by Livia Grant
“Against my better judgment I’m going to introduce you all to my sub and…” He stopped ever so briefly to glance her way with a knowing smile before turning back to his Dom friends to finish his thought. “… and girlfriend. This is Tiffany O’Sullivan.”
Tiff’s brain tried to process his public use of the “g” word, when her hand was scooped up and brought to the lips of a Dom whom Lukus introduced as Master Grey. When their eyes met, she could see both lust and humor swirling in his. Tiff stumbled through the introduction. “Nice to meet you, Master Grey. I guess you don’t get your name from your blue eyes.”
A round of hearty laughs startled her. Thankfully, Lukus was laughing too, although she had no clue what she had said that was so funny.
“Very nice to meet you, too, Tiffany. I guess I’ll forgive you for canceling Tuesday night’s poker game, Mitchell. If I had this tasty treat waiting for me, I’d skip poker too,” he said.
From the floor below, Tiff heard the clearing of a throat and a quiet, “I heard that, you know.”
Master Grey had the decency to look guilty, and the men around him resumed their hearty laughter, this time at his expense. “Get up here, woman,” he growled. His sub scrambled to her feet, and to Tiffany’s surprise, the girl had a twinkle in her eye and a broad smile on her face.
She may have been naked, but within the space of a few seconds the attractive plus-sized woman standing before them transformed from unseen submissive to confident equal. As if it were rehearsed, Master Grey leaned down to grab a skimpy robe thrown over the back of their couch and placed it around her shoulders.
Once covered, the woman reached her hand out to Tiffany. “It’s so great to meet you, Tiffany. When Grey told me why the poker game was canceled, I almost didn’t believe him. My name is Violet, by the way. I’m Grey’s ball and chain, as he likes to call me.”
Despite the dim club lighting, Tiff could tell her eyes were the most beautiful shade of lavender she’d ever seen. “It’s so nice to meet you too, Violet. I see you come by your name naturally.”
“Well, my mother actually named me Harriet, can you believe that? Somewhere around the fourth grade I got sick of being called ‘Harry’ at school and wouldn’t answer to anything other than Violet. It eventually stuck.”
Grey was pulling his wife close as he shared with the group. “It’s still one of my most effective punishments for her. Naughty girls get called ‘Harriet’ in our house.”
“That’s why I’m such an angel,” Violet retorted.
Tiff could see the humor in her eyes, and she felt a growing kindred spirit with her new friend.
Master Grey let out a snort. “Really? That’s why you’re only one count away from the heavy paddle? Take a look around you, sugar. You know the rules. You’d better watch that tone while we’re here at the club.”
Violet seemed to be blossoming rather than wilting under her Dom’s power assertion. “Yes, Sir.”
Tiffany was fascinated to watch the couple’s power dynamics at play. While all the other subs remained at their Master’s feet, this couple stood out. There was something familiar about them. Glancing sideways at Lukus, she saw he was watching her carefully. He leaned in to whisper against her ear. “Not all of the subs here are 24/7, baby.”
That was when it hit her. He’d arranged this. As he went on to introduce her to the other Doms in their small cluster of the audience pit, she realized these were not just members. These were men he spent time with outside of the club, playing poker, golfing, and playing basketball. This was Lukus’s circle of friends.
Holy shit. He’s introducing me to his friends. Introducing me as his girlfriend, not just his sub.
Tiffany’s heart soared.
The house lights flickered, indicating the show was about to begin. Violet quickly leaned close to whisper into Tiffany’s ear. “I think it’s awesome you are ‘rocking Lukus’s world’ as Grey calls it. I’ve known Master Lukus for a couple years now, and I’ve gone through the transition you are going through. Give me a call if you want to have coffee sometime. I’d be happy to help you through it if you find you have questions you don’t want to take to Lukus.”
“Wow, you’d do that?”
“Hell, yes. There aren’t very many of us here at The Pit. We need to stick together and help each other,” Violet said.
