“I don’t think you’re heading down a drama-free road,” Jannah observed.
“Oh, now that I’m on Route 2 I should be fine,” Meg said, pretending to misunderstand. I just like excitement. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I trust neither Karl nor Garrett will do anything to you without getting your consent, whether it’s in public or private. I’m more worried about what they can get you to consent to.”
“Hey, I’m no pushover.”
“I don’t think anyone who knows you thinks Meg Quinn is a pushover,” Jannah agreed. “But think about it. What you did with Karl or what you did with Garrett. Did you think you would agree to that, when you walked in?”
Meg shook her head. “No. But it’s not because Karl was all that seductive. I mean, he’s hot. But once I saw someone getting flogged, I was curious and he was there, right?”
“Riiight. And getting naked with Garrett?”
“Okay, no. But Karl kinda got me going. Garrett had an unfair advantage.”
Jannah chuckled. “Maybe you should schedule them one right after the other. Karl can be your fluffer.”
Meg frowned. “It wasn’t like that.” Was it? But she definitely found the whole scene with Karl interesting in its own right and the man fascinated her. She wanted to know what he was like when a scene wasn’t so set and organized. She wanted to know what he looked like naked.
“All I’m saying is, make sure you don’t agree to anything you’ll regret.” With that, Jannah closed her eyes and leaned the seat back.
Meg turned the radio on to stay awake and headed for home.
* * * * *
Meg slept in late and woke up feeling particularly uninterested in doing any work. Nothing says I can’t take a weekend for a change. But dating two men is going to take a lot of time. I’m going to have to make a decision—and soon, unless one of them decides they aren’t so interested after all. Still, all that male attention is flattering.
She looked out at the water. She lived on the tenth floor of an apartment in the Inner Harbor area and she could see the sails of the USS Constellation from her balcony. She made a point of looking every morning, in case she ever ceased to appreciate what she had. Some people would want a big house, but she couldn’t be bothered taking care of it. A good view, on the other hand, was priceless.
Still in her jammies, she forced herself to sit in the ergonomic chair at her glass and steel desk. Her bottom hurt, but it wasn’t bad, more of a reminder of what had happened than anything else. It was Karl’s crop, she thought, that had left the lasting impression. Thinking about it made her wet all over again. And sex with Garrett after. That had been fantastic, too. I was such a slut.
And right now I’m a business woman. She pulled up a spreadsheet and started to go through the last quarter’s sales data. Blake would be giving a presentation on it next week, but she was never one to wait for a meeting to get herself informed. Idly, she wondered when Blake was going to figure out his secretary Carrie had the hots for him—or maybe Blake knew and either was too busy dating a string of other women or too ethical to date his employee. I could transfer her. But I think she’d quit if she wasn’t working for Blake. Hmm. Maybe she’s submissive, herself.
The world is not all about Doms and subs, she told herself. And anyway, anyone I know except maybe Jannah would have assumed I would be the dominant one in a relationship. Focus, Meg, focus. She focused on the sales figures for the next two hours, absorbing and memorizing, then shot off a quick email to Blake asking him a few questions about whether he thought the uptick in mascara sales was due to their improving the formula, or was a statistically normal fluctuation. As she recalled, they didn’t expect to see positive sales results until next quarter.
She flipped her laptop closed. Throwing herself at her work first thing on Saturday morning was a habit she broke only on weekends she went skiing. She had been aware for some time she didn’t need to work that much to keep Quinn Cosmetics working smoothly, although it helped. She worked hard for the same reason she skied hard, because she enjoyed things most when she went at them full steam. But for a while her work hadn’t been enjoyable. She was making all the money she needed, as nice as it was to watch the numbers roll in. If she sold her stake in the company, she’d be set for life. It hadn’t totally stopped being fun, but it was heading that way.
Last night was fun. Crazy, but fun.
