Leather and Grace

by Maggie Ryan

  “Yes, I suppose, but I’d not want to trust any Dom without the level of experience that you must have.”

  “Submissive classes are not the only ones taught, Miss Wilson. Plaisir also offers classes and hands-on training for Dominants. Believe it or not, we aren’t born knowing everything. We learned just as you are doing now.”

  Before Starla could ask another question, Joanne broke in. “How do you know? I mean, how can you be sure that you are a submissive?”

  Quentin gave her a smile. “You’ve seen the stations and witnessed submissives in play, right?” At her nod, he continued. “Answer me this, then, are your panties wet?”

  She blushed but nodded and, as if in support, Grace nodded as well.

  “Then, ladies, just listen to your body. If it makes you wet, if your nipples are aching and if you are wondering how quickly class will be dismissed so that you might go home and relieve that ache, I’d say that you are well on your way to being a submissive.” He gave them a moment before he asked, “Ready to continue?”

  He showed them the rooms that had been set up to live out specific fantasies. One looked like an old fashioned classroom, right down to the slate board, and a large oak desk at the front with a rack of canes mounted on the wall behind it. In a corner sat a tall stool, and he heard Grace giggle at the sight of a pointed dunce hat. “Seriously?” she whispered.

  “Don’t mock it,” he said, pleased at her enjoyment. “Nothing quite says I’ve been a very naughty girl than having to sit on a hard wooden stool on a well caned ass while wearing that hat.”

  The other room had all three women practically squirming as they observed the full medical exam table, complete with stirrups. The tall pole from which hung an enema bag had each one turning a beautiful shade of red, and he noticed that Starla seemed very interested in a rolling table with a tray on top holding a pair of latex gloves, some cotton swabs, and row after row of capped needles.

  “I’ve heard of this,” she said. “I’ve even seen photos on the Internet, but I didn’t think clubs condone needle play, sir.”

  “Various clubs have various rules. I can assure you that no such play is allowed until a Dominant has proven his ability and been certified and recertified on a yearly basis. As I’ve stated, safety is our main concern… even before pleasure. One of our floating subs attends in the role of nurse and a monitor is either in the room or right outside, depending on our past experience with the players.”

  “Are you certified?” she asked, her eyes going from the tray to him.

  “Yes.” After that one-word answer, he led them from the room and, after briefly seeing one of the rooms available for private play not requiring specific equipment, they stopped at the bar to meet Adam before moving on to see the dance floor. Quentin was pleased to see Keith holding his wife, who appeared to be almost melted against his body, the golden chain around her waist glowing under the soft lights. When the music stopped, Keith looked up and gave the students a smile.

  “Hello, Grace, ladies,” Keith said. “I hope you are enjoying your tour.”

  When the women just nodded, her two classmates both looking at Grace, Quentin gave them another lesson. “When a Master speaks to you, you need to verbally respond. In this club, if you wish to speak to a submissive who is with a Dominant, you need to ask him for permission. If his submissive speaks to you first, she will have received prior permission from her Master to do so…” Remembering how this very woman had run across the room without thought the other night, he grinned and added, “unless, of course, she forgets, in which case there could be consequences for breaking protocol.” At his words, Jessica pushed away from Keith, turning to face the group but remaining in his arms. Her smile was soft as her husband chuckled.

  “I’m enjoying the evening very much, sir,” Grace said. “Your demonstration was extremely moving.”

  “Oh, it sure was, sir.” Joanna said.

  “Your sub’s jewelry is incredible, sir,” Starla said. “If you don’t mind saying, where did you get it?”

  “From an incredibly talented artist,” Keith said with a smile.

  Jessica contributed, “Thank you. My husband worked with Grace to have it custom made so it fits so perfectly that I forget I’m wearing it sometimes. Well, unless my Master has added various attachments.” Her words had Keith moving his hand to cup one of her breasts, his thumb running across her bare nipple, causing it to peak instantly. Jessica arched a bit as if offering him more even as she smiled beautifully. “Thanks again, Grace. It’s amazing how I feel when wearing the full set.”

