by Maren Smith
After long minutes in a feverish, passionate clench, Eric managed to pull away. "I want you, little one."
"I want you, too. Will you come for dinner again tonight? This time, I'll be the dessert."
"I'd love nothing more, baby," he said, groaning against her parted, swollen lips, "but I have this case and I have to work tonight. Tomorrow, I promise."
Chapter Six
The following day, she walked into class to find another note and more disappointment.
"If there were any way of avoiding my current commitment, I would be there with you now. Master Thomas has agreed to look out for you during class. Don't worry, there are no interactive events planned. Follow his lead and I will see you tonight at nine o'clock sharp at the front entrance. Wear something slinky." E
"He called me earlier and sounded very unhappy."
Taken by surprise, she looked up from the note at Master Thomas. Were all Doms experts of observation? He must have seen the parade of emotions that crossed her face, her poker face obviously not up to par.
"This case has been evolving for months now, honey. It couldn't be helped."
"I understand. Do you think he'll be back by nine?"
"Come hell or high water. The boss said he'd be here and I'd take that to the bank."
She gave him a tentative smile and a quick nod of assent. They spent the next two hours touring theme rooms and learning about role-play. The exclusive second-floor theme rooms were fascinating; some were lavish with exotic themes and décor. She saw the opulent harem that Eric had mentioned. The low-lying bed with its satiny pillows and silk-draped canopy looked tempting, making her want to go in and play the role of Cleopatra. All it lacked were some half-naked men with palm frond fans and a fully naked Eric peeling her grapes. A giggle escaped and drew looks from several other students. The classroom was nearly empty with only a large teacher's desk and a single smaller one for a student. The one other item was a wall-mounted rack with an array of canes and what she could only guess were synthetic birching rods. Ouch! There was a medical exam room, which made her somewhat squeamish, and she only gave it a cursory glance. When she looked into the open window of the current room, she saw a cage suspended from the ceiling in what could only be described as a medieval torture chamber—goodness gracious! Val's eyes flicked to the room number, intending to add it to her hard limit list when the time came. Room No. 6 was definitely off limits. More like #666, she thought with a snort, only to find herself the subject of more censorious glances.
The class ended promptly at five o'clock and Val headed toward the parking garage feeling deflated. Being here without Eric's presence wasn't nearly as exciting. She wondered if she would have pursued any of this after the first night if she hadn't met him.
As she started up the stairs, the administrative entrance door swung open and Julie walked out, casually dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. She offered Val a smile. The girl was unfailingly sweet and friendly.
"Are you leaving? Not going to stay and explore as a graduate?"
"No, my uh, D—" She paused, uncertain. What was he to her exactly, her Dom, her boyfriend, or maybe just her sponsor? She needed to get this clarified soon. She settled on friend. "My friend won't be her until later."
"Master Eric, you mean?"
"Yes, he's working so I've got a few hours to kill. I'm not supposed to meet him back here until nine. Any suggestions?"
"Sure, why don't you come back to my place and I'll make us something to eat. Did you bring a change of clothes?"
"That's the other thing; I don't know what to wear."
"Well, if you need to go home, we can do it some other time," Julie said quietly, her disappointment obvious.
"No, I mean I don't have anything at all to wear. I was told to wear slinky and I don't own anything remotely like that."
"Oh, I can help with that. We'll shop and then head to my place for dinner. I'll help you get ready for tonight."
"That's nice, honey, but I don't think your Mistress likes me very much." Val certainly didn't want to have another run-in with Tara. "Maybe we should go out," she suggested as an alternative.
"Why would that matter? She won't be there."
"She won't?" Val hesitated. Should she risk it?
No, I imagine she's still at home after that punishment yesterday. Samson was ticked if you didn't notice."
"He was? He seemed pretty calm to me."
"Oh no, he only uses that nasty loopy Johnny when he's fed up with her behavior. He has punished her before for poaching submissives. I think she does it on purpose to get punished."
