All the versions of Daniel from Maisy’s imagination put together had nothing on the real deal. Tall, dark, gorgeous, stubbly, subtle muscle stretching out the thin t-shirt, and Dominant. Even if she didn’t know that from his online profile, she’d have felt it. Something in the confident stance. Matilda shared that Dominant air come to think of it. There was something behind the eyes, something in the smile, something in the way he looked at her like he knew her deepest secrets - or at least intended to learn them. She didn’t know exactly what it was that gave it away, but she knew this man was Dominant.
“Still with us, sweetheart?” His smile accompanied a slight narrowing of the eyes, as if he was trying to figure out what Maisy was thinking.
“Yeah. Sorry, I spaced out a bit there.” Rein yourself in Maisy, he’s just being helpful, no need to dribble over the poor man.
“Not to worry. I can take some time to talk if you like. Show you around maybe?”
She was going to say no, not wanting to take him away from his station, but all the small groups in the room were deep in conversation and she didn’t want to interrupt them either. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, just Maisy. Give me a moment.” He started to turn towards the other bar staff and paused, “What did you want to drink?”
“Gin and tonic, please.”
“I’ll be right back.”
The small group of 1920s action figures jumped to attention when Dan approached. They all stood a little straighter and nodded earnestly when he spoke to them. Were they all wearing bangles or...? Oh, uncoupled handcuffs. Interesting.
One of the female waitresses ran up with a gin and tonic, her white beaded dress sparkling in the candlelight. When she passed the drink over Maisy saw that the blue padded handcuffs the waitress wore said ‘BAR’ just like Dan’s armband.
“Thanks, how much do I owe you?”
“Oh nothing, it’s all covered on newbie night. See you later.”
She scurried away to serve someone else when she saw Dan returning, blue armband replaced with a plain black one that made it look as if one sleeve of his t-shirt was longer than the other. “Ready?”
“Sure.” She walked with him to the gap in the bar that had steps down to floor level then followed him to a comfy looking booth on the main room’s back wall.
She noted with approval that there were several thick rugs scattered around the seating areas and felt less concerned about the kneeling bar-goers. “What’s with the armbands?”
He glanced at his as if he was so used to it he’d forgotten its existence, “That’s Claude’s idea. He likes to keep us well labelled. Sit, please.”
She did, pleasantly surprised to find that while some of the burgundy chairs were plush velvet, others were leather or wood covered in throws. Somebody with an excellent eye for colour and texture had decorated this place.
He sat next to her and folded his hands on the table, a non-threatening, relaxed stance, “A lot of the more senior members here volunteer their time to keep the place running smoothly. They might tend the bar, monitor trainees, keep an eye out for any problems during scenes., or help new members think about their limits list. All kinds of things, really. Primarily we’re here as the ones you ask if you need someone you can trust. Claude gives us these daft things so people can spot us.”
“Right, I think I get that.” She hesitated, “And the handcuffs on the others at the bar?”
“Trainee subs who help out in exchange for reduced membership and BDSM tuition.”
“Wow, that’s a thing?”
“Mmhmm. Interested?”
“Me?” She nearly spat out her sip of gin and tonic. “No, gosh no. No offence, but I’m just curious.”
“Just curious, just Maisy,” he smiled, a cheeky glint in his eyes.
“Yeah. Just little old me.” She blushed and scrambled for something to say to take the attention off her, “Aren’t there trainee Doms?”
He rubbed his stubbly chin, “You know, I said the same thing when Claude introduced the programme. It’s not that we’re against the idea, there just hasn’t been any interest. My theory is that some newbie Dom egos are so big they wouldn’t ask for a full training thing, so we just answer questions and give them tips casually. Still gets the job done, more or less.” He folded his hands back on the table and Maisy noticed that he was watching her intently - like one might watch the train timetable. Casually, but attentive and looking for vital information
“So,” Daniel’s easy grin revealed outrageously deep dimples which she was simultaneously very jealous of and a little bit in love with, “You want to find out how deep your submissive nature runs?”
