by Cecilia Tan
“Quick,” he said then. “Before our food comes. Tell me one more thing we should know about how to be us.”
“Hm. I think we’re getting pretty good at being us as is.”
“Yes, but we’re still learning it. Come on, sweets. One more thing. First thing that comes into your head.”
The first thing was the one big thing we hadn’t talked about yet. It probably wasn’t a “quick” conversation, but I did as he asked and spat it out. “What happens the first time you command something I don’t want to do?”
“Have you forgotten already that you didn’t used to want to do anything I told you?” He chuckled.
“No, no; I mean what happens when it’s not just me resisting and needing to be pushed past my reluctance, and it’s actually me saying no. Like with Jill and Bry being like ‘no fucking way’ and then sometimes meaning it? I mean, with them they turn the tables and it works but that would never work for us.”
“True. Are you afraid if you refuse me the bubble will burst?”
“Daddy won’t be angry at his girl for defying him?”
“I keep telling you, Maddie, within the context of a scene, I don’t see disobedience as a failure. I won’t be disappointed in you, but you might be in yourself.”
“I guess.”
“Part of my job is trying to figure out how far I can push you without pushing you too far. But I don’t think you’re asking about the regular push and pull of power in a scene. I think you’re asking about what happens when I fuck up and guess wrong and ask you for something you flat out can’t or won’t do. Something that doesn’t just push your limits but crosses them somehow. You can use your warning word to give me a clue, first of all.”
“True. But what if you keep pushing?”
“Then it might be up to you to say, ‘Chino, don’t be an idiot.’ You have to not be afraid to slap me upside the head, even if it’s not something you think a good girl would do. A really good girl would keep her Daddy from making a huge mistake if she could. Like I said, I would like to think I’m a good enough dom we wouldn’t run into trouble, but I’m not such a fool as to think I’m perfect. We’re both capable of making mistakes and we share the responsibility if a scene goes wrong.”
“That…makes sense.” He was saying everything I wanted to hear, needed to hear. Did he know how good that made me feel? Like we had a partnership, not just a “relationship,” like we were really truly in it together. I felt like there was a bubble around us, a force field that kept the world at bay.
“In a perfect world we’d always be rational and logical. Of course while we’re playing logic goes out the window, but at least if we talk about it in advance we have less chance of really wrecking each other emotionally. Don’t you think?” He let out a groan as I concentrated my fingers squeezing the head and I felt a spot on his jeans getting damp.
“The important thing, if we have a wreck, is that we help put each other back together,” I said. The things we were saying were serious but I couldn’t help smiling given how good I felt about his words. And his cock under my fingers.
It pulsed as he said, “Remember I love you. And I want to do what I do to you because I love you. And if I hurt you, tell me, and we’ll figure out how to deal with it from there.”
“Okay, but likewise. Don’t turn into one of these doms who bottles everything up inside and makes the sub constantly guess what’s going on in there.”
Chino laughed. “Like Mal, you mean? Gwen is an expert at reading him, though. And you’re an expert at reading me, sweets. I’m just the large print edition. Easy to read.”
I grinned. I was so in love with this man. “Most of the time.”
The food arrived then and we moved on to more mundane topics but I felt like we were still so new that every conversation, every meal, every place we went and everything we did was all a part of us learning how to be us.
* * *
CHINO
We’d decided to take separate cars to the party, since Madison needed to go so much earlier to prep the place and so on, but I got restless sitting at home and wondering how much traffic there would be and the result was I got there more than an hour early. I parked my own car since Jamison wasn’t on valet duty yet, right next to Madison’s. Good thing, too, since her trunk wasn’t all the way shut. I made sure it was and then walked up the drive to the main door.
The sun hadn’t set yet as I rang the bell. I was surprised when Reeve and not Jamison opened the door. “Mr. Garcia, welcome. Nice to see you again.” His eyes were scanning around beyond me, though. Reeve always gave me the impression that he was actually a Terminator and not a human, but without the Arnold Schwarzenegger accent. At least he was on our side. “Did you walk up from the parking area?”
“I did.”
“Ah. You may have tripped a motion sensor. Lately there have been some coyotes setting them off, too. Some of them have been coming much closer to the house than they used to.”
“They come all the way into West Hollywood these days. I’m not surprised,” I said as I made my way past him into the foyer. “Should I go on down or do you think they’re still getting ready? I know I’m early.”
“If you’re not a hindrance to party prep, I’m sure your presence downstairs would be welcome.”
I chuckled. “I’ll stay out of the way. Promise.” Reeve seemed even more on alert than usual. Well, some heavy stuff might go down with Ricki confronting Schmitt tonight.
I tried to imagine being married to someone for decades and then divorcing them. Had his wife been unhappy the whole time or was it only after she found out what a hypocrite he was? Was it sudden or did the relationship erode from happy to hellish bit by bit? I thought about my own mother. She did it for us. I felt like an ungrateful heel, a rotten son.
Well, that was out there. In the dungeon I could be the Daddy of Madison’s dreams.
