Taming Me

by Alexandrea Weis

  Gazing at the gathering of guests, I noticed all the women were wearing formal gowns. Many had replaced their leather collars with expensive gold, silver, or bejeweled ones like mine. All the men were in tuxedos…some even had tails. I thought the whole charade rather surreal, as we strolled about a room with the paintings of the women tied or handcuffed on the walls staring down on us. The silver handcuffs in the huge chandelier above caught my eye, and I wondered what kind of life the members of this club lived after they returned home.

  “Let’s get some champagne,” Garrett suggested. He placed his hand in the small of my back and encouraged me toward the walnut bar across the room.

  “What about staying on our toes?” I mumbled out of the side of my mouth, trying not to attract attention.

  We approached the bar and Garrett leaned in closer to me. “Keep the same glass with you all night, and drink only a few sips,” he whispered in my ear.

  “Garrett,” an attractive blond man called, strutting toward the bar.

  “Ren, how are you?” Garrett waved his hand to me. “Ren Plancharde, this is Alexandra Palmer.”

  I recognized his blond, curly hair and deep green eyes from the last time I had come to the club. He was the painter Garrett had mentioned.

  Ren Plancharde dipped his head to me. “Ms. Palmer, it’s a pleasure.”

  “Surprised to see you at this party, Ren. Not working?” Garrett slipped a possessive arm about my waist.

  “Always working,” the refined artist admitted. “Mabel insisted I come.” His eyes took a turn of the crowd milling about the room. “You know I hate these things.” He gave Garrett a painful smile. “We’ll talk soon, my friend.” Clasping a flute of golden liquid in his hand, Ren Plancharde walked away.

  As we waited by the bar with a few other couples, a young bartender dressed in a tuxedo came up to us and set two flutes of champagne before us without taking our order. While Garrett handed me a glass, I noted that the other guests at the bar were also served champagne.

  “Mabel only allows champagne at these events, and will ask questions if we don’t drink,” he clarified.

  Nodding my head in understanding, we then moved away from the bar.

  “My, what a fine pair you make,” Mabel clucked in her harsh voice. “She looks good with you, Garrett.” The round woman came up to us.

  Sporting another deep burgundy gown, her red hair was pinned up in assorted curls, and about her shoulders was a red feather boa. Her green eyes were all over me. When she spied the collar around my neck, she smirked.

  “That’s quite a piece.” She gestured to my collar. “You have a very rare master, my dear, to decorate you with such an expensive bauble. It is a very elite gesture.” She emphasized the word elite, as her eyes shifted to Garrett.

  He cleared his throat and took in the other guests in the room. “Wonderful party, Mabel.” He lifted his drink to his lips and took a sip of champagne.

  Mabel nodded to the side of the room. “We have a certain matter to discuss.”

  Garrett lowered his glass, and my stomach cramped with worry.

  “Of course.” He directed his attention to me. “Wait here,” he instructed.

  I stood by as they went to a corner of the room, their heads together. Mabel cackled once, drawing a few interested glances from the other guests, and then returned to her intense discussion with Garrett. Now what in the hell was I supposed to do? Standing in the middle of that absurd room, gripping my flute of champagne—too damned afraid to drink it—I decided to focus on the chairs arranged in a circle about the square stage. As I was pondering a list of possible reasons that the small stage had been set up in such a spot, someone brushed against my arm.

  When I turned, I expected to see Garrett next to me. Instead of Garrett’s intense brown eyes, I was greeted by the invasive leer of Colin.

  “You look beautiful in that dress,” he chirped.

  His hand waved down the length of my gown, and I immediately searched the room for Garrett. What was I to do?

  “You can talk to me, I won’t tell.” He shimmied closer to me. “I know how strict your master can be, but he’s not here right now. It’s just the two of us.”

  Wanting to choke the living shit of him with his black tuxedo tie, I was forced to smile sweetly and bite my tongue.

  His traced his finger down the top of my left forearm. “I’m free of my sub. It was time…she got boring. I bet you’ll never get boring.”

