When she reached the doorway, she turned back to the bed.
“Care to join me, baby?”
Chiz was positively beaming.
~o0o~
Andy woke the next morning, in her own bed. She checked the time on her phone, which was sitting on a set of drawers next to the bed, connected to its charger. It was early, but not obscenely so. She’d worked Christmas Day and the day before; today she was taking a day for herself, although it would still be filled with activities pertaining to her work.
She showered and dressed for the cooler weather in jeans and a knitted turtleneck. Having decided that Starbucks could provide breakfast, Andy shrugged into a belted trench coat and spent the rest of the morning shopping for groceries for herself and supplies for the club. That done, and having put her own groceries away and stowed the bags for the club safely in the boot of her car, she made herself a light lunch. She opted for salad and a grilled chicken breast, because her next stop was the gym.
After ninety minutes of stretching exercises, cardio and light weights, she showered again, ready for her next stop. Andy was a regular at the gym; she needed stamina in her work. Wielding a paddle or a whip for up to an hour at a time demanded strength in her upper body and in her core. After the gym came a trip to the beauty salon she preferred. She kept regular appointments for a full body wax, a manicure, and a pedicure. It was essential to keep up a professional image, and she’d found that pubic hair and PVC did not mix.
After several hours, she was as buffed and polished as she was going to get. She was looking forward to cooking her evening meal, relaxing with a book and a glass of wine, and not doing much of anything for the rest of the night, when her phone rang. She’d only just settled into the driver’s seat of her car and was still parked outside the beauty salon. She fished the handset out of her bag. Jackie. Shit. She hoped it wasn’t trouble at the club.
Andy slid her thumb across the screen to accept the call.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong. Selene called. She’s wondering if she can make an appointment for seven p. m.?”
Selene was the highflying CEO who enjoyed being whipped. Selene wasn’t her real name. Everyone who dealt with the dungeon at the club used aliases for the clients between themselves, usually based on literary or film characters. It was a way of preserving a little more anonymity for their visitors. A seven p m. appointment meant Selene wanted to come by on her way home from work. It was Friday. There was a good chance that she would ask for a heavier session than normal if she was planning on staying home for the weekend.
Andy was pleasantly tired. She could feel that her muscles had been worked at the gym, and she was still feeling some of the workout that they’d gotten the past two nights with Chiz, but those were generally a different muscle group. Still, Selene didn’t make emergency appointments. It was likely she was under some big stress at the office. Her visits to the Pumpkin Patch were her way of dealing with the responsibilities of being in charge, and the frustrations of being the sole woman on a board full of obnoxious men. Andy knew how important the release of her sessions was to Selene, and it wasn’t often that she did this. Like most of her clients, Selene booked well in advance.
“Okay. Call her back. Tell her I’ll be there.”
“If you’re sure, boss.”
“Yeah. There better be coffee, though.”
“There will be. I’ll make sure of it. See you soon.” Jackie ended the call.
Andy returned home with enough time to throw her gym clothes in the washer and to make a quick and simple dinner. She didn’t want to eat anything heavy if she was going to be exerting herself.
When she arrived at the club, Jackie had the promised coffee ready, and she carried the cup for her as Andy carried the bags of the supplies she’d brought, paper towels, wipes and the like, upstairs. Three of the other dominants were working, so Andy double checked which rooms would be free and what time everyone was due to finish their sessions.
Andy drank the bitter brew as she pulled on a pair of silky Lycra boy shorts and fastened a corset in place. The corset was already laced to fit Andy’s frame, so it required a degree of tugging and pulling to get the hooks and eyes that ran down the front properly fastened. It had a sweetheart décolletage and flared over the curve of her hips, and was boned to cinch her waist in by inches. It was sleek, black patent pleather and matched the thigh-high boots that Andy pulled on. The boots were always a hit with clients, unless she was supposed to be dressing as a nurse or a teacher, and they were comfortable despite the inches-high heel.
Andy favored a corset and shorts outfit over the tight skirts and dresses that she sometimes wore, or over the suits and full-skirted Fifties-style dresses that she wore for role-play in the school room. The shorts were much less restrictive and gave her a greater range of movement. The corsets ensured that she kept her posture, which in turn made sure she used her core muscles more appropriately, and meant overall that she didn’t feel as fatigued at the end of the day.
She swilled some mouthwash in the shower room to take the coffee off her breath. The bite mark Chiz had left on her shoulder was mostly covered by her hair. Selene wouldn’t be paying close enough attention for it to be an issue. As Andy returned to the office area, the buzz of the bell at the reception desk informed her that Selene was waiting for her.
The carefully styled blonde, who looked much younger than her mid-fifties thanks to the money that she spent on all the latest beauty trends, was sitting primly on the leather couch in her thousand-dollar designer suit. Andy greeted her by name.
