by Livia Grant
I didn’t need to be close to know the eyes freezing me in place were the color of dark chocolate. Eyes that threatened to melt me despite my resolution to put that wish in the loss column of my life’s ledger. But let’s be honest here. Owen MacAllister was a handsome man by anyone’s standards. Tonight, he wore all black. Leather pants molded around long legs, muscular thighs, and an ass I’d wanted to sink my nails into for months. A t-shirt stretched across a chest as hard as a slab of granite. Dressed in his dungeon monitor attire, he oozed dominant superiority with every breath. And speaking of breathing, I was finding it hard to do so as his eyes scanned up and down my body. When they returned to mine, I felt an almost unbearable desire to know if I passed muster.
I wasn’t petite. In fact, I was far from it. God must have had extra inches on hand when it was my turn because I wasn’t only curvy, I was tall. I’d spent my youth slouching, wearing baggy clothes, never slipping my feet into any shoe with so much as a half-inch heel. No school photo would ever find me in the first row. My height of almost six feet by the time I hit middle school had assured me a place in the back row, dwarfing the boys who stood beside me. It wasn’t until college that I’d begun to come out of my self-imposed shell. I’d finally figured out that if I couldn’t be one of those perfectly proportioned, cute little ‘pocket women’ tall men seemed to gravitate to, it didn’t mean I couldn’t shine. Flats were tossed out, baggy clothes donated and a new Martha Transom was born.
Tonight I’d dressed with even more care. With a spin of a wheel, I was going to be ‘won’ by some dom, and I didn’t want to watch a look of disappointment wash over his face. Being Valentine’s Day, I’d thought a lot of women would choose to wear red, pink, or white. I’d done the opposite. My dress was the color of India ink and it showcased every curve I had. My nod to the day for lovers was its sweetheart neckline. Of course, if it dipped any lower, my generous boobs would be on display. They would most likely be later, but I was of the belief anticipation was a good thing. And even alpha men liked presents. I was looking forward to having him slowly unwrap me. I’d made sure that when my dress was pushed off my hips and over the plump globes of my ass, the view would have my new dom’s cock stiffening. But as Owen only gave me a slight nod, dismissing me as he turned away, I was once again slapped in the face with the reality it wouldn’t be the man I coveted. No… the man I had once coveted. Tonight was another new beginning. Dungeon monitor be damned. I was going to enjoy myself and, in fact, was going to do my best to make sure Owen knew exactly how much fun I was having.
Glancing to my right, I saw Klara was in demand. The party hadn’t started yet, but several people were already enjoying their choice of beverage. It would be the polite thing to do to go over and compliment the beautiful bartender on how she was handling the crowd like the pro she was. I turned to my friends.
“How about we get a drink?”
Charlie looked to Dillon, a move I found very telling. Charlie’s training might have her able to outrun, outshoot, and take down most men in this room, but my capable, strong, and feisty friend was definitely submissive when it came to her hubby who was also her dom.
“The night’s still young,” Dillon said. “Let’s wait a bit.”
“We could make a toast wishing her luck,” Charlie suggested, her eyes still on her husband, but her words made me smile. Perhaps she wasn’t the perfect submissive after all.
Dillon didn’t let her suggestion sway him. “Baby, the way Marty looks tonight, she’s not gonna need luck.” His smile made his rejection of my offer easier to swallow, but his next words had me shaking my head before he completed his sentence.
“How about we go say hello to Owen?”
“You two go ahead,” I said. “I’m going to have a mojito.”
“You sure?” Dillon asked, his eyebrow quirking.
“Yes. I just want to enjoy a drink in case my new dom keeps me so busy I don’t get a chance.” Before they could question me further, I gave a little wave and walked towards the bar. What I didn’t say was that a little liquid courage before meeting this unknown dom suddenly sounded like a great idea.
I’d just taken my first sip when a familiar voice had me turning on my stool.
“Marty! You look fantastic. I love what you did to your hair!”
Tossing my hair, I smiled. “It is kinda cool isn’t it?”
