Authors: Velvet
Chapter Three
“Oysters are a well-known aphrodisiac, stemming from the
tale of Aphrodite the Greek goddess emerging from the ocean perched on an
oyster shell. However this sexy mollusk isn’t the only aphrodisiac in the sea.
Scallops, salmon and sardines are also loaded with omega-3s and carry a hefty
dose of zinc, which boosts testosterone levels.” Kendall picked up a platter of
raw oysters, scallops, sardines and salmon, and tipped the beautifully arranged
plate toward the camera, but fumbled and nearly dropped the food on the floor.
“Cut!” yelled the director of Kendall’s cooking show. “Is
that platter too heavy for you to tilt with one hand?”
“No, it’s fine. I was a bit preoccupied, that’s all. Can we
do another take?”
“Sure, no problem.”
Kendall’s thoughts were not on her television show, but on
Magnus Richards. Not only was he handsome, but a true gentleman. She hadn’t
noticed a wedding band on his finger, and couldn’t help wondering if he was
single and available. He had stared at her with deep intensity last night, as
if he were looking into her soul. She could feel the chemistry between them as
if they were two magnets being drawn together. Kendall had never seen him
before and was curious to know more about Mr. Richards, but for now she needed
to focus on her show.
“Are you ready, Kendall?”
“Yep.”
“Kendall’s Kuisine. Aphrodisiac Appetizers. Scene three,
take two.”
Kendall picked up the platter, and this time expertly
balanced it with one hand. After that segment, they moved on to aphrodisiac
drinks.
“Kendall your pearls need straightening. Can I have the
stylist on set?”
“Ms. Hall, I love your choice of jewelry. The white pearls
really complement your black wrap dress,” the stylist commented.
“Thank you. Pearls are my birthstone.”
“Is that better?” the stylist asked the director.
“Yes, thank you. Scene four, take one.”
Kendall smiled into the camera like a true professional and
began her spiel. “As you probably already know, red wine reduces cholesterol
levels, but what you may not know is that champagne,” she picked up a bottle of
Moët & Chandon and poured some into a crystal pitcher, “will improve your
sex life by lowering inhibitions, and easing you and your partner into an
amorous mood.” She turned toward the refrigerator behind her, opened it, took
out a carton of peach nectar and then took two chilled flutes from the freezer.
“Today we’re making Bellinis, which is peach nectar and
champagne, to accompany our seafood fare. They’re easy to make. Mix
three-quarters champagne, to one-quarter nectar,” she picked up a crystal
stirrer, “and mix gently, careful not to burst the delicate champagne bubbles.
Pour into a chilled flute and enjoy.” She poured herself a glass and took a
sip. “Hmm, that’s good.”
“Cut. Kendall, that take was perfect.”
Next they moved on to entrées. Kendall whipped up three
delicious dishes—oysters on the half-shell with a lemon aioli, seared scallops
and pan-fried salmon with roasted cipollini onion mashed potatoes, and tossed
mixed greens with a raspberry vinaigrette—in no time.
“Cut. Okay, that’s a wrap.”
“Thanks, as usual the show was seamless. I love working with
you, Martin, you and the crew are great. See you guys next week.”
After the taping ended, Kendall went to the green room and
gathered her things. She wasn’t in the mood to go straight home, so she called
Sydnee to see if she wanted to meet for a drink, but Sydnee’s phone went
straight to voicemail.
She’s probably on a date.
Kendall thought about
going to Buddakan, a chic Asian-inspired restaurant, which was next door to
Chelsea Market where the taping took place, but wasn’t in the mood to drink
alone. Besides, Buddakan catered to a twenty-something crowd, and since she
wasn’t a cougar on the prowl, she decided to take a pass and head home.
Kendall took a taxi to her Upper Westside co-op. She lived
in a quaint, prewar building on Riverside Drive, with views of the Hudson River
and New Jersey in the distance.
She walked in, flicked on the lights, kicked off her shoes
and padded across the bone-white, suede shag carpeting. The décor was a mix of
art deco and high-tech, with lots of beveled glass, mirrored tables and
chandeliers. The color scheme was white, dove-gray and silver. Kendall had an
extensive art collection, which she had amassed over the years. A huge,
colorful abstract painting from an unknown artist hung over the high-back gray
sofa. She plopped down on the couch, picked up the remote and flicked through
the channels.
“What have we here?”
Kendall watched a woman dressed in a black corset, fishnet
stockings and thigh-high leather boots sitting on a cranberry-colored crush
velvet chaise lounge being interviewed.
“So are Dommes control freaks?”
“No. Some think that a Dominatrix is an angry woman who
likes to control and take her frustrations out on men, which isn’t true. To be
an effective Dominatrix you have to care about men, and what pleases them.
Anger doesn’t have anything to do with dominating a person, it’s a pleasurable
experience.”
“Do you have many clients that are married or in a
relationship?”
“Yes I do.”
“Well, isn’t that cheating?”
