“I asked what your parents think of you and Alice getting together,” said Fort, “considering how long you’ve been family friends?”
“Oh, Jesus. They don’t know we’re together yet. Like, carnally together. They think we’re still friends. Otherwise, they’d never allow her to stay at my apartment. They’d make her move to Chappaqua so they could shelter her from immoral urges,” I said, laughing.
“It cracks me up that your parents are so traditional.”
“Wait,” said Devin. “You said your mom wanted a love-and-romance name for the violin.”
“Yeah, because they want us to fall in love. They’ve wanted it forever.”
“So why don’t you tell them?” Fort said. “They’ll be so excited.”
“I can’t. Blue would lose his shit if she had to move out.”
“You’re both in your thirties,” said Dev with a snort. “I don’t think your parents can make either of you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“You don’t know my parents. Or hers. Her dad is this hulking Swedish type that I’m still scared of from my violin-lesson days.”
“You’re a mess.” Fort topped off my glass with the last of the wine. “Well, let us know about The Gallery. I know Juliet’s been missing it, and would love to go. If we all went, it would be a lot of fun, and Dev and I could run interference on all the pervs who were interested in the new girl.”
All the pervs. Fuck. That was the only thing about taking my new love to The Gallery. I’d shared women all my life, including dozens with Devin and Fort, but the idea of sharing Alice made my nerves go tight. Sharing had always been the height of kinky abandon for me, and Alice got off on the idea too, but what if I couldn’t do it?
I looked across the table at my friends, seeing them as rivals and interlopers for the first time. I tried to keep my thoughts from showing on my face, but I wasn’t sure I was successful, because Fort and Dev both buried their faces in the dessert menu, and we never, ever ordered dessert.
Chapter Sixteen: Alice
I checked the app on my phone, making sure I was going the right direction on Broome Street. Michelle’s studio wasn’t that far from Ella’s loaner apartment.
I had the uniform she’d made me tucked into the handbag under my arm. Lord knew the wispy thing didn’t take up a whole lot of space. It was beautiful though, and it fit perfectly. Michelle was a skilled costumer for the Met Ballet, and it showed in the quality of the seams and trim. There was just one problem: my legs turned out to be too long for the standard stockings she provided. She’d special-ordered some for me, and I’d asked if I could come pick them up, since I needed them by tonight.
Oh my God. Tonight.
I wanted to go to The Gallery. It was important for me to take this next step, to experiment with my sex-kitten persona. It brought me joy, and it thrilled the man I loved. When I modeled the uniform for him—sans stockings—he’d jumped all over me, squeezing my ass, running his tongue along the silver collar’s edge. As moments went, it was right up there with the night he showed me my finished violin.
Ah, my violin. It was beautiful, marvelous, perfect, but it still needed a name before I was allowed to register it for insurance, and play it publicly. I would have chosen I love you so much oh my God Milo I can’t believe I’m holding this amazing piece of wonder in my hands, but that was kind of long for Fierro’s records, and anyway, Luciana Fierro had the final choice, which she’d promised to make next week when we visited. I didn’t know why she was taking so long. I’d played the instrument for hours every night since he’d given it to me, sometimes naked, at his request.
I’d come to love catering to his requests.
I found Michelle’s building and rang up. As she escorted me into her workshop, I felt the same illicit thrill I’d felt the first time, when Milo had brought me to be measured. She was a kind, businesslike, slightly older lady, but her workshop would always feel like a hot-as-hell sex den to me.
“It’s wonderful to see you again,” she said with a smile. “Thanks for coming by to pick these up. Did you bring the rest of the uniform, so we can make sure everything fits?”
“Yes, I’ve got it here. Should I change into it?”
“Please, if you don’t mind. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
I shed my top and put on the bra first, arranging my nipples within the peekaboo cups. It made me think of Milo’s obsession with hurting them, and my nipples went rock hard in response. I slipped off my panties next, while she puttered around with a coffee machine, perhaps to give me a sense of privacy in her wide-open workroom. Not that I’d have any privacy at The Gallery, from the official page of rules he’d shown me.
