by Maggie Ryan
Turning to his men, Quentin nodded and the men quietly instructed their individual groups to move down the wall, giving each group a small amount of space. Turning to his own pupils, he said. “All right, ladies. You’ll find that there are lockers in the ladies’ room where you’ll be able to remove your clothing when you come as guests, but since we have a larger group tonight, please undress and leave your clothing against the wall.” Though they’d been warned, he noticed that besides Miss Wilson, who already had her skirt unzipped, both Grace and Joanne gave each other a glance before reaching for their own clothing. He didn’t step away, didn’t turn his back. In fact, he made sure he kept his eyes on the women. They needed to understand that the request was a common one. If they chose to continue in this dynamic, they’d most likely be wearing nothing but lingerie, if that, as they played in the club.
Despite his control, when Grace turned and bent to place her t-shirt and skirt onto the floor, his eyes widened at the sight of the plump globes of her heart-shaped ass bisected by nothing more than a thin strip of white lace. If that wasn’t heart stopping enough, sheer stockings hugged her legs, the tops held in place by the hooks of a white garter belt that rode low on her hips. When she turned to face him again, immediately going into the attention pose, he had to stop himself from repeating the wolf whistle he’d given Laurie earlier. The cups of the bra she wore barely covered her nipples which were puckered tightly, straining against the thin fabric, just as his cock, which had jumped to attention the moment she’d bent over, was now pressing against the leather of its confinement. He tore his eyes away and saw that though the other women were indeed beautiful, Joanne in red and Starla in black, the purity of the white that Grace wore outshone them all. Yes, you ass, I’m sure that’s the only reason she stands out. Get a grip, Doucet.
The instructors had met before class and knew the rotation they were to take. Every group would be given a tour of every station. They’d also be required to kneel and, at a given instruction, rise and go to the bar, where Adam would take their order on behalf of their Master for the evening. They would also be given the opportunity for a hands on demonstration of the various stations. By the time they were dismissed, it was his hope they’d be more comfortable in an actual club environment, as well as further educated on what to expect in future classes.
“You will follow me and observe. Please save any questions until later. It’s not that I don’t wish to answer them, it is to show respect for anyone currently in a scene. At some point, I will ask you to choose one of the various apparatus. At that time, if you do not wish to submit, you may say so.” When he saw what looked like concern on Joanne’s face, he added. “Do not be afraid to say no. Though you are training to be submissives, we realize you might be in an environment that is foreign to you. If you aren’t ready to experience what you’ve observed, I ask that you consider the reasons when you return home and decide if you’ll be able to do so when asked again. Remember, ladies, submission is not an easy choice. But, I promise, if you do participate, I will not harm you in any way.” He gave them a moment and qualified his statement. “I will spank you, but never ever will harm you. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they all said in unison.
“Very good. Follow me.”
He led them to the right, knowing that Trent would start on the left and Sloan would begin with the innocuous areas of the dance floor, the location of the restrooms, and introduce them to Adam, and that Conner would begin with his group touring the private rooms in the back, as well as the few rooms that had been outfitted for specific fetish play.
When his group reached the first apparatus, he stopped several feet away, as it was occupied. A Dom was applying a wooden paddle to his sub’s bottom while she lay prone over the spanking bench. He’d seen the couple earlier that weekend and had asked if they’d be willing to attend this night to demonstrate one of the apparatus. In fact, most of the Dominants in the room had been asked. Quentin had been very pleased when not a single one had even hesitated, all stating that their own subs, now many of them their wives, had all needed to learn, and that doing so by observing had always made the second most profound impression. Actually having the apparatus or equipment demonstrated on their bodies had, by far, been the experience that would last a lifetime.
