I pull out her suit and hold it up for her.
Her mouth drops open. “You gotta be fucking kidding me. I’m not wearing that… that catsuit.”
I sigh. How do I explain? “What you wear gives certain signals to the other patrons. No one will ever touch you here without your consent,” I hurry to assure, “and tonight, no one should approach you since you are with me. But first impressions are always important. This outfit sends the message that no one should fuck with you.”
She looks startled that I cursed. I generally don’t, at least not out loud. I rather think the world could do with more civility, not less, so I do my part.
Callie eyes the garment up and down for several long moments before snatching it out of my hands. She holds it by the shoulders and lets it unfold again.
Then her eyes narrow in my direction. “And what exactly are you wearing?”
I smile and pull out my leather pants that match her suit, shaking them out so she can see them.
She bites her bottom lip as she tests the leather of the catsuit in between her fingers and goddammit, I swear she’s trying to kill me. My own leather pants are going to be a tad difficult to put on if I’ve got a raging hard-on.
We’re here for her, dumbass, I remind myself.
Her eyes shoot my direction. “Turn your ass around. If you take even one peek,” she picks up the high-heeled boot, “this heel is landing right here.” She jerks the shoe forward and stops the pointed heel half an inch from my forehead right between my eyes.
“Yep,” I squawk in what might come out in slightly less than a manly pitch. “Got it. No peeking. Scout’s honor.”
She scoffs. “As if you were ever a Boy Scout.”
My mouth tips up as I step back. “What gave it away? The part where I once spanked your ass in a limo so you came harder than you had ever before in your life? Or bringing you to a sex club where I’m going to put so many fantasies in your head, you’re not going to be able to sleep for a week?”
With that I turn around and start loosening my tie. I pull it off over my head, then my shirt.
Is she watching? I haven’t heard any shuffling to indicate she’s turned around to start undressing so I go a little slower as I reach and tug my undershirt off my head.
With nothing else to do but go insane worrying over her, I’ve spent more than a little time in my home gym letting out some aggression on my heavy bag.
Finally I hear noise indicating movement and I grin. She was totally watching. But shit, now that I’m listening for her movements, I can’t stop thinking about what each noise means. Is she slipping that skirt down those luscious legs of hers? Taking off her shirt. I close my eyes and my head drops back a little when I remember her fucking amazing breasts. I’ve never in my whole life touched a more perfect pair of breasts.
Are you a tits or ass man?
Jesus, I about died on the spot when she whispered those words in my ear the first time we were together. She’s lucky I don’t have a heart condition. Single hottest moment of my entire damn life.
Annnnnnnnnnnd now I’ve got a stiffy to rival all stiffies. Great.
I shove my pants and boxers down and grab the leather pants. I’ve got to figure out how to get the damn things on and hide this hard on.
But can I stop thinking about her naked? Nope. Can’t keep my big mouth shut, either. “Make sure to get completely naked before you put on the suit.”
I shake my head as I step into the leather pants. It’s practical advice but now there are a million images of her flashing through my head even though I only saw her naked a handful of times.
There’s a sharp gasp from behind me and I freeze.
Shit, did I freak her out by saying the naked thing?
… Or is she breaking the rules and peeking at me? The pants are only up to one thigh and my ass is out for all to see. Well, just for her to see. I don’t hear any noise for a long while and I grin. She’s totally checking me out, isn’t she?
Maybe there’s hope after all?
I can’t help messing with her. “Callie? I don’t hear the suit rustling anymore. Did you get stuck or are you done putting it on? Can I turn around now?”
I pull the leather pants all the way up and there’s suddenly a flurry of noise behind me. “No!” she squeaks. “Don’t turn around.”
Then follows all manner of grunts and curses. Getting the suit on is obviously a struggle.
“Callie?”
“I’m fine. Don’t you dare turn around.”
More grunting. More cursing.
“Is there a mirror somewhere?” she asks a full five minutes later.
