Safeword: Matte - In Training

by Candace Blevins

  “Nothing is ever certain in life. Ethan could get run over by a truck, or the two of you might decide five years from now it isn’t working out. I don’t think either is likely, but you never know.”

  Sam thanked the bartender for her drink and downed most of it in one go. “Okay, miss therapist, you’re good. When I consider the alternative, I realize I don’t want to have sex with anyone but Ethan. God, the thought of something happening to him is terrifying. We thought Dana and Garnet were forever, and he died so suddenly. Shit, Kirsten, what if I decide I can’t live without him and then I have to?”

  “Then you’ll grieve for a while, and then pick yourself up and figure out how to do it by yourself again.”

  “I’m beginning to realize why the tradition is to take the bride and groom out and get them shit-faced the night before. I think I danced my buzz off.”

  Kirsten motioned for the bartender to bring them more drinks, and then cut her eyes until she found Kent on the dance floor. He looked at her almost the instant she found him, and Sam wondered how that worked. Did bodyguards have some kind of sixth sense they opened when they were on guard? Kirsten circled her finger in the air, and Kent nodded and leaned in to speak into Dana’s ear, then Viv’s.

  Kirsten swapped the empty drink in Sam’s hand for a full one and said, “Drink up and we’re headed to the next place. We have a section reserved for us there, and I intend to get you so drunk we have to carry you out.”

  Sam nodded, reached for the straw with her tongue, and sucked the entire glass down. “That’s what good friends are for, right? Thanks Kirsten, I’m not sure what I’d do without you.”

  “Right back atcha.” Kirsten downed her drink, and the two women walked out arm in arm.

  Kent was still inside, and Sam slowed as they hit the cool, clear air outside. “I bet the limo’s locked.”

  Kirsten pulled a key-fob from her pocket, pushed the button, and the lights on the limo blinked once. “No problem. Why didn’t you invite any of your work friends?”

  “For the same reason I didn’t invite any of my cousins, or Ethan’s family. I knew we’d screw up and talk like submissives at some point. Cassie can handle it okay, and the others who aren’t in the lifestyle will think we’re just being silly.”

  “I like Cassie, and I think she and Heather have hit it off, too.”

  “Makes sense, Heather’s not as into martial arts as Cassie and I, but she has a black belt in judo. Where are we headed next?”

  Kirsten shook her head. “Not telling you, but you might want some more eyeliner for this place. And maybe just a touch more blush.” She reached for her makeup bag and started applying it as the door opened and the limo filled with Sam’s friends once again.

  “So, is this the last place we’re going? It’s got to be going on midnight by now, right?”

  “It’s a little after eleven. We aren’t due at the next place until eleven-thirty, but we should be fine arriving early. I’ll text Jay and let him know we’re on the way.”

  As the limo neared The Diamond Club, Sam began to understand why Ethan said it’d be okay for her to get a little frisky while she danced. The place was absolutely decadent. It’d been an underground establishment in Chattanooga for decades, with no sign and no advertisement other than word of mouth, in order to keep the City Fathers from closing it down. These days there was a tiny sign by the door, but as far as she knew, still no advertising.

  She was a little shocked the place had survived in bass-ackwards Chattanooga, where the government made it practically impossible for any store to survive if they so much as carried dildos and vibrators.

  Kent didn’t pull up to the door to let them out here, he told them he’d park and they could all walk in together. It would be packed with wall to wall bodies inside, so she didn’t blame him for wanting them to stay together until they hit the dance area.

  “Does the drag show still start at twelve-thirty?” Sam asked.

  “Yes,” said Kimber, one of her youngest friends. “We’ll have an hour and a half to be naughty.”

  “And then as long as we want after the show,” added Viv.

  The staff had cleared three tables at one end of the balcony by the time they arrived, and Sam felt a bit guilty walking in and sitting when she knew how hard these tables were to come by. She ordered two Jack and Cokes, and enjoyed them both as she took in the dancers below and people watched. When both drinks were gone she made her way to the nearest spiral staircase and joined the dancers. It didn’t take long before the music took her body, and she ground against people as they came to her. She didn’t let any one person stick around too long before she moved onto the next, but enjoyed the general sexual energy of the first level.