She suddenly felt off balance. He put his hand palm up on the table, offering an anchor. She took it and was surprised to find she felt a little steadier right away.
“Don’t panic, sweetheart.”
“I’m not panicking.” Her eyes were wide and darting around the cosy nook, looking anywhere but at him.
“I can see you’re a little overwhelmed and that’s fine, but you can relax,” he watched her as though she was a startled animal, his voice low and calming. Maybe he was worried she was going to bolt. To be honest, she wasn’t sure if he’d be mistaken in that concern. “Nothing is going to happen tonight, we’re just talking. You can even talk to someone else if you’d prefer. A woman, perhaps? You do want to learn more about Club Drift, don’t you?”
She nodded slowly and leaned forward to take a long sip of gin and tonic from the straw. When she sat back she felt a little more centred. “You’ll do. To talk to I mean.”
He must have noticed she’d relaxed a little. “Good girl,” he grinned and picked up his own drink, chuckling under his breath when his words sent an almost imperceptible shiver through Maisy.
“So,” she said, watching him almost as closely as he’d watched her, “You’re a... you do...we’re sexually compatible.”
He barked out a loud laugh that made her jump, “That’s one way to put it, yes.”
“And you’re experienced with this stuff?” Her tongue felt thick and stupid in her mouth.
“What stuff?” He edged closer, his movements measured and unhurried. Slowly, so she could see him coming, Dan reached out to cup her chin.
“Um,” All logical thought evaporated as she stared into his eyes. If she shifted towards him she’d end up on his lap, face clasped in his huge hand. What would that feel like?
The shiver was even more noticeable this time. He grinned broadly, “Oh, that stuff.” He released her chin and brushed his fingers up her face, her neck, before wrapping them in her hair.
She gave an outraged squeak and pulled away; he let go immediately and leaned back, giving her space. Wide-eyed and flushed, Maisy felt herself lean into the space where he had been, missing the light pressure on her scalp.
Daniel was watching her with the same careful attention as before. She sat back, cheeks reddening.
“I’m sorry, I-” She didn’t know what to say. She’d fallen at the first hurdle. Not to mention the fact she was behaving like a horny teenager. Why was he having this effect on her? He’s hot, well, he’s beyond hot, but she was usually pretty reserved on dates - and this wasn’t even a date.
She thought she heard him tut before he spoke. “Sweetheart, rule one: Don’t be sorry for what you feel. Be confused, aroused, angry, turned off, whatever, but don’t apologise for it. Which one are you?”
“Confused,” She muttered, followed by an almost inaudible, “Aroused.”
“There you go, the tunnel didn’t cave in because you admitted you liked something.” His easy smile was comforting.
She gave him a small nod and took another big sip of her drink. Why was this so difficult?
“I told you nothing is going to happen. Not tonight. We’re just talking. Do you feel like you can’t get away?”
She shook her head.
“Do you want to talk about this, to figure out what you mig
ht want from someone like me in a place like this?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“Well then, sweet little sub, let’s just enjoy that without worrying about what happens next. If I do anything that you don’t like you tell me, that’s how this works, whether I’m holding your hand or fucking you senseless.”
For a moment she pictured him doing just that. Could he tell she was thinking that? How embarrassing. When he placed his hands palm up on the table she placed her hands in them again without hesitation.
“What do you want? Not from me specifically, like I said, we’re just talking. What made you post on the forum?”
She gulped down a breath. His controlled gaze held her and, somehow, soothed her. Why not talk to him about this? She might not get the chance to talk to someone who understood again, she certainly wasn’t sure she’d work up the courage to come somewhere like this again.
“I want to be... I am submissive, I think.”
“Good girl. That’s a big admission for you, isn’t it? Why do you think that?” His thumb caressed her knuckles as she spoke.
