"Turn," his voice demanded a few moments later after I took it upon myself to pour some wine because he was taking his sweet ass time to come out and play host.
I turned slowly, wine lifted as was my chin, seeing his eyes move over me slowly, taking every inch of me in down to my shoes before going up again and stopping at my face.
"Beautiful," he declared, matter-of-factly.
Which, let's face it, was a bit of a bummer.
If someone was to compliment you, you wanted it to be with at least a little feeling.
But I guess I had to take what he was offering me.
"I would say that you clean up nice," I said, eyes roaming over his simple, but stunning black suit, matte black shirt, and expensive watch, "but you are always cleaned up."
"Part of the job," he said casually though he damn well knew I didn't know what his job even was. "Did you find something you want?" he asked, coming over to take his wine I had poured for him.
"Dandelion vegetable salad with chickpeas and orange anise vinaigrette."
He gave me a short nod, moving to grab his phone, placing orders for both of us, then coming back to me.
"You nervous?" he asked, picking up on the way my heartbeat was skittering around.
"Yes," I admitted.
"About?"
I felt my shoulder shrug. "Everything? I guess I don't know what to expect."
"There's no pressure. You're with me, so no one is going to ask you to do a scene or be inappropriate with you. We will go, I'll shake hands. You will not. Then--"
"Why won't I shake hands?" I cut him off, brows drawn together.
"Because subs don't typically shake hands with other Doms. And it would probably be weirdly formal for you to shake hands with other subs as well."
"Okay," I agreed, nodding. "Details are helpful," I told him. "I have no idea what I am supposed to be - and am not supposed to be - doing."
"Always defer to me if you're not sure," he told me, shrugging. "But don't interrupt me if I am talking to another Dom. They'll find it disrespectful. Just give my sleeve a tug, and I will turn to you when I can, so you can ask."
"Okay."
This was a lot more formal. It had a lot more rules. I had a lot more of a chance to screw things up. Not just for me, but for him in a way as well.
"What's the matter?" he asked, reading my uncertainty.
"Maybe you shouldn't bring me," I blurted out, making one of his brows raise. "Let me finish," I rushed to say before he could brush aside my insecurity.
"Alright," he agreed, giving me a nod.
"While I have always been into the idea of being dominated, I know nothing about the... lifestyle of it. I only know how to act because you tell me. I don't know what I'm supposed to - or not supposed to - say or do. Who I can or can not talk to. Can I make eye-contact? Can I talk to you, or do you have to address me first? This is obviously a kind of big night. And you likely know a lot of these people. I don't want to..." This next part was hard to get out; it chafed even to try.
"You don't want to what, pet?"
I took a breath and swallowed, forcing my chin up because it was the only way I could get the words out with any kind of dignity. "Embarrass you."
To that, DOM's face did something I had never really seen it do before. It almost... fell. His brows went low, his lips parted, and his eyes looked a little lost for a moment.
But only a moment.
Before he charged over toward me, taking my wine, setting it down, then snagging my chin.
"Listen to me," he started, voice brooking not a damn bit of argument. "I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks of me. Or you. They don't matter. And you are not going to be a fucking disappointment if you say or do something that others might not approve of. They won't think it is a fault of yours. They will think it is a fault of mine for not training you better."
"But that's what--"
"Let me finish," he threw my words back at me with a small smile. "I get that you're anxious about this, so if you want some more guidelines - even though, like I said, I don't give a fuck what they think of us, then--"
"Yes, please," I cut him off just as there was a knock at the door.
DOM released my chin to go get the food, bringing it in, and inviting me to sit.
"Alright, so some of the people tonight will be paired up. Doms with their subs. Masters with their slaves. But just as many will be single. Single subs... you can talk all you want with them. It would be considered bad manners to discuss our sex life with them though."
"I wouldn't do that," I objected immediately, almost a little offended he might think I would.
"I'm just explaining, Adley," he brushed it off. "Now other Doms is where you might feel more off-kilter. Some Doms are fucking assholes. They think they are lord and master of all they survey. Which means they might come and talk to you. Might ask you things you're not comfortable with, or might try to touch you. In which case you very firmly tell them that your Master doesn't allow that. If that doesn't stop them, you come and get me, and I will set them straight."
Master.
"When you're at my side, if you're unsure of if or when you should speak, and you don't want to feel like you are doing something wrong, don't speak. Unless spoken to. It's a simple enough rule that will guarantee that you won't do or say something that others might look down on you for."
"Can I address you?"
"You can always address me."
"Just don't interrupt."
"Right," he agreed, nodding. "These aren't rules I am saying you need to live by, pet. These are just some of the preferences of some of the people in the community."
"And you said people might be, ah..."
"Doing scenes?" he finished for me. "Yeah, it's a mix of business and a play party tonight."
"What is the... etiquette for that?"
