by Stasia Black
I can’t keep my eyes off Callie. What’s she thinking? What’s she expecting? We walk inside and everything is familiar to me but I try to see it through her eyes. We pass by the bar area and continue into the main communal room.
The walls are a varnished wood so dark it’s just a shade lighter than black. The black tile floor gleams in the ambient yellow light given off from chandeliers studded throughout the ceiling. They’re not the only things hanging from the heavy beams running the length of the room far above our heads, though.
I watch Callie’s eyes as they follow chains linked to pulleys connected to the beam and then trace back down on the other side to attached cuffs and swings. Her eyes widen and then shoot around to the stations set up all around the room. Several spanking benches. A few small areas where scenes can be staged. A St. Andrew’s cross.
The club is mid-level busy tonight. Naked and half-naked bodies are strung up in one corner, spread-eagle over a pommel horse in another, bent on their knees in yet another. A blindfolded naked man with a ball gag in his mouth stands handcuffed to a second St. Andrew’s cross in the other corner, wrists and ankles cuffed to the large wooden X. Another dom brings down a flogger on the first man’s back. He spasms and an inflamed pinkish spot joins other similar marks on his reddened shoulders.
Callie’s eyes grow even wider though I wouldn’t have thought that was possible.
Shit. Maybe bringing her here was a bad idea. It’s rare that I second-guess myself but with Callie I never feel like I’m on solid ground. But it might have been better to discretely invite a few people I trust to scene at my house and shown her that way rather than tossing her in the deep end like this.
I just thought that a public place might make her feel more at ease. Or made her more likely to run for the hills and never talk to you again.
Jesus, her hands are trembling. I reach out to take one without thinking. The second I make contact, though, she yanks away from me.
Right.
Because I’ve totally fucked any headway I was making, bringing her here. But it’s already done and there’s no stuffing this genie back in the bottle.
“Do you need another moment?”
She shakes her head no. Vehemently.
“Do you want to go?” I ask roughly. “We can leave.”
She takes a deep breath, eyes still darting everywhere around the room. “Is there a reason you brought me here? I mean, something in particular you wanted to show me?”
“Yes. In the back rooms. Mistress Nightblood is doing a scene tonight and she said we could come observe. She’s a friend.”
Callie’s eyes finally come to me. “Mistress…” She trails off and her eyes pause on a woman wearing an outfit not dissimilar to her own, leading a man crawling on the floor by a leash.
Callie blinks a few times and expels a big breath before nodding. “Okay, show me.”
I gesture for her to follow me and she holds her head high as we continue through the room. We’re almost to the back hallway leading to the private rooms when I realize Callie’s no longer beside me.
I turn and see she’s stopped by a scene several feet back where a woman is strung upside down. She’s strapped into a pair of boots that are chained to the ceiling. Her hands are also cuffed and chained to the ceiling so that her back is parallel to the ground, stomach up. Her head hangs backward, mouth open.
A dom steps in front of her and then without ceremony, grabs her blonde braid, adjusts her head slightly, shoves his cock into her mouth and down her throat. She chokes on it and spittle almost immediately starts to pour out the sides of her mouth, rolling down and into her hair.
Callie’s mouth falls open and she looks horrified.
Without breaking stride, the dom fucking her mouth signals with his hand to another man. The second man, in black latex chaps with a cutout where the crotch area should be steps forward. He’s already erect and he moves calmly to the other end of the woman and grabs her hips. He’s clearly about to penetrate when Callie jumps forward.
“Stop it!” she shouts.
“Callie.” I put a hand on her arm to stop her as the two doms look over at us. Shit. I hate to restrain her but she just doesn’t understand what she’s seeing.
“They aren’t doing anything wrong.” I speak as quietly as I can to her. I can tell she wants to argue back so I continue hurriedly. “This is a BDSM club. Nothing goes on here that isn’t consensual. Completely consensual. Do you understand what I mean? They aren’t doing anything except what that girl has expressly given them the go-ahead for. What she wants them to do.”
