Vetting The Senator

by Alex Elliott

  The liquor warms my belly and then I feel the warmth weave loose tendrils within my muscles. Lost in thought, I half listen as my keeper takes call after call. Sometimes he replies in a clipped tone; other times, he laughs and his drawl gets much more pronounced.

  “We just arrived at the side entrance,” he relays abruptly to the person on his cell, and I sit up. I didn’t realize the car had stopped. “Catch you inside,” he says.

  The door opens. “Miss Excess, allow me.” It’s the driver again—I believe. He takes hold of my arm near my elbow.

  I’m led, maybe six or seven steps over pavement, and then I’m told to take a ‘step.’

  “Step,” the man says again. “Last one. Step.”

  And I’m inside. The door is shut and there’s a hand on my shoulder, and another at the small of my back. “Right this way,” the keeper instructs.

  I glide alongside him. His touch isn’t creepy...it’s almost clinical, like a doctor or maybe I’m a little tipsy. Either way, I’m less awkward even if I’m without my sight. Blind could be a good thing. At this point, if I actually witnessed a room filled with whips, manacles, and chains, I’d flip out.

  We pause, a door opens, and a woman leans in close. Is she kissing the keeper? I hear her voice purring a seductive welcome. “Good evening, Jax. Uh, sorry...Cash.”

  He stiffens. Is she speaking to my keeper? Her footsteps creak across the floor and the door closes with a muted thud. I feel him relax next to me as he resumes guiding me forward.

  Jax? Did I just hear her correctly? Bennett said this private club was strictly for members from the Capitol. There’s only one congressman...one I distinctly remember who goes by Jax. Jackson Carter. How many other politicians have that nickname and are from Texas? Oh. Dear. Fucking. God!

  I pull back as my body temperature drops a good ten degrees. A blanket of cold saturates the surface of my skin and I recoil, jerking my arm from his grasp.

  “Whoa,” Jax whispers. “What happened?”

  My thoughts swirl within a vortex and I latch onto one. What are the chances of Jon finding out this place exists and his new expose source is a keeper? Forget being relaxed! I’m back to feeling like my body is a plank of wood ready to splinter apart.

  “Are we alone?” Forget submissive body stance and demure face training 101. I’m ready to yank off my mask.

  “You’re acquainted with the rules. You don’t ask the questions. What’s going on Ms. Excess?”

  I can’t divulge that Jon is working on a piece, pretending to be an intern in this man’s office, and snooping for this exact type of controversy to hook a deluge of readers. A Hill expose will catapult Jon into serious journalistic orbit. Perhaps not a Pulitzer, but he’d gain recognition.

  “Nothing,” I choke out. “Just nervous, Keeper. Thank you for asking.”

  He doesn’t respond...not at first. “I want you to take a deep breath. Don’t stop inhaling until I tell you to. Slow. Steady. Begin,” he orders in an authoritative tone.

  I inhale, sipping air between my lips until he directs me to stop. “Hold it,” Jax commands sharply, and I tighten my stomach muscles, waiting. Waiting. Waiting until finally he says, “Release.”

  I exhale and he places both his hands on my arms. “We’ve got a long night ahead. You need oxygen. Simple trick. If you use it. Matter of fact, if I find that you’re holding that sweet breath of yours, I’ll be the first person to sample how lush your ass is. It’s my prerogative as your keeper, and even if your master isn’t down for sharing you, I’ve got to do what’s in your best interest. Not his.”

  My brow knits. He’d do something to directly oppose Bennett? That doesn’t sound like a sane plan anyone should consider.

  “I’ll remember to breathe,” I declare and demonstrate by inhaling a deep breath, and then another. “Thank you, Keeper.”

  “Your nickname is spot-on, little sub.”

  What is he referring to? But I don’t think further. His hands are on me, undoing the clasp at the back of my neck, and without warning my dress top slides down my upper body.

  Covering my bare chest, I lurch back a step. I gasp, “Stop!”

  Bennett warned me with words, but not in absolutes. My keeper would prepare me. I don’t know why I assumed I’d be dressed. But to be stark naked—my heartbeat thunders nonstop. Nothing compares with how unbalanced this all feels.