“I don’t consider it cheating. Unfortunately some people
can’t share their fetishes with their partners for fear that they’ll be judged,
or either they don’t want to burden their partners with unorthodox requests in
the bedroom, so they hire a professional Domme.”
The interviewer shook his head. “Oh, I see.”
“There are so many misconceptions about the BDSM culture
that I don’t know where to start. Outsiders think it’s strictly about sex,
which is untrue. Some people think it’s only about inflecting pain, which is
also a myth. Mainly it has to do with the endorphin rush that one gets from
living out their fantasies, whatever those fantasies may be.”
“So, tell us, what goes on in a typical BDSM session?”
“Many things happen within a session, from pain to verbal
abuse to humiliation to role-play, it all depends on the participants and their
fetishes.”
“Do you have to be a sexual deviant or freak to engage in
BDSM?”
“Oh, absolutely not. I have clients from every walk of life,
from the unassuming housewife who wants to learn how to dominate her husband to
a kindergarten teacher to a retired doctor in his seventies. Just because
someone enjoys getting spanked and tied up, it doesn’t make them a freak. It
just makes them free to explore their sexuality.”
“I’m so sorry, but we’re out of time. It’s been a pleasure
speaking with you, Domme Joy.”
Kendall clicked off the television and thought how
serendipitous it was to see the tail end of the interview, given the fact that
she had recently found out about The Dungeon. “Hmm, I want to learn more about
this BDSM thing.”
She reached for her purse, took out the card and called the
number. The line rang a few times before a husky female voice answered,
“Greetings…”
Chapter Four
“Get your ass over here, you worthless piece of shit!” the
Domme exclaimed She was in one of her private suites at The Dungeon,
pleasurably humiliating a client at his request.
Her submissive partner was dressed in a pair of leather
chaps, sans pants and shirt, and a black leather hood with openings for his
eyes, nostrils and mouth covering his face. His muscular body was a vision of
sexiness as he strutted in the thigh-hugging chaps over to where she was
sitting on a plush pink velvet sofa. He stood in front of her, lowered his head
and said, “Is this where you want me?”
“Shut up.” She picked up the riding crop that was lying by
her side and gave him a lash across the chest. “Get on your knees.”
He flinched, but didn’t say a word, just did as told. “Is
that better?”
“Hell no! By now you should know that when I say get on your
knees, I mean get on your hands
and
knees.” She kicked at him. “Get on
all fours, you animal.”
He looked up at the Domme who now towered over him. She was
an imposing figure, dressed in a silver leather cat suit that clung to her body
like liquid mercury, six-inch, patent-leather, spike-heeled boots, and gothic
makeup, complete with silver lipstick.
“Lick it,” she said, raising her foot and putting the sole
of her boot mere inches from his face.
He stuck his tongue through the slit and commenced to
licking the sole of her boot as if it were gourmet fare, and then grabbed her
ankle so that he could get a better grasp.
“Who told you to touch me?” she retorted, taking her boot
away.
“I’m sorry.” He released her ankle and put his hands to his
sides. “I’ll be a good boy. Please, can I have another chance?”
“You’re not a boy.” She shoved him with her foot. “You’re a
dog. Repeat after me… ‘I’m a dirty, mangy dog.’”
He got on his knees, put his hands near his face as if they
were paws, stuck his tongue out and panted. “I’m a dirty, mangy dog.”
“That’s better, now bark like the mutt that you are,” she
commanded, giving him another shove with her boot.
He barked, imitating a canine. “Woof, woof, woof.” He
stopped, looked up at her and pleaded, “Now can I have your boot back? I need
to lick the sole, it tastes
so
good.”
“Hell no! No more treats for you. You’ve been bad. Now I
have to punish you. Turn around.” She spanked his bare bottom repeatedly with
the crop.
“Oh yeah, punish me, punish me. The harder, the better.”
“Shut up.” She put her foot on his back, pushed him on the
floor and proceeded to walk the length of his naked back in her spiked heels.
“Oh, I love the feel of your leather-bottom shoes on my
skin, it feels so decadent.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” She continued strutting up and
down his back, until purple bruise marks appeared. The Domme was a professional
and knew exactly how much pain to inflict before causing permanent damage. Once
her job was finished, she sat back down on the sofa and lit a cigarette. “Are
you going to lie there like a lazy slug or get over here and worship me?”
He slowly rose to his knees and crawled over to where she
sat. “Can I polish your boots with my tongue?”
“If you must,” she said casually, blowing out a puff of
smoke.
He gently took her ankle and licked her boots, using his
tongue as a washcloth. “This is so hot. I love pleasing you.”
“What the hell are you mumbling down there?”
“I’m so turned-on right now.”
She rubbed her breasts. “I am too. I love seeing you lick my
boots. But I didn’t tell you to talk. Did I?”
“I’m sorry. I just…”
“Since you’re new to The Dungeon, I’ll let your talking
slide for tonight. Remember I’m the one in charge, not you. Now your verbal
outburst will cost you a time-out. I’m not going to touch you for another hour.
Now go sit in the corner.”
She pointed her long finger to the onyx painted wall across
from her.
