* * * *
“Good evenin’, lass. How was the rest of yer day?” Roane answered after the second ring later that evening.
“I’ve decided I do want to change my status. But only if you’re willing to collar me,” Calliope blurted out without even bothering to say hello.
“Oh really? Ye do realize that whether or not ta collar a submissive is a Master’s decision ta make, lass, not the submissive’s.”
He did not sound offended by her declaration, but rather amused by it, so Calliope decided to state the obvious. “Be that as it may, I won’t make the change unless you agree to my terms. Just think about it. You’d have a lush, ripe woman at your beck and call, willing to cuddle and snuggle in or out of the club.”
“Uh-huh. What else do ye have?” he asked though Calliope thought he sounded like he was fighting to keep from laughing long and hard.
“I make a mean shepherd’s pie and an apple cake that will give you a hard-on.”
“Tempting, but not exactly what I’m lookin’ fer.”
She was not sure what he was looking for, so she said the only other thing that came to mind. “I don’t think you could handle watching me scene with any of the other single Doms in the club.”
“I’ll hae ta think about it. Call me when ye wake up,” he said before cutting the connection.
“You’ll have to think about it?” Calliope fumed as she clicked off her phone and tossed it on the nightstand. She sighed and swore under her breath as it slid across the table and onto the carpeted floor.
Climbing out of bed, she retrieved the phone and set her carefully on the table before returning to bed. The past days and the stress of the meeting with the club’s submissives finally catching up with her, Calliope snuggled into the body pillow that took up the other side of her king-size bed. After saying a prayer that Roane would realize that her solution was perfect and he would collar her on Friday night, she drifted off to sleep.
* * * *
Roane hung up and then had a good long laugh. Then he sobered at the thought of watching her play with one, or more, of the other dominants in the club.
“Oh, hell no,” he murmured.
The longer he thought about it, the more he realized she was right. But he would not allow her to dictate the terms of her submission. That was a classic topping from the bottom move, and he would not allow it before he had even claimed her for his own.
Before he could put his collar on the lass, she would have to stand up in front of the club, admit her change of status, and make amends to those she had lied to.
But how could he make that happen without breaking his gypsy’s spirit?
With a smile, he picked up the phone and made a call to the one person who could help with Calliope’s transition to the other side of the flogger.
Chapter 9
Thursday evening, Calliope stood outside Club Esoteria’s front door on trembling legs, kicking herself for not asking Roane to come with her. But she had not spoken directly to him since he had hung up on her Tuesday night and, even if she had asked, could not be sure he would have agreed even if he had answered the phone.
As instructed, she had called each morning when she woke up and each evening as she settled into bed, leaving short messages on his voice mail after the beep.
He never responded.
Then, just three hours earlier, the call she had been nervously anticipating finally came. Mistress Jenna “requested” her presence at the club that evening even though the club was not open to the public. Glancing at her watch, she saw she had two minutes to get inside though no one else had arrived and her truck was the only vehicle in the parking lot.
So here she stood, afraid to open the door and go inside, yet unable to turn around and go home.
“Suck it up girl,” she said after another half minute ticked by. “You used to be one of them. It’s not like they’re going to do anything to you tonight, except maybe take your membership card. They’ll save any punishment for tomorrow night when the club is open and there are more witnesses.”
Her pep talk only worked in adding to her anxiety, so Calliope took a deep breath, threw back her shoulders, pulled the door open, and marched inside.
Whitney, Antony, and Gentry were waiting in the lobby for her. They looked solemn but nervous as they nodded in welcome. Whitney took her coat and hung it up without a word.
After she straightened her blouse and smoothed her palms down the front of her skirt, the two men flanked her and guided her into the club’s main room. The room was brighter than on any other night she had been here. The normal sounds of moans, groans, punishments, and pleasure were missing, leaving a void that emphasized this was not a normal night and amping up Calliope’s anxiety.
As they crossed the room to where six chairs were positioned in a semicircle, Calliope took note of who was present. Master Taurus, Mistress Jenna, and Master Dane occupied three seats on one side of the arc. The other three seats were empty as was a single chair that faced them.
As they approached, the dominants stood. “Good evening, Calliope,” Jenna said in a flat, neutral tone.
“Good evening,” Calliope returned softly.
Her three-submissive escort peeled off and went to stand in front of the three empty chairs, which left one for her. She felt nauseous as she sat it in. Master Roane’s absence was conspicuous as she faced the tribunal, which would be determining her fate at Club Esoteria, leaving her feeling alone, vulnerable, and unprotected.
Though her intense nervousness made her want to jump up and pace, Calliope forced herself to take a deep breath and knot her fingers in her lap instead. She was not sure why she had been called to face this panel, though she had a good idea. They were going to cancel her membership. But whether they allowed her to remain a member of the club or not, she had learned the truth of her nature and that she was not the Domme she thought she was.
For that, she would always be grateful. She just wished Roane were here to hear the jury’s verdict with her.