  “You are the one who makes it come to life,” Grace said and then quickly added, “Oh, sorry. May I speak to your submissive, sir?”

  Keith chuckled. “Seems you already have, little one, but no worries. You all will learn that the rules can be bent a bit, especially among friends.” Quentin gave a soft chuckle of his own and was about to turn his group away when Keith added, “I do hope to see you all again. Listen to your instructors and remember that everyone starts somewhere. You are lucky that you’ve chosen to start your exploration in Plaisir.”

  “Nicely said, Master Keith,” Quentin said. “And I have to agree with the ladies. Your demonstration was very nicely done.”

  “It’s all due to the whip. It’s balanced so perfectly it’s like an extension of my arm.”

  “That helps, but as I was telling my students, it also takes a willingness for a Dominant to learn and practice a skill in order to become truly proficient. Your demonstration is a perfect example of that fact.” He saw Jessica tilt her head back to give her husband a smile that bordered on worship and he added, “And you were stunning, Jess.”

  “Only because my Master is so incredible himself.”

  Quentin led his students away as another song started to play and Keith turned his wife to face him, his head dipping to kiss her as they began to sway together again. Returning to the center of the room, Quentin asked, “Now, have all of you selected the station you’d like to experience?” Seeing Starla turn to look at the specialty rooms, he qualified his question. “You may choose from any of those in the main room. The fetish rooms are reserved in advance in order to make sure that every safety rule is understood and can be monitored.” He ignored the look of disappointment he saw on the experienced sub’s face and had no doubt that some day in the future, he’d find her submitting to having needles piercing her skin, and also had no doubt that she’d enjoy the experience. To make sure the others understood tonight’s purpose, he added, “Last night, you were spanked to give you a taste of how a punishment could be delivered. Tonight’s lesson is to allow you to experience a spanking that is given for pleasure.”

  “I’d like to try the spanking bench, sir. The flat one, I mean,” Joanne said.

  “I think I’d like to try that barrel,” Grace said, her answer not surprising him.

  “Is having a dildo attached to the horse a choice?” Starla asked.

  “Sorry, not this evening. Tonight is about only a spanking being given to allow you to ascertain the difference between last night’s discipline and tonight’s pleasure.” Quentin saw her slight frown but added nothing more until she made her choice, a bit surprised when she chose the stocks, having thought she’d request the St. Andrew’s Cross.

  “Very good. Shall we?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Grace paced up and down the hall, her heels tapping a staccato beat against the wooden floors, and yet she didn’t hear it. Instead, she was hearing the soft swishing sound of the flogger, and the whap as each strand of the leather landed against her bottom, causing her soft moans to join the exquisite chorus of the experience she’d been given over that remarkable barrel. Lord, she was hot, though her skin pebbled in goose bumps as she ran her hands up and down her bare arms. Her soft sigh as she sank down on the top step of the stairs changed into a low groan. Though her bottom was tender, it was not like it had been after her spanking of the previous night. Squirming just a
bit, she felt her nipples grow even tighter, wondering how that was even possible as they’d been hard points throughout the entire evening. The heat she felt seemed to be internal and burning the hottest between her legs. The first ember had been ignited the moment she and the others had entered the club, and every minute since had that ember flaring into sparks. Replaying her last session of the evening in her head, she felt the sparks shooting into flames.

  She remembered watching Joanne as she approached the spanking bench she’d chosen. Master Quentin had instructed the other two to kneel with the additional command to keep their eyes on the scene. Grace had wondered if Joanne would actually go through with the spanking, and had been impressed with the way Quentin had guided her through her hesitancy. He’d softly spoken with her, letting her know what to expect. By the time he instructed her to remove her panties, Joanne had done so, her face flushing, and yet the thrust of her nipples beneath her bra easily telling of her arousal.

