The entire door swung open before us as Caleb and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows. The Jolie look-alike stood before us in all her glory, waving us inside with a quick motion of her head. She was dressed in shiny leather, fishnets and thigh-high boots. She could have doubled as Mrs. Smith in the movie Mr. & Mrs. Smith.
"You're right on time. Perfect. Come in, come in, so I can assign you your slave."
"Excuse me?"
"It's your first visit, yes?"
"Yes."
"Then your slave is assigned. You didn't think you could pick out your own did you? On your first visit?"
"Oh, of course not. I didn't think that at all." I said, throwing Caleb a look that screamed 'what the fuck?'
He shrugged his shoulders back at me, amused and enjoying my discomfort. What did we need a slave for, exactly?
The Jolie look-alike pressed a button hidden somewhere on the podium she was currently circling and a boy appeared beside her, eyes down cast. He looked about eighteen, golden hair, just a touch shorter than me, and with a mouth that looked like two pillows pressed together.
He wore a tan leather loin cloth that reminded me of Tarzan, his skin was so close in color to the leather that when he first appeared I thought he was naked. He wore a collar around his neck, and from a loop in the collar hung a small brass padlock. The lock wasn't closed though; it hung open, swaying a bit with his breathing.
I studied his face and he shot a quick glance at us, then dropped his gaze so fast I thought I must have imagined it. I didn't imagine the deep liquid brown I caught a flash of before he looked away though. With eyes that shade of perfect, the small smirk that briefly tweaked at his bitable pillow lips, and the lean, muscled beauty of him, he would have put any Abbercrombie model to shame.
I felt conflicted, I wanted to adopt him and molest him at the same time. Or maybe lay down in the sand with him and feed him grapes while the deep, breathy sounds of a cologne commercial voiced over us.
I looked to our host in question. She smiled, saying, "He is beautiful, no?"
Caleb's voice rumbled beside me, "He's twelve. He should be selling clothes at the mall."
Her eyes swung to Caleb, with a look somewhere between school principal and hot librarian she scolded him. "He is twenty three. No one in this club is under twenty-one, sir. Does he not please your tastes? I can find you another."
"No, no. He will do perfectly." I jumped in, trying not to make waves before we cleared the front desk.
Caleb snorted and rolled his eyes at me, away from Jolie's gaze. I smiled back at him, playing my part by saying, "Not all of our playthings have to be female you know. I have needs too."
Caleb opened his mouth to respond, but wisely closed it again. Jolie spoke up saying, "He is a house slave, not a sex slave. Unless he wants to be. House slaves are assigned as kind of a tour guide. You can ask him anything, he will walk you through the house rules. You will see other house slaves, the ones who are not assigned to a particular guest, circling in the crowd as well. Feel free to make use of them, they are to bring you food and drink, shine your shoes, give foot massages, be used as foot stools, whatever you wish. There are females as well, you can tell them all by their flesh colored leather and the collar around their necks.
Some are available and looking for a relationship, some are not. The lock on their collar will let you know. If the lock is closed tight, they already have a dominant and are only available as a house slave, unless their Dom allows more. If their lock is open and swinging freely, as is your slave's," she said with a pause, looking at us pointedly, "they are currently looking for a Dominant."
Caleb spoke up, "Oh no, keep looking. Sorry, we are still too new to this to all of this to jump right in with our own sex slave, besides..."
"Besides," I took over, "I'm the submissive one between us, and Caleb here isn't all that into dominating men."
"Very well," she nodded, "To each their own. But he will do as a house slave, yes?"
"Yes." I agreed, before Caleb could order up a female.
She turned us over into the young slave's care, and as he turned to lead us inside the club Caleb snickered, "You jumped on that pretty quickly. I didn't realize you liked them that..."
"Gorgeous?" I filled in the pause. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do. Hell, it's my turn damn it. All of our playthings thus far have been female. Females get us in trouble. Well, I guess I should say, get you in trouble."