Number one: All submissives must be accompanied by a sponsor who will manage their conduct and care. No unsponsored submissives will be admitted.
Number two: Any submissive brought into The Gallery shall be considered communal property and shared in any way her sponsor desires.
Number three: The Gallery is a no-safe-word zone. The submissive’s limits will be determined by her sponsor.
Number four: All submissives must strictly adhere to The Gallery’s dress code.
Number five: Any submissive not agreeing to these terms may not be admitted to The Gallery. Any resistance or refusal of these rules is cause for immediate expulsion from the premises.
“Almost ready?” asked Michelle as I finished buckling on the last thing—the collar. She slid an approving look over the bra and garter belt, which flattered my angular body shape. “Aren’t you a tall, graceful beauty? Let’s try those stockings. I’d kill to have your legs.”
I stepped into the soft, silken stockings and pulled them up my legs, then stopped. “Can you help me work these things?”
“The stocking clasps? Sure. They’re easier to use than they look, especially when the stockings are the right length.” She showed me how to attach the decorative clasps to the upper parts of the stockings, lining them up so the suspenders laid straight. When that was accomplished, she straightened and nodded in approval. “You see, it looks so much better when the stockings are the right length, because they don’t pull down on the garter belt and ruin the balance.”
I clasped my hands in front of my waist, excited, embarrassed, and happy at once. “Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure. Would you like to see the whole outfit? Well, except for the shoes. They’ll make your legs even longer. Milo will be so pleased.”
She turned her standing mirror so it caught my reflection. I stared at myself, at pale skin and black lines crossing over it. My face looked scared. I laughed as soon as I noticed it.
“I’m nervous,” I confessed. “I’ve never been to a BDSM club, much less a private, exclusive one.”
“Oh, a lot of the women I outfit are nervous,” she said kindly. “Then I see them at The Gallery a few weeks later having a grand old time. And Milo’s a fun one to go with. He’s known for his creative mind.”
This woman knew more about Milo playing at The Gallery than I did, but not for long. He might be nervous about taking me there, about how I would react, but all I wanted was to know everything about him, the good, the bad, the normal, the weird, the scary. “Honestly, I’m not even sure he wants me to go,” I confessed, “but I don’t want him to feel like he’s keeping secrets from me, or that he has to hide what he’s into.”
“Well, you’ve read the rules, haven’t you?” I nodded and she smiled. “So you know what he’s into. What about you? Are you a masochist as well as a submissive? Are you into pain?”
“Yes, definitely. Well, not all pain. Just sexy pain.”
“Everything’s sexy at The Gallery,” she assured me. “I think you’ll have a transformative time there.”
“I hope so. I think I will.” I took a final look in the mirror, touching the collar at my neck. “I guess I should take this off now.”
“I wouldn’t wear it home, if that’s what you�
�re asking. Here, hand it to me as you take it off, and I’ll fold it up so it stays nice for tonight.”
When I left a few minutes later, my uniform was once again tucked in my handbag. I had a concert to play with Met Orchestra tonight, and we’d go to The Gallery afterward. As far as I knew, his friends were meeting us there, but beyond that, I had no idea what would go down. I didn’t want to build up any hopes—or fears. As long as Milo was with me, everything would be okay.
Chapter Seventeen: Milo
I leaned against the counter, watching Alice primp for the evening. She was fresh out of the shower, applying makeup in the nude. It took everything I had not to molest her as she leaned over to put on black eyeliner. I needed to save those urges for The Gallery, or we’d end up very late.
“Is that eyeliner waterproof?” I asked.
She looked at the tube. “I don’t know.”
I hoped it wasn’t. There was something about messy, running eyeliner as your masochist submissive broke down in tears. When she finished the eyeliner, she put on some crimson-red lipstick, and I wanted to fuck her mouth so badly. I wondered if this whole leisurely makeup process was meant as a tease.
