by L. DuBois
“A drink?”
James shook his head. Noon was a bit too early.
Mikael poured himself something. Together they selected armchairs near the empty fireplace and sat.
“Here.” Mikael handed James the envelope.
Setting it on his knee, James didn’t open it, sensing that it would be better to listen to the overseer than to do what he wanted, which was to rip open the flap.
“The game is an opportunity.” Mikael relaxed back in his chair.
“For us, or for you?” James had no doubt that the overseers had ulterior motives embedded in the way they’d set up the game.
Mikael hid his smile behind his glass. “An opportunity for us to do what?”
“To experiment. To see what happens when you put people together who normally wouldn’t play with each other.”
Mikael dropped his hand, the smile now fully evident. “And what would you do, if you were us?”
“Maybe the same thing,” James admitted.
“When we realized we needed to do something to break the club out of the rut we’d fallen into, we realized that whatever we did would involve assigning partners.”
“Because you think we aren’t capable of picking our own?” James was trying not to be offended. He and the other members of Las Palmas were all powerful and in control of their lives. The overseer’s insinuation—that they were incapable of making decisions for themselves—rankled.
Mikael shrugged slightly, his body language conveying a sense of “you said it, not me, but yes, that’s what I think.”
James was tempted to protest, tempted to say that they didn’t need to be pushed. If members chose to come here and simply observe, or play with the same people over and over, repeating scenes that all parties enjoyed, then why should they step outside their comfort zone. But he couldn’t say that. Las Palmas had many of the trappings of an expensive country club, from the elegant interior design to the five-star catered food and top shelf alcohol, but it wasn’t a place to relax. It was a place to explore the darkness inside.
The ice in Mikael’s glass clicked as he raised it and took a sip, the sound drawing James’s attention back to the other man. “We know you’re wary of the more serious play.”
James stiffened. He didn’t like being reminded that they knew what he’d done, and what he’d been through. And that without them he might not have survived.
Mikael waited for a comment that never came. After a moment of silence he continued. “Your checklist game partner is someone who knows nothing but serious play.”
“Partner, not partners?”
“There’s a third name in there, but that individual is not really participating.”
“How is that?”
“You’ll see. It’s her information to tell. The reason that we held back your packet was so one of us could talk to you.”
“You’re talking, but I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to tell me.”
“Have you ever been with subs who top from the bottom? And I don’t mean purposefully manipulative.” The overseer stressed that point.
James was slightly surprised by the question, but nodded. “I have. Though I don’t let them do it for long.”
“Why do they do it? Why do they try to control the play even as they give up control of their body?”
“They’re not ready. They don’t trust the Dom. They don’t know how to let someone else be in command.”
“Possibly, but it’s also a way to make sure their needs are met. It’s human instinct—they’re making sure they get what they desire.”
“That’s fair, though a well negotiated scene should guarantee that everyone’s needs are met.”
“And what if the sub doesn’t negotiate?”
“You mean what if they rely on their checklist alone?”
“No, I mean what if the submissive won’t, or doesn’t, tell the Master what they want?”
James sat back and considered. “Then it is up to the Dom to discover what they really desire and need.”
“Exactly.”
James shifted. “That kind of emotional interrogation is not what I come here to do.”
“I know that. But you’re good at it. I heard about what happened with Xavier and Mae. If you hadn’t talked to Mae, helped her figure out her feelings, would she and Xavier have made it through their checklist last weekend?”
“They barely made it through as it was.”
“But you could read Mae.”
James took a breath and looked at the sideboard. Maybe it wasn’t too early for a drink. “True.”
“All I ask is that you do the same with this sub. Don’t take her at face value. She’s incredibly obedient, and completely closed.”
James frowned. Who was Mikael talking about? He thought he knew most of the members of Las Palmas, if not by name then by sight.
“Open it.”
James carefully peeled back the flap of the envelope.
Chapter Two
Beth wrapped her fingers around the metal bars of the cage. Tensing her arms, she lifted her body weight off her ass and right leg, which was curled under her. When she couldn’t hold herself up any more, she relaxed, the crosshatched bars that made up the bottom of the cage settling painfully into her flesh.
Though she’d been careful, the slight movement was enough to set the cage rocking from side to side, the ground of the dimly lit playroom five feet below her shifting dizzyingly. Beth closed her eyes until the cage stilled again.
Madame Cat had said that today they were going to play the checklist game. Since she was collared, Beth had known who her partner would be, but she’d harbored a small hope that whatever her letter was would include things that might be more interesting and pleasurable than her normal play with Madame Cat.
Those hopes had been dashed when Madame Cat had put her into this uncomfortable contraption. Shaped like an old-fashioned domed birdcage, it was just tall enough that Beth was able to sit upright, but the diameter kept her legs bent at awkward angles. Currently she had her right leg half under her, foot sticking out between the bars, her left leg folded up so her thigh was against her bare breast.