"Ah," he whispered quietly, for my ears only. "You are single now, and you plan to make the most of it? You have only to ask, my love. I am quite sure I could fulfill your every naughty desire tonight. If it is revenge on me you want, having every man in this place at your beck and call can hurt me no more than your absence in my bed for these past many months already has."
Something deep and carnal in me reacted, but instead I shot him a look, "Whatever. I know for a fact your bed has been far from lonely."
"Ashlee?"
"Among others, I am sure."
"Then you would be mistaken. You know I haven't been back to That Other Club since you, and other than Ashlee, no one else has graced my bed. And her only because I gave up hoping you would find your way back to it."
"Caleb..."
"You are all I want. You are all I've ever wanted. Now that you are single, and after your reactions the last time we were in a place like this, I plan on showing you no mercy tonight. You are mine and you always will be. Tonight I plan on reminding you of that."
My stomach dropped low, my heart rose up to block my throat and I felt a warm heat surge through me, uncontrolled.
"Caleb..." I repeated more stern. "We are here for a reason, and you know I'm seeing Roger next weekend, to talk about..."
"About his surprise kid? Yes, I know, but he already blew that little fantasy, didn't he? Your fairy-tale ending? I'm sure your dreams of a white wedding, followed by the pitter-patter of little feet didn't include the ten-year old feet from the married chick he banged years ago, now did it? Wake up, sweetheart. You and I are the same. Normal isn't in the cards for the likes of us, but we do have each other, and I am willing to compromise. If you can give up the fairy-tale, I can meet you in the middle and give up these clubs."
"He says, while following our house slave deep into the depths of who-knows-what," I chided him.
"I am serious." He grabbed my elbow, turning me to him and making our Abercrombie guide, slave, whatever, stop and wait, eyes downcast. "I haven't been to any of them without you. It's not the clubs I desire, it is you. It has always been you. I was just too stupid to admit it."
I stared at Caleb, and found myself getting a little pissed. "Now? Now you tell me this?"
"I told you before that I would try."
"Yes, but you were damn whiney about the whole thing, I didn't take you seriously."
"I wasn't whiney."
"Your heart wasn't in it."
"I didn't take you seriously, either. I never thought you would actually leave me. Now I know."
I didn't know what to say. I stared at him, torn. Here he was, offering more of himself. Not everything I needed, but a big step. I still couldn't see him married, with the picket fence and babies, but he was willing to give up the clubs, the girls. Hell, it sounded like he already had, he just didn't have me.
But I still liked Roger, too. Yes he had freaked out, but he was where I saw my future. Although I had the feeling that with him, normal meant vanilla. Ha! I had a new word. I also had the feeling that my happiness would be found somewhere in the center- the normality of Roger, with a touch of Caleb. Shit, maybe I should step away from them both and start over. Surely somewhere was a happy medium.
I was so confused, and I guess it showed. Caleb sensed my weakness and jumped on it. "Give me tonight. We still have to act the part anyway, and we are both technically single. Give in to me tonight, let me have all of you. Then go on your date with Roger next weekend. You gave me a similar out, and we both know
how that worked out. I'm willing to take that chance. So go, try again with Roger if you need to, but give me tonight first."
I shook my head at him and said, "Maybe my happiness lies without either one of you. Maybe I should give up and join a convent, I hear they still exist."
Caleb laughed a loud, sure laugh, "You're kidding, right? You're dressed like the famous Star Wars slave, in an S&M club, and you like it all way too much. Sorry sweetie, you were made to enjoy the darker side of love. There's no going back for you, you just don't know it yet."
"You know, sometimes I hate you Caleb. I hate that I took you with me that first night. If I had gone alone, I would never have...We would have broken up clean. I would have had one memorable, sane night watching from afar, and we never would have gone so far down that rabbit hole. I hate that when you tell me things like I am yours, and always will be, my mind rebels but my body submits. I hate that I begged you for release when my boyfriend wasn't near and you had me hanging from straps in the ceiling. I hate that I dream about you. Oh no, don't get all flattered, I dreamed about you and Roger, together, at the same fucking time. I hate that I'm here with you now. I hate that I have to play this part, to pretend that we are one of these people, to save someone I would never have even met if it wasn't for asking you to go with me. I hate this Caleb, do you get that? I want fucking normal."