“Please! I’m sorry. I can’t hold out for a whole hour. Can I
make it up to you? Maybe I can suck your nipples?”
“I’ll think about it. Now crawl over there like I said.”
He did as told and watched hopelessly as the Domme unzipped
her cat suit, took out her right breast and began playing with her erect
nipple, looking him in the eyes and teasing him. As they sat in silence staring
at each other, a red light near the door blinked on and off, signaling there
was someone in the waiting area. The receptionist had instructions to buzz the
Domme when a new client came in, so that she could conduct an interview.
“Turn your face against the wall, you piece of shit, and
don’t move. I’ll be right back.” She exited her private suite and went upstairs
to the main floor of the club.
* * * * *
Kendall glanced around the foyer of the club and couldn’t
believe how normal it looked. The walls were papered in a silver and black foil
paisley design. Two huge, six-foot beveled mirrors stood on each side of the
receptionist desk, which wasn’t actually a desk at all, but a clear Lucite
vanity table. Black leather cubes atop a red shag area rug served as seating.
The décor was reminiscent of a sexy boudoir, with a color palette of white,
black, silver and red. Kendall had expected the place to look dirty and
decadent, with chains and restraints hanging from the walls.
“Greetings, and welcome to The Dungeon. You must be Ms.
Hall,” the Dominatrix said, approaching Kendall.
“Yes, we spoke on the phone the other night.” Kendall
extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“And you as well. Come back to my office so we can talk.”
The Domme led Kendall down a long corridor. The walls of the hallway were
covered with framed black-and-white photographs from the 1920s of men and women
pleasing each other in unorthodox ways. Once they reached the office, the Domme
opened the door and said, “Please have a seat.”
There were no chairs in the room, only three leather sofas,
one black, one red and one silver. Kendall took a seat on the black one and
didn’t waste any time getting right down to business. “Like I said over the
phone, Rob gave me your card and recommend that I call.”
“Oh yes, Rob and his wife are darlings. He mentioned that he
gave you a brief rundown of the club.”
“Yes, he did, but had to leave before giving me a complete
description.”
“Well, let me explain in detail how we operate here. I’m the
owner and Grand Dominatrix of the house. Membership is by referral only. I
value the privacy of my members. Everyone who joins has to sign a nondisclosure
agreement, so you don’t have to worry about your membership at The Dungeon
being revealed. We’re an extremely private sect here, and all the activities
are totally consensual between the parties involved.”
“That’s good to hear and makes me feel more comfortable
about joining.”
“Are you a top or a bottom?”
Kendall wrinkled her brow. “What do you mean?”
“A top takes on a dominant role and a bottom takes on a
submissive role. BDSM activities are comprised of unequal roles. Some people
want to be humiliated, and others want to humiliate. Which one are you?” she
asked, pinning Kendall with a hard stare.
“A top for sure.” Being the control freak that she was,
Kendall loved the thought of dominating her lover.
“And then there are switches, people who go from being
dominant to submissive in the relationship. So that everyone is comfortable, we
have instituted safe words,” she explained.
“What are safe words?”
“A safe word is something that you and your partner choose
before you engage in any activity. It’s a safeguard in the event the situation
gets too heated and either party wants to stop. You simply say the agreed-upon
word to end the activity you’re engaged in and your partner stops immediately.
However, don’t use words like ‘stop’ or ‘no’.”
“Why not?”
“People instinctively want to say stop or no to get away
from pain, but once the pleasure receptors kick in, that same pain translates
to an erotic feeling. Therefore using stop or no is counterproductive. I
suggest you make up a unique word that will immediately stop your partner from
going any farther. Safe words ensure that you go only as far as your comfort
level allows.”
“I like that idea.”
“Also, within the BDSM culture, it’s not just about pain,
but also being aroused and pleasured.”
Kendall digested her words, taking in all the information.
It would be a new experience for her, but she was primed and ready to take her
sexuality to the next level.
“So are you interested in becoming a member?”
“I sure am.” Kendall smiled. Her love life had been boring
to say the least, and The Dungeon would definitely be a totally unique
experience.
“I require all new Dommes to take a lesson on the art of
being a Dominatrix before dominating a sub. Is that something you would be
interested in?”
“Sure.”
The Dominatrix went on to explain the membership fee and
application process. “Thank you for coming in and I hope to see you soon.”
“Oh, you will.” Kendall smiled.
“Cholé, the receptionist, will give you the necessary
paperwork on your way out and you can either fax it or bring the application
back personally. Oh, I forgot to mention that we have our own boutique, if you
need to outfit yourself in leather, whips and chains.”
“I have leather in my closet, but no whips and chains,”
Kendall said, with a slight laugh.
The Domme escorted Kendall back to the front of the club,
said goodbye, and retreated back to the basement into her private suite where
the sub awaited.
“Now where were we?” she asked, entering the room.
Magnus turned his hooded face from the wall and said, “I’m
waiting to be released from time-out, so I can suck your tits and please you in
whatever way you desire.”