The Virgin Dating Game

by Sky Corgan

  It ended up being the later of the two. Damien took the blindfold off and then stepped behind me to begin unfastening the ropes. I simply stood there, catching my breath and staring at the floor, happy that the pain between my legs had almost completely subsided.

  Realizing that the display was over, most of the crowd around us dissipated. Everyone except for the vulgar man and his timid submissive. When I was unbound and Damien had packed up his gear, the man stepped up to us. At first, I thought he wanted to take our space in the dungeon, putting on his own scene, but instead, he engaged Damien in conversation.

  “Sir Damien, that was rather an impressive display,” he said.

  “Gratitude for your compliment, Sir Craig. Did you have a mind to carry out a scene as well?” Damien asked.

  “No. I fear I forgot all of my gear at home.”

  “Too bad. Sir Martin has a really nice setup here.”

  “He does.”

  “If you'll excuse us.” Damien nodded respectfully.

  “Before you go, I was actually wondering if you'd be interested in swapping submissives for the afternoon. I enjoyed your Chey's performance. She looks like she'd be fun to work with.”

  A tight knot formed in my chest, and my eyes instantly shot up to meet Damien's. I wasn't sure what I liked less, the idea of being shared or the idea of sharing him. He gazed down on me for a moment, as if he actually had to think about his response.

  “No, I think not,” he replied finally.

  “It would only be for the night,” Sir Martin pressed. “Melissa here does some magical things with her lips, if you get what I mean.”

  The girl at his side blushed.

  “Besides, I think she fancies you. Would you enjoy an evening with Sir Damien?” he asked Melissa.

  “Yes, Sir,” she replied with a hopeful look in her large doe eyes.

  “Perhaps if your Cheyenne consented, you'd be more apt to consider it,” Sir Martin suggested, burning into me with his gaze

  “Cheyenne.” Damien turned to me, his expression betraying no preference. “Would you enjoy an evening with Sir Craig?”

  My heart was pounding so loud that it was almost drowning out the noise around us. Did Damien want this girl? She wasn't much older than me, and she was definitely beautiful.

  In the car, we had decided we wouldn't split off. This man was familiar to me though, and we had shared an intimate moment at the dinner party. I had even imagined what it would be like to be with him. Would this be my only chance to find out? Was it wrong of me to want to find out?

  Still, I knew what sharing Damien would do to me. I'd be too worried about what he was doing with the girl to enjoy my own pleasure. And if he was as jealous as he claimed to be, then it was definitely a bad idea.

  “While it sounds like an interesting prospect, I must regretfully decline,” I said as politely as I could.

  “Shame,” Sir Craig replied, giving me a dark look before he turned and walked away, obviously offended.

  “That was awkward,” I whispered to Damien when they were out of earshot.

  “I'm glad you said no. I've heard some not very pleasant things about that guy.”

  “Then why did you bother asking me at all?”

  “Because I never would have allowed you to leave the party together, and I didn't want to offend the girl.”

  So he did want her. The thought made my heart sink.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “Now, we socialize some more.”

  The night seemed never-ending. Damien talked with the other Doms and Dommes, and I followed him around like a faithful puppy dog. It was almost midnight when we finally left. By that time, I was too exhausted to think about sex. Thankfully, Damien seemed to be in the same mindset. He was so tired that he didn't even bother giving me my vocabulary quiz. Instead, he simply got undressed, and we cuddled up in bed to sleep, saving sexy time for in the morning.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I loved waking up in Damien's arms. It was mornings like this that made me feel like we were truly a couple. Maybe someday, I'd be able to wake up in his arms every morning. For now though, it was only a dream, and I savored it to the very moment that his eyes opened and he wanted something more.

  He smiled and stretched, pulling me into his arms for a few minutes before rolling on top of me. Our morning romp between the sheets was less about passion and more about necessity. We were both achingly horny from the night before, and there was no better way to spend the day's first ounces of energy.

  Kissing was at a minimum due to horrible morning breath. That was one thing I learned about Damien. He did not like kissing until both of us had brushed our teeth. It dulled the pleasure a bit, but I dealt with it.

  When our bodies were satisfied, I assumed my submissive role and followed Damien into the shower. We bathed each other, and then I made breakfast, and we ate and settled on the sofa to watch some television. It looked like it would be a lazy Sunday.

  “What do you want for your birthday?” Damien asked during a commercial break.

  To be honest, I hadn't really thought much about it. My birthday was on the following Friday, and I had no idea what I wanted from Damien. He had been asking me about it for a while, but I couldn't come up with anything aside from just being with him. While I knew he had money to buy me something, it felt kind of rude asking for anything when he didn't have a job.

  “I'm not sure,” I replied.

  “It's coming up quickly. I figured you would have decided what you wanted by now.”

  “There's really nothing I want.”

  “If only all women were as easy to please.” He gave me a gentle squeeze.

  A knock on the door startled us, and I quickly went to open it. If it was someone that I recognized, I was to act submissive. If it was someone that I didn't recognize, I was to get Damien immediately.