“What should I do with my hair?” she asked. “Leave it loose so you can grab it?”
“No, braid it for me. You know, that thing where you wrap the braids around your head?” I motioned over the crown of my dark hair. “It excites me when you have that innocent-Heidi look.”
“That ‘innocent-Heidi look’? You’re a pervert.”
“Maybe. When I see those braids around your head, all I can think about is taking them down and doing nefarious things to them.”
“Hair pervert,” she muttered, but she humored me and picked up her comb. She loved humoring my whims, and it made my life a fucking dream. After she braided her hair with quick, deft finger movements, she squirmed into her Gallery uniform. The sexually overt costume had featured prominently in my dreams ever since she’d tried it on for me. I got hard watching her pull up the stockings. “Here, Cinderella,” I said, picking up the stilettos. “Allow me.”
She held onto my shoulders as I slipped the first shoe on her foot, then the second. When she stood, she almost reached my height. Almost.
“You’re so beautiful,” I said. “So ridiculously beautiful.”
She smiled and straightened my tie, then ran a hand along my suit coat’s lapel. I was in formal business attire, because the Doms at The Gallery had a dress code too.
“You’re ridiculously beautiful as well, Milo Fierro. Oh, I still need my collar.”
“Let me do it.”
I’d wanted to put on her shoes because I loved her feet and her elegant calf muscles. I wanted to put on her collar because she belonged to me. I was more certain of it every day. Mine. My woman, forever and ever. Even so, her collar, like all the women’s collars at the club, had a dangling, decorative lock that read Property of The Gallery.
It was okay. She could belong to me, and still play with others at The Gallery. I’d have to work that out. Once we were in the thick of things, in the passionate violence of the main dungeon, I’d most likely be able to share her to a reasonable extent. Passing willing women around was just kink, fun stuff, and I trusted every Dom there to take care of her and follow the rules.
“The silver-toned leather looks nice on you,” I said. “You were made to wear a collar.”
She put a hand over mine. “I wouldn’t have thought that a couple months ago, but now…”
I took her chin and pulled her close for a kiss. She braced against me until she found her footing in the stilettos, then my other hand traced down the straps framing her ass. It was so lovely, so round and beautiful. I groaned into Alice’s mouth.
“We should go,” I said. “Otherwise we won’t get there at all.”
I went to the closet to get her fitted black coat that ended just above her knees. She couldn’t go up on the elevator without it, even though I hated covering up her sexy outfit, even for a moment. As she tied the belt closed in front of her, I hugged her from behind, pressing my cheek to hers.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” I asked. “We don’t have to. We can wait a little longer.”
“The longer I wait, the more anxious I get about going. So let’s go.” She reached to stroke my cheek. “I’m sure it will be great, and if I don’t like it, I’ll tell you.”
“You promise?”
She turned her head to kiss me, then said, “I promise, Sir.”
We got into the elevator and rode it up to the top floor, to the clock tower that had been renovated into a three-level wonderland for sadomasochistic play. The doors opened into the lobby, and I smiled at her delighted intake of breath. It was a gorgeous, soaring space, with ornate molding and eighteenth century reproduction iron sconces lining the walls, making the gilded, flocked wallpaper glint in the low light.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said.
“I think so too.” Even so, it wasn’t as beautiful as her, with her shining eyes and shapely, scarlet lips. Rene, a young man who served as both greeter and security, smiled at us.
“Welcome to The Gallery, Mr. Fierro.”
“Good evening, Rene. This is Alice. She’ll be joining us tonight for the first time.”
“That’s wonderful. Welcome, Alice,” he said with his typical smooth elegance. “I’ll be happy to take your coats, and then I’ll have a document for you to sign.”
