Playtime is Over (Red Velvet Rope)

by Nadia Aidan

  “My subs?”

  He’d stared at her for a moment longer, his gaze traveling the length of her figure. As leisurely as he’d perused her, he quickly dismissed her, as if he had not noticed the slight tremble in her voice and her wide eyes filled with surprise.

  Abruptly, he shoved a leaflet of papers into her hand and stood. “Fill these out and when you’re done take them down the hall to my assistant, Karen. You start Friday at seven and your initial sessions will be monitored. Any more questions, ask Karen.”

  Erik’s towering frame had disappeared from the office then, leaving her standing in the center of the empty space, alone.

  Sonya now glanced down at her frame, the rounded curves of her breasts hugged by a black leather corset, which gave the appearance that her supple flesh would at any moment spill over the garment. Knee-high black platform boots hugged her calves. A long leather skirt hung low on her hips, revealing the creamy skin of her smooth legs beneath the crisscross outline of black ribbons that were woven into a loosely braided pattern from hip to ankle.

  She was a Domme, a Dominatrix?

  It would have been laughable, unbelievable, if it wasn’t real. She was not a switch—a person who could easily oscillate between the role of Dominant and submissive, Master and slave.

  Or at least Sonya didn’t think so.

  She would find out soon enough, and so would Erik. And when he discovered the truth he would fire her, leaving her with no job because she was not yet ready to return to The Red Velvet Rope and face Joshua.

  She should have told Erik the truth and corrected his mistake. She was there to apply for an office managerial position. Instead, she’d remained silent, and now… Now she was here pretending to be something she was not.

  Her heels clicked against the back room corridor where the Dominants prepared for their roles. This was where The Sanctuary was different from her own club. The Red Velvet Rope was an exclusive playground of sorts, where consenting adults entered to indulge in their fantasies, act upon their desires, whatever those might be.

  In turn, The Sanctuary offered a service to sexual submissives who would pay well for the pleasure of a skilled Dominant mastering them. And if you were a Dominant, you could have a lucrative career doing what was inherently your nature.

  Trailing behind Erik, she silently traced every single ripple of muscle beneath his dress shirt. His back, his arms, every inch of him was powerfully built. He was handsome, but even that word seemed too tame for the arresting man with feral green eyes and midnight-black hair tinged gray at the temples. Erik was a revered Dom in the city, well known as one of the most skilled Masters, but he’d mistakenly assumed that she was a Dominant, like the other three owners of The Red Velvet Rope. Still, he should have picked up on her nature. So why had he not been able to see through her ruse? Why had he failed to glimpse that part of herself that longed to surrender, to be mastered by another? Unless he’d deliberately chosen not to see the truth.

  No matter what he assumed, that she was even contemplating going through with this charade suggested she was something she’d never suspected herself of being—the knowledge of which left her feeling as if she’d been tossed out a plane forty thousand feet from the ground without a chute. She had never felt more unsure of herself than now.

  Erik stopped and turned, forcing her to halt where she stood or she would have barreled into his chest.

  “He awaits your command,” Erik said with a nod toward an open doorway. She hesitated, and the gesture, or lack thereof, was perceptible. Sharp eyes narrowed, and a wall of tension began to surround them, closing her in.

  She could do this. She had to do this.

  I cannot go back to my old job, my old life. All of it reminded her of Joshua, a man she had no intention of returning to either.

  She returned his nod and slipped past him through the doorway.

  “I will be monitoring you on the cameras.” He gestured over her head to a ceiling camera tucked in a corner.

  He would be watching her, searching for any sign of further hesitation or incompetency. If she did not perform well, she would fail, she would be fired, and possibly exposed as a fraud.

  Drawing in a long, uneven breath, she held it for just a moment before releasing the air from her lungs. The door closed behind her, signaling Erik’s departure. He would most likely return to his office where he would study his network of cameras, quietly viewing her.

  Unexpectedly a sharp bolt of heat lanced through her, down her spine all the way to her toes. Her belly fluttered with small tingles at the notion of his eyes following the interplay between herself and the man now awaiting her every command. She had always enjoyed exhibition but had never indulged in it from the other side—as a Dominant and not a submissive. Another current of warmth surged within her veins until every sense was heightened, every fiber of her being anticipating what was to come next.

  There came a soft whisper of sound from the center of the darkened room, drawing her attention. Soft light bathed the room in an amber glow, giving the appearance of candlelight to the naked eye. Scattered across the room there even appeared to be candles, but Sonya already knew they were fake. Much like the Christmas lights one put in the window every holiday, bulbs radiated with the shimmering glow of faux candlelight.

  Even with the warm, golden light spilling across the room, Sonya was forced to squint while her eyes adjusted to the darkness. And yet, despite her clouded vision, she could easily see him. The silhouette of a man bound with his hands behind his back and on his knees in the center of the room. He was crouched down at the foot of the impressive king-sized bed, which dominated the space.

  She hesitated for a moment, her gaze darting between the man before her and the camera above them.

  I can do this.

  She chanted the mantra in her head as she took short, tentative steps forward. This was important to her. She was starting over, starting a new life. She could do this, she just prayed she didn’t hurt this man in the process.