She’d been planning to go clubbing with Karl in another little black dress. But now that seemed drab and boring. She’d seen some wicked outfits among the flesh on display at Iron Butterfly. In her sequin dress she’d felt plain and that was her favorite. Time to go do some shopping. Maybe get some leather or latex if she was brave enough to wear it dancing. If not she could always wear it to Iron Butterfly.
I could probably find a place by looking on the net, but Jannah would know. She speed-dialed her friend and in a few minutes and after some teasing, she had an address.
Ten hours later, she stepped out of a taxi. She hadn’t wanted to deal with parking. She walked up to the door of Tracy’s dance club. Under a trenchcoat she wore a silk corselette the color of port wine, which did an even better job of uplifting her breasts than the push-up bra had. Even she hadn’t known she could get that much cleavage. The fact that it pinched in her waist was a plus, but the boning wasn’t too stiff for her to breathe normally, which seemed important for going dancing. She’d bought three skirts she thought might go with it and in the end had settled for a flouncy black one short enough to reveal a flash of thigh above her fishnet stockings.
Calf-high burgundy boots completed her outfit. They were the one thing she wore that was not a recent purchase but an old favorite that had gone unused in her closet since at least college. They had needed cleaning but they still fit her feet fine. She’d even found a thong that matched the corselette, in case she got partially undressed later.
The bouncer took her money, checked her coat, stared down her cleavage and waved her in. “You can look but you can’t touch,” she said, feeling it was possibly obnoxious. She’d have sneaked a peek too and she was straight. She’d looked down at herself several times, impressed with the job the corset was doing. Still, is it too much to expect eye contact?
She’d arrived intentionally a few minutes after Karl had said to meet him, simply because she didn’t feel like getting there first. The place was darkened but full of bright colors, with swirling disco balls and lava lamps and the people inside were dressed in all sorts of garb as well, including more than a few little black dresses. There were shiny clothes and outrageous colors, as well as black t-shirts and blue jeans. The music was unfamiliar but had a pounding techno beat that sounded good to dance to.
It didn’t take her long to spot Karl, mostly because he was already walking toward her. He had gone for black and white, black leather pants and a crisp white shirt that fluoresced, evidence there was a fair amount of black light in the club as well.
“You look fantastic,” he told her. He put his hands on her shoulders and gave them a squeeze, then pulled her toward the crowded dance floor. A mix of people cavorted there, some older, more of them younger.
She found herself pressed against him by the throng of people, which suited her fine. She was anonymous here and the density of the crowd provided a strange kind of privacy. Others, she noticed, felt the same, as she saw a blonde coed in a white dress grinding her ass against a boy with green hair, while his hand was not particularly surreptitiously cupping her breast. She smiled. No wonder he likes this place.
Karl leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You were late.”
“I didn’t want to be the first one here.”
He nodded. “Which is why I got here early.”
She supposed she might have guessed he would do that. “Oops.”
He put his hand around her waist to hold her close as a couple made their way through the crowd and would have gone between them if he hadn’t. “It’s okay. I’ll enj
oy punishing you for it.”
Uh-oh. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of being punished. Memories of her sometimes very stern father flashed back to her. But Karl probably wasn’t going to make her sit staring at a corner and besides, he said he was going to enjoy it. He wasn’t angry. Possibly he was looking for an excuse. But what could he do here?
Still, she had a theory to test. She got on her toes and shifted her weight against him so her thigh pressed against him. With the leather jeans it was hard to see and even feeling his erection was uncertain, so she decided to ask. Just as well she was on her toes because she wanted to be heard clearly and having her mouth close to his ear would help. “Does the idea of punishing me make you hard, Sir?”
For answer he pressed back, removing all doubt. If the thought of punishing her hadn’t done it, her whisper had. She grinned. I may be the submissive in this relationship, but that doesn’t mean I have to be passive.