“I want to be controlled,” She felt herself flush crimson, “I know it’s not normal, but I think I want to be controlled...you know, in bed. I want to be a good girl, to please someone. Not just any someone, but someone who it feels right with. Someone who I obey without hesitation, who wants to take care of me and give me pleasure.”
She realised with a pang of confusion that she’d curled up on the seat and leaned towards him while she spoke. Her hands were still clasped in his, but now they rested on his lap. She started to shift away, troubled by how comfortable the intimate position was, but he shook his head and clenched his hands around hers a little tighter.
“No you don’t, sweetheart. I’d like you to stay there if you’re okay with it. So, you think you’re abnormal?”
She relaxed into his arm, feeling more comfortable there than she’d like to admit. “Well, yeah. Most people don’t want to be spanked and fucked and tied up and forced to come –“
He chuckled and released her hands so he could wrap an arm around her. “Is that what you want?”
“I - oh Christ.” She groaned into his side. Why was she talking to this stranger about her desires? He must think she was a daft woman who’d been reading too many bodice rippers.
“Stop worrying, Maisy, it’s doing you no good,” He ran his fingers through her hair and she arched into the tingly touch like a contented cat.
“I don’t know why I’m so comfortable with you, I shouldn’t be-” She was interrupted by the rustle of a sequined waitress walking by to see if their glasses were empty. Maisy began to rise, but Daniel tightened his fist in her hair and she stilled. A rush of heat coursed through her at the possessive gesture and, seeing as the waitress passed by utterly unperturbed, she let herself enjoy the sensuous thrill of being held still by this powerful man.
“Aren’t there usually machines and equipment and play stuff?” she ventured to ask when the waitress departed, not sure if she had the terminology correct. That’s what they called it in the books, right?
“Yes, it’s very different in here at the weekends. You wouldn’t believe the way the high ceilings absorb screams and moans.”
Her eyes grew wide and Daniel chuckled, “I’m mostly joking, sweetheart. Does the thought of equipment being used in here scare you?”
“A little,” she admitted.
“Honest little Maisy,” he pulled her hair gently, encouraging her to move to exactly the right spot until their faces were level. She was off balance, relying on his grip to stay upright. “I would like to kiss you, does that scare you?”
Her eyes widened even further. She tried to shake her head, but found that she was locked in place by his grip.
“No,” she said, instead.
“No what?”
“No, it doesn’t scare me,” she fought to inch forward, eyes on his lips. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him.
He tugged her hair lightly and she refocused on his eyes. “‘No, it doesn’t scare me, Sir,’” he corrected, watching for her reaction.
Her eyes slipped shut for the briefest moment and a purely erotic thrill ran through her. Immobilised by his grasp, held by his gaze, made bold by the alien surroundings, she could almost feel her will bend to his.
“No, it doesn’t scare me, Sir,” she said, savouring each word, marvelling at how easily they came and how they felt natural in this place, with this man.
She caught a glimpse of an approving smile before he pulled her closer. The grip on her hair was just on the edge of painful, but it was a delicious pressure that fuelled her growing desire to feel his lips. She gave a low whine when he stopped just before their mouths met.
“That’s a pretty noise. What do you want, Maisy?”
“I want you to kiss me,” she scowled, wriggling in his grip.
“That’s not very polite now, is it?” The smile that had warmed her moments before had been replaced with a cold authority that weakened her knees in such a way she was glad he was still holding her up.
“I want you to kiss me, please,” she whimpered. His eyebrow quirked. “Please Sir,” she added hastily.
“Since you ask so prettily,” he finally ducked his head to take her mouth. His lips were firm but gentle, a direct contrast to his fist in her hair with which he controlled the angle of the kiss precisely. His free hand pinned her wrists to his lap and she was trapped. Held immobile by his grip, unable to do anything but be kissed, she melted.