“Can I turn around now?”
“Not yet.” Her voice bites in the quiet room. “Is there a mirror?”
“Cabinet in the corner of the room, on the door.” I hope that sounded less impatient than I feel. Cause I really want to see her. Yeah it’s the attire of the club but I’m still a damn man.
“You can look.”
Is it just me or does she sound excited?
I turn around and holy shit. I try to swallow but don’t do it right and end up coughing. Jesus but she looks—
Fuck, I’m just standing here gawking. But the suit hugs every one of her curves and she has so many curves. It zips up the front but she only zipped it midway up her chest so that her ample cleavage is on display and, oh shit, I’m still standing her gawking. Say something.
“You look good,” I finally manage. Oh wow, genius. Say something smarter. “I mean, very good. Great. Beautiful.” I cringe. Beautiful? That’s all I could come up with? Besides, that’s not the point tonight.
Because I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said that clothes have a message here. This entire place is about power. Who holds it. Who gives it up.
The suit Callie is wearing screams power.
And I’d swear she can feel it. It’s like she’s standing taller. Or maybe she’s realized it. Why I’ve brought her here. Not, as she put it, to wear a collar. No, that’s not what she needs at all, I don’t think.
Gentry took her power away.
It’s time she got it back.
It was the gift Miranda gave me years ago and now I want to give it to Callie.
Callie glances at herself one more time in the mirror and then nods. She looks back at me and holds up the wicked spiked stiletto boots. “Help me with my heels?”
* * *
Usually walking into the main galleria of the club calms me down. It means release is near. But not right now. I’m wound tight as a steel guitar string.
I can’t keep my eyes off Callie. What’s she thinking? What’s she expecting? We walk inside and everything is familiar to me but I try to see it through her eyes. We pass by the bar area and continue into the main communal room.
The walls are a varnished wood so dark it’s just a shade lighter than black. The black tile floor gleams in the ambient yellow light given off from chandeliers studded throughout the ceiling. They’re not the only things hanging from the heavy beams running the length of the room far above our heads, though.
I watch Callie’s eyes as they follow chains linked to pulleys connected to the beam and then trace back down on the other side to attached cuffs and swings. Her eyes widen and then shoot around to the stations set up all around the room. Several spanking benches. A few small areas where scenes can be staged. A St. Andrew’s cross.
The club is mid-level busy tonight. Naked and half-naked bodies are strung up in one corner, spread-eagle over a pommel horse in another, bent on their knees in yet another. A blindfolded naked man with a ball gag in his mouth stands handcuffed to a second St. Andrew’s cross in the other corner, wrists and ankles cuffed to the large wooden X. Another dom brings down a flogger on the first man’s back. He spasms and an inflamed pinkish spot joins other similar marks on his reddened shoulders.
Callie’s eyes grow even wider though I wouldn’t have thought that was possible.
Shit. Maybe bringing her here was a bad idea. It
’s rare that I second-guess myself but with Callie I never feel like I’m on solid ground. But it might have been better to discretely invite a few people I trust to scene at my house and shown her that way rather than tossing her in the deep end like this.
I just thought that a public place might make her feel more at ease. Or made her more likely to run for the hills and never talk to you again.
Jesus, her hands are trembling. I reach out to take one without thinking. The second I make contact, though, she yanks away from me.
Right.
Because I’ve totally fucked any headway I was making, bringing her here. But it’s already done and there’s no stuffing this genie back in the bottle.
“Do you need another moment?”
She shakes her head no. Vehemently.
“Do you want to go?” I ask roughly. “We can leave.”
She takes a deep breath, eyes still darting everywhere around the room. “Is there a reason you brought me here? I mean, something in particular you wanted to show me?”
“Yes. In the back rooms. Mistress Nightblood is doing a scene tonight and she said we could come observe. She’s a friend.”