  “Good girl,” Quentin had said and, taking her hand, had helped her lie down on the bench. She’d only given a soft mew as he placed cuffs around her wrists and ankles and then he’d squatted beside her, speaking too softly for the others to hear. Grace had seen the woman give a small nod and her soft smile was followed by a slight relaxation of her body. Quentin had stood and turned to his other pupils.

  “Joanne has chosen to have her spanking given with a paddle,” he informed them. “You all experienced a leather one last night. I’ll be using a wooden one now.” He went to another cabinet and when he opened it, Grace could see that he had a wide variety of implements to choose from. He returned to the bench with a paddle that was by no means the thickest she was able to see, nor the widest or longest.

  He’d set the paddle against Joanne’s bottom and then asked if she was ready. Her soft response indicated that she was, and yet he didn’t yet lift the paddle.

  “Relax, Joanne. Remember, this is not a lesson in punishment but one of pleasure.” He gave her a minute to process his words and when her hands unclenched and her body softened, he began.

  Grace had witnessed spankings the evening before, as well as scenes played out earlier in this very room, and yet from the first stroke on, she was captivated. Her pulse seemed to sync with the steady cadence of the paddle meeting flesh, though she wasn’t watching the strokes fall. Instead, she was watching Joanne’s face, seeing what should have an impossibility but smiling as she thought she could understand how the woman seemed to relax further instead of pulling against her restraints. Joanne’s eyes were closed and though soft mews issued from her throat, her smile told of her enjoyment of the spanking. When the paddle fell for the last time, her eyes fluttered open as her instructor once again squatted near her head.

  “Wow, I don’t really understand how that works, but… um, thank you, sir,” she said.

  “My pleasure,” Quentin replied, working slowly to remove her restraints, obviously giving her the time to recover at least a bit of her senses.

  Grace was slightly surprised; not when Quentin helped her off the bench and then bent to hold her panties as Joanne stepped into them, but at how red her bottom was. The cracks might not have been as loud as she’d expected, or given as hard, and yet there was no denying that they’d done a very good job of covering every inch of a previously pale canvas. She could definitely understand Joanne’s statement.

  “Rise,” Quentin had instructed and then led the group to the barrel. It was only when he addressed her as Grace, instead of Miss Hensley, that she realized he’d done the same with Joanne. Was that a subtle sign that giving pleasure even through a spanking, was more—what—personal, intimate? She stepped up to the barrel and began to lean forward when her eagerness was rewarded with a question.

  “You do remember that I said wearing a thong doesn’t mean you won’t be removing it, don’t you?”

  His question pulled her out of her thoughts. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. No, I-I was just… um, yes, I remember.” She moved back and was suddenly very conscious of the fact that his eyes were on her as she stepped out of her panties. She felt her face heat as he held out his hand. He’d know for sure that she was aroused, but then again, hadn’t she and Joanne already admitted as much earlier?

  He placed the thong on the small table that held the bowl of condoms and the bottle of sanitizer before moving to the side of the barrel and offering her his hand. As her upper body pressed into the surface, she could feel her nipples protesting being flattened by the unforgiving wood, and yet she could also feel another rush of moisture flooding her sex. The moment her wrists were cuffed and attached to the hand holds on the barrel, she felt submission running through her and didn’t allow herself to be ashamed when her ankles were also secured, her legs spread open, even though she knew that her thighs must be coated with a sheen of her own cream.

  “Remember, you are perfectly safe,” Quentin said, not needing to squat in order to look down and speak to her. “Your choice of implement?”

  “I’d like to try a flogger if that’s okay, sir.”

  “Very good,” he said, moving away, and she heard the sound of a door clicking open behind her, thinking that the club truly catered to its clients. She only knew he’d made his selection when she felt a softness against her ass and knew the mass was leather. “Ready, Grace?”

  “Oh, yes, sir,” she said and then blushed, wondering what he’d think of her obvious eagerness to begin.

  Though prepared, she still gave a soft yip when instead of feeling the first stroke land, she felt the barrel move forward. It became obvious that he was allowing her to become accustomed to the movement when he repeated the motion a few more times. She’d just settled into the rhythm, her body molded to the curves of the barrel, when her head lifted with the first stroke.