  “Not so fast,” Jax says as he slips a sheath of soft, silky material over my shoulders. He turns me slightly, and then his fingers bump my jaw. He’s tying cords under my chin. From the front folds, he takes hold of my dress and deftly swings it around on my hips and lowers the zipper. He holds my arm and says, “Step” as my dress falls away from my body, all the way down my legs to the floor.

  The folds of the cape drape close again and I do as directed, stepping without seeing as Jax guides me forward. His hands separate the folds of the cape covering me as cool air swirls over my skin. His hands glide along my hips, plucking the elastic bands of panties, and my stomach muscles constrict. He pulls them down in silence. A burst of heat like a billowing storm cloud races up from my shoulder blades, scorching a path, and blankets my face. From his movements, I get that he’s kneeling right now as he lowers my panties down my thighs.

  He takes one of my hands, still pulling my panties that skim the insides of my knees, down to my ankles and once more he directs me to, “Step.”

  I'm naked and blindfolded, wearing a cape and a mask and heels. Shaking like a leaf in a freak storm, I’m a year past embarrassed to the nth degree with a stranger’s face inches from my crotch. I hold my breath, praying to get past this moment. The front of my cape closes again, and I gasp in relief.

  “Raise your hands. Behind your back.” Jax is standing behind me from the sound of his voice and when I do as he says, I feel metal—cold and fixed encircle one wrist and then the other. I’m cuffed and he puts something small into my hand.

  “The key. You’ll present this to your master,” he says and I understand.

  Bennett said I’d have something to offer him as a show of submission. This key is symbolic aside from serving as the means to free my wrists.

  “It’s time,” Jax announces.

  A jolt tears through me and I swallow, questioning my decision. For all that being undressed by a stranger is not my idea of how to have a hooting-n-hollering good time on Saturday night, the reality of being blindly led out to a stage where a room full of people will watch me, is a hundred times more nerve-wracking and...I freeze.

  There’s a boost of sound and I understand from the shuffle of footsteps into the room, we’re no longer alone.

  “So, this is the newbie?” A man’s voice comes closer to me and I shudder.

  “Yep. How’s the crowd?” Jax asks unperturbed.

  “We’ve got the same echelon as the other night.” The voice of the man is deep but soft, and contains an air of authority. It’s a quality that I recognize in Bennett’s voice and Jax’s, and now this other man’s. They must be partners—the ones Ben referred to as the other Doms. “Message from the stage. Don’t remove the sub’s cape.”

  “Trust me,” Jax retorts. “I got an earful. This auction is going to go down in history. It’s a good thing it’s Ben’s first night back. There are few members I can readily envision going balls to the wall ballistic. Frankly, I don’t know if this will fly. If someone demands to sample her first, this is going to devolve into unadulterated chaos.”

  “I hear you, but he’s got them eating out of his palm. Something about him, they can’t get enough.”

  “Might be the whip he welds,” Jax snorts.

  “The House is ready,” the other man replies.

  “We’ll see. Are all the security teams at their posts?” Jax holds onto my elbow.

  “Confirmed,” the man says. “With the eagle in the nest, the grounds and nearby roads are locked down.”

  They speak in hushed voices. Business as usual, yet their assured talk does
nothing to keep my stomach from knotting. Worse when I’m piloted out of the room. On either side of my body, Jax and the other man grasp me by my elbows, escorting me down what I believe is a hall from the way people jostle and excuse themselves. We walk onward then make a turn, and then another in some type of maze where I hear muffled voices. A few whimpers, smacking flesh, and grunts as we pass doorways, and I imagine these are the rooms where anything goes. Bennett informed me there’s a hall where there aren’t any doors. This must be that corridor.

  From what I know, all the House rooms except one are open to viewing. Some have windows within private halls, accessible only by the Dom and his submissive. Ben promised me, we wouldn’t be in one of the open community spaces. This first time, we’ll have as much privacy as the House affords for a submissive claiming, which means a mirror and on the other side, people watching.

