Why, Davis wondered, did he feel as if he’d just won a prize? He’d been a member of Club Azar for seven years, and had been a Dominant for nearly twice that long. He’d participated in every aspect of BDSM that interested him and had past involvements with a number of submissive women. None of those involvements had started the way this one had. First time for everything he supposed, but it didn’t make Imanya any less intriguing. He wanted to know more.
“What would you think about joining me in one of the private chambers?” Davis suggested. “I can give you a brief tour of the club and then we can head upstairs for a while. We can get better acquainted and I want to know about your special situation. Would you consent to that?”
“Yes, Sir. I’d like that.” He was impressed by her respectful answer. She held out her hand. Her touch was cool when he grasped her fingers but she rose gracefully and walked ahead of him until reaching the door. It gave Davis the opportunity to observe her and he liked what he was seeing. She walked confidently, with her head held high, and not at all submissively. Her bearing was fluid, natural and feminine without a hint of an exaggerated sway of her hips.
She stopped at the door, apparently waiting for his guidance, although he sensed it was because she wasn’t certain which way to go rather than a gesture of submission. It felt appropriate and natural when he took her hand, the same hand still wearing the “off-limits” wrist band, and led her down a grand staircase.
Imanya wasn’t the most stunning woman he’d ever seen but she was attractive and had an elegance that made heads turn. Wearing silver heels that must have been at least four inches high, she descended the carpeted steps regally and without hesitation.
Davis felt as if he was in the company of the rarest of the species; that often mentioned yet rarely seen woman who honestly didn’t know how attractive she was. It was the first time he’d been in the presence of someone who made him feel the way he was feeling. How was he feeling? Not an easy question to answer. He was accustomed to being in control and Imanya had him a little off balance. Could he trust his own instincts and people reading skills? His impression was that she was submissive, yet also self-assured and vulnerable; an interesting combination.
The lower level of Club Azar was devoted to the members who indulged in all forms of pleasure and pain, often at the same time. He brought her here first to gauge her level of shock and tolerance, to make his own judgments, to see if she was as genuine as she presented herself.
“Have you ever been to a BDSM club?” As each minute passed, he found himself more intrigued by her.
“I have, although it’s been a while. My first time was intimidating but the gentleman I was with was truly a gentleman in every sense of the word. He was an excellent guide and never pushed past my limits. He wasn’t angry when I told him the club scene wasn’t especially appealing.”
“What don’t you like about it?” Davis was interested in her response. She seemed comfortable and relaxed in the environment. If she had once been intimidated, it was clearly in the past.
“I suppose the concept of traditional relationships is a little out of place at Club Azar and maybe I’m old fashioned but I prefer one-on-one situations,” was her candid response. “I respect those who have the desire to share or be used but the idea of being put on display or passed around like a bowl of pretzels is very impersonal. It strengthens their bond when a woman knows she’s treasured by a man whether that woman is his girlfriend, wife, or submissive.” She turned to face Davis and he saw the sparkle had returned. “That goes both ways, of course. A submissive enjoys the idea of serving her Dominant but I also like the idea of treasuring a man and making him feel important because I care for him on levels other than pure submission. Dominants care for their partners and it’s important for me to take the time to get to know the man I’m involved with so I can read his moods and give him equal care.”
She certainly knew all the right answers. They stopped at a scene. A woman with jet-black hair was splayed across a bench, moaning as a shirtless man vigorously administered a thick leather covered cane to her bare ass and thighs. Someone was keeping track of the number of strokes and every so often he’d stop and massage oil into the woman’s bruised skin. Davis was alert to any negative reaction from Imanya but her expression remained passively interested as they watched the ritual.
After a few minutes, he guided her along, through a maze of smaller rooms with male and female slaves being flogged with whips while chained to walls, St. Andrew’s Crosses, or a variety of Medieval-looking furniture. The cries of anguish and groans of desire echoed through the space as Davis and Imanya continued on to an expansive dungeon-like setting with a large wooden wheel affixed to the center of the room. A naked man was trussed and chained to the spokes, his tormentors taking turns prodding him with violet wands as the wooden device spun at various speeds, sometimes almost too fast to make contact, sometimes nearly at a standstill allowing everyone present to apply a touch. The sight made her flinch, although the reaction appeared more from the intense speed of the spinning wheel than any form of contact.
Finally they reached a mostly deserted, quiet area; an intersection of sorts. “If we follow that passage,” Davis told her as he indicated a dimly lit hallway to the left, “there’s an assortment of other themed rooms. Some are exclusively for bondage and suspension. There’s also a stainless steel, medical exam room with trays of instruments and enema hook-ups. One of the more popular locations is an old-fashioned school room with a teacher’s desk, several student desks and more canes and leather paddles than one can count.” He nodded towards a narrow passage with brighter lights. “That leads to a bank of elevators which will take us up to the private chambers. Would you like to see more of the club or are you ready to get better acquainted?”