  “Oh,” was all she said before settling again and closing her eyes to block out everything but the feel of the individual falls of the flogger striking against her body. It was the most erotic experience she’d ever had. The irony of being rocked as if to be soothed only to have her bottom struck with a blow that wasn’t delivering true pain but was still sharp had her body spiraling towards a pinnacle that surprised even her. She wished it never to end and yet the moment she felt her body begin to tense, her hips lifting as if to beg for another kiss of leather, she was denied as Quentin stopped the barrel.

  He moved to her head and she almost whimpered when he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Nicely done, Grace.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she whispered, though she desperately wanted to inform him that she was perfectly willing to take just a few more strokes as he’d stopped just before she could come. With that thought, the knowing look in his eyes, and that incredibly sexy little lift of the corner of his mouth, she felt her face heat. She had absolutely no doubt that he was exactly aware of the state he’d left her in.

  When she’d knelt again, her pride in her ability to withstand a flogging diminished as Starla requested the cane.

  “The cane is one of the severest implements, Starla. Have you any prior experience with one?”

  “Yes, sir. It is one of my favorites.”

  “Very well, but remember the safewords. Yellow if it becomes too uncomfortable and red if you’ve reached your limit.”

  “I won’t be needing them, and ask that you don’t hold back. I find a session is rather useless if a Dom is simply going through the motions. I assure you that I can accept all that you give me, sir.”

  “This is a lesson to allow you to experience the various apparatus and implements, Miss Wilson, not a session,” Quentin informed her, and Grace wondered if Starla heard the same tone in his voice that she had. She watched as Starla was secured in the stocks and noticed that she didn’t wait for Quentin to ask her to spread her legs. She had her soles planted as far apart as she could and had also arched her back to lift her ass high. God, she was gorgeous. Bent over at a ninety-degree angle, and nude except for her demi-bra, stockings and heels
, it was evident that it wasn’t only her form that was flawless, her body was as well. Her stomach was perfectly flat, her breasts ample. Her arms were supple with the cut of muscles visible beneath her skin. Grace also noted that the woman was completely bare, nothing hid her sex from view. Though she herself kept her pubic hair neatly trimmed, she had to wonder if men did prefer it when a woman was as smooth as Starla was.

  Quentin had returned with a cane and at the sight of it, Grace heard Starla sigh. “Isn’t that a beginner’s cane?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I just mean that I can take a real caning.”

  “Miss Wilson, even though you are obviously more experienced than some of your classmates, let me remind you of a few things. First, you are the submissive and, as such, are not allowed to top from the bottom. Second, you are to remember to address your Dom with the proper respect. Lastly, while I did give you the choice of implement, it is not your call to question which one of the canes I’ve decided upon, nor is it your choice as to how many strokes you may expect. As you’ve been instructed, use your safewords if you find it necessary, as this is not a punishment. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir. Forgive me, sir.”

  “Are you ready?”

  Grace almost gasped when, from her position, she could see the woman roll her eyes, and had a good idea she wanted to answer with a, “duh, don’t you see my raised ass?” Grace told herself not to be so catty but, when Starla said, “Yes, sir. I’m all yours,” what she really wanted to do was grab the cane from Quentin’s hand and give the woman a swat herself.

  Grace had to admit, she’d read about caning in her various books, and even thought she understood the difference between what were commonly called ‘nursery’ or ‘junior’ canes and ‘senior’ canes. However, seeing the line that immediately began to appear on Starla’s uplifted bottom at the very first stroke, she couldn’t help but wonder who on earth would want a ‘real’ cane applied to such a tender area. Though the scene had her stomach tensing and her heart beating faster, by the time Quentin was removing the locking pin on the stocks and helping Starla to her feet, it was evident that the woman wasn’t too pleased. She tossed her hair and then looked over her shoulder to see her bottom before turning to look at her instructor, pausing for a moment before she said, “Thanks, sir.”