By the condition of the woman’s rear, she hadn’t been there long. Her skin was still pale, and though restrained, she wasn’t pulling in the least on the chain that had been attached to the cuffs on her wrists. Her feet weren’t kicking even the few inches the chains would have allowed, either. Quentin turned to watch the reaction of his students, pleased to see that all three were watching with nothing short of fascination as the man began to increase not only the rapidness of his strokes, but the intensity. When his sub began to squirm, he softly instructed her to settle. The cracks of the wooden paddle filled the area around them but were soon joined by the submissive’s soft moans. Quentin had to bite back a grin when he had to repeat his soft instruction to follow him in order to pull his students’ attention away from the erotic tableau.
They visited the next station, where another submissive was being spanked, this time with a crop as she bent over a barrel that was rigged to roll her forward a bit with each stroke and then back again in time for the next. He saw Grace’s head tilt to the side, as if she was trying to determine what kept the woman from rolling forward until she face planted on the other side. He moved to her side and pointed at the floor to show her how the barrel had been mounted in a depression only slightly larger than its diameter. It would never go further than was safe while always causing a sub’s tummy to flutter, wondering if she’d be tossed off. Though Grace’s gaze followed his finger, she immediately lifted her eyes back to the action.
The next station, where an apparatus that resembled a gymnast’s vault stood waiting, was currently unoccupied. Quentin hadn’t failed to notice that all three of his ladies had nipples straining against their bras.
Since the station was free, he spoke softly. “This is commonly referred to as the horse. You’ll notice that there are restraints available for use around each leg. In addition, if a Dominant so chooses, there is a leather strap that can be buckled around a sub’s waist. Go ahead and look more closely.” Both Joanne and Grace instantly stepped forward, running their hands over the butter soft leather. While Joanne bent to examine the chains, Starla looked as if she’d not only seen one, but most likely had been bent over something similar. He wasn’t surprised when Grace gave him a quizzical look after running her hand over what appeared to be a patch.
“I appreciate your respectful silence but now I’ll answer any questions you might have so far,” Quentin said, drawing their attention back to him.
“Only one of the women was naked,” Joanne said. “The other was wearing clothing.”
“Yes, clothing or lack thereof is at the Dom’s discretion. As I mentioned yesterday, lingerie is also an aphrodisiac. Did you notice that though the first woman wore a skirt, she wasn’t wearing panties?”
“Um, yes, sir.”
“Did you also notice that her Dom’s pocket had a bit of pink lace hanging out?”
“Really? No, sir, I didn’t.”
Quentin smiled. “Leading a woman to a station and only then removing her underwear often helps her sink into her submissive role.”
“I can see how that would work, sir,” Joanne said, a soft smile on her face.
“Miss Hensley, did you understand that I was attempting to reassure you that the barrel won’t pitch a sub off?”
“Yes, sir, but…”
When she hesitated, he moved to reassure her. “But what? Please, now is the time to ask questions.”
“Well, I really didn’t have a question. I suppose I just assumed that, as you assured us, the club and its equipment are safe. I was actually watching her face.”
Quentin was surprised but intrigued. “I see, and what did you notice?”
“Though the crop was
leaving a red stripe every time it landed and the barrel rolled forward, even though she gasped and I could see her bottom quiver, when the barrel rolled back, she was lifting her bottom… as if she wanted another stroke.”
He was impressed and then realized he shouldn’t have been. After all, Grace was an artist and was looking at things with an artistic eye. “What does that tell you?”
“That she was enjoying the session even though it was obviously painful, sir.”
“Very good. Submissives often say that when the pain reaches a certain point, it morphs into pleasure. For the Dom, delivering the spanking is only the first part of his own pleasure. There is nothing more satisfying to most Doms than to watch their submissive find her pleasure under his hand, whether it be wielding an implement or just by his touch.” When she nodded her understanding, he turned to Starla. “Do you have any questions, Miss Wilson?”
“No, sir.”
“May I ask another, sir?” Grace asked.
“Yes.”
“What is the patch covering?” she asked, pointing to the horse.