“She can’t even talk!” Callie yanks against my grip and nods toward the man who has the girl’s head in a tight grip as he feeds his cock down her throat. When the other man enters her from the other end, I can tell Callie’s about to lose it.
Her eyes go distant and she makes a gagging noise. Gagging like it’s her with the cock down her throat. She’s shaking. Her whole body is shaking. Like it’s her being held in place and unable to move.
What. The. Fuck. Does that mean—?
I have to get her out of here. Right fucking now.
But the way she yanked away from me earlier— Jesus, I don’t want to even touch her right now and make it worse.
The next moment though, she’s not frozen anymore. She takes a step forward like she’s about to charge the man at the woman’s head when he suddenly calls out, “Break light,” and pulls out of his sub’s mouth. The man on the other end pulls back immediately as well. It’s only then that I notice the strung up girl is snapping her fingers rapidly.
“Brake light, brake light,” she gasps as soon as her mouth is free. The dom at her mouth signals with his hand and the next moment, the chains holding her up start lowering to the ground.
He catches her in his arms when she’s almost to the floor, cradling her body. He immediately starts undoing the cuffs at her wrists and the man in chaps comes to her feet, working at the combination of chains and cuffs there.
Tears stream down the girl’s cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeats several times, “I failed to please you.”
The man is shaking his head adamantly. “Don’t ever say sorry for using your safe word.” His voice is commanding and the girl looks up into his eyes, her own large and luminous. “That would displease me.”
A gentle smile breaks across her face and she nods.
I keep looking back from the girl to Callie, the girl to Callie. Because Callie is frozen again, her features caught somewhere between confusion and fury and looking like she’s about to break out in tears herself.
“I told you our motto is safe, sane, and consensual,” I whisper. “Nothing that happens here will ever violate any of those three cardinal rules.”
“Safe,” she whispers. “Sane. Consensual.”
She swallows, eyes still on the girl from the scene as she snuggles into her dom’s chest. He places a kiss on top of her head, slipping the tie off the end of her braid. Then he runs his fingers through her hair as he continues soothing her.
Callie turns away from the scene abruptly and starts walking in the direction we were initially going, toward the back hallways.
Okay. Apparently we’re moving on. Once we get to the hallway, we pass by several windows that reveal more private scenes being enacted.
I glance through each window as we pass before finally stopping. My eyes are on Callie as she takes in the room that’s dark inside except for a single spotlight highlighting a naked man bent over a spanking bench and my friend Patricia standing behind him. Callie’s eyes are wide but curious. Not disgusted or afraid. We’ll call that progress.
I knock twice and Patricia looks to the window before waving at us to come in. I open the door and we step inside.
“Hello, Mistress Nightblood,” I greet Patricia formally. It’s unusual that I even know her apart from her Domme name, but she’s a friend of Miranda’s and we’ve socialized together.
She incl
ines her head toward me. “Master Sin.”
Callie’s head snaps toward me, probably at the moniker. But this is a place we come to fulfill fantasies and I’m unapologetic about the fact. I meet Callie’s gaze head on but within seconds, her eyes bounce back to Patricia.
Patricia is fuller figured. A respectable lawyer by day, right now she’s dressed in a red bustier and latex skirt that barely hits the tops of her thighs.
“May I introduce my potential apprentice, Mistress…” I look at Callie. Hmm, I should have asked her earlier what she’d like to go by but she thinks on her feet, just like always.
“Mistress Lee,” she says with barely a moment’s pause. The second half of her shortened name, Callie. It’s strong. A good, dominant name.
“Nice to meet you, Mistress Lee.” Patricia smiles at her and it’s warm and genuine. I’ve always liked that about Patricia. She’s real. “Always good to see new Dommes-in-training. We need all the help we can to keep these dicks in line, don’t we? Speaking of—” Patricia averts her attention and Callie follows her gaze to the man under the spotlight.
