by Jenni Moen
A warm evening, there were dozens of couples and families out, all artfully avoiding the area of Greeley and Fourth. There was the only, tiny red light district in all of Karim. Just two blocks long and four deep, it wasn’t even dangerous. Just not somewhere a resident of the city would want to be seen.
I had suggested a spot just outside the perimeter of the little district so it would be less likely her friends and family might see her, but not a dangerous locale.
The sun was low, and I could see a figure standing against the building, huddled close and folded in on herself.
She really was too adorable.
I pulled up and rolled down the window. It took her a moment to gather herself enough to walk to the car.
“All set?”
“Guess so.” She had a sweet, raspy voice in person. “You’re sure about this?”
“I should be asking you that, shouldn’t I?” I nodded. “Hop in. We’ll get on the way, and you can see what this is all about.”
She opened the door, and I caught a good look at her. The skirt was impossibly short, and the shirt was…an excuse to not be arrested. It served nearly zero purpose, save to cover the nipples.
Which, I noted, were quite erect.
Still, this sort of outfit was not the cute, flirty kind that I preferred. This said prostitute, and I didn’t like it. There would have to be a talk about how one should dress. Flirty did not mean poke my eye out with your nip.
The art of sex was really lost. The art of seduction was utterly gone. I missed, to a degree, the game of “I’ll chase you until you catch me.” At least that made the winning fun and challenging.
The car rolled on from our meeting spot to across the town where The Club sat. An unassuming building, it held a magnificent secret world that I truly enjoyed being a part of.
I parked in the lot behind the building and shut the car off. The little thing next to me had hardly made a peep and wasn’t very interested in conversation. I guessed it was nerves and offered my hand to her as she climbed out.
That was the first time I saw her eyes.
Gorgeous, bright and mismatched green and blue. There was an intelligence behind them and a sadness that clouded it. She seemed sad, resigned, and those eyes spoke volumes.
“What is this place?” She nodded at the building.
“The Club.” I considered her as she considered the building. “Come. Let’s go in and I’ll show you around before the doors open.” I held my hand out, and she took it.
That’s when I noticed her track marks.
My heart broke a little at that moment. An addict, and actively so by the looks of it. That explained the sadness and resignation in those gorgeous eyes.
“What’s your name?”
She looked lost and opened her mouth and shut it a few times before finally surrendering her name. “Gianna.”
“Well, Gianna, I’m Master Abernathy. Welcome to The Club. Let’s go in and I’ll get you set up and ready, and we’ll find Beebee so you can talk to her.”
She followed behind me on shuffling feet, slow but not terribly hesitant. Her hand was soft and warm, and for some reason, I derived a lot of pleasure from that. But then again, it shouldn’t have surprised me at all. Physical contact was something I enjoyed.
The inside of the main room was dark, and a few lights swirled to make sure no one bumped into anyone else. Beebee—really, Tally Fremanis—was ordering the bar the way she liked it. Her fiancé, Liam, was helping, but he would be gone upstairs later to help with the kitchen. The door was ready, the tables were rearranged, all set for the night.
I decided that it was better to get us settled in a room, so that if my little bird got startled, she could fly back somewhere safe. I led her up the stairs to the safe second floor. I nodded at Preston, who grunted, as usual. If the man did any more than that, I would probably call an ambulance.
My usual room was back down the hall, and down another hall, to the end. On the right, was my name. Today, it was a fancy little LCD panel that Liam had been installing through the building. His integration of security was impressive, and his master control room was a stroke of genius.
Swiping my ring finger over the biometric pad, the door clicked open. Using the ring finger was another Liam idea. Guy loved his toys.
Still, Gianna hesitated at the door. Taking her elbow, I carefully guided her into the room and shut the door—and felt her whole body tense up. Flipping on the light switch for the bigger and brighter light on the ceiling revealed absolute terror on her face.
“Are you going to rape me?”
What.
The Actual.
Fuck.
I took a step back and put my hands up where she could see them. “No, no! That’s not the purpose of you being here at all. Good God. You came to me, Gianna. You said you wanted to try being a submissive. That’s not part of this.”
“Sub—what?”
“You told me on the phone that you wanted to try being a submissive.”
“I told you on the phone that I would be five hundred for the whole night at the hotel.”
Oh. Shit. “You’re a prostitute.”
“What did you think? I was standing on the corner to be a fucking lamppost?”
I stared at this woman. Everything fell into place. The other girl must have chickened out at the last minute, and Gianna just happened to be at that corner at the right time.
I had just made a major mistake.
* * *
I was having a hard time believing I’d gotten it so wrong.
“What the hell, are you into some type of fifty shades shit?”
“You’d be wise to be silent about things you clearly don’t understand.” He was dead serious and really angry.
“I understand you want to tie me down and slap me around or something to get you off, right?”
“Women like you use sex as a means to an end. You don’t enjoy it. I feel like you could learn a great deal from me if you’d get off your high horse for a minute.” He paced back and forth in front of me, and I walked over to a bench. Well, it wasn’t really a bench. It was more like a tall wide stool I could bend over.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a paddle bench. You want to try it?”