“Calliope, we’re here because it has been brought to my attention that you have made some discoveries about yourself since joining the club,” Jenna began once everyone was settled.
Calliope took another deep breath, releasing it on a sigh. “Yes, I have, Mistress Jenna.”
“Could you please share with us what they are?” Dane asked, his voice unusually soft and gentle for such a big man.
Nodding, Calliope spent a few seconds debating the proper wording for such a bold announcement. Her fingers tightening in the knot they formed, she glanced at the three submissives. Whitney nodded while Gentry and Antony smiled encouragingly.
Turning her attention back to the dominant side of the panel, she met each one’s eyes for a few seconds before moving to the next one. Then she looked at the space between Taurus and Whitney, dividing the dominants from the submissives. Just a few inches in space but completely opposite sides of the spectrum as far as mindsets, responsibilities, and ideals went.
“I have come to the realization that I am not cut out to be a Domme. I may run my own business and am able to be the boss at work, but here, in the club, being dominant is much harder than I had imagined,” she finally admitted, staring at the space between Taurus’s shoulder and Whitney’s.
Once she had said the words, the stress of making that public announcement rolled off her body as if she had shed a heavy woolen coat.
“So you are admitting you have been a submissive in Domme’s stilettos?” Master Taurus asked.
“Yes, Sir,” Calliope said, determined not to give away more than she had to.
“And how long have you known of this change of heart?” Mistress Jenna asked.
Calliope hesitated before answering, not wanting to admit even to herself that she had realized it on her second night in the club. “A few weeks,” she finally said evasively.
That admission seemed to shock everyone. “So, for the past few weeks you have been misleading the submiss
ives you have scened with? Lied to them, to everyone, about your true nature?” Master Taurus sounded pissed.
Tears filling her eyes, Calliope dropped her head so they would not see her misery. “Yes, Sir, I have. And I’m so sorry.”
“Go and wait in the lobby,” Mistress Jenna said, “while we figure out what to do.”
Calliope nodded without a word and fled, keeping her tears inside until she was out of sight of the tribunal that would decide her fate. Once she was alone, the tears came fast, rolling down her cheeks and off her chin faster than she could wipe them away.
Stepping into the women’s locker room, she found a box of tissues and plucked several, using them to mop up the evidence of her misery. She had no idea what she would do if they decided to cancel her membership. As far as she knew, there was not another sex club for a hundred miles in any direction.
Which meant she would have to return to her life of living vicariously through the erotic romance novels that filled her e-reader. It would hurt, but she would accept that Roane’s conspicuous absence at this meeting meant he was no longer interested in being her Dom. Obviously she had pushed too hard by demanding he collar her.
Calliope had gotten herself back under control by the time Whitney appeared in the doorway after what felt like an interminable seven minutes. She returned to her prior seat ready to be expelled from the club. She had accepted it, even anticipated it.
So she was totally unprepared when Jenna said, “In light of your admission, your membership status will be changed. But before you may take your place among the uncollared submissives, tomorrow night you will apologize to the entire membership present for misleading them. You will also undergo an appropriate punishment for lying to yourself and to the submissive you spent time with.”
Calliope sat stunned. They were not throwing her out. Then her brain zeroed in on the punishment. “What kind of punishment, Mistress Jenna?”
“That remains to be decided upon. Before you leave tonight, you will write down a list of all the men you scened with and what you did with each one. Leave it with Antony. You will also fill out the submissive’s paperwork,” Jenna said then paused until Calliope nodded her understanding before continuing. “Tomorrow you will be here at eight thirty when we open the doors. For one hour you will stand in the lobby and apologize to each dominant as they come into the club. At ten o’clock, you will present yourself to the stage for your punishment. Since it’s lingerie night, I expect to see you wearing only a thong and camisole. You may choose the color. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress Jenna.”
Calliope’s heart felt lighter than it had in weeks as Jenna and the others stood. They disappeared out the back of the club, no doubt heading upstairs to the apartment she shared with her slave/mates. Only Antony stayed behind.
He disappeared through the door marked “office” which was next to the one leading to the lobby. A moment later, he returned with a pad and pen and some other paperwork including what looked like her membership card.
“Come on, we can sit at the bar while you fill out this nasty paperwork.”
Calliope nodded. “I just hope I can remember what all I did and who I did it with,” she said softly.
With Antony’s help, she quickly filled out the correct paperwork and made a list of the men she had played with in the months she had been a Domme of the club. The list was not that long as there were only a few male submissives, though she rotated through the handful, never playing with the same man twice in a row.
Once she finished, Antony walked her to the front door and waited in the open doorway until she had climbed in and started her truck. Then he disappeared back inside, no doubt locking the door and turning off the lights as he made his way upstairs.
She drove home on autopilot. As she did, her mind thought back over the past months to the punishments of other submissives she had witnessed. Usually punishments were for insubordination or misbehaving or pissing off a Dom. Those had consisted of a flogging, or caning, or being played with until they were begging for mercy while being tied to a spanking bench or one of the other large pieces of BDSM furniture in the club. None of them had been for lying, which in the BDSM community was a ginormous offense.