“Oh, hey.” Selene rose. “Thanks for fitting me in.”
“No problem.” Andy motioned her through the doorway and walked with her to the boudoir room. It was decorated in shades of white, purple and lilac and was often the room of choice for male clients who liked to dress as women. The white armoire had an extensive collection of outfits in all sizes. The actual dungeon room would have been more appropriate, she was sure, but it was in use. She waited until the door was closed behind them before she spoke again to ensure their privacy from any passing clients or workers.
She guided Selene to sit on a chaise lounge covered in plum velvet, which faced the four-poster bed. “So, what do you need from this session?”
Selene took a deep breath and shook her chin length blonde hair out of her face. “Heavy. I need heavy. I need the cane.”
Andy had been right, but the cane was a serious piece of equipment. Even with clients such as Selene who were experienced with it, she always tried to direct them a lighter option. “Are you sure? You wouldn’t rather have the crop?”
“No. I’ve got the weekend to heal. I need it. It’s all going to hell at work. Somehow some sort of nut contaminants got into the production line and a kid had a fucking anaphylactic shock over his Christmas dinner. He’s not dead, thank Christ, but he’s still on the critical list. Of course, the family is already talking about suing, so the board are out for my blood. It sucks to be a woman at the top. I wouldn’t have received half the abuse I’ve had today if I had a cock.”
“There’s a lot to be said for working for yourself.” A sizeable percentage of Andy’s role was actually just to listen to the clients. More often than not, they needed a way to unload the things they couldn’t speak about to anyone else as much as they needed their particular brand of kink.
Selene sat a little straighter. “Yeah. You know, you’re right. I’m going to look into it. All this time away from Rick, just to get shouted down by pompous fat twats in suits, just isn’t fucking worth it. But I still want the cane.” If she’d have slumped or given any indication of being more seriously depressed or upset, Andy would have pushed harder for a less intense implement.
“Okay. I’ll use the cane, if you’re absolutely sure that’s what you want.”
“It is.” Selene nodded firmly.
“Okay, but I’m going to pull the strokes.”
> “I need...”
Andy interrupted her. “I know, but I am not going to draw blood on you, and I am not going to mark you so hard you can’t sit down on Monday. You might have some trouble tomorrow, though. I want to confirm your safeword, too.”
“Clifford.”
“Clifford.” Andy repeated and nodded. “Okay.”
Andy rose and went to a chest of drawers that was set against the wall by the door. It was almost as tall as she was, even in her heels. Inside were the tools of her trade, kept out of sight in this room to preserve the atmosphere. She crouched down to the bottom drawer which contained some of the least used items, and selected a rattan cane with a black rubber grip. The shaft was thicker at the end near the handle and tapered to about half its original diameter. From one of the other drawers she pulled out four sets of leather cuffs. The silver chain between each pair of cuffs was about a foot long, and the black leather had adjustable buckles and was lined with short pile fur so that they wouldn’t mark the skin if the sub pulled against the restraints.
By the time Andy had what she needed, Selene had stripped and had folded her clothes neatly on the chaise lounge.
The bed that dominated the room was a four-poster in twisted ironwork that had been painted a brilliant white. Some of the intricate motifs allowed for ropes and cuffs to be attached without it being obvious that that was what the bed had been designed for.
Selene lay face down on the bed and stretched her hands and feet out to the corners of the firm mattress. Andy made sure that the woman had one of the pillows comfortably under her face, and the slid another, with its lilac satin case and lacy frill, under Selene’s hips to raise her buttocks. Once she was satisfied that her client was comfortably positioned, she chained Selene’s wrists and ankles to the bed.
“Make sure you face me. I need to see your face. Don’t turn away.” Andy instructed.
Selene nodded.
“Say it. I want to make sure you understand.”
“I won’t turn away, Mistress.”
“Good. As soon as you start to feel you’ve had enough, use your safeword.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Andy turned to a timer that was sitting on the nightstand and set it. “Thirty minutes. No more.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Andy picked up the cane from the edge of the bed where she’d left it while she chained Selene in place. She adjusted her stance; her knees were almost touching the comforter. She kept her feet apart so that she was balanced. She circled her wrist and arm to stretch out the muscles and loosen the joints.
First, she laid the cane on the cheeks of Selene’s well-toned ass, so that the woman could feel the cool wood. She would not cane her for the full thirty minutes, that would be dangerous, and play like this would heighten the anticipation of the stroke. Andy rubbed the cane back and forth, and then pulled her arm back and brought the shaft down against the meat of Selene’s buttocks. They quivered with the force of the blow, even though Andy hadn’t delivered it at full strength. Selene’s body jumped from the bed, but she didn’t make a sound.