“Come, I’ll show you.” The three followed and watched as he removed the patch to reveal a metal threading. He walked a few steps away and opened a cabinet to reveal a shelf where various sized dildos were available to be chosen. Picking one that wasn’t the smallest, nor the largest, which was quite long and very thick, he returned to the horse. Within a minute, he had it securely twisted onto the threading.
“Ah, now that has definite possibilities,” Starla said, showing the first true interest in the tour.
“A submissive can be instructed to simply bend over the horse to be spanked, or, as you can now see, she can be told to mount the dildo. Her Dom might request she simply ride until she comes, or he might have her bend forward a bit and ride as he uses an implement on her bottom. And, if he so chooses, she can be instructed to lean back, riding while he flogs her stomach and breasts.”
After a few moments of silence, Grace spoke again. “How does she know the, um, dildo is, well… clean?”
“Good question,” Quentin said. He stepped away again to pick up one of the condoms in a bowl. “Not only are any attachments cleaned after use, every station is equipped with a bowl of condoms as well as sanitizer. In fact, unless you are in a committed relationship, every Dom is expected to use a condom for any sexual activity where penetration is part of the play, excepting fellatio, of course.” He tossed the condom back into the bowl, looked around and then said. “Do you see that woman in the black halter dress at the bar?”
They all nodded. “She is one of our staff. Her position is that of what we term a ‘floating submissive’. That means she’s chosen not to commit herself to any one Dom, but rather serve many. She is also responsible for making sure that every piece of equipment is sanitized after use. On the weekend, we have three women serving as floaters. In fact, we are actively looking for at least two more.” Unscrewing and returning the dildo to the cabinet, replacing the patch and making sure they didn’t have any additional questions, he moved them to the next station.
Again, Grace stood in respectful silence, watching as a statuesque woman strained against the chains holding her arms above her head, her toes barely able to touch the floor beneath her. Quentin heard Grace’s soft gasp as she recognized the couple. The chains would give an occasional rattle as a particularly hard stroke was delivered and received. Her body was glistening with a layer of perspiration. Her head was arched back as Keith walked around her, giving an occasional flick of his wrist, sending the tail of the whip to snap across a breast, her stomach, a buttock that already bore the marks of previous strokes, or the back of a tender thigh.
Though he’d told the women to remain silent, he stepped closer and whispered, “Watch very closely.” None answered but they didn’t need to as their eyes were glued to the scene. Quentin noticed that they didn’t even move when Trent and his two students joined them, the women moving to stand beside his three.
They’d arrived at the perfect time. Keith twirled the whip above his head and, as he delivered the next stroke, he spoke softly but clearly. “That’s right, my love. Come for me.” Another stroke and then another, the whip becoming a blur as the speed of the strokes increased until Jessica arched and screamed, her entire body clenching and unclenching as she came, softer blows continuing to land until the orgasm seemed to have subsided. Only then did Keith coil the whip and attach it to a loop of his belt before moving to stand behind her, his fingers running gently over the wheals he’d placed upon his wife’s body.
“Beautiful, you are such a good girl,” he said, bending to press his lips against a few of the raised lines. Quentin smiled, not at watching a Dom take care of his sub, but watching prospective subs mesmerized by the scene before them. When Jessica stopped trembling, Keith undid her restraints and the students watched as she turned, her face showing her pleasure as he lifted her into his arms.
“Her jewelry is incredible,” Starla said softly, evidently forgetting the request to remain silent. Quentin saw Grace smile but since she remained silent instead of informing the woman she had made the set, he also remained silent. Still, he had to agree. The flowers that served as clamps were missing tonight; Jessica’s nipples protruded from the gold leaves of the vine. He also noticed that the cluster of leaves at her sex had disappeared, her swollen labia evident as Keith lifted her into his arms and carried her towards a partially screened sofa where Quentin knew he would make sure she was all right. He saw Molly stop and hand him two bottles of water before she moved towards the group, standing a bit apart to allow Quentin to finish describing the station.