“Us?”
“Yeah. You know. Strong subs. Professional women who are leaders or managers all day long, but who want to turn over control when we get home.”
“How do you know that fits me?” Tiff asked her.
“Oh honey, only a strong woman could take Lukus on the way you have. I heard about your first visit to the club tonight. The fact that you’re still alive, standing here dressed, wearing his collar, and aren’t cowering from him speaks volumes.”
Grey’s impatient voice pulled Violet to step back. “Come here, Harriet Jean. Time for the robe to come off.”
Violet’s eyes sparkled with mischief before she slid the robe off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. “Yes, Master.” Soon, the mischief was erased with a lustful hunger as she sunk to her knees next to her Dom.
Lukus led Tiff to a nearby odd-looking chair. On the surface it was a plush, cushioned chair like any you might have in your living room. Only the U-shaped armrests indicated its unique attributes. He sunk into the chair first, pulling Tiffany to his lap, facing forward. He whispered in her ear. “Do you trust me, baby?”
She hesitated a brief second before answering. “Yes, sir. I trust you.”
“That’s good. Let me take care of you tonight, okay?”
“Take care of me how?”
“That’s the great thing. You don’t need to worry about that. Just feel. Experience. I’ll take care of the details.”
Her heart rate spiked again with anticipation. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”
Only now did Tiffany see a server girl hovering nearby, glaring at them. Lukus flicked his hand in her direction and she shot forward, looking more than happy to do his bidding.
“Trixie, secure Tiffany.” As he gave his orders, Lukus reached down to pull Tiffany’s thighs wide, placing each leg in the base of the cushioned U on either side of them, splaying her wide open. She was thankful for her negligée that gave her some coverage over her bare pussy, but also for her frequent yoga classes that allowed her to sit relatively comfortably considering she was almost doing the splits—her legs were splayed so wide.
The server named Trixie knelt at the side of the chair, using what looked like a rope to secure Tiffany’s ankle cuffs to hooks at the bottom of the chair. She handed the end of the rope to Lukus, putting him in control of Tiff’s bondage. As she crawled from one side to the other, Tiffany detected the anger rolling off the woman. At first, she wasn’t sure what was causing it, but when their eyes locked, she knew with certainty her anger was directed at Tiffany.
Ah! The first of many of his previous subs who are not happy with me being here. Just great. She works here.
Tiff was relieved when Trixie finished and handed the final rope to Lukus and he dismissed her. She sulked off to serve other patrons as the house lights went down. The music changed over to an instrumental number with a heavy beat. Palpable anticipation and tension filled the room.
Waiting for the show to start, Lukus drew Tiff back so she was resting against his chest. His lips brushed her left earlobe while one hand explored her splayed open pussy and the other cupped her right breast. “So, you didn’t want to go through the contract. You’d rather talk about things. We’ll consider tonight our first official contract negotiation, baby. I have you as a captive audience, and we’re going to talk about all of the things happening on stage. What you like. What you don’t. What you’d try. What you won’t. Understand?”
“That was tricky.”
“Maybe.” Lukus sucked her left earlobe into his mouth while burying what felt like two fingers deep in her wet cunt.
“Oh, God. That feels so good.
Don’t stop.”
“Here’s the deal. You keep talking, I keep rewarding you. You clam up, I keep my hands to myself.”
“You’re devious.”
“I prefer resourceful. First question. We’ll start easy. On a scale of one to ten with ten being you love it, how do you feel about having your legs tied open and being immobile like this?” he asked her.
“That’s not easy!”
“Oh, so you’d rather I start with asking how you feel about needle play?”
“Well sure, since that’s a negative ten. See. Easy.” Tiff loved his chuckle.
“Fair enough. How about the naked slaves next to their Masters and Mistresses?”
“What am I rating? Watching them, or how I’d feel if I was one of them?”
“Both,” he replied.
“Okay, well watching them is fine. Good, even. Being one, I’m not sure yet.”