"If this was a private event at someone's house, you don't socialize and bullshit or eat or anything like that when a scene is going on. It's rude. But this is a little different since it is an event at a club. There are separate rooms. So in those rooms, we should be silent while we watch. But there is a big space in the middle of the main floor where someone might choose to do some suspension or some shit like that. In which case, they can't expect silence. So don't worry about that. Okay?" he asked, seeming to notice that my shoulders had loosened up a bit.
"I think that covers it," I agreed with a nod. "Thanks. I feel better not going in blind. I mean, I trust you and everything, but..."
"But you don't want to come off like a novice."
"I was thinking fool, but yes," I agreed with a self-deprecating smile.
"You don't have to be in control, Adley," he told me, making my gaze shoot up. "When you're with me, when we are at events where we can be what we are with each other, you can just give it over and let me handle it."
"It's harder when other people are around," I admitted.
"You don't know that. You haven't tried this with other people around."
Well, that was true enough.
"How about we leave it as... we'll see?" I suggested with a smile as I started eating my food finally.
"I can live with 'we'll see,'" he agreed, and we fell mostly silent as we finished eating. "You about ready?" he asked, standing, buttoning his jacket, then extending his hand to me. "The car should be here."
The car.
We had a driver.
I never felt more like a fish out of water than I did right then, on the arm of my Dominant, wearing a cool ten-grand - or more, I shuddered to think it was more - on my body, on our way to get in a car with a driver, and go to a kinky BDSM event.
"What's in there?" DOM asked, motioning to my clutch in my lap as we pulled away from the curb.
"ID and lipstick and some cash." He did a waving motion with his hand, taking the clutch, removing the contents, and slipping them into his pocket instead.
His hand then reached out, grabbing mine, then slipping the assortment o
f bracelets off my wrist, taking them, and putting them in another pocket before repeating the process with my other wrist. Jewelry gone, his eyes moved from mine and down, his thumb stroking over the flaming skin, the gentleness sending a shiver through me.
"This is one place where no one will think anything less of you for having my mark on you, pet," he told me, voice low.
I swallowed hard, liking his softness now more than I should have. Which was exactly why my next words were lighter, were meant to shift the conversation.
"Good to know. I didn't think Richard would see it that way. I think he just stopped thinking of me as an escort, so I didn't want to lose his newfound respect."
"Richard, my doorman?" DOM asked, brows drawn together. "He said he thought you were an escort?"
"No. Of course not. It was just in the way he looked at me and talked to me, I guess. Or maybe that was my own insecurity."
"Around the block," DOM snapped at the driver who, upon meeting him, was the man who delivered my packages earlier, and was clearly used to DOM's demanding tone, because he didn't seem bothered at all by the somewhat rude instruction, pulling away from the curb he had just pulled up to. "Look at me," DOM commanded, waiting for my head to turn to him fully. "You're not a fucking escort. I don't want to hear that shit again. And I don't like that you even thought it."
"You can control a lot, sir," I said pointedly, making it clear I meant even the secret of his name. "But you can't control what goes on in my head."
He watched me for a long moment, seeking something in my eyes, seeming to find it too, his gaze shifting away.
"I guess I can't," he agreed as we came up around the block again, pulling back to the curb in front of a club I had probably passed countless times before without giving a second thought to it.
All the clubs in the city had catchy names. It never occurred to me that this one had a deeper meaning.
Limits.
The outside gave nothing away, just a simple black and white sign, and a huge set of men in suits at the doors.
There was no line.
I guess at a private event, there wouldn't be.
"Me first." He gave the quiet reprimand when my hand went for my door.
"Right," I agreed, sitting back in my seat as he exited then came around the car to open the door and help me out.
"Breathe," he reminded me, giving my hand a squeeze before dropping it as we walked up to the door.
DOM gave the men a nod.
And they opened the door.
No checking a name off of a list.
No showing an invitation.
No checks of identification.
No pat downs.
No nothing.
It never really occurred to me before this moment that maybe DOM wasn't just a guy who happened to be a Dom, who was in the lifestyle in his free time. Maybe he was in the lifestyle, period. Maybe he was someone that others knew.
I felt my belly wobble a little at that, suddenly glad I insisted on having him give me instructions on how I should behave.
There was no time though to wonder if I should have asked for more as we went through the doors, passed a small, empty but for the attendant, coat-check section, then passed right into the club.
I had no idea what to expect from a fetish club full of kinky people.
I guess the knee-jerk reaction would be leather and sleaze. Which was ridiculous because DOM never wore leather, and there wasn't a sleazy thing about him.
This place suited him.
It would make sense why he would come here.
The music met us first, throbbing and sexual, but quiet enough for conversation to be allowed.
"Well well well, he did show," a woman said, stepping into the doorway that would have led us fully inside. She was tall, and the kind of curvy every woman would kill to be, clad in a skintight wine-colored dress and skyscraper heels that somehow didn't seem like they hurt her feet. Her long dark hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, streaming down her back, which put her somehow delicate, but exotic face on perfect display with her high cheekbones and light gray eyes. She had an air of authority about her, and I couldn't help but wonder if she was maybe a Domme.
"Corey, have I ever missed this event?"
"I called your assistant about twelve times."