  She’d been dancing a while with a beautiful blonde she was certain had a cock taped down under her miniskirt, when she turned away and faced a tall, muscled guy.

  And froze as she took in the image of Francisco dressed as a Dom and dry-humping a shirtless man in a collar, and her eyes followed the leash as it trailed from the submissive man’s collar to Frisco’s hand.

  Sam’s thoughts flew to her conversation with Frisco on the bridge months ago, when he hinted he understood the way she looked at Ethan, as if he recognized Sam and Ethan’s D/s dynamic. She only stood still a minute before she picked up the dance again, and gave Francisco an evil smile. “This explains so much. God, I think I love you even more. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  She had to yell to be heard, but Francisco only reached for her hand and walked her to the outer section, where it was quieter and they could talk.

  “Promise you won’t tell anyone else, Chica?”

  “Cassie’s here, she’s bound to see, and you can’t ask me to keep anything from Ethan. He won’t think less of you though, Frisco. Can I talk to your boy?”

  Sam didn’t know if he was slave or submissive, so calling him boy seemed safest. He stood with his hands at the small of his back and his eyes focused near Sam’s feet.

  Francisco nodded and tapped the boy’s foot as he said, “At ease.”

  He was a few inches shorter than Francisco, and very thin with incredibly wiry, ripped muscles. Sam wanted to run her hand across his abs, but refrained. When he looked up, Sam could see he was far into his headspace, fully into his submission.

  “My name’s Sam. I’m a submissive to my fiancé, and I’m getting married tomorrow. Please don’t feel ill at ease around me, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. What’s your name?”

  He glanced at Francisco for approval before answering, “Cameron, ma’am.”

  “Hello, Cameron, it’s nice to meet you. I can see how happy you are belonging to my friend; I’ll let you sink back into your happy place now.”

  He nodded and looked back down, and Sam eyed Francisco. “Sub or slave?” She didn’t feel uncomfortable talking about Cameron as if he weren’t there, now that she’d seen the look in his eyes.

  “His contract says slave, but he leans towards pet, I think.”

  “Sounds serious?”

  He shook his head. “I’m training him. He’s renting the room over the garage for a year, though when he isn’t in school or at work, he’s usually in the house with me. When his year’s up I’ll help him find a Master.”

  “How long has he been with you?”

  “Four months. He tries hard and he’s learning well. He has a ways to go, but he’s a good boy.”

  “But. I’ve seen you with…” Sam stopped, as she didn’t know if Francisco would want Cameron to know he dated girls.

  “Yes, I date girls. But I was brought up to believe women are to be treasured and romanced. I don’t get rough with them.” He slapped Cameron’s ass. “Men, on the other hand, can take what I need to give.”

  Sam raised her eyes in surprise, unsure how to respond. Francisco had never treated her as ‘less than’ because she’s a girl, and had never taken it easy on her when they sparred
.

  “I don’t circulate in the hetero lifestyle groups,” Francisco said, “but I asked around about Ethan after I saw you looking at him like…” He shook his head. “Ethan’s known for being a sadist, but I’m assuming that’s what you were looking for, since you’re marrying him?”

  “Yeah.” Sam smiled, a little shy to be admitting it to her friend, even though he was holding his submissive’s leash. “He’s perfect for me.”

  “I’m happy for you, Chica.”

  “Sam!” cried Cassie, as she and Heather came out of the bathroom. “We didn’t know where you’d—” She stopped and stared as she came near. “Francisco?”

  Sam introduced Heather to Francisco and Cameron, and then Cassie to Cameron, adding, “She works out with Frisco and me. We’re all friends.”

  “Why is your friend on a leash, Francisco?” asked Cassie.

  Frisco looked to Sam for help and she answered, “Because it seems the big flirt has a kinky side. Who knew? Oh, and before you ask, he’s bi, so the flirting isn’t all an act.”

