At the bar, I ordered a Lemon Drop again, but he only drank Coke, telling me that he wanted to be completely clear headed. Jason and Christy met up with us there. They were brimming with barely contained excitement, and I felt so out of my element. That was how it had always been though, since I’d started dating Xander. Always off balance, always taken just a little bit further than what was comfortable. This was the first time in a while that I had really had misgivings.
Christy and I hit the ladies room before we left.
“God, girl! I can feel the nervous energy pouring off you! What are you really worried about, deep down?”
“Just the obvious, you know. I’m worried that he’s going to remember that I was just a phase, that he’s sick of holding back and he’ll realize that he has been slummin’ it this whole time with me.” It came out in a rush and tears sprang to my eyes. She turned to me and hugged me.
“Leda, that boy is devastated by his feelings for you. I mean completely destroyed, wrecked.”
Those were a lot of negative sounding adjectives and I wondered if I should be concerned about that.
“I think he can’t reconcile being in love with you and what he should do with his basic need for some occasional sadism. He never wants to hurt you like that. You’re too precious to him.”
She thinks he’s in love with me?
She let me go, looking in my eyes, momentarily serious. “Tonight will be a learning experience for both of you.” With her eyes trained on mine, she adjusted the neck of my dress, accentuating my cleavage then reached in my bra and pinched my nipples so that they were poking through the fabric, very visible. “That’ll get his attention.” She smiled devilishly as she nearly skipped out of the restroom. I giggled, letting go of some of my tension as we left.
It did get his attention. When we got back to the table, he grabbed me and pressed the length of his body against me. “Chilly, little girl?”
“No. Christy.”
He barked out a laugh, and tension in both of us broke a bit.
* * * *
The Blackened Window was dark and industrial feeling. When we first entered, it was into a large space that wasn’t that different from other clubs I had been to. Loud music, central bar, people dancing. The floor and bar were concrete. All the staff wore all black, some with random appearing BDSM accoutrement—a guy with a spiked cuff bracelet, a waitress with a red velvet collar. Jason guided us through the space, greeting patrons and staff alike. We headed up to a second floor open loft overlooking the main party space. A cocktail waitress delivered some drinks and we watched everything spread out below us. Jason’s pride was evident in his posture.
Xander exuded dominant glory. He wore all black, leather pants and a cotton V-neck T-shirt that looked expensive. His eyes ate up everything around him, maybe looking for June or someone else he knew, maybe trying to find a play partner, but he never took his hands off me. He guided me around by the small of my back, occasionally tracing his fingers up my spine to the back of my neck. I’d worn my hair down, at his request, and he tangled his fingers in it, pulling my head back for a kiss. And after a few drinks, he told me we were ready to move to more entertaining pursuits and clipped a thin bracelet around my wrist, but when he did, I noticed his matching bracelet—and that Christy and Jason each wore one as well.
“Are you ready, little girl?”
I nodded at him, wide-eyed. He took my hand and guided me through a door at the back of the lofted VIP area we’d been in. Christy came with us, but Jason stayed back to do owner-y things. Xander led the way, down a dark flight of stairs that had occasional bare red bulbs situated in the seam between the ceiling and the walls. Christy was behind me. There was no going back. Deep bass still thumped through the walls, sensuous and relentless.
The stairway opened into an area under the loft. It was like a foyer, an anteroom, of sorts. There was a type of ‘coat check’, where some people were dropping off or picking up clothes. They were selling a few random items there as well—condoms, lube, zip ties of varying sizes. A chill washed over me. I am so out of my depth. Christy was shining in all her bubbly effervescence, but Xander’s whole demeanor had changed. He was at once mentally stalking through the room for someone to release all his need on and possessively holding me close to his side, clearly staking a claim.
From the anteroom, there were doorways and passages to other rooms. Christy informed me that these went to the actual play spaces. She wanted to go to the left and take me with her. She pulled my hand and Xander squeezed me tighter, shaking his head at her. She gave him a sweet, innocent, pleading look.