"I do get that, I really do. Because I understand it, because I went down that rabbit hole with you, because I want nothing more than to give you everything you want, but I can't. I still have no interest in the common forever, but I can give you me, warped as I am, and I can give you tonight. Then we can go from there. You know why? Because hate is just the flip side of love. As long as you feel something for me, even something as basic as lust, something as strong as hate, I know I still have a shot, and by God, I'm taking it."
With that Caleb turned to our slave and motioned him on. Damn it, I need a drink. I mentally cursed the club's no alcohol rule. Play sober, my ass.
As he gave us the tour, I noticed the people all around us. I've never seen so many people in leather and latex. It looked like a Mardi Gras gone wild in here. Slaves like ours were dressed as the Jolie look-alike said- in tan leather. Damn they didn't hire ugly people here. Most of the members were dressed in black, shiny and sleek. Men walking women on leashes. Oh wait, women also walking men, on nipple clamp leashes? Really? Every last one, male and female was gorgeous. Wait, that wasn't true. The way they carried themselves and dressed threw me. If you took away the atmosphere and the costumes, some of them were above average, but if you squinted just right, looking past the masks, mentally clothing them in either white or blue collar work attire, they were just people. People who found something they needed here, people who fit in here so well, that they blossomed when collared. Interesting.
Something nagged at me, "What did that mean? Meet in the middle? If I gave up the forever fantasy and you gave up the clubs, how does that compute with the rest, Caleb?"
"It's others you don't like. Others participating. I don't think you mind watching others, I think you like it. A lot. To a lesser degree, I think you like being watched. It's the interaction beyond that you don't appreciate. You have a jealous streak. You want to be owned, controlled, but not shared. I would give you what you want, tie you down at home, alone. Go to the clubs, but only when you were in withdrawals, and only to watch and be watched. We could find that happy medium, that sweet spot, so to speak," he said with a naughty grin aimed at me. "You are a dirty, dirty girl, my love. You just don't like to share."
Chapter 28
Learning Protocol
I turned and addressed our slave, asking "When do we see Jessica?"
I wanted to get down to business, before Caleb's words sunk deep and I was actually tempted to give in to him. Somehow, tonight, the thought of letting go, letting Caleb take charge of me, giving him what he wanted, didn't sound dangerous.
It should sound very dangerous, and stupid, and downright fucking insane, but somehow with the stress of telling Roger about all of this, his surprise son, finding Jessica, my confused dream and my feelings for both men, giving myself up for someone else to control, for Caleb to control, sounded wonderful. Some basic, animal, primal need screamed out deep inside me. It screamed 'yes, please, I AM a dirty, dirty girl and I want a locked collar all my own.'
I tried to silence the desire. I had no interest in being pranced through here wearing nipple clamps, or even on a collared leash, but the collar itself, like our slave sported, fascinated me. I loved wearing chokers anyway, and wearing a choker, which signified by a locked lock to those in the know that I was owned, willingly controlled by someone else, well that was a different story. Maybe cat lady from the other club was right, maybe I was a natural submissive. Although I could only imagine submitting to Caleb.
I tried to imagine Roger as a Dom, but it wouldn't stick. I kept seeing the night I told him about all of this. He liked that I took control, but I couldn't see him in the role. Maybe later, as we explored each other? I couldn't shake the thought that maybe Roger was submissive too, and that two submissives trying to get the other to take control was a recipe for frustration and disaster.
"Mistress Jessica?" Our slave asked in surprise. "No one sees Mistress Jessica on the first visit. The first visit is more casual. You stick to the main areas and a couple of the minor playrooms. If you decide you want to explore this deeper, you sign up for a beginner S&M class. Mistress Jessica is normally reserved for more, shall we say...seasoned members. Sometimes, when someone knows to ask for her personally, she will run their beginners class."