Andy repeated the action of laying the cane gently on the skin before delivering another stroke, being careful to hit the flesh with the middle of the cane rather than the thinner end of it. Each time that she repeated the stroke, she aimed for the bottom of Selene’s ass or the top of her thighs. Each thwack of the cane left a set of two red lines that immediately rose as welts. They would bruise and they would be sore, but Andy took great care not to break the skin, or to lay the cane across any of the marks that she had already made.
Andy had delivered ten strokes when the timer rang. Selene’s backside was flushed red and crossed with the tramline marks of the cane. Andy left the cane on the bed and unchained Selene before retrieving a bottle of aloe vera gel from the top drawer of the cabinet. She sat on the edge of the bed, and massaged the cooling gel into the welts, taking her time to ensure that they were well coated. She knew that the application of the gel, though soothing, would sting at first, and that was also part of the play.
Andy left Selene lying on the bed and went to make her a cup of chamomile tea. When she returned Selene had only moved so far as to pull the pillow out from under her hips. She’d added it to the one under her head and was lying, still on her front, with her hands folded under her cheek. The edges of the marks on her ass were already beginning to darken.
Andy handed Selene another pillow, so that she could prop herself up a little higher, before she handed her the cup of steaming, fragrant tea. It was an important part of the play for each dominant that used the dungeon, whether they were paid to be there or were paying to be there, that they ensured the wellbeing of their submissive. That included making sure that they relaxed afterwards and that they had done as much as possible to prevent a post-scene crash, a depression similar to the comedown after a drug-induced high caused by endorphins and adrenaline competing and receding, and sometimes additionally fuelled by guilt or confusion.
Andy made sure that she was satisfied that Selene was mentally stable before she allowed her to see if she was physically able to rise and dress. Although there was no small amount of wincing involved, Selene was far more relaxed and calm than when she’d entered the room, and was visibly happier.
Once Selene had left, Andy returned to her office and the dressing room, intending to change into her street clothes, but when she saw her trench coat hanging on the hook on the wall, another idea began to form. It was a touch unethical to take equipment from the club home, but Andy guessed if there were going to be any perks to being the boss, this would be one of them.
Chapter Six
When the knock came at his motel room door, Chiz still picked up his gun before he checked the peephole. He was expecting Elmo, they hadn’t agreed on a time, but he’d figured she had some sort of day job and that he wouldn’t see her until evening. When he’d sat down and thought about his reasoning, he realized he was basing that entirely on the way she’d been dressed the day before, which was no indication of anything, really. Clothes were only clothes.
He was more pleased than was healthy to see her on the other side of the door. She had arrived much later than the day before; it was full dark outside. This time when he opened the door and waved her through, he didn’t bother to try and hide his gun, although he did click the safety on first. She didn’t seem to mind the firearm. If she did, tough shit. Where he went, his gun went.
Chiz was disappointed that the stockings weren’t making another appearance and he was still hoping that he’d get a chance to feel those snappy black and red heels against his skin, but what she was wearing tonight had his full attention. The coat she was wearing was a thoroughly boring shade of brown, barely saved from making her look frumpy by the belted waist. But it didn’t quite reach her knees, and the shiny black high-heeled boots it revealed there had Chiz’s cock twitching hopefully.
It took him a second to notice that she was carrying a brown paper grocery sack. He ran his palm over his mouth, just to check that he hadn’t actually been drooling.
“What you got there, dolll?”
“Something to liven up the evening. Are we playing Cops and Robbers?” She nodded towards the gun still in his hand.
Chiz double checked that the safety was on. He’d been so distracted by the boots, he still was, that he couldn’t recall having done so before, then he set it down on the table.
“We’re playin’ somethin’, by the looks of it.”
The coy smile that Elmo gave him lit him up inside like the Fourth of July. And then she emptied the bag out onto the bed. At first glance, it as just a jumble of stuff, so Chiz moved closer to get a better look. Some more internal fireworks went fizzboom.
Lying innocuously in a pile on the blue and pink patterned comforter was a pair of handcuffs made from black neoprene and joined by a short metal chain, a length of silky black material, a suede flogger and a soft plastic, matte black paddle that was smooth on one
side and textured on the other.
He wet his lips before he could speak; his mouth had gone dry. “You want me to use these on you?”
“Actually, I was thinking of using them on you.”
The fireworks stuttered some, but they didn’t go out. “You just happened to have this shit lyin’ around?”
“Something like that.”
The thought of using the toys on Elmo had given Chiz a hard-on that he thought might last into the new year. The thought of her using the toys on him... well, it didn’t lessen the stiffness of his cock, which was interesting. But he’d never not been the one in charge before, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about one or two of those toys.
“Perhaps you need an incentive.”
Breath on the Wind Page 6