  It was the duty of a skillful Master or Mistress to determine the needs of a submissive, and to give him or her what he craved the most. Whether that be discipline or restraint, it was now up to her to figure it out and gift this man, this submissive, with what he now eagerly waited for.

  The sound of her boots clicking against the floor roused the still form of the man before her. He looked up, but his face was hidden behind a mask, a blindfold tied around it to shield his eyes. All she could glimpse was the firm curve of his lips through the cutout in the mask, and above that a small slit in the black fabric so he could breathe.

  Sonya’s fingers tingled. There was something enticing about the way his lips lifted at one corner, as if his mouth was forever carved into a permanent, arrogant grin. She wanted to trace the seam of his mouth with her fingertips, to feel the cool softness of his lips beneath her touch but Erik’s only instructions were not to remove either the blindfold or the mask. That was the only request of the sub—all else was at her discretion.

  Her gaze strayed from his enticing mouth to the right of her. Along the wall hung several objects used for play—a flogger, a leather whip, steel handcuffs, several canes and a variety of wooden paddles. Tucked in the corner was an armoire where she knew more toys could be found, typically those that catered to more extreme activities. For now, Sonya determined, it would remain shut.

  She crept closer until she stood above his crouched form. The darkness of the room still crowded her vision, but from this vantage point she could see more of him. That was when she realized he was fully nude. Without thought she reached out to touch his bare skin, a smooth alabaster beneath the shadows.

  Warmth greeted her, along with the rippling of powerful muscles beneath rugged flesh. No words were spoken, but he turned his head as if she had, craning his neck. His body arched into her touch, and she learned the texture of his skin with her fingertips, her palm.

  His scent was unique, foreign, yet oddly comforting. Sh
e imagined a forest of pines, the smell of him was pungent and all male. She found it pleasant.

  “What is your name?” Her voice echoed from her vocal cords, full of strength and authority and for a moment she was surprised it had not betrayed her with a stutter to match the vibrations in her belly.

  “David.”

  “David what?”

  He looked up with unseeing eyes, his lips twisted into a frown.

  “I do not…”

  Last names were forbidden in this place, especially under these circumstances—when an intimacy had not yet developed between them.

  “Mistress,” she said finally, understanding his confusion.

  But when he still did not respond, she gripped his jaw in one hand, holding him tighter than necessary. “Every reply you furnish will always end with Mistress Anya, or simply Mistress. Understood?”

  He started to nod, stopping immediately when he realized his error.

  “Yes, Mistress Anya.”

  Mistress Anya.

  Sonya enjoyed the sound of it reverberating deep within her subconscious, just as she enjoyed the hard grip of her hand upon his taut jaw.

  She wondered if it was like this for true Dominants, the heady feeling of wielding power over another. It both thrilled and terrified her, the dual sensations throbbing wildly through her veins. She could become corrupted by such power, and she was certain some did, except with the power she held over him, she was now completely responsible for him.

  At her mercy, his safety was in her hands, just as his ultimate pleasure fell upon her as well.

  His sharp intake of breath reminded her she still held him tightly, and her fingers eased but she did not release him. David.

  Like she’d just done with her own title, she let his name slip through her mind as her hands now began to roam across his heated flesh.

  Beloved. She did not know how or why she recalled it, the meaning of his name. A tenderness she had not anticipated washed over her until she caressed him as softly as one would a delicate object.

  This softness was at odds with what was to come next, for she knew nothing of what it was like to be a Mistress, but as Joshua’s sub she’d learned much of the pleasures to be had when one experienced pain. She only hoped David would also find pleasure in what pleased her. There was only one way to find out…

  Chapter Three

  “Do not move from your position,” Sonya instructed him as she crossed the room to retrieve one of the items on the wall.

  A flogger.

  She clutched the handle with one hand while her fingers from the other toyed with the soft tendrils of leather. This would do—for now, it would have to. She was not skilled with a whip and did not trust her neophyte instincts as a Mistress to gauge David’s pain threshold with a paddle.

  The flogger would strike flesh, and it would sting, but only someone possessed of a great deal of strength or who truly wished to inflict harm had the power to injure with the object.

  Returning to David, she bent over him and lifting a key from between her cleavage, she used it to release him from his cuffs.

  “Do not move unless I command it.”

  Before the words left her mouth she knew she’d made a mistake. A true Mistress did not need to issue such instructions, for a sub already knew, he was to do nothing without the permission of his Mistress.

  If he found her command odd, he did not let on as he nodded. “Yes, Mistress.”

  She noticed then the rich gravel to his husky voice. It was warm yet cold, rough yet tender as if something had damaged his vocal cords, giving his deep voice a harsh rasp to it. She found it sexy. A smile teased the corners of her lips and she caressed him, her fingers trailing across his broad shoulders, enjoying the sinew and muscle that rippled everywhere she touched.

  He was a very attractive man, she acknowledged, and with just the thought warmth tingled in her chest, tightening the peaks of her nipples until they were almost painful within the strict confines of the corset. She also acknowledged she was definitely attracted to him, and yet she did not know him. She knew nothing about him. If this was his first time at The Sanctuary, if David was even his real name.