  Unfortunately, I did recognize the person at the door. She was blonde and busty and very much unwelcome in my mind.

  Danica smiled, looking me up and down as she normally did. It must be strange for her to see me in clothes. Then I realized she was also dressed normally for once. Instead of fetish gear, she was sporting a modest white turtleneck sweater and a pair of black leggings with stylish black boots. The outfit was form-fitting, but it was miles away from what I was used to seeing her in.

  “Is Damien here?” she asked. “Of course, he is. I see his car out front. Would you be so kind as to take me to him?”

  I nodded, leading her into the living room. Damien seemed equally surprised to receive her.

  “Danica. To what do I owe this visit?” he said before turning down the volume on the television.

  “I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. That was some play party last night, wasn't it?”

  I tried not to scowl as I found my parking place in the corner. Her presence was ruining a perfectly good Sunday. Now, I would have to stand there for however long it took her to leave.

  “It was. There were a lot of new faces,” he replied.

  “Hopefully faces we'll see again. I like Sir Martin's parties. I can usually pick up a new client or two at them.”

  “Good business for you then.”

  “Indeed.”

  “So, what brings you to this side of town?”

  “Visiting relatives. I'm not going to lie though, I was kind of hoping to get your assistance.”

  “Oh?”

  “I ordered a custom-made Saint Andrew's cross from the man who built the furniture for Sir Martin's dungeon. He does beautiful work, but unfortunately, he doesn't deliver. I was hoping to seduce some big burly man into helping me move it,” she teased. “Or if you're busy, I could always use your pet.”

  “I'll go,” I said almost involuntarily. There was no way I wanted Damien alone with her.

  They both gave me a look of surprise, and I sank back into the corner, embarrassed by my own lack of manners.

  “Apologies for speaking out of turn,�
� I mumbled.

  “No need to apologize,” Danica said, cutting Damien off before he had a chance to punish me. “I really don't care which one of you helps me, as long as I get some help.”

  “Are you sure?” Damien arched an eyebrow in my direction.

  “It would be no trouble at all, Sir.”

  “I promise I'll take really good care of her.” Danica smiled, though I didn't like the gleam in her eyes.

  Before I knew it, I was climbing into the passenger's side of Danica's white Ford F150. My stomach was a ball of nausea, and I was already regretting my decision. While I had saved Damien from having to be alone with her, I had condemned myself to Danica's company for who knows how long.

  She barely acknowledged me until we were out of the driveway and heading down the road. “So, how do you like having Sir Damien as your Master?”

  It was a question she had asked before, but that was so long ago I didn't really have an answer then.

  “I like it very much, Miss,” I replied.

  “Oh, you don't have to call me Miss. I know you're under my protection, but I'm not a fan of having little girls grovel at my heels. I reserve that honor for grown men.”

  I wasn't sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult, but I was happy about it, none the less. It would have been strange calling her Miss all day, minding my p's and q's as if she was my Domme. That's what you were supposed to do when your Dom handed you off to another Dom or Domme for temporary keeping.

  “How did you meet Damien?” I asked.

  “We met at a munch. It was my first time stepping into the BDSM world. Up until that point, all of my boyfriends had been vanilla, and I was craving a bodice ripper type romance. I really didn't know what I was doing there.

  “But then I saw Damien. And when we slept together for the first time, I became addicted. I'm sure you understand what that's like.” She gave me a knowing look. “Anyway, it wasn't long after that he took me under consideration.”

  I waited for her to continue, but she didn't. While I was upset that she'd ever been with him at all, I was a bit curious as to what had happened between them.

  “What made you switch sides?” I questioned. “I mean, going from being a submissive to a Domme is a pretty big change.”

  “It was.” She grinned. “I always had issues being a submissive. Even though I loved Damien and wanted to please him, I seemed to have trouble giving over full control. You see, I've always been a bit sexually aggressive, which is one of the reasons I got into BDSM in the first place. I wouldn't say I enjoy the norm in the bedroom. I like my fair share of pain. Biting and spanking and whipping. But I like dealing it too, and that was something I couldn't do while I was Damien's submissive.

  “He'd tolerate the occasional biting and scratching, but when I'd get too intense with him, he'd stop our play sessions and send me to the corner. Even though the sex was amazing, I just felt like something was missing.

  “Then we went to a play party, and I saw the Domme's with their male submissives. I was so turned on watching them beat their men. They could do anything they wanted to those guys, and they'd just sit there and take it. Needless to say, it wasn't long before I figured out I'd probably enjoy doing the same.

  “I wanted to experiment with Damien, but he strictly forbade it, so I swallowed my dominant tendencies for a while longer. When we were together, I tried my hardest to be the perfect submissive. But when we were apart, I found myself researching being a Domme. I even befriended one and had her show me the ropes.

  “Damien started noticing a change in me. I just wasn't as happy as I was in the beginning. Finally, we sat down and talked about it. He said he'd release me and allow me to go try out being a Domme, and if I didn't like it, I could come back.

  “I never came back,” her words sounded somehow sad, though she didn't seem to regret her decision. After all, she was still a Domme.