The stage curtains slowly parted, revealing a dungeon scene. An announcer sounding a lot like Ethan announced the start of the show. As the stage lights brightened, Tiffany’s eyes became riveted to the scene center stage. It was a scene pried directly out of the deepest recesses of her own mind; visions formulated years ago after reading several very dark erotic romance novels. That this was real should have dampened her excitement. She should have felt embarrassed, maybe angry. Hell, definitely scared. None of those adjectives captured her true feelings as surprising waves of a desire to surrender and submit washed over her.
Center stage, arms strung high against a thick wooden whipping post, a frightened and vulnerable woman hung. As if hanging by her arms wasn’t painful enough, her legs were bent and pulled up and wide, secured by artfully wrapped layers of white rope, leaving her entire body open for inspection and punishment. Even from a distance Tiff could see tears streaming down her face, tracks of black mascara in their wake.
She became aware of Lukus leaning in close. “How are you doing, baby? What number are you?”
I can’t tell him the truth. What will he think of me?
“Tiff, are you okay? Answer me. I need your—”
“Eleven. I’m at an eleven.”
She heard his sharp intake of breath. “I think I can work with that.”
Chapter Seven
Lukus
Upon hearing Tiffany’s surprising answer, Lukus released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Until she confessed she was at an eleven, he’d prayed she wouldn’t freak out and bolt.
It’d been the best kind of slow torture moving forward gently with Tiff all week, but he knew at a gut level it had been the right thing to do. If all he was interested in was having his way with her hot body, he would have rushed in to consume her faster than most women devour chocolate. However, knowing he was as interested in learning what made her fascinating mind tick as he was with learning every possible way to make her come, Lukus had been smart enough to know that his tried and true Master bag of tricks was not going to be enough with this woman.
As humbling as it had been to ask for advice, he was glad he’d spent time conferring with his friends James and Grey throughout the week. Not only did he trust both men to tell it like it was, both were happily married to strong women who had learned to walk the tightrope between strength and submission; the same balancing act he was hoping Tiffany could manage.
Even more valuable was the advice he’d gotten from his best friend, Markus. In the case of Brianna and Markus, they may still have been working through their own changing power dynamics, but Markus had one huge advantage Lukus had made sure to capitalize on—Markus had known Tiffany for years.
He couldn’t help but smile as he felt her wiggling in her seat, subconsciously grinding her cute ass against his growing erection.
Watching instead of participating in the show is sweet torture at its finest.
This was the first center stage show he’d ever watched at The Punishment Pit. When he was at the club, he was directing the scenes on stage, so sitting on the sidelines and playing the part of voyeur felt foreign. Yet, if it meant being able to hold this amazing woman in his arms, he knew he was still making out pretty good.
Lukus directed his attention to the scene on stage. When William had phoned him this afternoon, asking for stage time tonight, he had been surprised. Master William and his long-time submissive wife rarely took stage time; they preferred to watch the shows and either play in the audience pit, or, more often, move to one of the dozen private playrooms members used.
Lukus had taken great care furnishing each room with the kind of punishment furniture and sexually deviant devices most members desired in their own homes, but couldn’t afford or chose not to allocate space for. In addition to a place for public entertainment and socializing, the club was a specialized hotel of sorts, renting out private, sexually themed rooms by the hour or day.
Tonight, William had requested stage time to punish his normally obedient submissive slave, Stacy. Upon returning home from a business trip early, he’d discovered his grounded slave was not only out shopping, but had taken his Audi—a car she was not allowed to drive. When he had phoned her to let her know she was in a lot of trouble, she became so distraught she had side-swiped a row of parked cars, causing thousands of dollars of damage.
William had been smart enough to know he was so angry he might have taken her punishment too far, so he’d enlisted Lukus’s help. As they’d planned the show, William explained Stacy hated being publicly humiliated, so tonight’s show would be loaded with the punishments she hated the most.
