by Lila Dubois
“Oh.”
“Don’t sound disappointed. While I think the word would be particularly delicious from your lips, I take collaring very seriously. I never collar someone for an event. I’ve actually only collared two subs, though I’m flattered by your reaction.”
Christiana started to shrink from him, reading between the lines. He’d collared subs who were more beautiful, more experienced than her.
“No, Christiana, stay with me, in this moment.” He exerted pressure on her wrists and she relaxed.
“Yes, James.”
“Good, well done. We will explore pain play, but no heavy-impact implements.”
“Heavy impact?”
“No floggers. But I will put you over my knee and spank you.”
“If I’m bad?”
“Yes, I might use it as a punishment, but even if you are perfectly obedient, I will spank you.”
“Why, James?”
“Because I want to.”
Christiana closed her eyes.
“Does that frighten you?” he asked.
“A little.”
“Does it arouse you?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, James.”
“And what will you say tomorrow?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You tempt me, Christiana. You tempt me greatly.”
“I don’t mean to.”
“It’s not a complaint.”
“Will we…” Christiana glanced toward the stage, where the sub was being fucked by two men simultaneously.
“Will we have sex?”
“No.”
“We won’t?”
“I’m as disappointed as you.”
Her lips quirked. “I thought you were making the rules.”
“I am.”
“Then why don’t you change them?” she asked, exasperated.
“Because you deserve better.”
Now it wasn’t just her body that reacted to his words, but her heart. Christiana felt her cheeks heat, and was glad her complexion didn’t easily show a blush. “I…thank you, James.”
“To be clear, what I mean by no sex is that I will not put my cock in your pussy.” The crude words made her nipples tight. “But I will use my fingers, my mouth, and possibly toys.”
“Good idea,” she said breathlessly.
His grin was wolf-like. “And I will expect the same in return.”
“You…want me to use toys on you?”
He laughed, loudly enough that several people looked over. Christiana ducked her chin in embarrassment, even as she grinned.
“Minx,” he said when the laughter died. “You make me forget myself. What I meant was that I will put you on your knees, and I will expect to see those lovely lips wrapped around my cock.”
“Yes, James.” She’d never been an enthusiastic giver of blowjobs, but when James said it like that, she wanted nothing more than to kneel before him.
“Are you satisfied with those rules?”
“Yes, James.”
“And what is your safeword?”
“Engineer.” The word popped out of her mouth.
“Unique,” he commended. “Very well. It’s nearly dawn.”
She looked to the skylight and saw he was right. “It’s been a whole night?”
“It has.”
The scene on the stage finished up and people started to drift toward the stairs. James rose and then held out a hand. She let him pull her to her feet. He tucked her arm through his like she was a princess, and together they joined the flow of people heading down to the first floor.
He stopped near the dressing room door. “Until tomorrow, Christiana.”
“Until tomorrow, James.”
He kissed the back of her hand and then released her.
Christiana turned and walked into the dressing room.
The dressing room was busy, filled with lovely, elegant women and a few men in all states of dress and undress. Christiana froze. When the door behind her opened, nearly hitting her, she stepped to the side, near the rack where she’d grabbed the dress she now wore.
All around her women were changing into street clothes or slipping on jackets.
Mesmerized by James, she’d forgotten how she’d ended up here. Forgotten that her jacket was hidden in a literal hole in the wall upstairs, and that it wasn’t an elegant coat, but her battered work jacket.
She couldn’t walk out of here wearing only what she had on now, and she could hardly put on what she’d been wearing when she arrived and not expect everyone to stare at her in horror and shock. This was it, her deception would be discovered.
Then what would happen?
After having spent the whole night here, she now realized that creating this hidden world had taken even more money than she’d first imagined. She doubted she’d be able to just walk out in her work clothes and they’d let her leave, no consequences. The law might be on her side, but she had a very bad feeling people like this didn’t really care what the law said.
She’d wait for everyone to leave, then change and walk out. The staff would see her, but maybe if she made a run for it they wouldn’t be able to stop her. Of course, they’d be aware of an imposter, and tomorrow there’d be security. James would be waiting for her, and then they’d tell him about the woman in workman’s clothes they’d chased out last night, and he’d realize it had all been a lie.
But it hadn’t been a lie. Not for her. What she wanted from him, what she felt for him, that wasn’t a lie.
She watched as the room emptied. One by one the others got dressed and departed. She saw Cheryl and Jenny, both of whom looked sleepily satisfied.
Christiana was fighting back panic and tears as she watched them leave, Jenny once more wearing her cool pink coat that matched her glasses. Cheryl had put on her boots, but still wore the man’s dress shirt she’d walked in wearing. She stuffed her lingerie into her purse and walked out, arm in arm with Jenny.
Cheryl’s jacket lay forgotten on the back of a chair.
Christiana stared at it, heart pounding.
The number of people in the locker room was dwindling, and no one said anything about the coat. Feeling like she was in a dream, Christiana walked over and picked up the long, elegant coat, slipping it on. It came to mid-calf, and minus her bare feet, she looked street-ready.
