F is for…: BDSM Checklist, Book Six

by L. DuBois

  F is for…

  BDSM Checklist, Book Six

  L. Dubois

  Published by:

  Farm Boy Press,

  Sacramento, California, United States of America.

  First electronic edition: September 2017

  Copyright © 2017 by Lila Dubois, all rights reserved.

  Proofread by Fedora Chen

  Cover design by L. Dubois

  Book formatted by Farm Boy Press

  ISBN: 978-1-941641-20-0 (ebook)

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owners and the above publisher of this book, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Publisher’s note:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Contents

  Synopsis

  F is for…

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Read the Rest of the Alphabet

  About the Author

  Other books by Lila Dubois

  Synopsis

  F is for kinky, sexy, fun

  Katrina walked away from her last Master, swearing she was done with BDSM, but the desire to submit never went away. Desperate for release, she joins Las Palmas, LA’s most exclusive BDSM club.

  Dante loves kinky sexy and beautiful submissive women. He may be stern when he’s ordering a sub to kneel for him, but he’s not interested in dominance and submission as a lifestyle. Las Palmas is his outlet, his place to play.

  Katrina’s first day as a member coincides with the start of the checklist game. She’s been desperately wanting to submit once more, and Master Dante is sexy, kind, and seriously dominant—all the things a sub could wish for. But when they take on the letter F and all the kinks, toys and activities associated with it, Katrina learns the past doesn’t always stay dead and buried.

  F is for…

  Chapter 1

  Katrina winced and tried shifting her weight, but the concrete floor was unforgiving. She’d forgotten this aspect of submission—sore knees, thighs, and back muscles that ached from holding submissive postures. But the environment made it easier to be submissive. The air itself was weighted by the will, control, and power of the Doms, the Masters, and Owners who lounged on couches or in chairs around the outside of the massive barn-turned-elegant-playspace.

  Above them was a balcony, probably meant to look like a hay loft. Men and a few women leaned forward to look down at the slaves and submissives kneeling in the center of Conclave—the name for the barn structure—in various states of undress.

  Some, like Katrina, sat back on their heels; others were kneeling up, their bodies straight from head to knee. Others sat cross legged with their hands laced together behind their backs. There were as many different submissive postures as there were Doms, though there were a few postures common to most people’s play. Katrina had decided to adopt the kneel back position. She kept her knees spread, but not dramatically so. Her hands were palm down on her thighs, rather than palm up, but there was no one to tell her to turn her hands over. To spread her knees wider.

  This was her first day at Las Palmas, and she was starting to suspect she’d picked a very bad time to join LA’s most exclusive BDSM club.

  They’d been waiting for what felt like hours. She’d been accepted as a member last week, and informed that today was a mandatory meeting of all club members. She’d toured the club as part of her membership application, but she’d never been here when the other players were in residence. This was her first chance to see the men and women she hoped to become intimate with—both physically and emotionally.

  Las Palmas Oscuras was a beautiful Spanish-Style estate north of Los Angeles, near Malibu, and named for the twin rows of palm trees that lined the drive. The Conclave was only one of the many buildings. The cream walls, red adobe roof and exposed rough-hewn wood beams were classic southern California architecture.

  Wood groaned and Katrina turned to watch as the heavy double doors opened. Around her, subs bowed their heads. The blonde woman kneeling beside Katrina caught her breath and dropped her chin to her chest. Katrina mimicked the move. She’d forgotten so much. She’d only been out of the world of BDSM for a few years, and yet what had once been instinct no longer was.

  Maybe she shouldn’t be here. Maybe the submissive aspect of her was gone forever.

  Yet she craved a Master’s touch.

  “Masters, Mistresses, thank you for joining us. Subs, focus on us.”

  Katrina looked up and the subs and slaves shifted to obey, rearranging themselves and focusing their attention on the overseers.

  Master Leo, Mistress Faith, and Master Mikel drew the eye and commanded attention. They were the owners and overseers of the club. The last club she’d been a member of had a Dom in residence, but at Las Palmas the overseers ruled. Two wore half masks—Master Leo and Mistress Faith. Master Mikel’s expression wasn’t hidden. He had a slim, strong face and dark eyes, which regarded the submissives with a sort of lazy pleasure.

  “We’ve called you here for a very serious reason.” Mistress Faith’s voice was cool and clear. Katrina had met her several times—it was not easy to get in to Las Palmas—and the older woman wore trim tailored dresses instead of fet wear, yet the look was appropriate and powerful.

  “We’ve become complacent,” Master Leo added. “Each of us has found pleasure and pain, often both, within these walls.”