Callie’s eyes finally come to me. “Mistress…” She trails off and her eyes pause on a woman wearing an outfit not dissimilar to her own, leading a man crawling on the floor by a leash.
Callie blinks a few times and expels a big breath before nodding. “Okay, show me.”
I gesture for her to follow me and she holds her head high as we continue through the room. We’re almost to the back hallway leading to the private rooms when I realize Callie’s no longer beside me.
I turn and see she’s stopped by a scene several feet back where a woman is strung upside down. She’s strapped into a pair of boots that are chained to the ceiling. Her hands are also cuffed and chained to the ceiling so that her back is parallel to the ground, stomach up. Her head hangs backward, mouth open.
A dom steps in front of her and then without ceremony, grabs her blonde braid, adjusts her head slightly, shoves his cock into her mouth and down her throat. She chokes on it and spittle almost immediately starts to pour out the sides of her mouth, rolling down and into her hair.
Callie’s mouth falls open and she looks horrified.
Without breaking stride, the dom fucking her mouth signals with his hand to another man. The second man, in black latex chaps with a cutout where the crotch area should be steps forward. He’s already erect and he moves calmly to the other end of the woman and grabs her hips. He’s clearly about to penetrate when Callie jumps forward.
“Stop it!” she shouts.
“Callie.” I put a hand on her arm to stop her as the two doms look over at us. Shit. I hate to restrain her but she just doesn’t understand what she’s seeing.
“They aren’t doing anything wrong.” I speak as quietly as I can to her. I can tell she wants to argue back so I continue hurriedly. “This is a BDSM club. Nothing goes on here that isn’t consensual. Completely consensual. Do you understand what I mean? They aren’t doing anything except what that girl has expressly given them the go-ahead for. What she wants them to do.”
“She can’t even talk!” Callie yanks against my grip and nods toward the man who has the girl’s head in a tight grip as he feeds his cock down her throat. When the other man enters her from the other end, I can tell Callie’s about to lose it.
Her eyes go distant and she makes a gagging noise. Gagging like it’s her with the cock down her throat. She’s shaking. Her whole body is shaking. Like it’s her being held in place and unable to move.
What. The. Fuck. Does that mean—?
I have to get her out of here. Right fucking now.
But the way she yanked away from me earlier— Jesus, I don’t want to even touch her right now and make it worse.
The next moment though, she’s not frozen anymore. She takes a step forward like she’s about to charge the man at the woman’s head when he suddenly calls out, “Break light,” and pulls out of his sub’s mouth. The man on the other end pulls back immediately as well. It’s only then that I notice the strung up girl is snapping her fingers rapidly.
“Brake light, brake light,” she gasps as soon as her mouth is free. The dom at her mouth signals with his hand and the next moment, the chains holding her up start lowering to the ground.
He catches her in his arms when she’s almost to the floor, cradling her body. He immediately starts undoing the cuffs at her wrists and the man in chaps comes to her feet, working at the combination of chains and cuffs there.
Tears stream down the girl’s cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeats several times, “I failed to please you.”
The man is shaking his head adamantly. “Don’t ever say sorry for using your safe word.” His voice is commanding and the girl looks up into his eyes, her own large and luminous. “That would displease me.”
A gentle smile breaks across her face and she nods.
I keep looking back from the girl to Callie, the girl to Callie. Because Callie is frozen again, her features caught somewhere between confusion and fury and looking like she’s about to break out in tears herself.
“I told you our motto is safe, sane, and consensual,” I whisper. “Nothing that happens here will ever violate any of those three cardinal rules.”
“Safe,” she whispers. “Sane. Consensual.”
She swallows, eyes still on the girl from the scene as she snuggles into her dom’s chest. He places a kiss on top of her head, slipping the tie off the end of her braid. Then he runs his fingers through her hair as he continues soothing her.
Callie turns away from the scene abruptly and starts walking in the direction we were initially going, toward the back hallways.