  “Did you still see Damien after you became a Domme?” I asked.

  “For a while. It was hard in the beginning. The first submissive I had, I didn't know what in the hell I was doing. I'm horrible at controlling people in the longer term, and that made me confused and doubt myself. I'd find comfort in Damien's arms, only for a night or two. And then I'd remember what it was like to be his submissive, and I knew I didn't want that either.

  “It took almost a year before I figured out I wasn't cut out to own my own submissive. That's when I started offering scene services as a Dominatrix. I've been happy ever since.

  “I get to abuse a variety of men, and I get paid for it. They get off. I don't have to put out. And when I'm done with them, I send them on their merry way. I don't have to worry about bossing them around day in and day out. It works well for me.”

  “I had wondered if you had a submissive of your own, since I never saw anyone with you at the munch or the two parties,” I said.

  “No,” she sighed. “There are several of my clients who would very much love for me to take them on, but I'm not ready for that type of commitment, and I don't know if I ever will be.”

  “If you don't have a submissive, then what do you do for sex?”

  “I have some clients that will let me have my way with them. At the end of the day, men are men, and they have base needs. The unwed ones are more than happy to provide a service to me in return for my service to them.”

  “That's rather convenient.”

  “It is.”

  I tried to imagine what it would be like to have sex with a variety of men. One would never get bored. That's for sure.

  “Don't you worry about STDs?” I asked.

  “No. I make all of my clients routinely get tested. And I always make them wear protection. You can never be too careful.”

  “Yeah.”

  It wasn't much longer before we arrived at our destination. To my surprise, it was a furniture store tucked away near the cheer studio where Damien and I had first had sex. Danica pulled around to the back where we were greeted by a friendly older gentleman. I stayed inside the car, watching in the rear-view mirror while a group of men loaded the Saint Andrew's cross into the bed of her truck. It looked heavy—too heavy for the two of us to handle. Danica signed some paperwork, and then we were back on the road again, presumably heading towards her house.

  “They wrapped it up well,” I commented. The thing was covered in so much bubble wrap and tape that there was no way to tell what it was just by looking at it.

  “John likes to be discrete with this type of stuff, even though most people would have no idea what it is,” she replied.

  “Are you sure we're going to be able to move that thing?”

  “We should be able to. I have a dolly, so that should help.”

  “What if we can't move it?”

  “I have a client coming this afternoon. And while I hate to ask such things of clients, I'm sure he'd help move it in.”

  Now I felt oddly guilty. Perhaps I should have let Damien come after all. This definitely looked like a job for a man.

  When we pulled into Danica's driveway, I was surprised to see that she didn't live in a mansion. It was just a normal house in a normal middle-class neighborhood. There was no circular driveway. No fountains. It was kind of nice to know not all BDSM people were extravagantly rich.

  As soon as we got out of the truck and went around to start pulling the Saint Andrew's cross off the bed, it quickly became apparent that it was more than we could handle. The thing felt like it weighed a ton, and by the time we got it lowered onto her driveway, we were both out of breath.

  “Holy crap. How much does this thing weigh?” I asked, feeling a burning in my lungs from over exertion.

  “I think he said it weighs close to a hundred and fifty pounds.” Danica leaned against the truck.

  “How are we going to get it into the house?”

  “I figured we'd go through the garage. My dungeon is the first room to the right.”

  I followed her through the garage and up
into her house. When she opened the door to her dungeon, my mouth about dropped to the floor. For as small as the room was, it was packed with BDSM stuff. There was already one Saint Andrew's cross pressed against the far wall, so I wondered why she needed another one. On both sides of it, lining the walls, were multiple racks. One had various handcuffs, another had paddles, riding crops, and floggers. There was also a small clothing rack with costumes, and a set of shelves with all sorts of lube.

  “Where are we going to put it?” I asked.

  “I thought I would put it in the corner for now, but now that I'm looking at things, I'm not sure it will fit. We best put it in the living room. I had planned on taking the Saint Andrew's cross and bondage table out. John designed it so that it's an all-in-one. It can adjust between being a table and a cross, thus saving space. I saw him demonstrate how it works, but I'd like to mess with it for a bit before I actually use it with a client.”

  “How heavy is the other stuff?”

  “Not as heavy as the new cross.”

  “Do you want me to help you get that other stuff out of the dungeon first then?”

  “We need to at least get the new cross into the garage. I don't want it sitting out in the front yard unattended.”

  “Alright.”

  Danica got the dolly, and we struggled to put the behemoth of a cross on it. It took slow careful movement to bring it up her driveway, with Danica doing most of the work. I felt absolutely useless, guiding her and making sure the thing didn't fall over. By some miracle and a lot of muscle, we were able to push it over the small lip where the garage met the driveway. Almost as soon as it was inside, she set it down, surrendering to the idea of letting her client do the rest of the work.

  After that, we went into her dungeon and moved the old Saint Andrew's cross into the spare bedroom. She said it would eventually end up in the shed behind her house, but she wanted to wrap it first so the moths and rats couldn't get to it. It was fairly light, and we were able to move it with ease.