He saw arousal stirring in her green eyes along with that other expression, the one he had yet to interpret. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation when she spoke. “I’d like to get better acquainted. And, Sir…?” Davis had immediately turned toward the hall leading to the elevators but looked back when he heard the questioning tone in her voice. Imanya didn’t sound submissive but almost slightly shy as she continued speaking. “Thank you, Sir, for asking and giving me the choice.”
He lightly squeezed her hand and led her straight to the wood paneled elevator which they rode in silence, emerging when they reached the fourth floor. Davis used an electronic key card to gain access to a room at the end of the hallway, pushed open the door, and then stepped back to allow her to enter ahead of him.
Club Azar’s private chambers resembled rooms in exclusive high-end hotels and were classified by color using the tried and true red-yellow-green system. Red and yellow rooms were reserved for those individuals heavily into the BDSM lifestyle. They were furnished accordingly and used by Masters, Dominants and their partners who truly understood and wanted the full pain and kink experiences. The green chambers were for newcomers to the club and for those more interested in finding pleasure in fun sexual activities and mildly erotic pain. Davis preferred the green rooms.
Every aspect of the club was designed to allow its members and their guests to safely and discreetly indulge in any activities or fantasies that met their needs. Safety mattered and emergency staff was available at all times, only as far away as the panic buttons located in all the lower level play rooms and every chamber. Professional and personal security was a high priority.
For Davis, Imanya was still an interesting mystery and he knew nothing about her levels of submission or tolerance regarding pleasure and pain. Actually – he knew almost nothing about her at all, and that only added to the intrigue. She certainly wasn’t like any submissive he’d ever encountered. So far, she’d been the one in complete control of their meeting but at the same time she’d been unfailingly respectful and had given almost perfect responses. Were the responses too perfect? He still had quite a few questions and maybe it was finally time for some answers.
She st
ood silently, just inside the door, eyes lowered, awaiting his instructions. Davis wanted to know everything but he started with a simple directive to put her at ease although he had a feeling that he was more nervous than she was. It had been his intention to ask if she wanted a drink but he decided to simply take control and poured her a glass of white wine. He handed it to her and she politely murmured her thanks.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he stated, indicating a seating area with a cushioned love seat and two chairs. Again he noted her graceful movements and the refined way she sat. He had noted the color of her dress while they were still in the club lounge and now he could see the dark blue had small shots of silver running through it. He wasn’t an expert in women’s clothing but the garment, although extremely short, fit her to perfection. Clearly she knew how to dress to impress.
Davis settled directly across from her, watching as she took miniscule sips of the wine and feeling slightly juvenile as he attempted to catch a glimpse of what was under the dress. Was she wearing panties? What color were they? Was her pussy bare, wet, ready and waiting to be used? He wasn’t prepared to concede that they were playing a game but, if they were, Imanya was winning. She knew exactly how to sit in the short dress and if he wanted his questions answered, he was going to have to discover all her secrets for himself. He was ready and willing to play. She appeared ready but was she willing? Time to find out.
He had used the chamber rooms on many occasions and this was one of his favorites. The interior wasn’t overly bright but had just the right amount of subdued and shadowy light to see what was happening without feeling as though spotlights were everywhere. The predominant color was a nondescript tone, a cross somewhere between beige and grey that resembled the shaded look of driftwood. Accent pieces were green and almost an exact match to the smoky color of her eyes.
The lower level playrooms were designed for fantasy, discipline or entertainment and most had the typical themes one would expect in a BDSM club but there was nothing gimmicky about the chambers. This room was large and uncluttered. Everything it contained was functional. The bed was oversized but didn’t crowd the space. The padded discipline bench in the corner was adjustable and could be easily reconfigured to suit a variety of needs. He had seated himself in one of the overstuffed chairs which could be used to administer firm spankings or where one could be the very contented recipient of multiple blow jobs.
Imanya continued to play the part of the perfect submissive, sitting silently with her eyes lowered. Davis was impressed by her self-control, surprised she wasn’t showing some curiosity by looking around the space. If she had, she would have seen the built-in cupboards filled with all the standard implements, toys and things like ankle and wrist cuffs and restraints. She would have seen the oversized hooks attached to the ceiling beams and the eyebolts embedded in the bedframe. She also would have seen his very obvious erection outlined under his jeans.
Everything about the room met his needs and he wondered what her reaction would be to his use of a paddle or leather strap against her skin. He knew they were available but he actually preferred to use his hand, liking the feel of bare skin, liking it even more when he could determine the level of heat rising from whoever happened to be across his lap. It all added to his need and desire for control and, at that moment, the person he wanted and needed to control was Imanya.
“Stand up!” He barked the order at her. If he was expecting ambivalence, he was disappointed. She quickly placed her wine glass on the table next to the love seat and stood in front of him, her eyes looking down. “Imanya, you’re still wearing the ‘off-limits’ wrist band so this is your opportunity to change your mind. If you wish to remain here, remove it.” Davis was more than pleased at her rapid response and at how quickly she dropped the wristlet on the table.
“Remove your dress.” There wasn’t an iota of demurral as she reached to unzip the back, taking only a moment to step out of it, folding it neatly before placing it on the seat she had vacated.