Okay. Apparently we’re moving on. Once we get to the hallway, we pass by several windows that reveal more private scenes being enacted.
I glance through each window as we pass before finally stopping. My eyes are on Callie as she takes in the room that’s dark inside except for a single spotlight highlighting a naked man bent over a spanking bench and my friend Patricia standing behind him. Callie’s eyes are wide but curious. Not disgusted or afraid. We’ll call that progress.
I knock twice and Patricia looks to the window before waving at us to come in. I open the door and we step inside.
“Hello, Mistress Nightblood,” I greet Patricia formally. It’s unusual that I even know her apart from her Domme name, but she’s a friend of Miranda’s and we’ve socialized together.
She inclines her head toward me. “Master Sin.”
Callie’s head snaps toward me, probably at the moniker. But this is a place we come to fulfill fantasies and I’m unapologetic about the fact. I meet Callie’s gaze head on but within seconds, her eyes bounce back to Patricia.
Patricia is fuller figured. A respectable lawyer by day, right now she’s dressed in a red bustier and latex skirt that barely hits the tops of her thighs.
“May I introduce my potential apprentice, Mistress…” I look at Callie. Hmm, I should have asked her earlier what she’d like to go by but she thinks on her feet, just like always.
“Mistress Lee,” she says with barely a moment’s pause. The second half of her shortened name, Callie. It’s strong. A good, dominant name.
“Nice to meet you, Mistress Lee.” Patricia smiles at her and it’s warm and genuine. I’ve always liked that about Patricia. She’s real. “Always good to see new Dommes-in-training. We need all the help we can to keep these dicks in line, don’t we? Speaking of—” Patricia averts her attention and Callie follows her gaze to the man under the spotlight.
He’s chained spread-eagled, ass up. He’s also completely naked except for a thick leather collar around his neck, a cock ring, and several weighted metal rings around his balls, dragging them toward the floor. Ball stretchers. I can’t help shifting uncomfortably just looking at the damn things.
“Had enough yet, slave?” Mistress Nightblood picks up a bro
wn flogger with a ton of little leather straps coming out the end. Patricia has disappeared. She’s all Mistress now.
She flicks his ass with it. Once. Twice. Three times.
He barely flinches and his ass only turns a very light pink as opposed to some of the angry red flesh on the butts we passed outside
The man lets out a groan but it doesn’t sound like he’s in pain.
“Don’t you dare come,” Mistress Nightblood says in a warning voice. She reaches between his legs and tugs on the weights that are attached to his balls.
“Please, Mistress.” The sub sounds agonized. “Please, please.”
She smacks him on the ass with the flogger again, this time harder.
“Please, what?”
Callie tenses beside me, like again she has the urge to go forward and stop what’s happening. But then the sub starts talking.
“Please let me come, Mistress. I can’t take any more. I’m a nasty, bad, bad little slave.” His ass wiggles slightly. Well, as much as he can, constrained as he is. “But please, please let me come.”
I watch Callie’s face and see the concern morph to surprise.
“Oh, you can’t take any more?” Mistress’s voice takes on a dangerous edge. “Since when do you think you’re the one who gets to determine how much you can or cannot take?”
I put my hand to the small of Callie’s back, the gentlest touch, to lead her a little away from the couple so that we’re unobtrusive, but still close enough so we have a clear view of what Mistress Nightblood is doing.
She grabs the head of her sub’s cock and he lets out a groan as his whole body shudders. Callie’s breath hitches and my eyes are locked on her as she swallows hard, eyes furrowed in concentration as she watches the scene in front of her.
She looks riveted. Is she imagining what she could have? Is she imagining what that kind of control might feel like?
Is that what I looked like my first time?
Miranda was a sub. We’d been dating for a couple months the first time she asked me to spank her.
I was horrified. I’d never hurt her. How could she ask that of me? Especially knowing what she did about me?
Break So Soft: Break So Soft Duet Page 9