“It’s gorgeous. It’s like your hair is alive… all those colors just glow,” Emma said, leaning in to give me a hug.
“It’s the black lights,” I said, pointing to the strips of glowing purple bulbs. The neon dye I’d had the stylist apply to my hair was vibrant in ordinary lighting, but under the black lights illuminating the bar and the club, magic happened. My brown locks were gone, replaced by various shades of metallic silver that shimmered and seemed to dance. I’d hoped the effect would be pleasing where my curls laid against the black fabric of my dress.
“Well, you look amazing.”
“Thanks. Are you nervous?” I asked.
Emma just smiled. “That’s supposed to be my question. But, you participated last year, so I guess you’re not a newbie.” I shook my head and took another sip of my drink as she continued. “But, no, I’m not nervous. Jaxson just wanted to give Chase some help this year. There are more participants than last year, and I’ll be up there with Chase to keep him company between spins.” She glanced towards the raised platform where the roulette wheels had been set up, evidently getting some sort of signal as she gave me another quick hug before stating she had to go. “Don’t be late,” she warned. “You wouldn’t want to give the appearance of being a naughty sub.”
“Oh, God forbid,” I said with a mock shudder. “It would just be awful if my new dom had to punish my ass.”
Emma laughed, gave me a wave and then hurried across the floor, stopping often to give someone a hug or a wave and a few words. The woman was the submissive of Jaxson and Chase—the co-owners of the club. The trio were the happiest, most contented people I knew outside of Charlie and Dillon.
I didn’t need a watch to understand it was almost time for the party to start. It was obvious as people began to drift towards the many tables that had been set up for those who’d paid good money to watch tonight’s activities. Taking my last swallow, I set my glass down and thanked Klara again.
“Have fun!” she said, wiping a cloth against the glass surface of the bar.
“I will!” I said, the rum I’d consumed warming me, helping to quell the butterflies taking flight in my stomach. With one last look over at the shibari station, seeing Owen and Dillon in conversation, I smiled in response to Charlie mouthing ‘good luck’. Nodding, I slid off my stool and made my way towards whatever fate awaited me.
Chapter 2
Owen
What the fuck was wrong with me? I had a dream job in the best club in D.C. doing what I loved. As the shibarist, I got paid to do what a lot of men just dreamed about. Tying women up, taking away their very ability to move, allowing them to give up all control was a wet-dream come true. And not just women… beautiful women who found great pleasure in submission. And yet, for some reason, I wasn’t experiencing the satisfaction I normally did. And it wasn’t because I couldn’t see a vast number of potential participants milling around.
The club was already buzzing with excitement as the time drew nearer for the wheel’s first spin. Servers were weaving in and out of the crowd. It seemed that voyeurism required a healthy appetite as finger foods were snatched off silver trays as quickly as the hors d'oeuvres were offered. The club’s strict rule of two drinks per member had been stretched for this evening in honor of the party. Anyone not participating in the event were allowed a bit more leeway. From the laughter I heard and the flush on people’s faces I could see, those people who’d forked over money to attend were enjoying the champagne being poured as they waited for the fun to begin. You could practically feel the air crackling with expectation.
I’d arrived early in or
der to make sure I’d not be scrambling later in case the ball a submissive would drop landed on rope play. Suspension was not something to fool around with. A bit of bondage, a rope around wrists or legs to bind a submissive was one thing. Using ropes to actually suspend them above the floor required practice, patience and skill. Safety was vital. Making sure the binds and the knots used would not interfere with a sub’s circulation was critical. My job was to provide the submissive with an experience that allowed them to relax… well, as much as it would be possible since they’d most likely be not only naked, but awaiting to be used by their dom for the evening. As I drew lengths of rope between my hands, instinctively checking for the least bit of imperfection in the jute, I realized my mind was not on just some possible sub arriving at my station. No, it was on the woman who had just entered the club.