  This was killing me. To smile and say nothing was not in my nature. I was more an open fire, collect the shell casings, and then bury the body kind of girl.

  “Do you think you would be interested in having me for a master, Lexie?” His finger began to draw circles on my forearm. “I promise, I never punish. I’m only interested in giving my subs the utmost pleasure.”

  I lowered my face slightly, wanting to hide what I was about to say. “Colin,” I softly growled, “touch me again, and I will cut off your balls, and shove them up your ass.”

  The delight in his blue eyes was not what I expected. “I knew you had a fiery side. He doesn’t let you show it, does he?” Colin’s hand clasped my wrist, spilling some champagne from my glass. “I could make you very happy. Allow me to claim you for myself.”

  “What’s going on?” Garrett’s booming voice broke in.

  Colin let go of me just as Garrett yanked me to his side. I wanted to tell him everything. When I saw how all eyes in the room were taking in the confrontation, I knew I couldn’t. I had a part to play.

  “Leave her alone, Colin.” Garrett held my arm.

  “Just making casual conversation, Garrett.” Colin cockily shoved his hands in his tuxedo pants and rocked on his toes. “I thought, perhaps, she had grown tired of your bullshit and wanted to try a master who prefers real pleasure to your games.”

  “She’s mine,” Garrett snarled.

  “Need I remind you, that you haven’t claimed her in the presence of the other members,” Colin argued. “I have every right to ask for her, according to the rules of the club.”

  Garrett took an angry step toward Colin, as my mind reeled. What in the hell was he talking about?

  “Colin, Garrett, enough,” Mabel spoke out, coming up to our party. “Such things are not decided using your fists in this establishment.” She leveled her green eyes on Colin. “You know better than that. Take your chair, we’re about to begin.”

  Colin was not happy about the reprimand, but he backed off and bowed his head graciously to Mabel. Once he had gone to the circle of chairs, Mabel took my hand.

  “You must sit beside me. I want to see what you think of our festivities, Alexandra.”

  I allowed her to guide me and was instructed to sit to the right of a high backed, dark mahogany chair. With my champagne positioned on my lap, I watched as other couples came toward the circle. Garrett stood behind me, placing his hand on my right shoulder. The other men in the room with female partners stood in a similar fashion behind the chairs of their women. Colin was several chairs down to my left, standing behind an empty chair and staring ahead to the stage in front of us. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the artist, Ren Plancharde, hovering close to the bar, his thin lips turned downward in a disapproving scowl.

  Not knowing what to expect, I kept my gaze focused on the stage like the other women around me. Garrett’s hand felt comforting. When I took in a deep breath, he squeezed my shoulder.

  “I’m sure you have never witnessed a collaring ceremony, my dear,” Mabel said beside me. “It’s something special to our club. A way to bind subs to their Doms, so there can be no disputes among the men. I’ve found it best, when dealing with men, that they make a public claim to a sub, thereby ensuring others will stay away. Having witnesses to such an event is so worthwhile.” She clapped her hands. “Let’s begin.”

  From the entrance to the room a man came forward. Wearing a sharp tuxedo, he carried a black leather collar in his hand. He was older, somewhere in his mid-f
ifties, attractive, had a slight paunch, and receding hairline. He was vaguely familiar to me. I realized where I had seen his face. A judge in the parish courthouse, his television commercials had flooded the airways when he had run for re-election a few months prior.

  Behind him, walked a woman wearing a hooded white robe. Her feet were bare and her face was partially covered. I did not recognize her until she entered the circle. It was Heather, the mousy blonde I had seen with Colin.

  “We leave it to the sub to decide the man she wishes to have as her Dom,” Mabel explained. “How she makes that decision is up to her. Everything in this club is done with the consent of both parties.” Mabel waved toward the man as he removed his tuxedo jacket. “Once she consents, she must prove her loyalty to her Dom by consummating her choice before the group in a ceremony.”

