“I guess if those are the choices, I’m a submissive,” Angela said. It was hard to say, even though she knew full well she wasn’t a Domme. The rubber clad Domme did more for her than the guy she was whipping, and Angela didn’t think she was bi, either.
“Well, you could be a switch.”
“What’s a switch?”
“Someone who likes to be dominant in some relationships, and submissive in others. More rarely, two switches get together, but that’s very unusual.”
Angela nodded. “I don’t think I’m a switch either.”
“That’s what I thought.” Genna smiled. “Are you a member, or someone’s guest?”
“Brennan agreed to sponsor me for the night.”
“Ah, that’s easy, then. I’ll go relieve Brennan at the door, and you two can enjoy each other. You’ll love Brennan. He’s really good at pleasing a woman. Or perhaps you already know that.” Genna lowered her eyes briefly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy. I’ll go get him.”
“Wait,” said Angela. She hoped she hadn’t misunderstood Brennan’s gesture of letting her in as a guest, but she knew that she hadn’t promised him anything. She didn’t think he expected anything of her, either. At least she hoped not. As sexy as Brennan was—and he was built, there was no doubt about that—she didn’t really fancy submitting to him.
“What is it, dear?” asked Genna, stopping after one step and turning back to face Angela.
“I’m not here as Brennan’s date, but…he let me in because he wanted to, I guess.”
“Well, one way or the other, he’s responsible for your behavior,” said Genna. Then she shrugged. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you’d be anything but proper. But my guess, from when I saw you before, is that you’re rather new at all this.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“And when you’re new, it’s nice to have a good, firm, experienced, guiding hand. Are you sure you don’t want Brennan?”
The door behind them opened. “You know I can hear every word. It’s not like this wall is very thick,” said Brennan. “I’m sure she doesn’t want me.”
“She’s why—” started Genna, and then clamped her mouth shut.
“Yes, exactly.”
“I’m why what?” asked Angela.
Genna grinned at Brennan, ignoring her. “I’ll take the indirect approach.”
“You and your games.” Brennan shook his head, obviously half-amused. “But I won’t pretend you’re not good at it. Angela?”
“Yes?”
“Remember, relax, and have fun.” Brennan winked at her, and closed the door again.
“Come with me, Angela, and I’ll introduce you around. There’s some other people here who aren’t paired up, including some Doms.”
“Uh, okay,” said Angela. “I’m just curious, really, I’m not looking for some guy to screw.”
Genna smiled. “BDSM doesn’t always have to be about sex. Sometimes it’s very rewarding when it isn’t. You’ll see.”
“I’m not even going to take my clothes off for anyone.”
“That’s called a limit, love. Everyone has limits, but especially subs. Make yours very clear to whoever you play with, and you should be okay. Call the club safe word, loud and clear, if anyone violates the limits you’ve agreed to, and we’ll come running. The Doms know it, too, and don’t want to lose their club memberships. Don’t consent to anything heavy, like single-tails or electrical play, your first time here. You’ll be safe. I’ll be looking after you. And I’ll alert the other monitors to look out for you, too.”
Angela glanced over at Kent, but he wasn’t paying any attention to her. She sighed, and guessed that he wasn’t interested. That didn’t mean she was going to back out on her one and possibly only chance to find out more about the world of BDSM. She should have grabbed Brennan when she had a chance, maybe, but she didn’t think he really wanted to do anything with her, either.
She’d have to make the best of it. She smiled back at Genna. “Lead on.”
Genna led her to where a dark-haired man dressed in leather pants and a black shirt leaned against the wall. “Gerald, Sir, I’d like you to meet Angela.”
Gerald looked her up and down, and a faint smile crossed his lips. “Well. Angela. Pleased to meet you.”
“Thank you, Sir,” she said, taking her cue from Genna.
“Angela is quite new, and she has some strong limits,” said Genna.
“Really?” said Gerald, who looked amused. “Not sure why you’re bringing her by me, then.”