Beth sighed and laid her cheek against her knee. The cage meant Madame Cat had drawn the letter C in the game. Beth had a very good memory and was fairly certain she knew exactly what lay in store. The rules of the game, and of the club, meant that Madame Cat couldn’t do anything that Beth had indicated was a hard “no” on her checklist, but Madame Cat was creative—she could probably find a way to come close without crossing the line.
Whatever anticipation and hope Beth had when her Mistress had announced that this weekend was devoted to the game died as she sat curled in the cage repeating the “C” section of the BDSM Checklist in her head.
Cages
Caning
Cattle Prod
Cells
Chains
Chastity Belts
Choking
Chores
Clothespins
Clamps
Cock Rings
Cock Worship
Collar
Corset
Cuffs
*****
“James, darling, how are you?”
James stood as Madame Cat, a lovely African American woman, breezed into the Den. She wore slacks and a silk blouse, which was far from her normal leather and chains Domme wear.
His confusion must have shown on his face, because she smiled as she leaned in to kiss his cheek in greeting.
“I know, not the ideal attire, but I can’t stay long.”
James frowned. He’d assumed that he and his partners would spend the weekend playing the game. It was slightly annoying to know he’d come all this way for essentially nothing.
Cat shook her wrist until the slim gold watch was perfectly positioned for her to check the time. “I want to be out of here by three. Hopefully I can beat the traffic headed south.”
“I was unaware we were o
perating under a time limitation.” James kept his voice as mild as he could. The weekend did not have to be a total loss—there would be plenty of people here to play with later, and he never had trouble picking up a willing sub for the weekend.
Madame Cat frowned. “Didn’t Master Leo talk to you?”
“I spoke with Master Mikael earlier.”
“And he didn’t explain?” Now Madame Cat’s voice held the same hint of irritation that his did.
“He gave me this.” James held up the envelope. “All it has is your name and a checklist for your sub. He said the rest of it was up to you to explain.”
“Ah, well.” Cat settled back in her chair. “I’m afraid today is my last day at Las Palmas.”
“Oh?”
“I’m moving to DC. Given my new position, it’s best to cut ties with Las Palmas.”
James nodded. He’d heard that Madame Cat did something involving politics, which had always seemed incredibly dangerous to him—a secret life as a Domme would be a wonderful political scandal.
“I’d thought to have more time,” she continued, “but my flight leaves at 7. I’m only here to uncollar Beth.”
James stiffened. “You’re ending your relationship?”
“Yes, which is sad because Beth is so delicious. She’s quiet and obedient. Everything I could want.” True regret pinched the corners of Cat’s eyes.
James tapped two fingers on the arm of the leather and wood chair. “And my role is to play therapist to your sub and distract her for the weekend?”
Cat’s face showed her displeasure with his tone, but James didn’t care. He had no desire to spend his time dealing with the emotional messes other Doms made of their subs.
“Hardly. Beth and I are not some great love story. We are more business associates than lovers. When I told the overseers I would be resigning my membership, they told me they were announcing a new game and suggested I uncollar Beth as part of it.”
James sighed. Plucking the envelope off the side table he took out a glossy photo of the submissive in question. Beth was striking rather than pretty, with brown hair cut in a ruler straight line just above her shoulders. Her eyes were equally brown, and seemed large in her fox-like face.
He recognized her, though they’d never played. Beth was one of those subs who was always around, an excellent and obedient assistant in scenes focused on others. She was most often seen playing with Doms who preferred a stricter version of BDSM play than James used. If he was remembering correctly, Cat’s favorite thing to do was to use her as a footstool, pushing Beth more into the realm of “slave” than “submissive.”
“If you must know, you’re not the Dom I would have picked for Beth.” Though Cat’s tone was neutral, James could detect the slight derision in her words, could tell that she thought his type of domination was too soft.
“And Beth is not the sub I would have picked for myself,” he responded curtly. But when James looked at Beth’s picture, all he could think about was what Master Mikael had said, his implication that while Beth was obedient, she was also “closed.”
One thing James couldn’t resist was a puzzle. It was why he was so good at figuring out people’s emotional states, at “fixing” subs—he liked taking clues and piecing them together into a complete picture.
“I have her waiting. I’m afraid I didn’t have time to tell her anything other than this weekend was for the checklist game.” Madame Cat rose. “Shall we?”
Tucking the photo back into the envelope, James stood and motioned for the Domme to precede him. “After you.”
*****
Beth lifted her head from her knee when the door opened, but kept her gaze down. There were two sets of footsteps, the click of heels which she recognized as Madame Cat’s, and then another set she thought sounded like a man’s. She closed her eyes when spotlights flicked on, the bright white beams focused on the cage.
Her eyes were still closed when the crop struck the bottom of her right foot. The blow was unexpected and painful. Beth sucked in a breath and jerked, then wiggled around until all her body parts were in the cage.
“You’re such fun, girlie.” Madame’s words were soft and regretful, at odds with the harsh blow.
Beth opened her eyes, focusing on the ground. She could see her Mistress’s feet. Madame Cat was wearing fashionable, shiny, cream colored stilettos and ankle length gray slacks, nothing like her normal wardrobe. Beth had noticed the clothes when her Mistress had locked her in her collar and placed her in the cage, but Beth had assumed that when she returned she’d have changed. The fact that she was still in street clothes had to mean something significant.