“I don’t do anything for free. If you want to be with me, it costs you. Tonight I would have gotten five hundred if I’d met the right john.”
“Well.” He paused and stared at me, and it was more than a little uncomfortable. “That’s a lot of money, but if you insist, I suppose we could work something out.”
I was surprised. His tone had changed, and now he looked at me differently. Admitting I’d been curious about the sort of things he was promising didn’t come easily, but I became intrigued by the possibility of my bare ass up in the air as he spanked me. A little wave of desire moved through my abdomen, taking me by surprise.
“Fine then.” I kept my words clipped and my thoughts to myself. It felt like that would be the best way to go with this man. He seemed to be a bit of a mystery. I walked over to the paddle horse and straddled it, smirking at him as I rode it more like a dick than a horse.
“Don’t be vulgar. It’s time for you to start taking this seriously. There are ground rules you need to know and adhere to.”
“I’m totally taking it seriously.”
He pulled me off the horse, and I felt like a scolded six-year-old who’d made daddy mad. It really just made me curious about what he was going to tell me.
“You’re to call me ‘Sir’ at all times once we’re in that space.”
“Okay, Sir,” I said. He had taken on such a serious tone I couldn’t help but be serious right along with him.
“There are levels of comfort, and I will check in with you often to see how you are doing. Red means not at all, you want me to stop. Yellow means to give you some time, you’re adjusting to it and just need a minute. Green means you’re okay with what’s going on, even enjoying it, and you want me
to keep going. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.” I was fascinated. What could possibly have me crying red?
“You’ll need a safeword to use when you want me to stop immediately.”
“A safeword?”
“Yes. It can be something you like, or something familiar.”
“Grapefruit,” I offered the word without hesitation. Grapefruit was my cat. She’d been my best friend when I was little and my constant companion. I still missed that damn cat. If I needed something familiar that was comforting to me, she was going to be it.
“All right, then that’s your safeword. You’ll use it when you want me to stop immediately. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“One more thing.” He moved toward me. Pushing my shoulders back, forcing me to stand up straight, he looked me up and down before circling my body. “You can’t wear this.”
He left the room, and I looked down at my outfit. The type of men I usually entertained liked what I was wearing just fine. I felt a bit insulted he wanted me to change. When he came back, he was holding what looked like expensive clothing.
“You can change in there.” He pointed to a room on the side. I realized he wasn’t giving me a choice in the matter. I had to change. Slipping into the room, I looked at myself in the mirror. My face didn’t match the clothes. I had my makeup with me, so I decided I’d at least try to look a little better.
Once I’d painted my face and put on the clothes he’d given me, I didn’t feel like myself. As I looked in the mirror, it wasn’t Gia—druggie and occasional hooker—looking back at me. It was Gia, strong, sexy woman ready to go on a new adventure. My skin crawled, and my stomach lurched as my body called out for the drugs it missed. I needed a fix in the worst way. Taking a deep breath, I walked back into the room with Abernathy.
Chapter 3
This woman, this junkie who clearly didn’t want to be a junkie, surprised me. Once she showered and put on the clothes I had laid out for her, she was actually gorgeous.
Blue-blue eyes and blue-black hair. Her skin was a pale porcelain, and though I knew part of that was the drugs, there was a larger part that was not. She was not petite, but her habit had made her gaunt and thin. It was an unhealthy look until she pulled out her makeup. She was entirely too good at hiding the evidence.
Gianna coyly smiled at me, and despite the earlier misgivings, there was something magnetic about her.
I offered my arm, and we walked out of the room. “Listen closely, Gianna. If anything at all is even just a touch out of your comfort range, you tell me the safeword. You’ve never done this before, and people go through years of training.”
“I get it,” she answered and cleared her throat. “I do, man. I get it.”
“What is your safeword?”
She rolled her eyes, and I pinched her forearm lightly. With a gasp, she turned to me. “It’s grapefruit.”
I pinched again, and another little gasp.
“It’s grapefruit, Sir.”
“Good girl.” I didn’t think I’d have to use the pinch on her so soon, but then again I like her bratty-ness.
We walked up the stairs to the voyeur room. The sleezy feel of the room had recently been updated to a far more elegant room that showcased what voyeurism was about—and it wasn’t fucking on random mattresses. It had a small stage, really a raised platform, that was perfect for a spectacle like Induction Night—where Doms showed off their subs and challenged how far they could go. Most of the subs were new, or inexperienced, so it was a light night. Fun nonetheless. There had only been a night here and there where all the subs made it through the activities. The ones who did, though, usually made it all the way through training.
In a far dark corner, away from being easily spotted, was one of the owners, Tally. Tonight was the first night she had brought her new sub with her, and she didn’t want to sit up front with him. She told me that morning that he had called the safeword on being up front. Poor guy had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.
There were five other Doms this evening, and they seemed to be waiting for me and my little subbie. I walked Gianna to the stage. “At any time, Gianna. Tell me and it’s over. The first game is humiliation.”