He’s chained spread-eagled, ass up. He’s also completely naked except for a thick leather collar around his neck, a cock ring, and several weighted metal rings around his balls, dragging them toward the floor. Ball stretchers. I can’t help shifting uncomfortably just looking at the damn things.
“Had enough yet, slave?” Mistress Nightblood picks up a brown flogger with a ton of little leather straps coming out the end. Patricia has disappeared. She’s all Mistress now.
She flicks his ass with it. Once. Twice. Three times.
He barely flinches and his ass only turns a very light pink as opposed to some of the angry red flesh on the butts we passed outside
The man lets out a groan but it doesn’t sound like he’s in pain.
“Don’t you dare come,” Mistress Nightblood says in a warning voice. She reaches between his legs and tugs on the weights that are attached to his balls.
“Please, Mistress.” The sub sounds agonized. “Please, please.”
She smacks him on the ass with the flogger again, this time harder.
“Please, what?”
Callie tenses beside me, like again she has the urge to go forward and stop what’s happening. But then the sub starts talking.
“Please let me come, Mistress. I can’t take any more. I’m a nasty, bad, bad little slave.” His ass wiggles slightly. Well, as much as he can, constrained as he is. “But please, please let me come.”
I watch Callie’s face and see the concern morph to surprise.
“Oh, you can’t take any more?” Mistress’s voice takes on a dangerous edge. “Since when do you think you’re the one who gets to determine how much you can or cannot take?”
I put my hand to the small of Callie’s back, the gentlest touch, to lead her a little away from the couple so that we’re unobtrusive, but still close enough so we have a clear view of what Mistress Nightblood is doing.
She grabs the head of her sub’s cock and he lets out a groan as his whole body shudders. Callie’s breath hitches and my eyes are locked on her as she swallows hard, eyes furrowed in concentration as she watches the scene in front of her.
She looks riveted. Is she imagining what she could have? Is she imagining what that kind of control might feel like?
Is that what I looked like my first time?
Miranda was a sub. We’d been dating for a couple months the first time she asked me to spank her.
I was horrified. I’d never hurt her. How could she ask that of me? Especially knowing what she did about me?
That was when she brought me to my first club. It took awhile for me to get it. Several visits before it finally started sinking in—it wasn’t about hurting someone. Okay, for some doms, the real sadists, it is about hurting their subs, when they’re both into it. That was never me.
No, what Miranda saw I needed, and what she needed to, though from the opposite end of the spectrum, was the control. The power exchange.
The first time we did a scene together—a real scene—and she gave herself up to me in total trust that I’d catch her? Well, it started the long road to healing what Gentry had broken. For both of us, I think.
I follow Callie’s gaze. Mistress Nightblood rubs the skin of her sub’s cock up and down over his shaft, all the while hissing in his ear, “don’t you dare come. If you come, I’ll be very, very disappointed in you. What happens when Mistress is disappointed in you?” She rubs her cheek against his, her hand still firmly on his cock. With her other hand, she reaches down and pulls on the weight so that his balls are dragged down. He squirms against his cuffs and his face twists in a mixture of bliss and agony.
“Answer me, slave,” she says in a tone both calm and menacing. “What happens if you disappoint Mistress?”
Callie’s breaths grow more uneven the more she watches. She licks her lips and there I go again, hard as rock. Because it’s impossible to miss that she’s getting turned on by what she’s seeing. She shifts in her boots and I wonder if it’s because she needs the friction, so she can get the seam of her suit to rub her just where she needs it—
“I— I—” the slave-boy stutters, “I get put in chastity,” he finally manages to say even while he thrusts his constrained hips toward his Mistress’ palm.
Callie shakes her head like she knows Mistress won’t like that.
And indeed, the next second, Mistress tuts, “Ah ah ah,” and pulls her hand away. “Stop pushing, slave. I give and you receive. You know that’s how this works.” She turns her back to him and walks toward the back of the room.