  My heart began to beat a little faster, as my eyes remained glued to the man on the stage before me. Having removed his jacket and flung it aside, he was rolling up his shirtsleeves as Heather waited in front of the red velvet chaise.

  Mabel stood up. “Remember this is for the rights to this woman,” she spoke out in a clear voice. “Heather Vreeland has freely chosen Avery Gautier to be her master, and consents to everything that will take place tonight.” She motioned to Colin. “Colin Bergeron, do you consent to give up this woman?”

  Colin nodded his head. “I do.”

  Mabel returned her gaze to the stage. “Heather Vreeland, do you consent to this ceremony?”

  Heather’s timid voice rang out. “I consent.”

  Mabel motioned to the man standing on the platform. “You may begin.”

  Avery approached Heather and lowered the hood from around her face, then pushed the robe over her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She was completely nude. I watched the man inspect Heather’s body, and an uncomfortable pang caught in my gut. As she stood before him, Avery Gautier fastened the black leather collar in his hand about Heather’s neck. My grip tightened on my champagne glass, hoping that was the extent of it.

  “My son is a fool,” Mabel whispered beside me. “Giving up such a prize. Ah, but men are fickle beasts.”

  My eyes darted to Colin. Her son? God, I needed a sip of my champagne.

  As Colin ogled Heather’s naked body he licked his lips, prompting me turn away. Hiding my revulsion, I was diverting my eyes to the main attraction when I felt Garrett’s thumb begin to, ever so lightly, rub back and forth over my shoulder. The steady motion calmed me. I closed my eyes for a second and concentrated on his touch. Heather’s giggling made me open my eyes. While naked before the red velvet chaise, her appointed Dom was fondling her, running his hands along her slender hips, stroking her small breasts, and to my amazement, the woman was enjoying it.

  I was a voyeur; ashamed that I was having any part of this. At the same time, I was fascinated by what was taking place. While Avery’s groping became more insistent, Garrett’s thumb pressed harder into my skin. The constant reminder of his presence, the enticing way his thumb caressed me, made it difficult to concentrate. When Heather moaned, Avery’s hand eased between her legs.

  “She was always such a tease,” Mabel muttered. “I’m not surprised that she’s up on that platform again. It’s the second time this year.” Mabel shifted in her chair and leaned over to me. “If you ask me, she likes doing it in public.”

  I could not believe what I was hearing.

  “Of course, not everyone is like her,” Mabel went on. “Some subs don’t care for the ceremony in the beginning. They are the modest ones. In the end, they all come around.”

  Heather gasped as Avery tossed her face down on the chaise. I flinched and Garrett’s thumb drove even deeper into my flesh.

  Mabel sighed, looking bored. “I hope they don’t take too long.”

  When Avery positioned his hips behind Heather’s round ass, my body tensed. Garrett’s thumb began to move faster back and forth, pressing harder into me. While Avery unzipped his pants, my breath caught in my throat, and Garrett dragged his thumbnail across my skin. As Avery rammed into Heather, Garrett pushed his thumb deep into my shoulder. Heather cried out when Avery began mercilessly pounding into her. I bit my lower lip as Garrett’s thumb began mimicking Avery’s every thrust.

  My insides were on fire. I pictured me up on the stage with Garrett behind me, taking me, making me his. Clenching my flute of champagne, I was sure it was going to smash into pieces at any moment. Beads of sweat gathered beneath my dress as Garrett’s thumb continued its deep probing.

  Thankfully, the ordeal ended when Avery groaned and then slumped over Heather’s back. A round of applause broke the silence of the room, and Garrett lowered his hand from my shoulder. All around me, other guests were standing from their chairs, cheering enthusiastically.

  “Stand up and clap,” Garrett barked in my ear.

  In a daze, I stood and timidly patted my hand against my champagne glass, not quite sure why we were lauding such a display.

  “Thank God that’s over with,” Mabel complained. “Now we can eat.”

  I peered over at the woman in astonishment. Perhaps she had seen one too many of these ceremonies and had grown bored with the entire affair. I, on the other hand, was in dire need of a cold shower.