She waited until there were only two people left before she opened her locker. Her heart was in her throat as she wadded everything together inside her shirt, which she turned inside out, then used the arms to tie it into a bundle. It looked odd, and not at all like the designer bags the others carried. She debated leaving it, but her shirt had both an identifying patch and her name—Chris—embroidered on it.
She tucked the odd, conspicuous ball under her arm, and left the dressing room, trying to pretend that there wasn’t anything unusual about what she was doing. With each step she took, she was sure someone would shout at her, demand to know what she was doing.
She made it to the end of the long, candle-lined hall, and stepped out into the cold fog of a San Francisco morning. A line of black town cars waited, and a driver jumped out, hurrying to open the door for her.
He looked at her bare feet in concern, then ran around to pull the car closer to the door. Christiana was able to step from the carpet that had been laid out directly into the backseat.
“Where are you going?” the driver asked.
“The Fairmont,” she replied. It was the fanciest hotel she could think of.
“Of course, ma’am.”
He said nothing else as the car started moving, climbing the sloped and winding road to the top of the island. As they passed the upper parking area, she craned her neck, looking for any glimpse of her white work truck, but it was well hidden. They reached the onramp to the bridge and Christiana sat back. There was a potted white orchid in a cup holder in the car. The Orchid Club. That’s what James had called it.
The town car merged
into the early morning traffic, staying on the freeway for only a moment before they were in the city. The morning commute hadn’t started in earnest, and the ride was less than twenty minutes.
Christiana looked at the city going by, her pounding heart finally calming. She’d done it. She’d made it out without anyone realizing she shouldn’t be there.
And if she’d managed to come this far, maybe she could keep the charade going.
It couldn’t hurt to ask.
She leaned forward to speak to the driver. “Will you pick me up at the hotel tomorrow?”
“Me personally? I’m not sure, ma’am, but I’ve done two drop offs at the Fairmont tonight, so maybe.” It made sense that at least some of the people she’s seen tonight would be staying at one of the fanciest hotels in the city.
They pulled up outside. The valet came to open her door. Christiana winced as her feet touched the cold sidewalk. She thanked the driver and then hustled inside. The hotel valet looked at her in concern, but when she smiled he said nothing. Once inside she walked quickly toward the lobby bathroom, slipping inside.
She closed herself in the handicap stall and sat on the toilet. She’d done it, she’d infiltrated a secret sex club, successfully pretended to be one of the members, and escaped.
She could go home and forget this ever happened except in the darkness of the night, when she’d think about James as she touched herself. She’d hold off on finishing her inspection of the building—she’d only been there yesterday because she finished another inspection ahead of schedule, so waiting wouldn’t hurt anything.
She undid the bundle and started getting dressed—pants, bra, shirt, vest, socks. This was who she really was. Chris the engineer, not Christiana the intriguing submissive.
She fingered the dress she’d worn.
She wanted to go back.
She wanted to have a night with James.
It was stupid and reckless, but she wanted him in a way she’d never wanted a man before.
Christiana stuffed the dress into her deep pants pocket and walked out, emerging onto the street an anonymous worker in her uniform—though the lack of shoes was certain to turn a few heads.
She tapped her phone, calling up a ride so she could get to the office. She had extra shoes there. At some point today she’d have to go to the island and get her truck and the items she’d left on the non-converted side of the building. Hopefully the organizers wouldn’t be there during the day. At the very least they wouldn’t dare confront someone in a Caltrans uniform.
For a moment she debated going directly back to the island, but fatigue was starting to weigh on her. Considering she hadn’t slept, a morning of doing paperwork didn’t sound bad, and Fridays were usually slow for her.
Around her the world seemed dull and boring, the same as ever. The city didn’t seem to understand that everything had changed. That she had changed. That she now wanted something, someone, forbidden and wonderful.
Her ride pulled up and she hopped in. As the car drove away, she looked back at the hotel. If she wanted to see James again, all she had to do was be at the hotel when someone else called for a car. Yesterday she’d had the excuse of ignorance. If she went back tonight, she’d have no one but herself to blame for what happened if something went wrong.
But maybe if she returned, everything would go right. Tonight, it wouldn’t be as dangerous. She’d know what she was doing, what to expect.
Was she really going to go back?
Christiana smiled.
She’d done it once.
She could do it again.
Chapter 6
“Here it is,” Cheryl said, pouncing on her jacket. “I knew I must have left it.”
“Good thing you had a well-spanked ass to keep you warm last night,” Jenny teased.
Christiana smiled as she listened to their banter. Luckily she’d gotten here before them and had time to hang Cheryl’s coat on the garment rack while selecting something for herself to wear.
Her plan had worked. She’d arrived at the hotel, then waited in the lobby until a black town car pulled up. She’d headed for the car, feigning surprise when a man also approached the vehicle.
A murmured, noncommittal, “Are you going to…?” had resulted in a knowing nod from the man. He’d gestured her into the car first, then joined her. Christiana had relaxed when she saw the potted white orchid.