He whines, sounding absolutely pitiful as he turns his head toward her, begging with his eyes and then his mouth when he realizes she’s not looking at him. “Please, please Mistress. I’ll do anything. Anything. I’ll worship your pussy for hours with my mouth. I’ll cook your every meal. I’ll make up your bath and give you the most glorious deep-body massage you’ve ever received.” Words pour out of his mouth, one after the other. “Oh God, just come punish me some more. I’m a naughty, bad, bad little cunt boy. Just give me what I need and I’ll give you anything. Everything.”
His body goes taut with excitement when Mistress Nightblood comes back toward him, closer and closer. Then she detours and picks up something from a table set up along the wall opposite us.
Callie bites her lip and leans in like she’s straining to see what Mistress picked up. It’s hard to tell in the dimly-lit space outside the spotlight, but I can guess.
When she brings it into the light in front of the man’s face, I can see that I’m right.
“It’s a ball gag,” I whisper in Callie’s ear.
She jerks a little at my voice like she’d forgotten I was here beside her. But now that I’ve gotten close, I can’t bear to pull away. And for once, she’s not jerking back, so I continue.
“Watch,” I say, no doubt unnecessarily.
“No,” whines the man. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know you don’t like it when I beg. I’m bad. Bad slave. I just want to make you feel good. Mistress, if you would just let me—”
“What’s your safe word once the gag is in place?”
“Mistress please—”
“Safe word or it’s chastity now, slave,” she demands, looking like she’s on the edge of getting pissed off. The sub must realize it too because he starts to snap both fingers.
“Good,” she lowers the gag. “Open wide.”
He looks like he’s going to complain again but she gives him a sharp glare and his mouth pops open. She inserts the large ball into his mouth, then buckles the straps into place behind his head.
“Snap once if it’s comfortable and you are not in any pain.”
The man snaps once.
“Good. From now on only snap if you want the scene to pause or stop.”
He nods and she smiles. “That’s better, my little naughty cunt-sucker. You know I don’t put up with any fucking bratti
sh behavior from my subs.”
She picks up the flogger she laid down earlier and moves back around his bent-over body to where his ass sticks out, spotlight right on it.
“I don’t know how your former Mistresses operated,” she raises an eyebrow and drops her voice, “but I will be breaking that habit.”
She brings down the flogger on his ass, working her way down with smacks on alternate cheeks until the whole thing is bright red. She keeps up a running commentary about what a slutty little slave he is, how she wants to fuck him with a giant strap on, what a fucking clit-tease he is, and most of all, how she expects her slave to obey her in thought, word, and action.
I whisper in Callie’s ear, explaining that is more than just a one-night encounter like some of the other scenes we passed by. Mistress Nightblood likes to make arrangements with a submissive man to be her weekend slave. She has exclusive relationships with these men that last anywhere from two months to several years.
The more I talk and Callie watches, the more fascinated she seems. She clasps her hands together and I wonder if it’s to stop herself from fidgeting. She loses the battle against squirming in her suit, too, and watching her watch Mistress Nightblood is the most erotic thing I’ve seen since having Callie herself in my bed.
I chose Mistress Nightblood on purpose because she’s not just flogging her sub. She stops constantly to touch him, to give a tug to the ball weights, to rub his hip, to caress down his spine. Or to move around and look him in the face to check on how he’s doing. Which is generally just looking blissed the hell out.
She’s mastering him but caring for his needs at the same time. She’s everything I want Callie to see being a domme can be. She’s in complete control.
At least she should be.
I don’t know how long the whole scene has been going on—fifteen minutes? Twenty?—when everything suddenly comes to a full stop.
“Stop that.” Mistress Nightblood’s voice is like a bucket of ice water. She’s moved in front of us so I can’t see exactly what’s happening. “Don’t you dare—” she says in a deadly warning tone.