  Sonya was tempted to question him for she was curious, but she held her tongue. Again, such intimacy was out of place here—a true Mistress would know that. But she was not a true Mistress, and she longed to know something, anything of note about the man whom she’d been called upon to please.

  As if he could hear her thoughts, his cock lengthened, hardening as she continued to stroke his flesh.

  “Stand, slave.”

  Obeying her command, he stood before her, towering over her, the taut muscles of his body rivaled only by the impressive swell of his cock. With deft motions, she ushered him into a harness that hung from a wall, securing his wrists so his arms were lifted high over his head, while his ankles were left unrestrained.

  He shivered and she smiled at the tension radiating from him. He was eager.

  Pleasure and pain—two sides of the same coin. She knew the power of both sensations coursing through her, what it was like to crave the experience, and by the way David’s muscles corded tight, bunching beneath her hands, she recognized he craved it too.

  The first strike of the flogger was gentle, a tease. He only flinched out of surprise because she knew she had not struck him hard enough to even sting. Like a lover’s caress, she trailed the end of the flogger across his back, teasing him.

  He waited, every inch of him straining with tension, anticipation. Small beads of perspiration ran along his brow, and his body began to glisten with just a hint of moisture. Adrenaline surged through her and she inhaled, drawing in his scent.

  She struck again, harder this time. Followed by another strike, and then another. She did not count how many times, or know for how long, though it felt like hours. She struck him mercilessly, only to tease him by sliding the leather ends of the flogger across his bare flesh. It was a soothing gesture but also a silent promise that she was not yet done. More was to come.

  Sweat now clung to her own frame, her muscles beginning to tire. His cock was rigid, leaking with tiny droplets of pre-cum. She hit him with the flogger once again and his body shook against the restraints, but it was subtle and she praised him for his discipline. This entire time he had not once cried out, not begged her to stop, even though the raised red welts crisscrossing his back revealed that she had inflicted a measure of pain.

  Walking behind him, Sonya stood with her chest pressed against his warm back. She rubbed her body against his until he hissed, knowing she caused abrasions with the rough material against his welted back. His cock leaked more fluid in response and she knew the rough slide of their bodies rubbing together turned him on.

  “What would you have me do now?” Her breath washed against his ear, while one hand slipped between the taut muscles of his ass. She probed between his cheeks until she found the tiny rosette. Pressing forward with a single digit, she entered him, pushing past the tight ring of muscle. At the same time she lifted the flogger once again and reaching around him, she struck his cock with the ends.

  He cried out but she did not stop.

  She fingered the puckered hole, matching the rhythm of her flogger, striking his shaft. The ruddy flesh of his cock swelled then lengthened. She struck him again, her finger burrowing deeper until she felt him shudder violently against her.

  A roar clawed out of his heaving chest as his cock erupted, pouring forth streams of hot, white semen onto the floor. His breathing was ragged, and tremors continued to pulse through him. Sonya did not withdraw from him nor pull away until his heartbeat, his breaths, were once again even.

  “May I please you, Mistress?”

  Sonya stopped midstride. “I did not give you permission to speak, slave.” She probably would have flogged him again, except she’d just returned the object to its place along the wall.

  Realizing his error, he hung his head, and a softness filled her.

/>   “You are forgiven,” she whispered, once again tracing the muscles along his back with her hand. “And you will please me, but not this time.”

  She had not expected the interruption, but Erik must have witnessed the scene she’d just played out with David, and that it was now over.

  The door opened and one of the guards stood in the entryway nodding for her to leave.

  “Until next time, David.” She caressed his masked face, his slight nod her only reply.

  She turned from him, the sharp click of her heels the only sound to be heard as she left the room.

  * * * * *

  The sepia screen before him was somewhat grainy, the image of the woman whose face dominated the picture hard to discern, but Joshua would recognize Sonya in a crowd of people, the delicate line of her jaw, her sharp eyes compelling one to lay their own eyes upon her.

  Sitting in Erik’s office, Joshua stared at the screen, anger and shock pumping like a steady river through his veins, boiling his blood. How dare Erik put Sonya in this position? Place her in a role that was both dangerous and beyond her skills?

  “She is not a Dominant.” He glared at the owner of The Sanctuary, who sat across from him perched on the edge of his desk.

  “Ahh, but it would appear you are mistaken. She seems to be doing quite well, don’t you think?”

  Joshua balled his fists against his thighs at Erik’s smug tone. After Seth had revealed to him where Sonya had fled, he’d contacted Erik immediately. It did not go unnoticed to Joshua that Erik had seemed all too thrilled to relay to him that Josh’s sub had come to his club in search of a job. “You should not have allowed her to go in there. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

  “That is your problem, Joshua, you’re arrogant.” Erik shook his head as if he felt sorry for him. “And now I see why she left you—”

  Instantly, he shot out of his seat. “You don’t know shit so stop while you’re ahead.”

  “Don’t I?” Erik shifted to his feet and Joshua followed the casual movements of Erik Johanssen, a man Joshua could only describe as his longtime friend, and equally his longtime nemesis.