"And he reminded me about twelve times," DOM admitted with a somewhat easy smile. "Corey, this is Adley," he remembered to say, putting his hand at the small of my back.
Not sure if she was a Domme or a sub, I kept my hands at my sides. "It's nice to meet you," I offered, figuring that even in the kinky world, basic manners were welcome.
"You too," she said, her eyes dropping down until they went to my throat. Then her head shot back up, her eyebrows high as she looked at DOM. There seemed to be a question there, one I wasn't experienced enough to understand.
"We'll see you around," he said, somewhat pointedly.
"Yes, go mingle. Relieve my bar of its best Scotch," she said, waving us in as she moved out of the way.
"Her bar?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
"Yeah, Corey owns the place. You ready?"
"As I think I can be," I agreed. I had my first interaction with someone who might or might not have been a Domme. I handled it well enough.
So in we went.
The decor was dark. But not in the 'the floors might be sticky and not from spilled drinks' kind of way, in an upscale, classy way.
The walls were painted a deep red. But not a clown or Christmas red. Not the cheesy kind. It was distinguished, like a deep red wine.
The ceilings were high, full of exposed black piping and support beams. To the right, a few feet inside the entryway was a long dark wood bar with a wall of liquor bottles behind, the light on them low and almost sepia-toned. The man and woman behind it each had collars on, but were otherwise dressed as normal bartenders - all in black, dressed to show off their fit bodies in the hopes of better tips.
Across from the bar was a large open space with a long dark wood table. For, as DOM had explained, possible scenes to play out. On the other side of that, there were booths set up with high black tufted leather backs and tables that matched all the other wood in the space.
To the wall on the left, the one that was the one that lined the front of the building, there were hightop tables with no seats, meant just to be a place to set a drink down and continue to socialize.
The final wall was not really a wall at all, but a series of doorways that likely led to the private rooms DOM had told me about.
The space as a whole screamed out Money and Sophistication.
Nothing about it suggested anything kinky.
You know, if you didn't notice the sea of people.
Some with collars.
Some with collars and leashes.
It wasn't packed per se, not with such a huge space to move around in, but there were several dozen people milling around, talking in small groups, getting drinks at the bar, moving in and out of the rooms to the back.
"Do you want a drink?" DOM asked, his gaze down on me as I took in the surroundings, always seeming to enjoy seeing things through my eyes. I guess because they were fresh, and his were immune to the awe of this kind of thing.
"Not yet," I said, shaking my head a little, then giving him a little wobbly smile. "But I reserve the right to need one at a moment's notice."
He chuckled at that, his eyes actually warming with his smile. "Just say the word," he told me, pressing his hand harder into my lower back, leading me in and away from the doorway as another couple queued up behind us. "Impressions?"
"It looks like a place where very important business is discussed."
"It is," he told me, giving me a wicked smirk that I couldn't help but smile at.
"Domenech!" a man's voice called as he moved toward us, a smile on his face as he looked at DOM.
Domenech?
DOM?
Was that where his screen name was from? His last name? N
ot some play on his kink?
"Bertram," DOM greeted, offering his hand to the man who shook it a little too eagerly. He was also in a suit, one that looked expensive and was tailored well, but it didn't look nearly as good as DOM's. Maybe because no one could look as good in a suit as DOM. Bertram was older, graying and thinning on top, but with a strong carriage and confident air about him that I took to mean he was a fellow Dominant. "It's been a while."
"Yeah, I've been trying out things down south most of this year. Getting another store opened up. Your business is doing as well as ever," he complimented, making me incredibly envious that this man knew what DOM did and I, who had had the man inside me, did not. "Oh, and you brought someone. What a lovely submissive you have," he said, eyes raking over me.
I could feel it happening.
Experience told me that there was no stopping it.
My cheeks heated.
"Oh, and she blushes! I bet all her skin gets nice and red like that."
Um... ew.
I knew I wasn't supposed to think that, but that was what came to mind.
"You've looked long enough," DOM told the man, his tone firm, a hint of a warning in it.
"Of course," Bertram agreed, eyes snapping away immediately. "Have you seen Miffy yet?" he asked, holding back a smile. Clearly there was something funny going on there that we were not privy to yet.
"We just arrived," DOM said. "I need to show Adley around. We can catch up later."
"Of course, of course. Adley, a pleasure," he said, extending a hand to me.
I didn't intend to do it. It was instinctive. My hands that were out at my sides moved toward my front, clasping together pointedly.
"Right. Domenech, you rule with a firmer hand than I realized," he said as he walked away. It was meant as a compliment, but I felt my lip curl.
"What?" DOM asked, watching me.
"I don't like the word 'rule,'" I admitted.
"You'll hear a lot of language here that doesn't apply to us. Just ignore it. They don't mean anything by it."
"Who is Miffy?"
DOM looked down at me, a small smile pulling at his lips. "A Domme. She's about... seventy if she is a day. Her husband died forty-some-odd years back, leaving her filthy rich, and with nothing to do with her time but find young male subs and have fun with them."
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