All at once she wondered if she should have just resigned her membership.
Chapter 10
At eight twenty-five the next night, Calliope stepped through the club’s front door, trembling with fear of what was to come, yet shivery with anticipation that she might see Roane. As she had done all week, she had called and left a message telling him of her meeting at the club.
After hanging up, she sent him a long explanatory text about what had happened. She would have sent an e-mail except she did not have his e-mail address. It was not until she woke up that she wondered whether or not he texted and would read her note.
Stepping into the club, Calliope went to the check-in desk and handed over her shoes and long coat to Gentry, who was dressed in a fluorescent orange jock with his ever-present black leather collar. He took her things with an approving smile. “Looking good.”
She looked down at herself and had to agree with him. The deep-purple silky camisole and matching thong shimmered under the light. The color went well with her sunshine-blonde pigtail braids and made her eyes look even bigger than usual.
“Thanks. Any further instructions from Mistress Jenna?”
“Nope. Just stand here and apologize to the dominants as they check in,” Gentry said before turning to a couple that had just entered.
It was one of the longest, most humiliating hours Calliope had ever spent. But she got through it, and at the end of the hour, another submissive took Gentry’s place at the check-in desk and he came around to her side.
“You did great,” he said, giving her a long, strong hug.
“Are you allowed to do that?” Calliope asked once he released her and stepped back.
“I was given special dispensation. Mistress said I could give you a hug if you looked like you needed one. What’s wrong?”
“He didn’t come,” Calliope said, blinking back the tears of disappointment. Though many, many people had come to the club during the last hour, Master Roane had not been one of them.
Gentry did not answer, but took her hand and led her into the club. “Come on. You have enough time to sit down and drink a bottle of water before you go onstage.”
That reminder had her looking to the stage to see if she could determine what her punishment would be. But the stage was dark and a screen had been set up along the front edge, hiding whatever props had been set up.
They walked to the bar, and Jackson handed them each a bottle of water before Gentry led her what was jokingly referred to as the land of uncollared subs.
“Thanks, Gentry,” Calliope said as she sat down on the couch.
Gentry sat next to her and opened his water. “You’re welcome, but I’m under orders to stay with you until…” He trailed off.
“Oh, okay,” Calliope said with a nervous grin. “So you’re my jailer for the evening?”
Gentry shrugged as he drank deeply of his water. “Drink up,” he suggested once he lowered the bottle again.
Calliope nodded and forced herself to drink several sips. She continued until the bottle was empty. When the lights over the stage came on, her nerves began to jangle in fear. The other female subs were gossiping and looking around. She frowned. All the uncollared male submissives were missing. Thinking back, she remembered that she had not seen any of them come through the front door.
That was surprising since they were the ones she had lied to and should be apologizing to.
“Do you need to use the restroom?” Gentry asked softly.
Though she really did not have to, Calliope nodded. She would take a minute alone to prepare herself for whatever was about to transpire. Gentry once again held her hand as they crossed to the back of the room where the restrooms were located. Gentry took up a position just outside th
e door as went inside.
Closing herself into a stall, Calliope used the facilities and washed her hands. Then, staring into the mirror over the sink, she smoothed down the few flyaway strands and looked herself in the eye.
“You can do this. This is what you want. Whether or not Roane remains in your life, you have to accept the punishment and take your rightful place as a submissive of the club.”
With that she took a deep breath and pulled the invisible cloak around her once again. Pushing her way out of the restroom, she walked past Gentry without a word. She marched to the stage with her head held high, shoulders back and spine straight. No matter what they did to her, she would take it. Hopefully word would get back to Master Roane and he would be proud of her, but she did not plan on holding her breath in anticipation.
* * * *
Roane sat at the bar as Jenna had instructed and watched as his little gypsy disappeared into the restroom with Gentry standing just outside. She looked resigned and disappointed and nearly green with nerves.
Had she given up on him claiming her? His not answering her phone calls had been a deliberate move on his part and Jenna’s strong suggestion as a test of her willingness to follow instructions whether or not he responded and praised her actions.
She had passed with flying colors.
Though Jenna had politely disinvited him from her meeting with “the committee,” she had filled him in afterward as to what was said and decided upon. Calliope herself had not addressed it in her call that evening, instead sending him a text a few minutes later, which he read with a grin but forced himself not to respond to though it was difficult.
Patting his pocket, he confirmed for the hundredth time since leaving the house that the present he had rush ordered from a friend who was a silversmith was still there. It was.
He lifted his drink and turned his head slightly as Calliope emerged from the restroom. Something had changed while she was in the restroom. She no longer looked scared to death, but resigned and determined. His little gypsy had found her strength and would get through her punishment just fine.
The Domme Who Wasn't [Club Esoteria 14] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 6