  “Oh, well, do you want to come dance with us? Is it okay to dirty dance with us girls while you’re on a date with a guy, or do you have to, I dunno, be one or the other?”

  Francisco smiled and reached to unfasten Cameron’s leash. “You are to stay within eyesight, you don’t eat or drink anything unless I hand it to you, and you will make all of the women I’m with feel beautiful.”

  “Yes, Sir. I understand.”

  Frisco patted his cheek in approval and Sam asked, “Can we touch him while we dance?”

  “You, my dear,” Frisco said with an evil smile, “may touch him anywhere you wish, as long as it won’t get him beat up by Ethan.”

  “I have permission to feel someone up on the dance floor, and to kiss.”

  Cassie poked her in the arm. “Permission? Seriously?”

  “We’re getting married tomorrow. I wouldn’t do that sort of thing unless he was okay with it…so yeah. Permission.”

  Cassie tilted her head and said, “It makes sense when you put it that way, but why not just say he said you could? Or he’s okay with it if you do? Saying he gave you permission sounds like he owns your or something.”

  She hadn’t intended to get into this with Cassie, but Frisco was out of the closet and she wanted to make him feel a little less awkward, so she said, “Well, maybe Francisco isn’t the only one with a hidden kinky side.”

  Without waiting for Cassie’s reaction, she reached for Cameron’s belt loop and tugged him with her as she walked back to the dance floor. “You’re coming with me, Cameron. You looked like you knew what you were doing on the dance floor earlier.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  As the night progressed, the dance floor grew more crowded until it was literally a writhing mass of glistening bodies moving to the music. Sam was felt up, and she felt others up, and it was all good. Cameron seemed to have a ring on under his jeans to keep him hard, and she was pretty sure he’d been ordered not to come, so she took it easy on him, but Frisco wasn’t so nice when he fondled the man. She could tell Cameron loved it though, and was a little jealous she didn’t have Ethan around to torture her as well.

  She loved belonging to him, and couldn’t wait to marry him tomorrow. Or was it today? Yeah, probably today by now.

  Large men began pulling stage props towards the dance floor, and she dragged Cameron and Francisco upstairs to wait for the show to start as the lights came on and the announcer requested the floor be cleared.

  Sam timed it perfect to get a drink at the upstairs bar, and took her seat as the lights dimmed and the show began.

  One of the first performers was the beautiful blonde she’d danced with, and Sam smiled as she realized she’d been right. The blonde hadn’t been over-the-top with the makeup or clothes earlier, but wore an evening gown and a helluva lot of makeup on stage. She was beautiful though, and Sam found herself attracted to her in an odd sort of way.

  Towards the end of the show the announcer started talking about someone there to celebrate their last night of freedom, and Kirsten stood and pulled Sam towards the steps. “This is you, Sam. C’mon, let’s go have a little fun.”

  Sam’s brow wrinkled, but she was toasted just enough to keep from arguing, and allowed Kirsten and Kent to walk her down the steps and to the dance floor.

  They sat her in a furred, wavy lounge chair, and a half-dozen gorgeous drag queens and muscle bound men stripped to g-strings and — in the case of the drag queens — corsets or bras, all in a writhing mass of beautiful bodies around her.

  As one of the muscle bound men leaned over to run his hands from her shoulders to her knees, she asked, “Any rules against my touching you?”

  “Oh, Princess. Please do.”

  He stood and she gently ran her nails up his thighs, over the hard length under his thong, and over rippled abs. The audience went crazy and it only fueled her on.

  Several others began stroking her, and she relaxed and let the hands do what they wanted.

  “We have it on good authority,” said the announcer, “that her fiancé is fine with her feeling others up, being felt up over her clothes, and kissing, but apparently doesn’t want her having any orgasms without him around.” He chuckled. “Generous of him, eh?”

  The crowd laughed and the beautiful blonde bent to her ear. “Don’t worry, beautiful, we’ll take you to the edge without pushing you over. When we’re done, the entire room will know you need to come in the worst sort of way, but won’t be able to until your new husband finally gives you relief tomorrow night.”