  My escorts pause and from the tiny cracks along the side of the mask, I absorb the lighting is different. Diffused. Dim. But there’s an energy that crackles all around us. People speak in muted voices. There’s the sound of crystal clinking, and floating laughter.

  “We’ll lead you up three steps to the stage and you’ll kneel,” Jax advises me. “Wait for your master to claim you. Do exactly as he orders or you’ll be disciplined. On stage. Understand?”

  “Yes, Keeper,” I whisper hoarsely as my knees go weak.

  If it weren’t for the two men on either side of me and their commanding grip on my arms, never in a million years would I make it up these steps. Then I’m on stage and told to kneel as they assist me down to the hard flooring. I shift on my knees, feeling unbalanced as I tug on the handcuffs. The whir of words grows in volume, and from within the murmur of voices I decipher specific talk about me.

  Men and women discuss my role as a submissive and what they’d like to do to me. How they’d find pleasure in my body. How they’d share me.

  Instead of posturing with a meek submissive downcast expression, I raise my chin. I might be blindfolded and my arms cuffed behind my back, but I damned well am not going to pretend that anyone in this room has a chance in hell of doing anything to me!

  “For the love of God,” I hear Bennett’s growl and the thud of his feet, hitting the edge of the stage. “You look like you want to conquer the world, my little sub.”

  Chapter 5

  TRASHING THE RULES

  SCALING THE stairs to the stage, I’m ready to spew. The House is full and it’s standing room tonight. I’m wearing a black T-shirt, a pair of leathers and motorcycle boots as I take to the stage, and my entire focus is on Xavia. Minutes ago, I watched her being led inside by Jax and Noah. My jaw is still clenched. I remind myself she arrived up on the stage without incident. So far no one has made the supreme mistake of touching her.

  It’s enough to take me over the fucking edge to have Jax undress her, but at least with him I’m assured he’s into men and his focus on her is detached. Of course outside our club, no one discusses that the Speaker of the House is gay. Sure Jax will thrust his dick into a woman, but only if it’s a tag team situation with a lover where ultimately he ends up pumping himself into some dude. Would I trust X with any other of my partners? One answer. Fuck no!

  Today I read over, more like scoured and dissected the Clubhouse laws and membership bylaws until I found one. The perfect one that I’ll utilize to derail this ceremony from becoming a true submissive auction. With serious money on board tonight, I’m not about to be outbid. I’m asserting my right as House Dom to claim her as mine—unrestrained as long as I commit to a full-term training, which means we’re here for the next three months. There’s a loophole that we’ll have to deal with...eventually.

  After focusing on Xavia as she entered the main bar, I’m wired and hyper vigilant. Honestly, I can’t imagine me here with her for the next three minutes...until she notches up her chin in defiance. And fuck, everything in the place dissolves except this girl’s unbearable inability to tone it down, confirming my decision.

  “For the love of God. You look like you want to conquer the world, little sub,” I snarl as I stalk across the stage and come to stand directly in front of her.

  She’s blindfolded and the eye shield is in place, yet her stubbornness is evident in every nuance she casts. With the near black hair of the wig framing her high cheekbones, her skin is luminescent and her full mouth is a jewel I hunger to own. I reach out and rub my thumb along her jaw, to her lips, and press her mouth open. My cock hardens and I’m there. Ready to assume possession of her completely. I’m back in the saddle and hungry to take command of my rebellious little submissive.

  I peel away the strip of material that hides her eyes. Bluest of blue, and when the material is taken off, she blinks. Our gazes fuse and I feel a jolt of excitement rip through me. With my other hand, I cup her chin as she teeters forward.

  “I own you,” I say.

  Her chin quivers and I wait what feels like a year for her to answer. When she does, she whispers, “Yes, Master.”

  An electrical charge races across my nerve endings. The air around us crackles. The stage, the people, the House are inconsequential. It’s only her that I train my entire focus upon.