She felt her helplessness, how he’d reduced her to putty in minutes, and in place of the confusion she half expected she felt only heat. She moaned into his kiss and he smiled before taking the opportunity to run his tongue over hers.
All too soon he pulled back, leaving her reaching for him with her mouth with humiliating eagerness. She blushed and he laughed. Infuriating man. Intoxicating man.
Daniel released his grip on her hair and gently tilted her face up by her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze, which was warm once again.
“You okay, Just Maisy?”
She rested her cheek on his palm and smiled. Okay was an understatement, this man didn’t only understand her strange desires, he knew how to tap into them with a few words and gentle touches. There was none of the shyness or, worse, clumsy violence that she’d experienced with hapless lovers who’d tried to fulfil her needs in the past. Daniel was utterly in control, dominant. It was his nature, just as submission was hers.
“I’m good, thank you. Really good.”
“Good.” He settled her so she was leaning into him comfortably with his arm around her shoulders. “This main room is a social hub even on club nights. Most weeks the equipment is kept in the other tunnels, apart from the really big stuff, so everyone can still come here to socialise and drink.”
“What sort of big stuff?”
“It’s mostly whipping posts that need the space,” he said.
“Jesus,” she muttered. For a moment there, snuggled under the nice stranger’s arm, she’d forgotten that she’d wandered into a whole new world.
“The club is open every night, but it’s mostly vanilla drinks and BDSM workshops apart from Friday and Saturday. Claude runs special events on weekends sometimes though.”
“What kind of events?” Maisy’s work brain switched into overdrive. Just look at the ceiling height, the decor, the exposed brick – she could throw one hell of a party in a place like this.
“You’ll see. He’s quite imaginative, our Claude. What are you thinking? Your eyes just lit up.”
Maisy blushed, “They did? I’m an event planner, I was just thinking about the potential this place has a venue.”
“I see. You’d best not tell Claude, he’ll try to rope you into the subbie training scheme in exchange for borrowing your skills.
“He could try!” She laughed, but she could just imagine the main room filled with circular dining tables, a brass band on a platform above t
he bar, is fetish-formal a dress code yet? It could all be so amazing.
“So, will you come back? We’d love to have you.”
Maisy blinked, his choice of pronoun reminding her that yes, other people did exist outside this booth, “Yes, of course. I mean, why not?”
“Good. I have to get back to work soon or Claude will have my guts for garters. You’ll be alright? That table is full of beginners and other people on Claude’s team of regulars if you wanted to mingle?”
“No,” She shook away the strange urge to cling to him as he stood up, “I need to get up early in the morning, so I’ll be off. Thanks for, you know, everything.”
His absurd dimples deepened when he smiled in response to her awkward gratitude, “My pleasure. I’ll see you soon, little Maisy.”
He kissed her cheek and was gone, leaving Maisy feeling like she’d been frisked by a whirlwind. She was determined not to look back at the bar as she walked away. Play it cool, girl.
Yeah right, she’d been putty in the guy’s hands. Was that like snuggling a double-glazing salesman when he’s explaining his wares? Had she made a complete fool of herself? No, he’d just been giving her an example, a taste, a friendly introduction with a very friendly kiss. No harm in it and wow had he sold the goods.
Matilda was behind the desk sorting paperwork with a distinguished looking gentleman in a blue three-piece suit. His short dark hair and substantial beard was flecked with grey. She noticed now that they both wore black armbands like Dan’s.
“Thanks again, Matilda.” She said with a wave.
“One moment, please.” The French accent told her that the distinguished man was Claude, the club owner who she’d heard so much about, “How did you enjoy your evening.”
“Very well, thank you,” she said, wondering why she sounded like a schoolgirl thanking a kind adult. Why did she feel the urge to call him ‘Sir’ too? Something about these people just radiated bow-to-me dominance, but in an entirely unobnoxious way. Impressive, really, she could use that effect at work when she was trying to hurry contractors into getting their act together.
Maisy's Keeper Page 3