Her companion had eyed her during the drive, and she hadn’t been surprised when he’d gone to the Doms’ locker room to change.
She’d had time in the quiet, tense ride to question her decision, and for anxiety to take the place of anticipation. It had been a long day at work, made longer by having to go pick up her truck and get it back to the office. It had been surreal to see the warehouse during the day looking exactly the same as it had the day before, with no visible hint as to the secret it held. When she went in to get her backpack, boots, and jacket, she’d also wedged a board over the hole, concealing what she’d done.
Throughout the day she’d changed her mind—sometimes several times an hour. Yet the minute she could leave work she’d raced home and had a quick nap, gotten ready, and then ordered a ride to take her across the bridge from her apartment in Oakland to the hotel.
Tonight she was wearing her one really nice dress—a long, flowing, off-the-shoulder black number she’d bought to wear the few times she and a friend had splurged and gone to the opera. She was overdressed compared to what other submissives arrived in, but she didn’t have any nice business-casual items.
She slipped out of the dress after asking the heavyset blond woman beside her for help with the zipper. She was naked under it—in part for practicality, and in part because she liked the way the matte-satin fabric felt against her skin. She wanted to be—to feel like—the kind of woman who would be naked under an opera gown.
If she were at the gym she would rush to get dressed, to not stand there naked in front of strangers, but this wasn’t the gym. She took her time, hanging her dress on the hanger and sliding it into the locker. Then she walked, totally naked, to the long vanity. She plucked out a bottle of expensive lotion and started putting it on. She smoothed it over her legs, checking to make sure she’d done a good job of shaving.
Her legs weren’t the only thing she’d shaved.
Christiana applied lotion to her arms, stomach, and chest. If there’d been time, she would have gotten a manicure and pedicure, and maybe even had her hair done. She’d had to settle for a nap and a longer-than-normal shower. At least she’d been able to put on her own makeup, using concealer and foundation to ensure that the dark circles under her eyes were hidden.
She poked through the boxes of makeup samples, looking for something she’d seen last night: a small box of shimmering highlighter. She set it aside and walked back to her locker, where the garments she’d selected waited. She pulled on the panties, which were a size too big but made of stretchy lace, so they fit well enough. Unlike most underwear, there was no lining at the crotch. If she hadn’t shaved it all off, the dark hair on her sex would have been visible. She looked at herself in the mirror and some of the confidence she’d felt started to fade. She pulled on the top, hoping that would help.
It didn’t.
The top was short. Crop-top short, but made of heavy silk, not of stretchy cotton. Spaghetti straps held up a band of fabric that was only about eight inches wide. The fabric dangled from her breasts, and when she raised her arms, the hem rose, exposing the bottom of her breasts.
She needed to find something else, but damn it, this had been one of the only things in her size. Maybe she could wiggle into something a size smaller, or risk going larger. There’d been a pretty caramel-colored C-cup bra.
“You know, it’s really unfair,” Cheryl said. “You must be the only person on the planet who can pull off neutrals like that.”
Christiana turned. “Me?”
“Yes.”
Jenny looked up. “You look lovely.”
“Oh, thank you, but I don’t think it’s right.”
“It’s perfection,” Cheryl declared grandly. She snatched up the small container of highlighter Christiana had put aside. “Here, let me.” Cheryl dug through her makeup bag and pulled out a massive, fluffy brush.
Christiana relaxed, laughing a little as the other woman used the big brush to add highlighter to her collarbones. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Cheryl took a step back, eyeing her up and down. “You look wonderful, honey.”
“Not as good as you, but thank you.”
Tonight Cheryl wore a baby-pink lace dress over a pair of black panties. Her breasts were clearly visible, attention drawn to them by her pierced nipples.
“I always accept compliments, so thank you. Pink isn’t normally my thing, but it’s the closest I had to a neutral.”
“Then take the panties off.” Jenny was wearing the same thing from last night. She walked in front of the mirror and sighed.
“We who are about to die salute you,” Cheryl said, touching her hand to her forehead.
“Oh shut up,” Jenny groused.
Christiana laughed. The door opened, more people entering. She checked her makeup and ran her palms over her hair. She hadn’t pulled it back today, and it hung loose around her shoulders, parted in the center. She’d used some expensive smoothing serum before blow-drying, so it looked sleek and soft.
She was as ready as she could be.
When Jenny and Cheryl walked out, she waited for a count of twenty before following them. She’d been in the locker room for over an hour, taking her time since she’d purposefully arrived early.
Hopefully James had arrived by now.
But tonight she wouldn’t call him James. She’d call him Sir.
“Ah, there you are.”
A man walked up to her, and it took her a moment to realize it was her companion from the car.
He looked her over appreciatively, taking in all the skin her skimpy outfit left exposed. “I’m Master Lawrence.”
Christiana stared at him, shocked that he was speaking to her. “Oh, hello. I’m Christiana.”
He offered her his arm.