“Just to show her around. Besides it’ll give you a few minutes to decide who you want. I won’t let anyone touch her.”
He relented, roughly kissing my temple as he let me go.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Xander
David Guetta featuring Kid Cudi, Memories
“All right, but seriously, be careful, Christy.”
Christy saw the warning in my facial expression and understood that my instinct was not to tolerate Leda being away from me, potentially vulnerable.
Once they walked away, people noticed me. People who were regulars here, long term regulars, who had been around long enough to know me, at least by sight or reputation. The sinews of my muscles felt tight in my back and my face fell into the blanked out expression I wore when I played. I felt powerful, untouchable.
The music faded into another song that reminded me of conquest, conquering, the tremble of a woman’s thighs under my teeth. I felt my lips trying to pull back in a snarl, a dark smile, full of menace and soul-deep power opened on my face.
I watched the crowd around me, nodding to a few other Doms I knew, a sign of respect, but not open challenge. There were very few that I counted friends, but many I felt a kinship with. A few that I loathed. My mind flashed through images. The snap of a dragon-tail whip against the back of a creamy thigh, the jolt of her head as I slammed her into a wall, her moan-gasp as I licked her at the corner of her jaw. Interestingly, they were all generic images, no specific woman, not Leda. This wasn’t about her. It was about my dominion.
I walked to the door of the true dungeon play space, watching the various debaucheries playing out in there. Submissive-types—and a few Doms—dropped their eyes as I surveyed them. The new DM was actually a Dungeon Mistress—Kyla. She was a previous wrestler, like a real professional. The same height as me, could possibly lift as much as me. Hard, almost masculine angle to her jaw. She was dressing some new dominant-type down. I saw why behind him. A young woman with a bloody mouth, crying. And while some people may get into that intensity, she didn’t seem to.
The guy made some smart-ass comment, like a total pussy, to Kyla’s back as she started to walk away. She heard him and turned on her heel. Her hand snapped out from her body faster than I could follow. She delivered a strike with extended fingers directly into his trachea, and he dropped, grabbing his neck, choking and hacking, eyes tearing. She stood over him, fingers in his face. I knew what she was doing. She was rescinding his invitation into the club. Essentially, kicking him out, black-listing him in the kink community. There were always a few discrete bouncer types around and two of them appeared at her side, the threat imminent. But the crap ‘Dom’ got up, hands in the air, spewing some hateful shit, but leaving. The few bystanders who had been watching were nodding their heads, agreeing with Kyla’s intervention.
The bouncers escorted him out and Kyla turned to the sub girl, who had stopped crying, but was looking up at her in awe. I smiled, knowing Kyla was a good hire. She escorted the girl out of the dungeon, and I knew she’d be taking her to the recovery room—a quieter space with couches, refreshments, low lighting, blankets and no sex or play allowed. As Kyla and the girl passed me at the door, she met my eyes with a knowing look, raising her eyebrows as if to suggest I could rescue this little one. I subtly shook my head and she kept moving.
There was risk in this
type of play, no matter how well partners knew each other. The risk was most assuredly higher when people didn’t know their partners well. I suspected that girl didn’t know that guy well, and I didn’t really want to play with someone I just picked up. It was too much risk. I couldn’t even imagine Leda’s response if I took a sub too far in front of her. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good.
I left the dungeon, and went to find my girls. Christy was honorarily mine when Jason was busy here. Not to control or play with, just under my protection. I stood at the door of the sensualism space. Leda and Christy were on the other side of the room, holding hands and whispering to each other. Christy’s face lit in lust, while Leda’s was full of wonder. As I watched them, Leda’s wonder faded a bit, was replaced with heat. Her nipples tightened through her dress and a flush crept up her neck. Her lips were slightly parted and her tongue was just visible at the edge of her lower lip.
Mine.
Like she’d heard me, she looked up at the door, saw me. And her body language answered mine, saying ‘yes’. I pointed to the ground in front of me, thinking Get the fuck within arm’s reach of me, now. She leaned to Christy and kissed her cheek, disengaged and came to me. As soon as I could reach her, I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room, pressing her into the wall. I claimed her mouth with mine, laid my body against her, driving the air from her lungs.
