he’s only interested in you. Master AJ called and said he was held up by something and wouldn’t make it on time for his demo. So he asked Master Nathaniel to fill in. All three of our subs are available, and I’d be willing to bet a bunch of our guests would raise their hand and volunteer to help him with the scene. But Master Nathaniel said it had to be you. He said it was part of your retraining.” Willow shrugged. “As if. He just wants a chance to play with you. The other subs said they’re going to start misbehaving if scening with Master Nathaniel is part of the punishment.”
Alani laughed.
“Anyway, the other girls are turning green with envy.”
A patron walked into the dressing room.
“If I get a chance, I’ll pop in and check out your class,” Willow said. “Have fun!”
Nerves slammed into Alani again. It was becoming a regular occurrence where this man was concerned. If she wasn’t careful, she could become addicted to his punishments.
She combed her hair, freshened her makeup, and then checked her clothing.
So far, Master Nathaniel had found her submissive skills lacking. And she intended to prove herself. She didn’t need retraining. She just needed to avoid Master Limp Wrist.
At eighteen past the hour, she headed for the classroom. Just inside the door, she paused, mesmerized.
Master Nathaniel was already on the stage, and a spotlight shined on him. Behind him, a St. Andrew’s cross loomed threateningly. She was sure he’d chosen the device intentionally, making her remember yesterday’s indiscretion.
He’d turned the cross sideways. Her back wouldn’t be to the audience; the attendees would be able to see more of her body, more of what he was doing to her.
During the time she’d been in the dressing room, he’d changed. He wore black leather pants that hugged his hips and thighs. He’d donned black motorcycle boots. He’d traded his white dress shirt for a snug black T-shirt. He was shaking a flogger at his side as he looked toward the entrance, at her. Rational thought told her that the spotlight blinded him, that he really couldn’t see her. But it was as if he sensed her presence.
She stood there for a moment until a couple of attendees asked if they could pass.
She took a step into the room.
Drawing a fortifying breath, she walked to the stage, shoulders held back, determined no one would know how emotionally exposed she suddenly felt.
She climbed the stairs, trying to take in everything. There was a small table off to one side with a bottle of water on top of it. A large bottle of lube sat on the tabletop. A small drawer was partially opened. She knew he probably had an assortment of torture devices in there. And she wanted him to use them on her.
At the top of the stairs, he motioned her forward. He pointed to a spot on the floor, about a foot in front of where he was standing. He purposefully cast his gaze at the floor.
He didn’t need words to communicate his intention, and she lowered herself to her knees facing the people already taking their chairs.
He moved in front of her. She noticed he checked to make sure the lapel microphone was switched off before speaking. “The demo will start in less than ten minutes. Until that time, you will kneel quietly. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
He crouched, bringing them face-to-face.
God he was overwhelming.
This close, she inhaled the scent of him: raw, untamed power. His biceps were well-defined in a way she hadn’t noticed before now.
Dressed all in black, he resembled the warrior he was, a man who fearlessly sought out the darkest and most dangerous of Middle Eastern terrorists.
His attire wasn’t aimed just at creating the illusion the attendees expected. It more authentically expressed who he really was. Tonight he was unleashing the dom who merely wore a veil of civility.
What the hell had she been thinking in challenging this man?
He propped the hilt of the flogger beneath her chin and captured her gaze before asking, “Do you want to use your current safe word, or do you want to choose a different one for this scene?”
“’Ula is fine, Sir.”
“Is there anything you want to make off-limits before we start?”
“No, Sir.”
“This is an advanced class. I intend to use devices on you, including a gag if you’re too noisy.”
“I understand, Sir.”
“Spread your legs farther apart.”
She did.
“More.”
She felt the tension instantly in her hip flexors.
He nodded. “Hands behind your head. And kneel up. I don’t want your ass on your calves.”
This position made her a bit off balance.
He looked at her for a moment and then stood.
She directed her gaze at the wooden floor beneath her.
“Oh, and Alani?”
She glanced up.
“Later this evening, you’re going to suck my cock. And then I’m going to fuck you hard.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, secretly thrilled for his unspoken reassurance that this was about more than punishment. He wanted her. More than anything, she wanted to please this man.
He stood and moved to the front of the stage as if she weren’t there.
At seven thirty, one of the monitors slowly dimmed the houselights. Her heart thundered, seeming to amplify noise.
She was hyperaware of him and his dominance.
Master Nathaniel turned on the microphone that was attached to his T-shirt and welcomed the guests as he laid the flogger on the tabletop.