Marty was not easy to miss in any room. It wasn’t just her height; it was her very spirit. She had an easy laugh, a love of life, and a willingness to try anything once attitude. All of which should have made her a very good submissive. But, she also had an unfailing need to control. I couldn’t remember how many times I’d witnessed some poor schmuck walking away from her with a look of bewilderment all over his face. Having approached the woman as a dom, they had to be wondering what the hell had happened when they found themselves acquiescing to all of her demands instead of reveling in the pleasure of her following their commands.
I wasn’t unaware of the fact that she believed she wanted to play with me. She’d dropped enough hints, had batted those long lashes over eyes of jade green, had flirted, made suggestions, even tossed out a few dares. But I wasn’t some dom wannabe. I had no interest in playing with a top. I was the top. But, I also wasn’t blind. Allowing my eyes to slowly roam up and down Marty’s body, I could feel my cock stiffening. She looked fucking hot. In a sea of red, white, and pink, she wore black. Whatever she’d done to her hair had it shimmering where the curls laid over her shoulders. Her breasts pushed against the bodice of her dress, just begging to be released. And those legs? God, they went on for miles. The artist in me couldn’t help but picture those firm thighs wrapped in jute, spread open to invite a man to step between them. I could visualize her head thrown back, those long, thick tresses flowing like molten mercury towards the floor, her mouth opening to beg for permission to worship my cock.
Grinning, I shook my head. No, not likely. If Marty’s mouth was open, she’d be giving suggestions on how to tweak a knot, adjust a piece of rope, change the width of her spread legs, or the angle from which she hovered suspended over the floor. I had absolutely no doubt that unless her mouth was full of a ball gag, Marty would do what she always did… she’d top from the bottom. Hell, I remembered once threatening her with that very thing… gagging her and what had her reply been? She’d suggested I make sure the ball was red so it would match the color of the new sexy panties she’d purchased.
Fuck. All that did was make me question what color panties she was wearing beneath that black sheath. A thought I didn’t need to be having. Giving her a single nod of my head to let her know I saw her, I turned away. I might have the patience to spend an hour binding a submissive, but I sure as shit didn’t have the patience to break her of a habit I’d advised her against on countless occasions. She was a beautiful woman, a tremendous tax accountant, a loyal friend to my brother’s wife, fun to tease, a great person to have a conversation with or participate in a heated debate, an entertaining dinner companion, but as far as being a submissive… she failed miserably. Glancing over the crowd again, I couldn’t help but wonder who would discover for themselves that Marty’s one flaw was that the poor girl just didn’t have it in her to give up control.
“You keep stroking that rope like that and people are gonna wonder if you’re thinking about tying a noose around their necks.”
I snapped my head up to see Dillon with a grin on his lips. “Very funny,” I said. “Hey, Charlie. I still wonder how someone as sweet and gorgeous as you puts up with my baby brother.”
“Hi, Owen,” Charlie said, stepping into my arms when I spread them to give her a hug. “Isn’t this exciting?”
“You’d think Charlie has never been in the club before. It’s all she’s been talking about for weeks,” Dillon said.
“Hey, it may be old hat to you two, but this will be my first Roulette party. I can’t wait to see who spins who.”
Dillon chuckled, pulling his wife closer to his side as if to make damn sure everyone knew she belonged to him. “What she really means is she can’t wait to watch all the scenes that the wheel will have being performed.”
I watched as Charlie slapped at her husband’s arm, a move that would have most submissives getting their asses swatted in return. But Dillon only grinned and bent to kiss the top of head. I shook my head. “You’re getting soft, bro. Letting her slug you like that. What sort of example is that for all the other doms in the place?”
Dillon wasn’t fazed by my comment. He just grinned wider and said, “Since when do you worry about what a dom thinks?” He glanced towards the bar and continued. “I think the man doth protest too much.” His gaze returned to me. “I think what you meant was how a submissive might view it… and not just any submissive, but one particular one.”
I continued to coil the rope I was holding, it having passed the safety inspection I’d required. “It’s not a submissive’s job to set the example… it’s her dom’s duty.”