I helped take off her coat, enjoying the small, anxious shiver that came as I lifted it from her shoulders and exposed her to Rene’s avid gaze. He had no sexual interest in women, so her charms wouldn’t arouse him, but he did raise a perfectly plucked brow in appreciation. She looked like an ancient Greek statue, tall, curvaceous, voluptuous, womanly, built for sex. I noted with pleasure that her nipples were tightly erect.
As soon as Rene completed his check of her uniform, he offered the submissive’s contract for her to sign. Alice accepted the paper and scanned the five rules she needed to agree to. We’d gone over them in detail already—when she was calm and thoughtful, and not in the throes of kinky ecstasy—because I wanted her to know what she was getting into. After a cursory reading, she put her signature at the bottom and handed it back to Rene, and we were waved toward the large gold and ivory door that led to the dungeon.
“Things are already in full swing,” Rene said. “There’s a crowd tonight. Enjoy.”
“I’m sure we will.” I turned to Alice. “Ready?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said in a soft voice. “Let’s do this.”
I gave her ass an encouraging squeeze as I opened the door and led her up the circular staircase to the main dungeon. The sound of sex and pleasure—as well as the shrieks and groans of masochism—flooded our ears before we even reached the top. As we came to the landing, Alice paused, holding onto the banister for support.
I let her look a moment. She’d never been to a mainstream BDSM club, much less a private dungeon, so for her, there was a lot to take in. The Gallery rose to a grand dome overhead, and featured several scening areas with professional-grade bondage furniture and racks, as well as couches and chairs where members chatted, cuddled, or fucked. The lights in the dungeon were dim enough to suggest eroticism and mystery, but bright enough to showcase lots of naked, glistening skin, stark bondage equipment, and polished leather implements.
“What do you think?” I asked, as she stood frozen beside me.
“It’s so amazing. I can’t believe this is real.” She watched some cavorting couples nearby, then lifted her gaze to the balcony above us, and the large, frosted glass clock face on the wall, half obscured by interlocking gears. “That clock…it’s huge. Look how it glows.”
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” I’d always loved to play in the light of that glow. “Unfortunately, it hasn’t worked for some time, and no one’s been able to fix it.”
She’d moved on from looking at the clock, to gawk at the various groups playing on the main
dungeon floor. “Oh.” She made a small, shocked sound. “There’s Ella and Devin.”
Ella was straddling Dev’s lap on the couch farthest away from us, both of them doing some raw, animalistic fucking as they gazed into each other’s eyes. From the looks of Ella’s butt cheeks, she’d already endured a strapping or paddling—or both.
“Come on,” I said. The longer Alice stood there, fingering her collar, the more nervous she’d get. I decided to take her to a rack near the back of the room, not because I wanted to hide her…
Well, maybe I wanted to hide her. Other Doms were starting to notice her. Even Devin tore his gaze away from Ella for a moment to give me a distracted thumbs up. Damn it. Alice was too striking for the others not to notice, and she broadcast “newbie” and “innocent” on top of it. Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted on the braids.
I tried to push the jealous thoughts out of my head. That wasn’t why we’d come here. I needed to tease and torment her, and show her what The Gallery was all about. The other Doms could fuck themselves, because this was Alice’s journey. I led my wide eyed submissive to a square-shaped rack, so I could put those long legs to use. It was designed with sturdy posts and a top and bottom bar, so the victim could be bound facing either direction. I decided to cuff her facing outward to the dungeon, so she could see the other scenes, and understand that she’d become part of this secret, depraved world.
I soon realized my mistake. After I bound her arms, and spread her legs impossibly, obscenely wide, cuffing them to either side of the rack, she made too desperate and too beautiful a picture. Men started drifting over, some of them with their submissives in tow.
The old Milo would have been proud to show off a bound, scared submissive, her tight nipples thrusting from her peekaboo bra, but the new Milo who was in love with Alice wanted to shout at all of them to go away. One of them moved toward her in a manner that would have been perfectly acceptable with any of my other partners. He gave her hard nipples an appreciative pinch. “Going to use clamps? I’d be happy to help with that.”
Dangerous Control Page 15