Caleb spoke up, "How do you know we aren't seasoned? Maybe we just moved here and are looking to pick up where we left off in our previous, seasoned, club?"
The slave smiled a wry smile, answering with his eyes always downcast, "You would have used the codes, sir. No, you are new, but someone saw promise in you, or you wouldn't have made it this far.
For people like you there is protocol. You hang out today, watch, partake if you wish. You have no access yet to the...other...playrooms. You are welcome in the ones I will show you. Sometimes they will ask for volunteers. I suggest you volunteer at least a little. You are being watched, and you are welcome to watch in return.
Always ask before using any of the equipment or toys, some like to share their things, some do not. Always address the Dom if they are nearby, they will allow you to speak to their Sub, or not, at their discretion. Be polite. 'Your sub is exquisite' is allowed and welcomed. 'Look at the huge rack on your sub' is not.
If you like tonight you can sign up for the beginner's class. There you will learn a few things about safety, about how to read each other and explore the Dom/Sub relationship in yourselves. As you progress you will have more and more access to other parts of the club. If you choose to sign up for the beginner's class, I will let it be known that you have asked for Mistress Jessica personally, and we will see if she chooses to teach you. How did you hear of her?"
"She was my first girl kiss at our first club. I didn't know then who she was. It was only later that someone told us about all of this, and that we could possibly play with her again."
He nodded, seemingly impressed. "She must have liked you. She normally keeps to herself on her rare visits other places. Very well. Follow me."
As he showed us around the two words that kept repeating in my mind were dark and Goth. The common area was similar to the normal bar or the swinger's bars, dark, throbbing lights, loud music, only everyone was dressed very, well...Goth and S&M.
The people were nice, very polite, and they socialized like in any other club. Some of the submissives sat quietly beside their Dom, but others mingled and visited with whomever they wanted. We heard the occasional, "Does your Dom let you play with others?" Some said yes, they were as free as anyone else, and the Dom/Sub aspect only came out when it was the two of them playing alone together. Others said no, they only played with their Dom.
&n
bsp; It was very interesting and informative. The house slave aspect was interesting as well. Some would be beckoned over and asked for food or drink, like wait staff, others were beckoned over and ordered to rub feet or backs, or even to kneel on all fours as they needed a foot rest. Seeing people use the slaves as an ottoman was weird, but hey.
Our slave stayed nearby, in case we needed him. Once we had spent some time in the common area we asked him to show us the playrooms we were allowed in.
At the first one we came to he led us inside and ducked left, staying to the wall and out of the way. We took his cue and did the same. In the center of the room was a device that looked like a torture chamber. I was glad someone was in it, as otherwise I had no clue what was supposed to go where. I was also grateful something was already going on, because I would have hated to volunteer for this one. I would have been like those YouTube videos you see in the local gym, where a new gym-goer gets on the equipment wrong, sideways and backwards and gets folded in half and spit across the room for their trouble.
It took me a minute to realize she was in the thing upside down. It looked like a Houdini escape trick gone wrong. She was naked and upside down inside a black, wrought iron cage. She was blindfolded, her head down, her long hair pooled on the ground as she was suspended by her feet. The cage enclosed her torso and head and she hung by her ankles, spread eagle, against something that looked like those inversion boards people use to help with lower back pain.
A man was fingering her and eating her out, while sticking his erect cock into the cage and into her mouth. Ah, a blindfolded, caged, vertical 69. We stayed quiet and watched, as did the others against the wall. Our slave whispered, "Don't speak during the scenes. They are to be watched and enjoyed, not commented on or heckled. Think of it like a theatre production. You can come and go at will, but if you feel the need to talk to them about their scene, you must wait until after, once they have completed their sub aftercare and are mingling in the common areas."
Two Player Games: (Corrupted 5-8) Page 15