Reeve punched the four-digit code on the door to the downstairs for me and I sauntered down into the club, thinking that I was leaving the real world behind. With me and Madison, we could play anytime, anywhere, but parties were a kind of alternate reality. I felt almost like I was entering a ritual space. Changing my clothes only heightened that feeling, just like changing into my clothes for the stage. Sure, by the end of a show I often had almost nothing left of what I had put on to go out there, but the transition was still important. You prepare yourself to perform, to put yourself out there, and changing what you wear, putting on your makeup (if you do that sort of thing; I’ve been known to put some guyliner on, after all), all prepares you mentally even more than physically.
I’d always liked leather, even before I had a sexual association with it. Or maybe I always knew that association was there underneath and that was why I liked it even though I wasn’t totally aware that’s what it was. I changed from my jeans to a jock and leather chaps, left my shirt in a locker and put my jacket back on. A second skin.
I tried the door to the toilet from the changing room but it was locked. Bradley or someone must have been in there. I could hear Madison and Gwen’s voices as they prepped one of the playrooms. I wondered if Mal and Gwen would do a scene. They were always beautiful together, dark and light, fire and ice. Not as beautiful as Madison, though.
Maybe I’m biased.
I ended up sitting in the main social room on the couch facing the Catherine wheel. I’d pulled a book from the shelf but didn’t open it. I sat there thinking, just thinking. Here in this room, on that spot of wall right there, I’d captured the woman of my dreams. It felt like it was important we return here, to this spot, to cement it all in front of everyone. I’d told her if everyone was too freaked out over Schmitt maybe we’d stay low-key and save it for next month. But truthfully I didn’t want to wait for next month. I felt like with a BDSM relationship the private consummation and the public one were both equally significant. The whole band would be here tonight; Ford had promised he wouldn’t miss it if it meant a lot to me.
It definitely did, which was why it was important that we not try to do it in the middle of some kind of angst fest with Schmitt. We were going to be together forever; so if I had to wait a month, I could wait a month. Patience and biding my time until I had my chance had served me well before. If necessary, it would again.
Maybe I was more like my mother than I had realized. I just hoped I had made better choices than she did. The Virgin Mary’s message seemed to be glowing from my heart, though. Concentrate on love and all would be well.
Chapter Eighteen
MADISON
Chino startled me just before eight, when I went to make sure napkins and toothpicks were restocked behind the bar and I realized he was sitting on the couch. He was in black leather so he matched it, but still. “How long have you been there?”
“A while,” he said, a mischievous smirk on his face. “Everything going all right?”
“So far so good. No sign of Schmitt yet, though he’s usually one of the first guests here. Ricki’s waiting for him upstairs in her office.”
“Smart. No need to make a big to-do down here in front of everyone.” He beckoned and I went closer until he pulled me into his lap. “That’s my job.”
“Making a big to-do in front of everyone?”
“Pretty much. One way or the other.” He tucked a hand in the crook of my thigh under the leather tennis skirt I was wearing.
Sakura came in with her sometimes playdate Helene, the same one she’d brought to Palm Springs. They were quickly followed by Mal and Axel, and then a steady stream of other guests that kept me busy for a while—making sure everyone had drinks, helping with their corset laces, and so on. As the regular flow of a party got going I managed to forget all about Schmitt for a while. The rest of the guests didn’t know anything was up, of course, so they socialized and began to play as usual. The energy was high and people were having a good time.
“Maybe he’s not going to make it tonight,” Gwen said at one point when the party was in full swing. “You know who else isn’t here? The Palmers. And they haven’t missed a party in years and years.”
I leaned closer to her so she could hear me over the sounds of people being spanked and flogged, laughing, and the motor of the Rotorvator from down the hall. “Do you think someone could have tipped Schmitt off?”
Gwen shrugged. “I doubt it. I’m just sorry Ricki’s sitting upstairs waiting for him. She’s missing one of the best parties of the year. Oh, hey, don’t look now, but I think someone’s waiting for you.”
I turned to see what she was looking at and my heart jammed in my throat. Chino. He was standing next to the section of wall where we’d had our paddling scene, the same leather studded paddle in his hand. He was just standing there, hands clasped on the handle of the paddle, face impassive. Patient.
The world seemed to narrow to a tunnel running from me to him, all the noise becoming mere echoes, people fading to the background. He didn’t move, but it felt like he was beckoning me. He was obviously waiting.
My feet were moving almost before I could think about it, putting one foot in front of the other. He was wearing black leather and had put on leather gloves, making the paddle look almost like an extension of him. He was standing directly under one of the lights inset in the ceiling and his hair was as black and glossy as his jacket. He’d pulled it back into a small knot.
When I reached him he pointed to the familiar wall. I put my palms against it and imagined that I could feel the exact spot where they’d been a month ago when Chino had taken charge of my body and soul.
His gloved hand slipped under my skirt and rubbed my bare ass. “I thought we’d start with something familiar before we get into unfamiliar territory.”
I took a deep breath. “How unfamiliar?”
“I want you to prove yourself.”
“I like proving myself,” I said, wiggling my ass back against his caress.
“I know. So you won’t mind if the test is kind of hard.”
“What, like an essay question?”