“How is that a game?” She paused. “Sir?”
“It’s a test.”
“A test of what?”
“Your perseverance.”
I pulled out the pocket knife as the other five did the same and sliced Gianna’s shirt down the front, and quickly did the same in the back. It fell off like the diaphanous suggestion it was and landed on the floor. She gasped, I pinched, and she froze.
The other Doms had either backed up or were trying to calm their sub down. I realized the one male in the submissive line was smirking, and motioned to his Domme. One did not smirk because one had different circumstances.
She pulled the hook down, slipped it over his tied hands and yanked him to his feet. She sliced off his pants, leaving him in a mere suggestion of a thong.
I turned back to Gianna. “Color?”
“Sir, green.” Her voice was on the mousey side this time.
“We’re going further, Gianna.” I took the back clasp of her bra and slipped it open, sliding the whole thing down her arms. It fluttered to the ground with the shirt she had been wearing.
She almost gasped again but stopped herself. Gianna seemed intrigued, not scared or apprehensive, whereas the girl next to her was sobbing already.
I stepped back a few feet and let her take in her surroundings and her situation. There was nothing about her situation that was shocking to her. Curious, she glanced around under the cover of her hair. That was actually a no-no, but I wasn’t about to stop her. The woman next to her had wrapped her arms around her breasts and was shaking, sobbing. And while Gianna watched her, I roamed my little prostitute’s body with my eyes.
Gaunt, like her face, and pale like she had not ever seen the sun. She was sweating, a known side effect of the drugs. Her breasts were high and plump, but not more than a healthy handful. My preferred size. Her ribs were visible, which was to be expected. I didn’t really like ribs, but her curiousness had offset most of what I did not find appealing. A whip-smart mind did more for my cock than anything except that well-spanked ass.
“Gia, stand.” It was time to move on. She focused her eyes back on me, and I saw curiosity twinkling. “Strip. Skirt and panties.”
She held my gaze. With a flick of her wrist, the skirt and panties were on the floor. Her willingness to be naked made my dick pay attention. She had probably done this before, but the lack of disgust and lack of hate had me convinced that even if she had been this naked in front of an audience, she had not enjoyed it as she was now.
And I saw the rest of her. Long, elegant legs, hips that begged to be rounded, and a neat little thatch of that same black hair covering her mound trailing between her legs.
Unashamedly naked. Glorious.
I stood. There was no chance of hiding my hard-on. And curiously there was no hiding her reaction to it—she balked. Slightly, almost imperceptibly, but she did, and Doms didn’t miss that sort of thing.
I had told her there was no sex required, but she hadn’t quite believed me. That was a punishable offence. I noted it and walked toward her, allowing her just a brief moment to collect herself.
I withdrew the nipple clamps from my pocket, and she looked confused.
“You’re a good girl, Gianna. What color, my dear?”
“G-green.”
I paused. “Are you sure?”
She swallowed, then nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.” I stepped up to her. “Anytime, use your safeword.” I ran my hand over her breast as she shuddered through her meek, ‘yes, Sir.’
Her nipple pearled before I even reached it, making it simple for my fingers to grasp and tug on it. She sucked in her breath, and I quickly fastened the clip on the peaked nipple.
“Oh, fuck.” The wo
rd hissed out of her on a breath, and she closed her eyes for just a moment. When she opened them, her whole being was lit with desire.
Fascinating.
“Color?”
This time, the answer was clear. “Green.”
I found her other nipple and tugged sharply, slipping the other clip on. She didn’t gasp this time. Instead, she closed her eyes, and I could see a shiver of pleasure ride through her.
“Very good.” I ran the back of my hand along her jaw. I gave her a moment, then tugged on the chain sharply.
“Shit.” Her voice was a whisper. “Oh, shit.” Her body was begging for something she didn’t realize she wanted, and I yanked the chain again.
“Do you want to come?” I whispered the words in her ear.
“Yes, please. Sir.” There was no deception in her. No hesitation.
I pulled the chain straight out, pulled her nipples away from her, tugging a little. I started alternating the tugs and wrapped a hand around her, lifting her tit and nestling it into my palm. I used my fingers to press the clip tighter and pull while gently pulling on the chair from the other one.
“Are you wet, my dear? Do you like the sexual feeling of something so forbidden?”
“Yes, Sir…” Gianna trailed off.
This time, I pulled hard and pressed the clips into her beaded tips, and the orgasm rolled through her with a quiet gasp. Just barely in time, I slipped an arm around her waist. She shook and shivered there, tucked against me. It had been a long time since the nipple clips had elicited that kind of response from someone.
Most men, Doms included, forgot how powerful and erogenous zone the breasts were. I never did, and I was delighted that she had come.
A moment later there was a smattering of applause behind us, and Gianna’s eyes popped open, terrified. “Sir…”
“On your feet, good girl. Pay them no mind.” I wanted to hit whoever had done that. These subs weren’t ready for that level. “You enjoyed that. I’m glad. Are you ready for more?”
“More nipple yanking? Sir?”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “There is much more we can do. Let’s start with some paddling.”