“Sure it is,” Dillon said, a cocky grin still on his face. “And it’s a dom’s duty to be strong enough to take control even when it’s a battle.”
Not wanting to hear any more, I stepped away to place the coiled rope on a shelf, selecting another length to examine. From the corner of my eye, I saw the participants in tonight’s event begin gathering around the raised platform… the doms and dommes lining up to the left, the submissives gathering at the bottom of the steps. “You’d better grab a table. Looks like Chase is about to start.”
Charlie bounced on her feet. “I can’t wait to see who gets Marty. God, doesn’t she look great?”
I wasn’t a liar. “Yeah, she does.”
“I hope she gets someone wonderful. She deserves the very best partner. She’s been so excited about tonight.”
It was as if Marty knew she was being discussed. I watched as she turned and gave a little wave, her face beaming. Charlie waved back and I nodded. “I just hope she waits a bit before emasculating the poor bastard.”
Who knew I was also so forgiving? Charlie’s smack of my arm and her, “Hey, be nice. She’s your friend!” didn’t have me warning her to behave or demanding my brother teach his sassy little sub a lesson in respect. Instead, I watched Dillon shoot me a glance and another annoying grin, before leading his wife a short distance away.
As Chase and Emma climbed the stairs, the submissives suddenly stood a bit taller, the audience growing quieter, the tension in the air growing thicker. I stood there, forming knots with the rope in my hands, wondering if this night was ever going to end.
Chapter 3
Marty
This was it! Chase and Emma had given the welcoming speech, explaining a bit about the process, and then Chase had gotten the non-Male/female couples all paired off. He then had the doms choose their order numbers. Finally, the first dom stepped forward from the long line, and all eyes had watched him drop the ball he’d accepted from Chase into the spinning wheel. Roulette Redux had officially begun. Even before the pairing had begun, there had been a bit of excitement when a woman gasped loudly, drawing attention to the fact that one of tonight’s subs had just fainted. Poor thing. I could totally understand. Last year I’d felt a bit faint myself. We might be submissives, but, by God, we were human and with all the build-up, the anticipation of the unknown, who could blame a girl?
As the wheels spun again and again, the submissives in the group around me grew fewer. Lined up behind Chase and Emma were the pairings who had already had their turn. I only gave them the briefe
st glance. I wasn’t interested in who had a partner… I was only concerned about those men who remained unpaired. I’d felt my stomach clench each time a dom dropped a ball, my breath held as the wheel spun, only to be released when a name other than mine was announced.
Last year I’d been won by Antonio Stavros, the heir to an exclusive Greek hotel dynasty. Tony was a pretty boy, an ex-model, extremely wealthy, and very sweet. We’d become friends, but to be honest, I’d not come away feeling like it had been the most amazing experience of my life. Tonight I was hoping for something different. I couldn’t help but glance to my left. Owen stood, legs apart, a look on his face I couldn’t quite decipher. What I did know was that watching his large hands working a rope had my panties dampening. I’d always wanted to experience shibari and tonight would be the perfect time to do so. I might not be paired with the dom I’d craved, but I’d be at his station.
“Oh, God, he’s enormous,” a tiny woman standing next to me murmured. Glancing from her to the stage, I watched as a man stepped forward to join Chase at the wheel. He was the total opposite of Tony. Instead of dark, this man was blond. And instead of a lithe model’s physique, this man was huge and tall. I couldn’t help but smile. If I was his lucky draw, there would be no need to fabricate an excuse to remove the Jimmy Choos for which I’d shelled out a large sum of money. I was mesmerized as the wheel rotated again and again. The small sphere of the ball seemed to defy gravity, taking forever to fall from the dom’s hand to begin hopping about inside the wheel. After a lifetime, I saw a smile on Emma’s face as she looked directly at me. I didn’t have to wait for Chase to announce my name. I knew exactly what name the ball had come to rest on.
“Marty, would you please join us on stage?” Chase asked.
I most certainly will, I wanted to say, but kept my thoughts silent as I climbed the few steps necessary to take my place.