  “And yet—” Master Mikel spoke now, “—we do not push ourselves. Comfort and safety is for the mortals out there.” He threw out one long arm. The gesture and the words were dramatic. Katrina darted a glance around, but no one was smiling or laughing at what should have been comically dramatic. Dramatic as they were, they seem appropriate in this place and time, where a sea of submissive men and women knelt, naked and ready to serve. “We are gods, gods who are growing lazy and stupid in our complacency.

  “If you want to play the same games, if you want the safety of the known, then we invite you to leave. The contract you signed when you joined will remain in effect. Any discussion of who we are or what we do will be met with swift, harsh retribution.”

  No one moved. Membership at Las Palmas was limited to a very select few—wealth, beauty, and depravity were all needed to even be considered. Katrina’s shoulders slumped. She hadn’t been a member for even a week, had yet to play, and was probably going to get kicked out.

  Her chest tightened with frustration. It had taken so much for her to come here,
to get to the place where she could play again.

  “I warn you,” Mistress Faith said, “the offer will not be made again. By remaining here you consent to the activity.”

  There were a few chuckles and some muttering, but no one left.

  “Very well,” Master Leo said. “Let’s explain the rules.”

  Master Mikael went to the door of the tack room—or what would have been the tack room if this were a functioning stable. He wheeled out a large board draped in black cloth, and positioned it against the wall.

  They were going to roll out a whiteboard? Katrina’s eyebrow rose.

  “My friends and companions in debauchery,” Master Mikel’s voice rang out. “Prepare yourself.” He pulled off the cloth.

  Four neat rows of silver letters were revealed—the alphabet, A to Z. The theme song to Sesame Street started playing in her head.

  This weekend is brought to you by the letters B, D, S, and M!

  “When you joined us you completed a sex, kink, and fetish checklist. Some of you have updated it as your tastes evolved, others have only the one on file.” Master Mikael stepped back when he finished.

  Mistress Faith looked over the Dom and Masters, a stern look on her face. “Of all the hundreds of delicious sexual things on that list, many of you have only tried a few.” She gestured at the board. “We will no longer allow that.”

  What did that mean?

  “Each of you has been assigned to a letter, and with it every kink and fetish in that part of the alphabet.”

  The Doms and Masters stiffened—some looked slightly offended, other were focused like sharks who sensed blood in the water. Katrina had filled out that checklist only last week. Even reading over it had made her so aroused she’d had to spend an hour with her magic wand, and even that hadn’t been enough. When what you were craving was to submit, using a vibrator on yourself was a poor substitute.

  “You have one month to try your letter’s items.”

  “Wait a minute, you can’t expect us—” The Dom’s protest was cut short when Master Leo held up a hand.

  “We’ve also become complacent in our playmates. Those subs who are bound to a Master will be assigned to their Master’s letter. Those of you who indicate that you are willing to share or be shared may be partnered with someone new. Possibly more than one someone.”

  Katrina sagged in relief. She was the new kid. Assigned partners meant she wouldn’t be stuck here, the last sub left after the Doms picked people they already knew and liked.

  “Not every pair or group will be able to complete all items under their letter.” Master Mikel strolled into the crowd of subs, touching heads and shoulders as he passed. “Masters will be limited by the sub’s checklist. The game does not give anyone the right to override a sub’s limits. You may not do anything the sub has not indicated a desire or willingness to try.”

  Master Mikel toyed with a lock of the blonde’s hair and she shivered at the overseer’s touch. “Don’t worry,” Mikel said, “most of these pretty little things were quite liberal with their limits.”

  “Masters! Come pick up your envelopes.” Master Leo motioned at Gabriela, a pretty Hispanic submissive. She rose and disappeared into the tack room, coming out with a box full of large envelopes. “Each of you will receive your letter, the names of your assigned partners, the list of associated activities, kinks, and tools, and your partner’s checklist. Those of you who have reserved space in the mansion for this weekend are expected to begin your checklist activities tonight. The rest of you should make plans tonight and make reservations.”

  The subs were dismissed as the Doms formed a line in front of the overseers. Katrina decided there was safety in the pack and kept herself to the middle of the cluster of subs who filed out of the Conclave. A stone path that led from the barn across the green lawn—which looked to be the expensive artificial kind since keeping that much grass green would have required a ton of water.

  They went to the Subs’ Garden, which was a small building with a little courtyard in the center. Doors in each of the four internal walls opened into the courtyard. An open archway lead out of the Subs’ Garden, a short covered path connecting it to the next building.

  Inside there were two large living rooms, three dressing rooms, and two bathrooms. Everyone relaxed once they passed under the arch. This was the only part of Las Palmas where Doms and Masters weren’t allowed.