Giving them a moment to glance around, he smiled, moving to the wall to press a button and watching as their heads tilted back to see the chains descending from the pulley mounted on the ceiling. “This is a hoist,” he explained. “As you saw, a submissive’s cuffs are attached together to one chain, or to separate ones. Her ankles can also be restrained to those bolts on the floor. Her Dom uses the control to stretch her arms above her head and pull her legs apart. Some Doms prefer to leave her legs unrestrained in order to lift her completely off the ground.”
“Isn’t it a little dangerous? I mean, that woman was basically hanging by her arms. Couldn’t that cause a serious strain?” The question came from one of Trent’s students.
“It could be, which is another reason to make sure that any club you play in has safety measures in place, and that any Dom you submit to knows what he is doing. As I’ve said before, a Dom’s responsibility is to remember that every activity is safe, sane and consensual. When Master Trent, Sloan and Conner are not instructing, they are monitoring the room, as well.” He paused and nodded towards the bar and then to another area where a man stood, looking relaxed and yet Quentin knew he was on alert. “See those men? The ones with red bands around their arms? They are also monitors. The floor is never without two at any time, and as many as six on weekends. They are yet another layer of security in keeping a submissive safe from harm.” Giving them a moment to digest his words, continued.
“I assure you that if Master Keith thought that his sub was having difficulties, he’d have lowered her a bit.” He grinned and then added, “Or, perhaps instead of whipping her into climax, he’d have simply lifted her legs around his waist and joined her in ecstasy.”
“Oh, my,” Grace said.
“Ready to continue?” Quentin asked, loving that her face had turned a beautiful hue of pink as she looked at the dangling chains again, no doubt imagining the scene he’d offered coming to life. Nodding at Molly, he led them towards the next station as Trent led his group towards the horse.
Quentin wondered if the three women would even be able to tell him what the next station contained. It was another spanking bench but this one was adjustable, able to be positioned at various angles. Currently, it had been angled so that the sub was bent almost in half, her cheek resting on the leather in front, her knees behind her, and her ass perch
ed directly on top. Her Dom was using nothing more than his hand, and yet her skin was a mottled crimson and her moans were those of pleasure rather than of pain.
The next station was a set of stocks where a woman had been placed, her head and hands held in the half-moon depressions of the lower bar. The upper bar had been locked into place, ensuring she had very limited movement. Her ankle cuffs were attached to D-rings on the floor that held her legs wide apart while her Dom used a leather paddle. Quentin wondered if his students noticed that each implement they’d seen used made a different sound as it connected to bare flesh. He didn’t have to wonder if they were aroused. Their eyes were slightly glazed and the pattern of their breathing had changed.
The last station was again unoccupied. It was one that was often described in books in the erotic genre. Just the mere presence of the massive wooden ‘X’ was normally enough to have a submissive flushing at least, and her pussy gushing as her Dom positioned her spread-eagled, her wrists and ankles securely held with straps of leather.
“This is the St. Andrew’s Cross. A sub can be positioned either facing away from her Dom or facing towards the front. It seems to be an ongoing debate which is worse—not knowing when the next stroke is coming, or being unable to keep from watching your Dom’s every movement. If you ever find yourself secured to the apparatus, you’ll be able to cast your own vote.”
“And what would your preference be, Master Quentin?” Starla asked. “Do you prefer watching your sub watching you, perhaps pleading with her eyes to be released, or turned away, accepting all that you care to gift her with?” She smiled as she ran a hand across the smooth wood.
Quentin saw Grace turn her gaze to him and knew that not long ago, he’d have assured Starla that he had no preference. Now, imagining Grace’s green eyes focused on his as he wielded a whip, waiting, wondering where the stroke would land, he knew he couldn’t answer the question with complete honesty. Instead, he said, “Every sub is different, every scene, as well.”