He informed them the demonstration was for experienced players only. He encouraged first-time attendees to work up to this kind of scene. “This takes trust between experienced players,” he explained. “If the things that happen on the stage are too much for you, please feel free to leave. Our feelings won’t be hurt.”
There was a smattering of laughter. Some of it sounded as nervous as she felt.
“My sub tonight is one of the club’s professionals, the beautiful Alani Dane.”
She remained exactly where she had been and didn’t acknowledge the few wolf whistles.
“We always recommend having a discussion beforehand if you’re playing with a new sub. I know some of you, many of you, play without a safe word, but here at Zones, skiing is our club safe word. Any sub can use it to immediately stop a scene. Failure to follow the rules can cause your membership to be revoked. Alani, tell the audience your safe word.”
“’Ula, Sir.”
“You’re aware that you can also use the club safe word of skiing?”
She nodded and then remembering that he wouldn’t be satisfied unless she spoke, added, “Yes, Sir.”
“Do you have any health concerns I need to know about? Any problems with muscles? Anything it’s impossib
le or unduly difficult for you to do?”
She knew they had to go through this, but she wished they didn’t. “Nothing, Sir.”
“Anything particular you want me to know?”
He knew she was a painslut. The question was how much he’d exploit that knowledge. “No, Sir.”
“Are you ready to proceed?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Please stand and remove your skirt.”
She got to her feet slowly. Kneeling with her knees so far apart had tired her muscles.
She was careful to keep her gaze downcast as she removed the skirt.
Master Nathaniel scooped it up from the floor and placed it on a small side table. “Now the top, if you please.”
The skintight material had seemed like a good idea when she was getting dressed. Now that she was struggling in front of an audience, she wished she had chosen something else.
Master Nathaniel ignored her and addressed the room. “Doms, here’s a moment of decision. You can help your submissive. Or you can watch her struggle. And you can punish her for the fact she wore something that kept her body inaccessible.”
“Punish her,” one helpful man called out.
“Excellent idea,” Master Nathaniel said. “Stay still, Alani,” he told her. “Since you kept your tits covered, I’ll punish them specifically. Raise your arms.”
He effortlessly removed her top and then stepped to the side to deposit the garment on top of her skirt.
She was nearly naked. She had on her heels, stockings, and garter belt. Mercifully he hadn’t demanded she remove her thong.
When he returned to her, he turned sideways so he had full access to her body without blocking anyone’s view.
“Put your hands behind your neck and stick out your chest.”
Once she did, he captured her right breast and held it in his palm, as if weighing it. Then he squeezed her nipple. Hard.
She gasped.
He almost pulled her off balance, and her eyes watered.
“Are you forgetting something, Alani?”
Forgetting something? Oh, God, yes! “Thank you for removing my top, Sir.”
He tweaked her nipple again, but this time not quite as hard. “Much better.” To the crowd, he said, “A proper sub always expresses her gratitude, and if he or she doesn’t, it’s your responsibility to remind them.”
She kept her gaze focused on the ground. Stupid. How could she have been so stupid? The scene had barely started and she’d already forgotten his cardinal rule.
“You have lovely breasts, Alani.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“While I pull on your right nipple, I want you to squeeze your left one.”
The pain and pleasure was exquisite.
He squeezed her harder than she possibly could. He was relentless.
A few seconds later, he released his grip. “You may stop now,” he told her.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Some subs are quicker studies than others,” he told the audience as she put her hands behind her head again. “Do remember, doms, if you have rules that are inflexible, enforce them with quick and immediate punishment.”
There were noises of assent.
Because of the lighting, it was difficult to see anyone who was watching her. Even though they were in front of dozens of people, it was almost as if she were here with him alone.
“Are you nipples tender, Alani?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then clamping them would really hurt.”
Her pussy dried. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.”
He moved toward the table and pulled out several sets of clamps. He held up a pair of tweezer clamps. “If you prefer to give your sub a light-to-medium amount of pressure, these clamps are good. The trouble is, if you tug on them, they can come off. That’s not all bad,” he said. “For example… Alani, if you please, cup your breasts and offer them to me.”
“Yes, Sir.” When she’d said she was into pain, he’d taken her seriously.
He pinched her right nipple viciously, compressing it. Before she could gasp, he’d affixed a clamp.
He tightened the clamp until she winced; then he tightened it a bit more.
“Thank you, Sir,” she managed.
He repeated the process with her left nipple. And she gritted out her gratitude.
“Sway from side to side, Alani, so the audience can see the chain move.”
The pressure, although it wasn’t terrible, hurt. Normally she’d barely register it, but damn, he’d already tortured her.
“And to demonstrate what I mean…” He tugged the chain and pulled the clamps off.