At last he had the answer to his earlier question. Her panties and bra were dark blue, nearly the same shade as her dress, and were satiny smooth, devoid of any frills or decoration. She really didn’t need any embellishments.
His curiosity stirred. Was anyone this perfect? Imanya wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous but her body proved she was a regular visitor to one of the local gyms. Her dark hair, green eyes, and her regal bearing were all sensual and inviting. He liked what he saw.
Davis still wanted to know everything about her, especially those unique circumstances she had mentioned but, for some reason, he also felt compelled to tell her about himself. “Imanya, so far, I’m impressed with you although I have to wonder why you don’t have a Dominant or Master in your life. Clearly you’ve been well trained so where is the person who trained you and why aren’t you with him? Before you answer, I want to tell you a little more about me and what I’ll expect from you.” He couldn’t resist a small poke and was rewarded with the tiniest of smiles, “Unless your instincts have already told you what I’m about to say?”
He paused briefly to observe her reaction. She seemed to be listening. Was she really? It was time to show off his own people-reading ability.
He let her wait a few more minutes before he continued. “I expect complete obedience unless you have a damned good reason for defiance. I will usually try to give you the chance to explain a transgression and, depending on how I feel, you might have the opportunity to make your excuses which may or may not be accepted. You were right earlier this evening when you seemed to know that I’m impatient but fair. Disobedience does mean punishment but I’m not into long and painful punishment sessions unless that’s something you truly need. Not every lesson is learned with pain and you were also right when you said I like to be creative. Creative punishments are usually a lot more fun and interesting for me. I hope you’ll feel the same. I don’t approve of public or private humiliation although I sense that isn’t a particular need of yours. You mentioned your preference for a one-on-one interaction and, rest assured, I have no intention of sharing you with anyone. I prefer monogamy in my relationships. Since you’ve already expressed your feelings about that, I’m presuming it won’t be a problem. I don’t require you to address me as Sir unless we are in play or disciplinary sessions. At the same time, you’ve easily relaxed into calling me by that title and I certainly don’t object. Remove your bra.”
He was almost shocked when she instantly reached up and unclasped her bra, pulling it off and placing it on top of her discarded dress. He had performed a rather lengthy monologue and she’d been listening to every word! Who the hell was this perfect woman and why did he suddenly feel as if he wasn’t good enough for her?
Standing in front of him, attired only in dark blue panties and silver heels, she made quite a charming picture. The shoes made her appear taller than she actually was although she seemed to be average in height. She was slender and her breasts were full but in absolute proportion to her shapely figure. From across the room he could see her nipples puckering. Chills? Arousal? He honestly wasn’t sure about her but Davis knew he was feeling both.
Before he got too distracted, he decided to continue his speech. “When we are out in public, I will always expect respect but I will give you the same. I will also expect you to behave in a dignified manner but I have a feeling that won’t be an issue.” He had to smile. “You don’t seem like the type to get falling-off-your-ass drunk and be dancing on tables.” He took another short break from his speech. Was she ready for another test?
He continued explaining what he wanted from her. “I haven’t examined every inch of your body but, so far, I don’t see any permanent marks or scars and, personally, I’d prefer to mark you figuratively and emotionally rather than literally. If we decide to take this to the next level, I’d like to eventually give you some sort of discreet and symbolic collar, which we can select together if you wish, and our private life is to remain private and exclusively bet
ween us. Remove your panties.”
And just like that … she did. One moment her panties were clinging to her slim hips and the next she was smoothly stepping out of them before placing them on the pile of clothes already on the chair. He had to give her high marks for paying attention.
Imanya appeared comfortable with her nudity as she stood just a few feet away from him, relaxed and not in any specific pose. Why wasn’t he surprised that her mound was waxed and completely free of hair, exactly as he would want it? Everything else about her was perfect so why would he expect anything less?
Davis couldn’t help but consider the realities of a true Dominant/submissive bond and how a large part of a Dom’s instincts were based on observation and the skill of reading another person. It wasn’t, he realized, an infallible system but there were times when he had a gut feeling about someone. This evening, he had a very powerful gut feeling about Imanya. He just wasn’t certain if it was desire or something else. If only he knew what ‘something else’ actually was.
Only a couple of hours earlier, he had walked into the Club Azar lounge expecting nothing and had been instantly captivated by this almost ethereal creature now standing naked and submissive before him. He wanted to control her, wanted to see her kneeling in front of him with her head bowed, waiting to serve and service him. He also wanted to bend her across his lap and inflict just enough erotic pain to make her ass glow and he wanted to follow it with so much sex they’d both want to sleep for a week.
And yet … he remained unsure. She was too good to be true, too perfect. What about her special requirements? What were they? In what way were they special? Could she be hiding something truly twisted and bizarre? Was she into something so horrific and perverse that no other Dominant wanted anything to do with her? His imagination was running in every possible direction.
Twist (A BDSM & Romantic Erotica Boxed Set) Page 12