  Around her, subs settled into couches or chairs and started to chat, or went to the long vanity and checked their outfits and makeup. Since she didn’t know anyone, Katrina went to her assigned locker and pulled out her makeup bag. She set it on the vanity and checked her face in the mirror.

  She been careful with her makeup—using long wear-eyeshadow and a liquid eyeliner setter. The only thing she could do was touch up her lip stain, which was a raspberry red. After a minute she added some gloss over the top, considered the new shiny-lip look then wiped it off again. She wore her hair down, but not totally loose. She had the front pieces pulled back loosely, so her hair framed her face.

  A pretty Indian woman wearing a purple bra and panty set was touching up her makeup beside Katrina. She met Katrina’s gaze in the mirror. “Do you want some help with your corset?” she asked.

  Katrina looked down at the black brocade corset and short skirt she was wearing. The corset wasn’t cheap, but it wasn’t particularly expensive. She’d bought it online. It had hook and eye closures down the front and laces in the back. She’d fiddled with the laces herself at home, then put it on, squeezing the front closed to get the fastenings to catch. The laces weren’t as tight as they might otherwise have been.

  “Does it look loose?” Katrina asked. “I did it myself.

  “Just a little.” The other woman’s eyes went soft with worry. “But you look amazing. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

  “No, I know it’s loose.” There was a small gap between the top of her corset and her breasts. “Would you mind? Not too tight, if you don’t mind. I’m out of practice at wearing a tight one.”

  “Of course.”

  Katrina scooted a few feet to the left so she could brace her hands on the wall. The laces loosened, and then started to draw tight.

  “Exhale.”

  Katrina blew out a breath and the laces at the top yanked tight.

  “Almost done. I’ll tuck the ends in, and now…” The woman in purple patted Katrina’s waist. “All done.”

  Katrina took an experimental breath. It was hard. The restriction around her ribs meant that she had to take shallow breaths. She moved to look in the mirror. Now the corset was tighter, had a definite hourglass shape to it, and her breasts swelled above the top, rising with each breath, looking almost like they’d spill over the top of the corset.

  “Thank you. That looks much better.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m Sejal.”

  “Katrina. It’s my first day.”

  Sejal’s eyes went wide. “Oh no. This is not the best day to start.” She tipped her head to the side. “Or maybe it’s the best time.”

  “Sub Anna. Orion Room.” The voice came from a speaker mounted in the ceiling.

  Katrina looked up.

  “That’s one option for your Master to call you. Sometimes they use the speaker. Sometimes they send someone to come get you.

  “Wait, if you just joined that means you remember the checklist.” Sejal grabbed Katrina’s hands and squeezed them. “I don’t remember anything on it.”

  “Well, it’s long, but there was lots of anal for A.” Katrina sighed, trying to remember. “And ball gags, beatings, bondage of course, cages, dildos, enemas, edging, fantasy rape, fisting—“

  “Sub Katrina. Cellar.”

  Karina looked at Sejal, who smiled encouragingly. “You’re going to love it.”

  “I’m suddenly not so sure. I haven’t played in a long time.”

  “Don’t forget that this is an exchange of power. A Dom can expect you to be polite, but they hav
e to earn your submission.”

  Katrina closed her eyes and nodded. She plastered a smile on her face, thanked Sejal as she quickly put her makeup away, then headed for the arch that separated the safe space of the Subs’ Garden from the Dom-controlled areas of Las Palmas.

  As she walked, Katrina willed herself to be calm and accepting, but with each step she took she felt increasingly nervous, and worse than that, defensive.

  This might be a huge mistake.

  Chapter 2

  Dante Jones showed Master Carter the picture of the lovely, dark-haired submissive. “Do you recognize her?”

  Master Carter took the paper, frowning. “No. I don’t.”

  Dante slid the picture into the folder which also contained a copy of his own checklist, and the one the sub in the picture had completed.

  “What’s her name?” the older Dom asked.

  “Katrina Carmichael.”

  “I’ve never heard that name.”

  “Neither have I. Maybe she’s someone who doesn’t play often.”

  “If that’s the case you’ll need to be strict with her. Regular attendance keeps a sub’s behavior in check.”

  Dante nodded solemnly, though he didn’t revere strict rules the way Master Carter did. The other Dom was well known for intense rules his bonded submissive, “Pet”, lived under.

  “I’ll be sure to take that under advisement, Master Carter. Thank you.”

  Dante finished his glass of scotch, setting it onto a tray in the Den, an affectionate pet name for the Doms’ lounge. He had always intended to play today, with whatever submissive took his fancy. Or whichever sub came up to him begging to play. He wasn’t too modest to admit that happened more often than not. He enjoyed sex, and he wanted to make sure his submissive enjoyed it too.