“You know how much I’ve enjoyed our time together.”
What was going on? Beth didn’t pause to try to figure it out, knowing waiting too long to reply was disrespectful. “Yes, Mistress.”
“I will miss our time together. I doubt I’ll have the opportunity to play with a sub again, let alone one as obedient as you.”
Questions were poised on the tip of Beth’s tongue, but she held them back.
“Lean forward so I can reach your collar.”
This time Beth was so startled by the command that she didn’t react in time.
“Beth.” Madame’s voice was sharp with warning.
Grabbing the bars, Beth struggled to shift her position to obey. She was finally able to get both legs under her so she was kneeling with her feet and ankles sticking out of the bars, her upper body bent forward slightly.
Madame Cat pulled a chain from around her neck, the small, shiny key to the padlock on Beth’s collar glinting in the light.
“I’m leaving Las Palmas, and can no longer be your Mistress. As of this moment I am removing my collar from you.”
Despite all her training she was so surprised she looked up, but the lights prevented her from seeing Madame Cat well. Now? It was all over now? She didn’t realize her Mistress was planning to move so soon.
Beth dropped her gaze, hoping her breach hadn’t been noticed. Plus it allowed her to hide her expression, which she feared would show something Beth herself didn’t understand yet.
She was…upset.
It wasn’t the loss of the collar, or of her Domme that upset her, but her Mistress’s departure meant the end of her time as a submissive, the end of yet another failed attempt to interact with other people in a meaningful way.
Madame Cat stuck her hands through the bars, stroking Beth’s cheek, then slapping it lightly. “I will miss you, girlie.”
Intellectually Beth knew that Madame Cat wouldn’t really miss her—she’d miss having a perfectly obedient sub, but still, those words, that hint of connection, were the one thing that had kept Beth coming back.
Madame Cat unlocked the collar, then gently pulled it off, slipping it out through the bars of the cage.
Beth curled her fingers into fists. Without the weight and symbolism of the collar around her neck, the cage suddenly felt foreign and intimidating, as if she really were some captured creature rather than a willing participant in a dangerous but controlled game.
“I didn’t lie to you.” Madame Cat toyed with the collar as she spoke, the metal clanking softly. “This weekend really is about playing the overseers’ game, about exploring the letter C.” Madame Cat laughed. “It almost sounds like a children’s game if you say it like that.
“What you don’t know is that you and I were not the only ones assigned to this letter. We have another player.”
Though her gaze was focused on the floor, Beth saw Madame Cat check her watch. “I have to leave, so I’m going to turn it over to him.”
“Him” must refer to the other set of footsteps Beth had heard.
“I got to play for two of the items. Collar and cage.” Madame Cat gave the cage a gentle push. Beth quickly grabbed the bars and closed her eyes as she swung through the air. Her weight shifted along with the cage, alternately forcing her body weight painfully onto her knees and lower shins.
“The rest of the letter C I leave to him.” Mistress Cat grabbed the cage, holding it still just long enough to reach in with the other hand and give Beth’s left nipple a hard pinch. Still holding the tip of her breast, Mistress drew the cage forward and then let go. As it swung back, Beth’s nipple stretched then pulled from her Mistress’s grip. Beth let out a little hiss of pain, which seemed to be what her Mistress wanted. Madame Cat sighed regretfully, then stepped back and without another word walked out of the playroom. Leaving Beth with an ease that was anything but flattering.
Beth closed her eyes as the cage swung, quickly sorting through what had just happened, and trying to assign a feeling and conclusion to each thing, a technique she’d developed to help herself process events and conversations.
She was no longer collared. The timing was surprising, though the event was not. She felt…resigned, or was it relieved?
She was still a member of the club, and because of that was still subject to the rules of the game. This negated her plan to leave the club as soon as she was uncollared. She felt irritated at having her plan disrupted.
She was not alone in this room. The “him” Madame Cat had referred to had been assigned to the letter C by the checklist game. She felt excited.
Despite her resolution to end this part of her life, the idea of playing with a new Dom was thrilling. The unknown, the possibilities, the hope of experiencing the feelings and physical pleasures that other subs talked about, was enough to have Beth’s heartbeat speeding up and her skin tingling.
Her eyes were still closed when she heard the man move closer. A moment later the cage stopped swinging, then warm hands covered hers where she clenched the bars.
Please, oh please, she thought. Let this time be different.
*****
James stilled the swinging cage, which was suspended at shoulder level in one of the Iron Court playrooms. The sub kneeling awkwardly inside barely reacted, except for a slight relaxation of the tense muscles in her face.
He’d carefully watched her interaction with Madame Cat, warned by Master Mikael’s words. Beth was either one of the quietest, most obedient subs he’d ever seen, was so deep in subspace that all her reactions were muted under a thick layer of knee-jerk obedience, or she was just going through the motions of submission with no real emotional connection to what was happening.