Genna’s eyes glittered. “I have my reasons. But above all, Angela isn’t here for sex, and a lot of people around here think that BDSM is just kinky foreplay. You’re one of the ones who knows better, Sir.”
“Yeah.”
“She needs someone experienced, Sir.”
“Good point.”
Angela listened to the conversation, her eyes opening wide. Genna’s appeal to the man’s ego was so obvious. And so effective. Each time she flattered him and said the word “Sir,” Gerald warmed to her chain of thought a little more. Gerald wasn’t her fantasy man, but then she couldn’t expect a fantasy man to exist in real life.
Although Kent had come awful close, and I ran away from him.
Gerald turned to her. “We’ll take it easy, at first, and try the St. Andrew’s Cross and some light flogging. We’ll see if you’re really cut out to be a submissive.”
Things were moving out of her control. But that was kind of what she wanted, wasn’t it? Light flogging didn’t sound too bad. Emphasis hopefully on the word “light.” Those floggers looked sexy as hell, but Angela wasn’t at all sure that she’d like the way they felt. Still, through a couple layers of clothing, presumably the lighter ones wouldn’t sting too much. It sure would have been nice if he asked if she was interested, though. She bit back the thought. She was here to learn about BDSM and to learn about herself, and the best way to do that was to go with the flow, as long as the current didn’t threaten to drown her. “Yes, Sir,” she said.
“You wait here. I’ll go put us in the queue. When I get back, I expect to find you kneeling properly.” He walked off, heading toward the X-frame near the door. Apparently “St. Andrew’s cross” was another name for them.
“How do I kneel ‘properly’?” Angela asked Genna frantically.
Genna smiled. “That’s a bit over the top, asking you to kneel when you barely know him. And ‘properly’ varies from master to master. Kneel with your knees parted, your back straight. Put your hands either behind your back, or open, palms up, on your knees, and either look up at him, or avert your gaze. My guess is that Gerald’s the avert–your-gaze type.”
Angela knelt as directed, trying her palms face up, as it made her feel a little less vulnerable. The skirt wasn’t decent with her knees spread out like that, but she was close enough to the ground she suspected no one could quite see her panties if they weren’t practically on the floor themselves. “I think my type would want me to look up at them.”
Genna grinned. “I suspect you’re right,” she said.
“Then why…?” Why had she brought her to Gerald, and why had she manipulated the man into taking her on when he clearly didn’t want to?
“Trust me, love. I’m going to help you get the right man. Some men, the way to their heart is through their stomach; some men it’s through their cock. But yours requires a little more convincing. The thing to remember is, the moment Gerald violates your limits, yell the club safe word loud and clear. You remember what it is?”
Angela nodded. “Albatross.”
“Good.”
“Hopefully I won’t have to use it.”
Genna gave her a cryptic look. “Don’t worry. You’ll be very, very safe.” She nodded over to where Gerald was walking back. “I’ll leave you two alone, but I’ll make sure the dungeon monitors know you’re new, and they’ll be watching out for you.”
For a moment, she was alone in the big crowded room.
“Keep your head down, slave,” said Gerald, when she looked up at him. When had she become a slave? She hated that word, but she did as directed. At least he couldn’t see her grit her teeth that way. “I see she told you to put your hands on your knees. I guess that’s all right.”
“Now what, Sir?”
“Now we wait. Genna said you had some pretty hard limits. What are they?”
“No sex. My clothes stay on.” She took a breath, trying to think. She really should have thought about this more before she left the house. “No bruises, no blood.”
Gerald shrugged. “Some people bruise more easily than others. I can’t make guarantees, but I’ll try my best. You married?”
“Would I be here if I was?”
Gerald laughed. “Lots of married people come here. Some of their spouses know it, and no sex is usually part of the condition for letting them come here and satisfy their taste for pain. Others are getting a little kinky sex on the side, and ‘no marks’ is usually their limit. They don’t want to be caught, after all.”