“You are mine. Don’t forget that tonight,” I murmured against her mouth, still tasting her. As I pulled back from her, I saw worry in her eyes. “And I’m yours, little girl. I won’t forget.” I brushed her hair back from her face, resisting the urge to tangle my fingers on the back of her scalp and bend her in front of me. Instead, I took her hand and pulled her toward the dungeon.
She hesitated on the threshold, intimidated, but I pulled her on, refusing to let her fear stop me now, unless she safeworded. I pulled her through the space, intending to find an area where I could start teasing her a little, teach her what she was now. The low sounds of ecstatic agony washed over me, occasionally punctuated by the crack of a hand or implement on flesh.
I didn’t speak to her further. I can admit that I was parading her a little. I pulled her by her hand and she was so overwhelmed that she just followed where I led. As it should be. She looked wide-eyed, innocent and young. I knew I looked feral, predatory and menacing. I loved the dichotomy.
I passed a few areas we could have played in, but they weren’t right for various reasons—a scene I didn’t want to be close to, the wrong implements. We were passing another scene that I didn’t look too closely at—a female sub, kneeling in front of a Domme, who was speaking softly to her. As we were about to pass, the Domme stepped back and turned, catching me in her peripheral vision. Mistress Seraphim.
I knew Seraphim from the scene, only knew her scene name. She was my age, maybe a little older, with deep cocoa skin she kept wrapped in leather and latex. She was a bitch of a Domme and was hard on her slaves…and she owned slaves, didn’t just have subs. She turned and walked to us, intentionally leaving her slave, making it seem careless, as if she wasn’t all that important to her.
“Xander, you brought a fresh one, very fresh by her expression. New slave?” Her voice was thick with disdain. She didn’t agree with how lenient I was with subs. She was just into different shit that me. The old BDSM mantra trickled through my mind, your kink is not my kink.
“This is Leda. Leda, this is Mistress Seraphim. Say hello.” We hadn’t even discussed dungeon etiquette. But Leda was such a sub that she just naturally did a pretty good job.
She dropped her eyes, mumbling, “Hello.”
Seraphim saw Leda’s discomfort and decided to fuck with her, snapping her paddle against her hand with a loud crack. “Little Leda, come watch me train my slave. She has been very defiant. I think you could learn something, maybe your Master here would pick up some techniques.” Her face stretched in a devilish smile.
It was perfect. Seraphim was a sadist in all senses of the word and would be open to a new way to fuck with her slave. I thought she might be able to help. I leaned into her space and spoke into her ear. “Leda is exceptionally new to this and I want her to see what we do without pushing her too much. Can you help me out?”
As I stood back, the evil in her eyes was awe-inspiring. She turned back to her space, saying, “Come with me.”
Her slave still knelt, with her eyes downcast, breathing softly.
Seraphim turned back to me. “This thing is my pet. Why don’t you take her tonight, Xander? She’ll get the pain she craves. Your Leda will learn something. And I won’t wear my arm out. That girl can take a lot.” Seraphim rubbed her shoulder as if she remembered some previous play session that had worn her out.
I considered the offer. It was nearly perfect, but all hinged on her slave’s honest consent. It felt weird to get that now, when we were practically already in-scene. “Your girl would consent to that?”
“I believe so. She’s accustomed to being used by others. She knows what she is, but, for your comfort, let’s ask her. Girl-thing, attend.” Seraphim’s voice wasn’t pitched louder than usual, but her girl scurried over and resumed her picture-perfect resting pose at her feet. Seraphim tilted her chin up. Her features had an Asian cast to them and her eyes were a warm chocolate brown. Her hair fell in a loose sheet around her shoulders and she only wore a pair of black panties. “Red. I’m halting our scene for a moment. Understand me?”
The girl’s tension dropped even as consternation crossed her features. “What the hell, Sera? Why are you stopping?”