Val shook her head, amazed that Tara would dare tempt his anger for such a reward. "Her butt looked awfully red and I thought I saw a few welts."
"She's a masochist, honey. She gets off on the pain."
"I've heard of that, but aren't most submissives a tad masochistic? Or we wouldn't do all this, would we? All the spanking, clamping and plugging and… well, I'm kind of new so I know there is much, much more."
"True, but she enjoys the pain and needs it for sex to be good. Most of us will get off regardless."
"Hm… it's a lot to take in. I'm going to need to do a lot more research on all this."
"Research?" Julie asked.
"Yeah, I'm a clinical social worker and do couples therapy. I was thinking it might be nice to expand my client base and be kink friendly, after I learn more, that is."
"You'd have all the business you could want here, sometimes there's more drama than a soap opera. And some of the submissives are messed up," Julie said, shaking her head sadly. "Master Eric tries to screen for severe mental health issues, but some slip through the cracks."
"Unfortunately, 25 percent of the population has mental health issues. I'm not sure the BDSM practitioners have the corner on the messed up market."
"Whatever you say," Julie replied. "You're the expert."
"It's true. Maybe it's just more prevalent because we're near Hollywood."
"Now that I'd believe."
They laughed together until Julie stopped behind a sporty Mustang convertible. "Want me to drive?"
"I'm still not sure that Mistress Tara is going to want me at her house. I'm the reason she got punished."
"No, honey, she is the reason she got punished, and she gets that. You were just her way of getting Samson's attention. Besides, you won't see Mistress Tara at dinner. I don't live with her."
"You don't?" Val questioned. "I thought you were a threesome."
"No, I'm just subbing for them while my husband is deployed."
"I don't understand."
"I'm a submissive, Val. My husband is on an 18-month deployment. He and I both know I can't go that long without a Master."
"I still don't understand. It's okay with your husband if you have sex with them while he is away?"
"I don't have sex with them. I serve them, nothing more."
Val shook her head, still puzzled. Julie popped the locks on her car and once they were inside began to explain. "They are more like mentors. I am a people-pleaser. According to my husband, that makes me vulnerable to exploitation. I can't say no, at school or in my volunteer work, even with my friends. When he's gone, they take advantage and I tend to overdo. This is his third deployment. The first one was only for six months but was an epic disaster. When he came home I was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and he had to put the pieces back together. The last time, he arranged for Master Samson to take me under his wing. It worked out well and although I missed him, I was able to cope so much better. Does that make sense?"
"Actually, Julie, it does." Val looked with admiration at the young woman beside her. She wasn't afraid to admit she had needs. It had taken her far longer to admit to her own. "So what do you do to serve Samson and Tara?"
"I help with the classes like this week. They feel it's important for an experienced submissive to be around to answer questions for the new subs. I also help behind the bar sometimes. Actually, they do mo
re for me in this arrangement. Master Samson has me check in every morning and he reviews my agenda for the day. He makes me set goals and then reviews them at the end of the day to see that I've kept on task. I see them almost every day at either The Club or their home where I am teaching Mistress Tara yoga, for relaxation and anger management." That cracked them up; the Domme sure could use a good dose of the latter.
"So there's no sex at all? What about at The Club? Do you scene with them?"
"Only if I'm due for a punishment, like the other day when I didn't do so well on a test, Mistress strapped me over one of the benches and used that quirt on me. Yeow, did that smart!"
"So they help you stay on task with your studies?"
"Yes, the reason I didn't have time to study was because I agreed to pull extra duty at the animal shelter when one of the girls was out. You see, I have a hard time saying no, even if it's to my detriment. Master Samson called me on it. He also called the shelter and set them straight about my hours. He was able to set them up with other volunteers so it was all good."
"Why didn't Master Samson punish you?"
"He has in the past, but we found it was best if only Mistress Tara was my disciplinarian, to avoid jealousy."