“Are you married?” Angela half-hoped he was, because that would give her an out. No way was she going to help some guy cheat on his wife.
“No.”
“Well, I’m not either.”
“Anything else?”
“Besides not being married?”
Gerald sighed loudly, and it was all Angela could do to keep looking at the ground and avoid seeing his frown. How had she gotten here, and why had she trusted Genna? Probably because she was as easy to manipulate as Gerald was.
“No,” Gerald told her. “Any other limits.”
“Not that I know of.”
Gerald snorted. “That’s right. You’re new. I’m pretty sure I could name a few other things you won’t do. Well, you’ll learn. We’re just going to have a nice simple session, and you’ll get an idea if you want more or not.”
“That sounds very good, Sir.”
“And our spot is open. You can get to your feet and follow me; I rather doubt you know how to crawl gracefully yet. Carry my bag.”
She never thought she’d be made to feel inadequate for not crawling, but she almost didn’t walk to show him she could too crawl. Gracefully? She had no idea how crawling could have anything to do with grace. Maybe one swung one’s hips a lot. In any case, he was taking off, not watching how she walked or crawled, and if she wanted to keep up she needed to get a move on. She trotted after him.
When she got there, he scowled at her. “You forgot the bag.”
“Oh,” she said, red faced. She turned and hurried back for it. It was a big sports bag kind of thing, and not at all light. There was no way she could have carried it if she’d been crawling. She brought it back and dropped it at his feet. “There.”
“There, Sir,” he corrected. “And eyes down. I’m going to flog you anyway, but now it’s punishment.”
She looked down, reluctant. Punishment. She didn’t really like the sound of that. She wasn’t trying to mess up. What happened to a nice simple session to see if she liked it? Now it sounded as if she wasn’t even supposed to like it.
He wrapped leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles, and then turned her to face the cross. He tugged on her arm, and she had to stand on her toes to reach the position he clipped her cuff in. Then he did the same to the other side, before getting her ankles. She didn’t know how long she could stay on her toes like that, but she was determined to give it her best shot. She’d run from Dark Xanadu the first time, and she’d been regretting it ever since. And the position did vaguely stir something within her, a heady mixture of anxiety and arousal.
He pulled up her skirt and bunched it around her waist. It felt as if he tucked the hem into the waistband, too. In any case, it didn’t fall back down.
“Hey! I said the clothes stay on!” She tried to turn her head to look at him, but since she couldn’t turn her body at all, she could only turn her head halfway and see him out of one eye.
“Look the other way, slave. It
is
on. You’d never feel it if I flogged you with a light flogger though the skirt.”
“Pull it down,” she said.
“You never said anything about your clothes being rearranged. If you don’t pipe down and obey, I’ll pull your shirt up too.”
The idea mortified her as she thought of all the people looking. Yes, she’d had fantasies about being exposed, but those fantasies involved someone she loved, not someone who just happened to know more about BDSM than she did. On the other hand, all the people looking meant the dungeon monitors. She remembered what Genna said. “If you don’t pull my skirt back down, now, I’m going to use the club safe word.”
Gerald laughed. “You yell for help for no reason but because I’ve exposed your ass—which is still partly covered by those lacy panties of yours, by the way—and no one here will want to play with you ever again.”
Angela thought about that. She was turning bright red at the thought of what she was displaying to all and sundry, but by the standards of the club she was dressed like a maiden aunt. Maybe they wouldn’t want to play with her ever again, and if she could find someone who could give her the thrill she’d gotten a tiny taste of, being shackled against the cross, who wasn’t such a jerk, well, that would be very nice. But she wasn’t going to back down. “Skirt down. Now.”
Gerald laughed again. “I give the orders, not you. Know your place.”
She shrugged, and regretted it, the motion making muscles in her upper arms strain painfully. Oddly, that little bit of pain made the next part easier, even if it did doom any chance of her fantasies becoming reality. “Albatross!” she yelled.