She couldn’t imagine what he could do, however. Fondling and grinding were one thing, but he couldn’t spank her out on the dance floor and she didn’t think he’d drag her back to one of the tables and put her over his knee, either. Sex was in the air, but this wasn’t that kind of place. Maybe she should have asked to go to the Devil’s Workshop, after all.
He lowered his hand, running it over her bottom. She thought he might keep it there, but instead he found the back of her thigh and lifted her leg. His hard thigh pressed between her thighs for a moment. Her pussy tingled and she ground herself against him for a few seconds before he removed his leg. She hated to admit it, but the idea of him punishing her turned her on too.
She looked up at him mischievously. “I don’t think there’s a way you could punish me in a crowd like this, anyway.” And she didn’t. She knew it wasn’t particularly a good idea to get him riled up, but she didn’t like holding back on the ski slopes and she didn’t want him to hold back with her. Maybe after they were done dancing, he’d spank her at his place or hers. At his place he’d have his toys. Was the crop the worst of it, or was there more?
“You are so very wrong about that, Meg.” He grinned.
Uh-oh.
And yet, for the next ten or fifteen minutes they danced. It was interesting to see a different side of Karl. He danced well, his grace belying his size. And the music suited him somehow. Intense.
His hands roamed her body, leaving almost no spot untouched, but never lingered. She pressed against him seductively, getting hornier by the moment. She parted from him coyly, but never strayed far. She wanted his touches and it would be easy to get separated in the crowd, although she suspected Karl could make his way through it without difficulty to join her again. The tracks the DJ was playing seemed to blend into each other, the music never stopping.
Then he pulled a black leather glove out of his back pocket. For a moment she thought he intended to spank her with it, or even slap her face. But instead he stopped dancing for a moment to put it on and then grinned at her. She wasn’t sure she liked the look of his grin. He crooked his finger at her and she closed the gap between them again with trepidation. It wasn’t like she was so far away he couldn’t grab her if he wanted.
He put his ungloved hand on the back of her waist, pulled her close and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Now for some punishment. But given last night, you might even like it.”
She felt herself get wetter at his words. She felt his gloved hand on her thigh, but it didn’t feel like she expected. The leather, yes, but it was pricklier as it skipped upward. He slipped it under her skirt and gripped her bottom and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She yelped. The back of the glove had looked normal enough and she had no idea what the deal with it was, but the palm side was full of sharp points. He didn’t let go, either but moved her about with his hand firmly placed on her ass.
She glanced around. If anyone was interested in her yelp, they didn’t show it. Possibly it was entirely lost amid the loud music. He shifted his hand to her other cheek.
“Still think I can’t punish you here?” he asked softly.
“No, Sir.” She took a deep breath. His hand had stung, but it didn’t feel like her ass was bleeding or anything where he’d pressed. The points on the glove had felt sharp but hadn’t penetrated the skin. She was reminded of what Jannah had said about Karl. He knew exactly what he was doing and he was trustworthy. Just, in his own words, a bit of a sick fuck.
And the strange feeling of the glove had distracted her from the fact she was dancing in a crowded nightclub with a man who had his hand on her ass, under her skirt. She’d thought she was a daring dancer back in her college days, but Karl had pushed her. A few people saw them, including one dark-haired woman who seemed emboldened by watching Karl and Meg to dance more brazenly as well. After meeting Meg’s gaze for a moment, she pressed her breasts against her partner and slithered down his body until her breasts were at cock level. He gave a few pelvic thrusts before she slid up again, grinning.
Karl grinned at Meg when she turned backed to look at him. “One can get away with things here. Not quite as much as at Iron Butterfly or the Devil’s Workshop, perhaps.”
She nodded, nestling against him. As he shifted his grip, the points of the glove rubbed against the nearly forgotten stripes the crop had left. She wondered if the glove would leave marks. No one was likely to see her bottom anyway—except maybe Garrett on Wednesday. Maybe that was a good thing or a bad thing, but it was kind of hot if Garrett didn’t get upset about it. Or even if he was jealous, as long as it didn’t get out of control.