"The arrangement is fascinating, honey. It seems you get exactly what you need. What do they get out of it?"
"Mistress gets to top me and Master gets to help a friend and fellow soldier by looking out for his wife. He admits if he had an arrangement for Tara while he was overseas, she wouldn't be as bratty as she is now. Poor thing is confused. You know she never used to be a switch until he left to serve in Afghanistan."
"Sounds like she needs to see a professional."
"Yeah, like you, honey."
Val snorted at that. Pigs would fly out her butt on the day Tara walked in her office asking for help.
The conversation turned to clothes and Val's outfit for that night. Julie suggested an exclusive boutique that also ran consignments.
"We can pick you up something sexy for the Valentine's Day party while we're there. It's a pajama party and the boutique has some gorgeous lingerie. It's more expensive because it is brand new of course. Wearing someone else's intimate apparel is kind of icky, so it's all in their retail shop."
"I don't know. Eric hasn't said anything about that."
"Really?"
"Yes, we don't have a contract or anything yet."
"I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to butt in. Are you headed that way?"
"I hope so." The conversation had put a damper on her excitement for the shopping and later that evening. She thought he was serious about something long-term. Was she wrong? Wouldn't he plan to bring someone special to a Valentine's party?
They arrived at the boutique and after barely ten minutes found the perfect outfit. Val passed on the lingerie, because of the uncertainty and the prices were outrageous. They spent the rest of the evening at Julie's, and she was so engaging and funny that Val was able to relax. They nibbled on a shrimp salad that Julie whipped up, followed by a Valerie makeover. By the time 8:30 rolled around, Val was primped, pampered and ready to knock Eric's socks off. She planned to leave that night with a Valentine's party invitation.
* * * * *
Dressed in his usual black shirt and dress pants, Eric grabbed Val's cuffs and pocketed her collar before leaving his office in the administrative area. As he stepped into the corridor, his phone alerted him to a text. Miss Valerie has arrived and is waiting at the bar. Come quick, the vultures are circling.
Glancing at the clock, he smiled. His girl was right on time; he liked that. His boots rang out against the marble floor as he hurried to the lounge. Sure enough, she was surrounded by three preening Doms all vying for her attention.
As he came up behind her, he heard Jerry, who was an ex-Marine, asking her to dance.
"Gentleman, this one is taken. There are some other lovely ladies here tonight who would be happy to be underwhelmed by your advances, I'm sure."
Two of them laughed genially, leaving him with only Jerry to contend with. He gave him a long-suffering look, "What's the matter jarhead? Did all that time in that tin can of a tank affect your hearing?"
"You know squid, I might need to get it tested because I thought I just heard you say this beautiful woman had attached herself to a sorry ass SEAL. Say it ain't so, sweet thing?"
Valerie nodded, looking somewhat confused by their banter.
Moving next to Val, he draped an arm around her shoulders possessively. "Pay no attention to him. He's not too bright. He was a Marine: Muscles Are Required, Intelligence Not Essential."
"Poor misguided squid." Jerry said, shaking his head in mock sympathy. "The Navy is no more than the Marine's chauffeur service."
Eric chuckled, taking it in stride; he'd heard that one before.
Jerry wasn't done however. "When we left them on their ships to go fight the enemy all by ourselves, we'd say, 'thanks for the ride, boys. We'll take it from here.'"
"Except for SEALs, we were rappelling from choppers and saving the world while you were still trying to find your ass with a compass and a map."
Valerie giggled behind her hand. She had no idea that the Navy and Marines had such a rivalry, or that there were so many ex-military members at Decadence.
Jerry stood up and chest bumped Eric good-naturedly. She noticed that he stood a good six inches shorter and had to lean in and up to make that chest bump happen. Samson had come over and was leaning on the bar, enjoying the show.
"Hey boss," he said to Eric, "looks like Jerry's challenged you to a battle of wits."