She pitched forward and gasped, barely mumbling her thanks.
“Back into position,” he snapped.
Instinct told her to wrap her arms across her breasts, but that’s not what she really wanted. She wanted more. She slowly put her hands behind her neck and thrust out her chest.
She closed her eyes for a moment when she saw the next clamps. Japanese clovers.
He held them up so the audience could see them.
Some of the clovers were more brutal than others. She wondered which he’d selected.
“These are my personal favorites,” he said. “Sub, offer me your right tit.”
She cupped her breast, squeezed, and lifted. He twisted her nipple, and then he attached the clamp.
She drank in a breath and expelled it quickly.
These were mean.
“Breathe through it,” he told her. “I love how your tit looks when it’s clamped like that. For me.”
She managed to whisper a thank-you.
“Now the left one.”
“Yes,” she said softly.
She worried her lower lip as she allowed the pain to settle in. Before she’d fully absorbed it, before she could formulate a word, he said, “Now, doms, this is why I prefer this particular style.”
He tugged on the chain.
She cried out as she was jerked forward.
“Rather than releasing like the tweezer-style, these simply get tighter. And that means you can also add weights to them.”
She forced herself into a standing position. She blinked away the tears that stung her eyes.
“Would you like that, Alani?”
When she didn’t answer, he lifted her chin gently.
“Do you need to use your safe word?”
“No, Sir.”
“Look at me.”
She did.
“Would you like me to add weights to your clamps?”
“Yes, Sir. Please. Thank you for putting the clamps on.”
He covered the mic long enough to say, “That’s my girl.”
His approval made her heart do flip-flops.
As she concentrated and the blood flow to her nipples became constricted, the pain receded.
“Actually,” he said. “I want you to add the weights.”
From somewhere in the room, she heard a gasp.
“Beast,” she muttered under her breath.
“That’ll cost you,” he said again, covering the mic. The threat was delivered without any real heat.
He handed her a weight. She struggled a bit, ending up tugging on the clamp. She gritted her teeth against the pain and focused on the task.
When the first was in place, he offered her the second.
As she worked it into place, he said, “Stop.”
“Sir?”
She glanced up, puzzled.
“How’s your pussy?”
“I’m not sure I understand the question, Sir.”
“Are you wet, Alani? Is the pain turning you on? Spread your legs.”
As soon as she did, he placed a hand between her legs and stroked her clit before delving into her pussy. “You’re damp, sub.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Periodically check in with your submissive,” he said a bit louder, in his best teaching voice. “He or she has placed a lot of trust in
you. Don’t abuse it. It’s okay to cause distress, but help your sub manage his or her pain. And don’t let the situation get out of control. Doms, that’s your obligation. Alani, continue.”
When she was finished, she clenched and unclenched her fists four times before saying, “Thank you, Sir.”
He gathered the chain and twisted his hand in it.
She moved toward him, seeking to lessen the bite.
“As lovely as you look like that, with the weight pulling your nipples and you on your tiptoes to try to control the situation, I want our audience to get another view. On all fours, sub.”
She lowered herself gingerly.
As she did, he continued the lesson. “Beware of strong-willed subs, and take immediate action to correct their attempt to top from the bottom. If you notice, as I tugged, she rose onto her toes. There are times I may try to pull her onto her toes because I like the way her body looks, but this little subbie was trying to control the amount of pain she was receiving. Isn’t that correct, Alani?”
Did nothing get by him? A hot blush seared her face. “Yes, Sir.”
He moved behind her. “Your tits are fabulous, Alani. Do you agree?” he asked the audience.
Cheers and applause came from the unseen crowd.
“Now…”
He smacked her ass with his open hand. She jerked and moved, and the chain swayed painfully, making her miserable. She thanked him again and again as he spanked her.
“Now, subbie, what do you have to say?”
He’d hit her no less than ten times, jarring her, the weighted clamps tightening on her abused nipples. “Thank you for teaching me a valuable lesson, Sir.”
“You’re very welcome. Now stand. Turn your back to our guests. Spread your legs as far apart as you can and then grab your ankles.”
Maybe she was a masochist, but he sure as hell had a streak of sadism. The position drew her breasts downward, but mindful he was watching every move, she followed his directions perfectly.
“Your ass is red from your spanking, sub.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you.” It felt as if her breasts were being pulled all the way to the floor. She tried to stay as still as possible as every movement aggravated her.
“Now, reach back. Move your thong aside and hold it out of way and then part your buttocks.”
She did as he said aware she was showing her ass to the audience. Even thought she was an exhibitionist, his request was a difficult one.
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