Karl gave her bottom a pointed squeeze. “You’re smiling. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you really are a sick fuck, as advertised,” Meg said.
“Why thank you. I’m thinking, since you’re grinning, I’ve found a fellow traveler.”
“Mayyybe.” She pursed her lips and looked at him as innocently as she could.
His bare hand slid down over her skirt. He withdrew his gloved one from one butt cheek a moment before replacing it with his bare hand on the other. “If this is pushing you too far, you let me know,” he said. “You’ve been punished enough, I think.”
His hand felt good on her ass. Soothing and yet it reminded her of the things he’d done to it, too. And it tugged on her pussy. “I wanted to be touched last night.” And I want to be touched now. Hopefully he’ll read between the lines.
“I wanted to touch you too, but I wanted to make sure I wasn’t taking advantage.”
“For a sick fuck, you’re almost a gentleman, aren’t you?”
“Almost.”
She grinned and squeezed his ass back, with both hands. He took the glove off with his teeth and showed her the inside, where several dozen metal points protruded on the palm and along each finger. Then he folded it and put it back in his pocket. They danced close and slow for a while, bodies pressed together.
He bent close to whisper in her ear. “Do you want more pain from me?”
What a strange question. Want and pain. Almost by definition they didn’t go together. But she found herself nodding, wondering what he might have in store for her.
He smiled. “Good little pain slut,” he said. He put an arm around her waist, steering her and she let him lead her off the dance floor. He switched to holding her hand once they were out of the throng. They passed by a row of tables where people were drinking and trying to talk over the noise and turned down a hallway that a sign said led to the toilets. The music was much less loud there and she could talk without having to be right next to his ear.
“I am not fucking you in the restroom,” she said.
“You’re right, you’re not.” He led her past them, to a place where the hallway turned a corner and then down that to where it ended with a door on each side.
Jannah said he was safe. But still, her heart was pounding. Wherever that door led to, she suspected it was private. And being alone with a man she barely knew, much less a sadist, was asking for trouble. “
Where do the doors go?” she asked.
“One is to the janitor’s closet. One is to the building next door. There was a while the two businesses were connected, but now, it’s kept locked. No one has a reason to come this way unless they are seeking privacy. Or quiet.” His hands on her hips, he put his back against the wall and pulled her to face him, but rather than pulling her into an embrace, he kept her a few inches away.
She waited, curious. Someone could wander by any moment if, as he said, they were seeking quiet. It was comforting in a way, yet he obviously wanted to do something to her that required privacy.
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a silver chain. At each end were two tweezers, their heads tipped with rubber. He grinned wickedly. “Have you done clamps before?”
“Um, no.”
“Good. These are the shallow end of the pool, I’m afraid.” He slid his hand into her corselette and lifted a breast. Now she understood why it was his back against the wall and not hers. He’d see if someone approached and she wouldn’t be exposed to anyone but him. He squeezed her already hard nipple and pulled it, almost drawing a yelp from her. “I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw your bare breasts.”
She blushed. She would have been with Garrett then. Somehow remembering he’d seen that was more embarrassing than him actually exposing her in the hall.
He slid one of the clamps over her extended nipple, parallel to the skin and then slid the small ring that tightened them. She watched, biting her lip. It hurt, but the pain made her pussy tingle.
“Take the other one out for me.”
It wasn’t enough to let him do that to her, apparently. She had to be complicit. Why am I doing this? And yet she knew it was making her turned on. And she wanted to see how much she could take. Gingerly, she exposed her other breast.
He closed the other clamp over it. She closed her eyes tight against the pain. Then he untied the little decorative bow in the center of the corselette and retied it around the chain that led between the two clamps. She heard footsteps. She moved her hands to cover herself and stopped. He was the Dom. She’d let him make the choice. She didn’t know anyone here and she doubted she’d get arrested.
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