"Yeah, too bad 'ole Jerry came unarmed."
That had Valerie laughing aloud. They continued to throw insults back and forth until a third man, Master Thomas, walked up. "What's going on, Sam? I need a beer."
"That can wait. Jerry was under the impression that a jarhead could steal this lovely lady from the boss. Can you believe it?"
"As a matter of fact, I can't. You shouldn't be fooling around with either a squid or a jarhead honey, not when there's an Army man around."
Samson snorted, "Army my ass."
Jerry said, "Hell yeah, we know what that stands for, 'Ain't Ready for Marines Yet!'"
Eric decided it was better to let the other three hash out which branch of the military was best. He had more interesting things on his mind, including the stunning woman in white who sat watching the debate with amusement. Eric stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the arguing Doms.
"Wrists." His one-word command was all it took to re-focus her attention. Lifting her hands, she watched him secure the fur-lined cuffs. When he reached into his pocket and pulled out a collar, she noticed this one was different and asked, "What does it say, Sir?"
"Master Eric's Little One."
She sucked in her breath, afraid she was going to cry. It was a blatant sign of ownership, but she was oddly touched rather than offended. She lifted her hair for him when he raised it to her neck. "I probably should have waited until we were private, but I needed to stop the competition. Besides, you can't go in the playroom without it."
Once he had it fastened snugly, he watched her hair fall around her bare shoulders. "You look beautiful. Stand up and let me see all of you."
Offering a hand, he helped her off her stool. Her dress was stunning. It had wide straps with beading at the shoulders. The square neckline was low showing off the tops of her full breasts. A drape of material fell softly down the front drawing attention to her all-natural assets. The dress then clung to her curvy figure, ending just a titch higher than mid-thigh. He twirled his finger indicating she should turn and give him the full effect. The back was as stunning as the front with a low drape of material exposing a good portion of her smooth, sexy back. The dress clung enticingly in back as well and presented her gorgeous round bottom to its best advantage. A small tie, up high near her neck, held the entire garment in place. He imagined untying the bow. The silky material would slip easily from h
er shoulders and glide down her body to pool at her feet. He would make sure that happened shortly.
He noticed that the war of words had ended behind him and turned to see who won. His three friends were staring agog at his little vision in white. Pulling her up against him, he planted a kiss on her parted lips. Clearly staking his claim, the possessive kiss turned heated and he couldn't resist slipping his hand inside the low back of her dress and pressing her closer with an open palm.
Once he had rendered her breathless, he turned a smug look on his friends and guided her toward the dungeon entrance without a word.
He heard Jerry murmur behind him, "Damn SEALS always did get the hottest women."
Damn straight, he thought.
Once inside, they spent some time in a booth catching up on her day. He asked her about touring the second floor.
"Did any of the rooms spark your interest?"
"The harem looked sexy and fun, Master, but I didn't like the torture chamber at all."
"What in particular? Most of the equipment in that room can be found here on the main floor."
"The cage kind of freaked me out."
"I see. A touch of claustrophobia, maybe?"
"Maybe."
"Okay, no torture chamber yet." He gently stroked his finger across the frown lines creasing her brow. "It's not acceptable to frown at your Dom."
"Sorry, Master. I wasn't frowning at you, just that dungeon—really."
"I understand. Why don't we head on upstairs? I have room No. 10 reserved for this evening."
"I don't remember which one . . ." He could tell she was running through each room in her mind. "Was it the school room? Or the office?"
"No. 10 has the big four-poster bed."
"Ooo, I liked that one. It was very pretty and the bed looked very inviting."
He stood and pulled her from the booth, "Let's go see how inviting it actually is."
Minutes seemed like hours before he had her to himself in their private room. As he walked the main floor with her, other Doms and Dommes stopped him to chitchat or to ask a question and several of the new Doms asked for advice. All congratulated him on his beautiful new sub and wished him well.