  “Keeper, make the necessary announcement,” I direct Jax in a quiet voice that rumbles out of me in a growl. I shift my eyes across the audience, daring anyone to contradict what’s about to be announced. X and I with our expressions of complete disregard and defiance must resemble quite the pair. There’s a thunderous murmur spreading throughout the room—not outright opposition—but those present must be wondering why I haven’t unsheathed the woman kneeling in front of me of her cloak and mask.

  Well, tonight they’re in for a surprise.

  Jackson Carter nods solemnly and informs the members present that the first auction of the night isn’t going forward as I’ve elected my rights as House Dom to claim this submissive for my own. Restricting all access to her. Barring any member from sampling her.

  “Do you fully intend on abiding by the provisions set out in our club bylaws?” Jax questions me. Publicly, we’re laying the foundation. The ripple of disbelief in hushed voices and chairs moving gets louder...until Jax lifts and slams down the gavel. “All quiet.” He looks to the dark suited security detail around the perimeter of the room and those stationed at either side of the stage. A sign that members will be removed at the slightest provocation.

  “Absolutely. Without fail. This submissive is mine. Only mine to train exclusively,” I answer him.

  If I detour—break the requirements of this covenant, it means I’ll lose my position here. Another House Dom will step in and demand authority over my submissive. Doesn’t matter that the other owners and I are friends or work the Hill on the Joint Economic Committee. Doesn’t matter that we’ve covered each other’s backs over the years, and are closer than brothers.

  “Her contract?” Jax opens up the folded document on the lectern. It’s the one I provided him and it’s unexecuted.

  “Executed freely by the submissive,” I reply, lying through my teeth. “The submissive accepts the Clubhouse bylaws.”

  I’m giving Xavia this chance tonight to determine if my type of domination is what she truly desires. If she doesn’t—effectively, I’m screwed. He won’t divulge that fact. I have twenty-four hours to get him an executed submissive contract or relinquish partnership.

  “Very well,” he nods. “Claim her.”

  Claiming a submissive involves one goal: providing the sub with what she—or he—needs. Without question, I’m acquiring the means to satisfy my over-the-top hunger—but all power is drawn from X’s submission.

  I’ve chosen to walk a precarious line and one false move opens the door to another dominant owning this girl’s body while I’d be forced to watch...endure. The muscles over my body tighten into cords at the thought of another touching her—that day will never dawn!

  X sways, and I reach out to her shoulder, holding on to her trembling body. “Are you
steady?” I growl between my gritted teeth. I’m hard, thick, and in need of her lips wrapped around my crown.

  “Yes, sir.” Her eyes hold mine. We stare at one another, and like the minx that she is, she slowly, provocatively licks her lips. The sight of her tongue—her piercing dancing over her petal soft lips has me to the point of no return.

  Tonight we begin defining how much of her I possess. The next step is the make or break moment.

  We discussed how I’d claim her. She’s versed in the questions I’ll pose and how she’s to answer, how she will address me, and what I’ll do. Then why the fuck am I stalling? Either I claim her or cut her loose. There’s no straddling the fence. No vanilla dating in my world. This is the place where she and I can come without risk of scandal. Together we’ll make history—but only these walls will be privy.

  “Do you have any questions about the submissive covenants for the House?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Do you agree to my full domination over you?”

  “Sir, yes I do.”

  “At any point, you may elect to halt a scene.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “You are mine, submissive. My property. Mine to direct. I own you and until our contract ends, you will refer to me as ‘Master.’”

  “Master, I am your property. Thank you, for claiming me.”

  “Open you lips and demonstrate to everyone present how I own you. Submit to me.” I lower my zipper and free my cock.

  She lifts her chin and I tap the blunt part of my crown on her lips, glossing her skin with pre cum. She opens her pink, glistening mouth, and I bite back a groan snaking up my throat as she licks across my dick with her pierced tongue. I hold myself out to her, slipping just the tip of my cock into her hot mouth and piston my hips, going farther and deeper.

  Threading my hands into her hair, I cup the back of her head as I fuck her mouth, demonstrating to all present this is what happens to a new submissive who decisively begins the night on a defiant note. It’s either this, or stripping her bare, parading her down the aisle, and giving everyone nearby the opportunity to touch...fondle her.