He laughed. “No. I just mean challenging because it’ll be new territory. Daddy wants to find out how far his girl will go for him.”
Something clicked in the way he said that. “You mean, you’re going to push me to tell you to stop so you can find out where the limit is, not that you’re going to try to break the limit.”
I could feel him nodding, his nose in my hair before he answered. “Exactly. I’m not trying to break you, Maddie. You’re always a good girl for me, even when you’re naughty as hell. Who knows? Maybe I’ll reach my limit before you reach yours.”
“I’ll warn you, I’m willing to put up with a lot if it means your approval at the end.”
“Mmm, I have no doubt you’ll have that, sweets.” And with that he swatted me on the ass with his gloved hand. My skirt was somewhat in the way and he flipped it up and tucked the hem into the laces of my corset.
He warmed me up with a spanking, a harder one than usual; whether that was because of the leather glove or the excitement of being in the dungeon, I don’t know. I fell into a half trance as he beat me, the rhythm of his blows matching the pulsing techno currently playing on the sound system. I forgot about what was coming and sank into the moment, connected to him by his hand meeting my flesh again and again.
Then came the paddle. I was vaguely aware of a few cheers and whistles as he brandished it before the flat side came down on my rump. That thing stung! But the beating was arousing at the same time, not from the pain so much as the feeling that it was Chino administering it. My pussy grew swollen and wet as surely as if each swat were a gentle swipe along my clit. The feeling only intensified as he switched from paddling my backside to flogging my shoulders. Soon my shoulders were aglow to match my ass.
I felt the press of his body against mine then. He’d shed his jacket and I felt his skin against my back, the leather of his pants against my inflamed butt cheeks. “You ready for it to get tough?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I said without hesitation.
“You nervous?”
He was using that word as a signal, checking my temperature. “No, Daddy.” I was ready for anything.
“Good girl. Here we go.”
He stepped back and raised his voice. “Madison!”
I flinched at the accusing tone. “D-Daddy?”
“Look me in the eye when I’m talking to you.”
My heart rate zoomed like I was really in trouble, like I’d been caught red-handed at something. I turned slowly, barely daring to look up at his face.
He was trying to put on a stern look, but there was a mischievous bend in his eyebrow. Probably only I could tell he was holding back a smirk. I almost smirked in response, but I wanted to stay in character. I folded my hands. “Is something wrong, Daddy?”
“Fix your skirt. Or are you trying to attract attention? You look like a slut.”
Oooh, so that’s where he was going. I licked my lips. The ball was back in my court and I had to decide what kind of spin to put on it. “O-only for you, Daddy,” I said, and my voice came out deliciously shaky.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Strip. Show everyone who you belong to.” When I hesitated he raised his voice. “I said strip, girl!”
My hands flew to my corset, trying to undo the hooks in front, but I was breathing so hard with excitement that I couldn’t get the top one loose at first. Then it finally went and the rest came apart easily. I let the corset fall behind me and undid the button on the tennis skirt, whipping it free.
Chino pulled it out of my hand. “Axel. Come here.”
Axel sauntered up, a gleeful look in his eyes. “What can I help you with, my friend?”
“Tell me what it says on her.”
Axel made a show of bending down and examining my tattoo—and therefore my crotch—with a critical eye. “I do believe your name is spelled out right here.”
“That’s right. It’s like a KEEP O
UT sign for anyone else, isn’t it, Madison?”
“Y-Yes, Daddy,” I said as Axel backed away.
“Tell everyone here what’s allowed in your cunt, girl.”
My cheeks were as red and flaming then as my ass. I had to take a couple of breaths before I could quite make my mouth form the deeply embarrassing words. “Your cock, sir.”
“Louder, so they can hear you in the back.”
“Only your cock is allowed in me, sir,” I said, then swallowed hard. I’d never done a scene like this before and much to my surprise I was finding it hot as hell. Instead of humiliation, it was brimming with the same deliciousness of exposure I’d felt when I first started burlesque, before I’d gotten jaded. Except now instead of revealing my flesh, I was showing everyone my kink and our relationship.
“Is that right? Then how do you explain this?” He pulled his phone out of his pants and a video began to play. It was me finger-banging and inserting a mascara tube into myself that day when we’d gone out house hunting. My mouth fell open in surprise. If I’d thought my adrenaline was at its peak before that, I was wrong; it climbed even higher. He showed the video to everyone circled around us. Gwen, the whole band, Sakura and Helene, Dara, Paul—even my two co-hosts were gathered around.
And it was my turn to respond again. “That’s because…” I realized that the truth was the best answer. “Because you wouldn’t give me your cock!” I stamped my foot as I said it.
Chino’s eyes blazed, unable to keep his grin off his face now. His smile was sadistic but my defiance had clearly delighted him. “Is that what you want? Is that why you’re acting out like a bad girl?”
“It’s unfair,” I said, crossing my arms. “You promised.”
“I promised you could have it if you were good. A good girl takes her punishment without complaint.”
Oooh. He was definitely challenging me to find the limits of my girl persona, making me react to different situations. “Yes, Daddy,” I said, pouting a little. “Will you let me show what a good girl I am?”