“That fucking mouth.” Seraphim smiled, “I’m not displeased with you, but I’d like to alter our plans. This is Master Xander. He’s a friend of mine. He is training a new slave and wants her to see what he likes. I’d like to lend you to him for the night.”
A wave of pleasure washed over her features. “If it pleases you, Mistress. I am happy to serve.”
Seraphim ruffled her hair. “Of course you are. Because you want to be a good little pet.” She turned to me. “Will she do?”
I smiled. “What’s your name, girl?”
The slave tensed, but Seraphim stilled her and answered me, “She doesn’t use a name when she plays. She goes by girl, or thing, or the letter A. She doesn’t want an identity.” Seraphim shrugged as if it meant little, but her eyes drilled the message home to me. This was part of this girl’s kink.
That set chills trickling over my skin. “I need a safeword and limits.”
“Her safewords are Capsize, Red or the house safeword, Cajun. Her limits are fists, kicking, blood play. My limits include those, but you also may not fuck my slave without both her and my consent.”
A small squeak escaped Leda’s lips and I tightened my grip on her hand. “Very good.”
Seraphim made a gesture that the slave was all mine, but turned back and added, “You should know she’s incredibly defiant. She needs to be torn down, Xander.”
I smiled again, reveling in my own wickedness. “Very good.”
As Seraphim moved A to a table for me, I found a safe space for Leda, along the wall, outside of anyone’s backswing. “Sit down,” I said, as I pushed her shoulders down. She sat so cute, like a lady, with her legs folded under her.
I squatted down in front of her and grabbed her jaw to get her full attention. “You will sit here. You will not move. You will not talk with anyone other than me, Mistress Seraphim, Christy or Jason, and only if they seek you out. Anyone else in here tries to talk to you, I want you to immediately come get me. No one should fuck with you, but there are always predators.”
She looked at me blankly.
“Little girl, tell me you understand.”
Her pupils dilated and her pulse jumped. “I understand, Xander.” She smiled, giving me more reassurance than any words could have, but she added, “I’m green, Boss.” I kissed her hard and walked away.
I didn’t look back, but it took all my discipline. Seraphim’s slave was naked
and arranged on a table for me. I bent down so my face was in her face and tilted her chin up to force her to look at me. “Tell me your safewords.”
“Capsize, Red or Cajun,” she said confidently.
“You agree to this?”
She glanced to the side and saw Seraphim stepping away to get her drink, when she looked back at me, she rolled her eyes. “Sure.” Her tone was pure brat.
“What are your limits?”
“I doubt it’ll matter. You look like a pussy.”
I paused, surprised that she’d be so provocative from the start. I glanced at Seraphim chatting with the Dungeon Mistress, Kyla. When I looked back at the girl, challenge was written in her features as she spoke, “My Mistress has earned my respect. You haven’t. Give me your worst and we’ll see which one of us breaks first.”
I had to stop myself from laughing. This is going to be fun.
I grabbed her face, squeezing enough to make her lips press open, ugly. I just held her there, staring her down and she met my gaze, daring me to hurt her. I squeezed her face a little harder, and I saw a wash of want go through her eyes, quickly replaced by that challenge again. I felt my lips quirking into a smile, and nodded as I stood. As I turned away, I was aware of Leda, watching, tension visible in her shoulders. She would learn.
Seraphim had laid her toys out on a table to the side. Floggers, paddles, rope, a Wartenberg Pinwheel, a whip, a dragon tail, restraints, gags, clamps and a few candles. I grabbed a flexible, thin cane, knowing it could be too much or just enough.
A was laying face up, legs spread, knees bent over the edge of the table. She was clean shaven, wet, lips plump. Her anticipation was visible in the way she shook a little, breathing quickly.
“Here we go.”
She tensed and I waited a few beats. When her tension eased, I snapped the cane across her thighs. Once, twice. Shifting a bit, so the welts bloomed distinct from each other. She held her breath and I gave her a few more.
Wrecked (The Blackened Window) Page 19