  “You can never truly belong to your handsome master, Alexandra, until you set foot on that stage and have him make you his.” She glanced back at me, her green eyes threatening. “Otherwise, there will always be questions about your loyalty to your Dom…and to our club.”

  My heart came to an absolute standstill.

  As if just made aware of their audience, Avery collected Heather’s white robe and covered her naked body. Sitting up on the chaise, she adjusted the robe around her, ran her fingers through her hair, and seemed completely at ease.

  “Come, everyone.” Mabel twirled a diamond clad hand in the air. “Dinner is being served in the dining room.”

  Rounds of oohs and aahs replaced the applause, and within seconds everyone was moving toward the entrance. I stood by my chair and waited for Garrett. Mabel was the last to leave, ushering Heather and Avery on to the dining room. When the parlor was finally empty, except for the lone bartender clinking glasses together behind the bar, Garrett came alongside me.

  Staring down at his shiny black patent leather shoes, I was too ashamed to raise my eyes. I was not a prude, by any means, but what I had just witnessed would have made a stripper blush.

  “Are you all right, Lexie?”

  I shook my head. “You should have told me.”

  He stooped down before me, making me look at him. “What would I have said? You already know what goes on here. How is this different?”

  “How is it…? Jesus, Garrett, what kind of shit are you into with these—?”

  He placed his fingers over my mouth, silencing me. He dipped his head to the bartender, reminding me that we were not alone. “It’s time to go home.” He pried the champagne glass from my hand and placed it on the floor.

  “What about dinner?” I asked, as he took my arm.

  “Dinner is not compulsory. The ceremony was.”

  We strolled toward the entrance and he placed his arm around my waist. Overcome by the events of the evening, I leaned against him for support. Growing up in New Orleans, I had seen everything. People having sex in public was not a big deal to me. If you have ever been to the French Quarter on Mardi Gras Day, you know that it’s everywhere. Seeing it in a private club, in front of some of the city’s most esteemed leaders, was something else entirely. This was dangerous, and reputations, as well as lives, could be ruined with this kind of information. Garrett’s warnings about the club began to sink in. I realized I had been placed in a precarious position. Not only was my career on the line, so was Garrett’s.

  After we had settled in his car, I let my eyes wander back to the grand two-story gallery home with its detailed ironwork. I never wanted to return to this place, and for a split second, I wished I had never met Garrett or
been exposed to such activities. It was one thing to suspect that there were twisted people in the world; it was quite another to sit in a room filled with them and be privy to their perverse pleasures.

  “I had to bring you tonight. If you had not come, they would have asked questions. We cannot afford that kind of scrutiny,” Garrett stated, turning the ignition.

  “What Mabel said about me having to go through that ceremony…is it true?”

  The car veered into the middle of First Street. “In the eyes of the club, yes, but I have no intention of subjecting you to that.”

  My hands went to the diamond collar about my neck. “What happens if you don’t claim me?”

  “Until you get a black collar you’re not officially a member, only my guest, and any other member of the club could try to claim you as theirs.”

  “Is that what Colin was suggesting?”

  He nodded as the car headed toward St. Charles Avenue. “Yes.”

  “You forgot to tell me he was Mabel’s son.”

  He squared his shoulders, appearing edgy. “It didn’t seem important.”

  “Important?” I shouted. “You don’t think his being the son of that woman will have any influence on him trying to own me?”

  “Claim you,” he corrected. “And no, it won’t. I won’t let him claim you. If it comes down to it, I’ll claim you first.”

  “You would make me go through that ceremony we just witnessed? You would humiliate me like that…in public…in front of those sick perverts?”

  “I’m one of those sick perverts, Lexie. Remember that.” I could see his jaw muscles tensing as he spoke.

  “So after you’ve had sex with me, am I to be your sub?”

  Keeping his eyes ahead to the streetlights of St. Charles Avenue, he answered, “Yes, then you would be completely mine.”