Derek was explaining the situation to the club members. “Stacy has been a very naughty submissive. Her Master requested our assistance in educating Stacy about the seriousness of her mistakes. She will be properly punished and taught to think twice before doing something so stupid again.”
Lukus had to hand it to his friend. Derek had stepped up to take charge of the shows this week and was doing a good job.
Derek continued to address the audience. “Master William and I spoke at length. I think everyone will like what we have in store tonight. Everyone but slave Stacy, that is.” He approached the crying submissive hanging uncomfortably center stage. “Slave Stacy, due to the nature of the punishments we have planned, I need to ask if you are submitting to this punishment consensually. Or would you like to safeword before we start?”
A fresh sob escaped the sub as her eyes sought out her Master’s hard glare. Lukus could feel the anger rolling off the Dom and had a sudden kindred spiritual connection with the longtime member. Only tonight, Tiff had defied him in a much smaller way, yet he’d still lost his shit. He admired William’s restraint.
“Answer me, Stacy. Do you submit to this punishment willingly?”
“Yes, Master Derek. I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything to get my Master to love me again.” Fresh sobs wracked her body. Lukus noted the conflict on William’s face before he hardened himself for the job at hand.
William answered her. “Stacy, you know damn well I love you, but that changes nothing. You broke too many rules. You’ve earned the worst punishment you’ve ever received, and it’s not going to be over in one night. You’re under punishment rules for the next week, young lady.”
A quiet, “Yes, Sir,” emerged through her hiccupped crying.
Derek grabbed a wide leather strap from a nearby torture device supply cabinet and approached the hanging submissive. “What is your safeword tonight, Stacy?”
Lukus could see surprise flicker across her face before she answered submissively. “I don’t have a safeword tonight, Master Derek. I’ve earned what my Master thinks I deserve.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t work that way here and you know it. Answer me. Now. Safeword.”
His tone left no room for argument. She quickly answered, “Yellow/Red, sir.”
“Very good. Let’s start, shall we?” Derek stepped back, lifted his right arm, and delivered a full-force strike to her splayed pussy.
Lukus, had he been on the s
tage, would have performed more of a warm-up, but he was grateful to be where he was, holding a trembling Tiffany. He felt her shallow breathing become erratic while her attention remained riveted to the scene unfolding on stage. Her hips grinded faster as Derek continued to strap the screaming Stacy. Her Dom held her face, insisting she maintained eye contact with him. Derek delivered ten of the best, fast and furious, to get them started.
“How are you doing, Tiff? Still at an eleven, baby?” Lukus whispered his question.
He barely caught her whispered response. “I think I might be at a twelve now.”
Lukus dipped his fingers through her hot folds to get affirmation that she was indeed enjoying the show. She was leaking copious slick fluids, leaving her dripping wet to his touch. Testing the waters, he pinched her swollen clit and was rewarded with a low groan. When she tried to touch herself, Lukus corrected her. “Arms over the arm rests, baby. I didn’t tie your arms down, but I will if you can’t stay open for me.”
Her disappointed moan brought a smile to his lips, but she complied, adding a submissive, “Yes, Sir.”
On the stage, Derek and William were moving to the next phase of the punishment, having lowered Stacy’s legs to the ground and slowly lowered her arms until she was standing on her own two feet. As angry as William was at her, Lukus admired him for holding his submissive close, comforting her and allowing her time to get her feet under herself.
Once she was stable, the men moved her to a waiting punishment restraint, which hadn’t been used at The Pit in some time. Lukus was excited to see it in action again. The Doms guided her to lie back on the narrow, body-length wooden bench. They adjusted the height and then settled Stacy’s neck into the padded, crescent opening before pulling down a wooden panel with a round notch cut out right where the panel rested against her throat.
Lukus remembered designing the evil restraint device and taking it to his friend in Indiana who had made the custom piece. When it turned out even better than Lukus’s deviant mind imagined, he’d ordered a second bench for one of the private playrooms.