  The six of them worked well as a team as they pushed her to the edge of a climax, let her back away, and took her to the brink again. No one stroked under her clothes, but hands covered her body, and people occasionally laid over her and pantomimed fucking her in slow motion.

  The cheers and whoops of the audience faded to background music as Sam became lost in the sensations.

  The largest man lifted her and slow danced her around the stage, handed her off to another overly muscled man, who handed her off to the beautiful blonde drag queen she’d danced with earlier.

  Sam’s arms were comfortable around the other woman’s neck, and in her buzzed haze, she realized the breasts she was leaning into were real under the corset top. She realized she was staring at them and lifted her eyes to see a humorous smirk. “Even the women want to stare at them. It’s okay sugar.” The smirk faded to gentle curiosity. “Have you ever kissed a woman before?”

  Sam nodded. “Yeah, but not a—” She stopped, suddenly unsure of whether to say drag queen, or transgender, or something else entirely. Thinking fast, she said, “gender flexible woman.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed for a brief moment before lighting up with happiness and laughter, and a beautifully manicured nail brushed an escaped wisp of hair back as dark red lips met Sam’s.

  The kiss was feminine with a hint of masculine, the hand at the back of her head unquestionably dominant, and only the approving roar of the spectators reminded Sam they had an audience.

  The deejay welcomed everyone back to the dance floor, and bodies joined them as they danced. The music sped up, the beat practically oozing of rough sex, and the bodies around them pumped and ground into one another in time to the music.

  When one song ended and another began, Sam reached for the blonde’s hand and pulled her off the floor. She looked for Kent, saw him watching her, and motioned towards the lobby area to let him know where she was headed. He nodded and moved towards the stairs, and Sam led the blonde to an area quiet enough for conversation.

  “I’m Sam.”

  “I’m Tara, darlin’. Why did you bring me out here?”

  Her voice didn’t sound masculine, which meant she was likely on hormones and headed towards surgery, if she hadn’t already had the surgery. Sam stayed away from the woman’s gender status though, and said what she’d come out to say.

  “I know this place doesn’t really requi
re you to get to know the people you get close to on the dance floor, but…” She stopped, suddenly unsure of herself, but Tara mercifully picked up the conversation.

  “You’re getting married tomorrow; you’re supposed to just be enjoying yourself tonight. Aren’t you? One last fling of freedom?”

  Sam laughed. “Yes, but that’s not the point.” She shrugged. “I’m attracted to you, but I don’t want to have sex with you. It’s an odd attraction; one I’m not sure how to explain.”

  Tara rolled her eyes and her chuckle gave the first hint of masculinity Sam had heard. “Well, the feeling is certainly mutual.” Her voice was back to a normal woman’s voice, it’d just been the chuckle that sounded off. “I haven’t been attracted to a woman in more than a decade, but I find myself wishing my cock still worked when I’m holding you in my arms.” She shook her head as she ran a delicate, perfectly manicured finger over the muscles on Sam’s arms. “Maybe it’s because you aren’t soft like most women. Maybe it’s the muscles? I can’t explain it.”

  Curiosity finally got the better of her and Sam asked, “So, I said gender flexible because I wasn’t sure of your exact status. I take it you’re headed towards surgery, then?”

  Tara smiled. “You’re a smart little cookie, aren’t you? Yes, my cock doesn’t work because of the hormones. And since we’re analyzing each other, do you consider yourself slave or submissive?”

  “Submissive.” Sam laughed. “Which means I was right about you being dominant, and might explain our attraction to each other.”

  “Yes,” the beautiful blonde mused. “It could. If you tell me you’re a masochist, it may just be more than I can handle, knowing you’re off limits and all.”

  “Well then, I won’t tell you how much I enjoy pain. Instead, I’ll tell you I think you’re beautiful.”

  “Oh, Sugar, thank you for that. I saw it in your eyes earlier, but a girl can never hear it too much, you know?” Somehow, Tara managed flamboyant without going overboard.

  Sam smiled. “I’ve always hated being told I’m beautiful, and yet when Ethan tells me, I melt inside.”

  “Ethan’s your Master?”