A bunch of pent-up dominants stuck in a house together. What could go wrong?
This is going downhill. Fast.
I glance at Princess. She’s apart from the group, lingering by the door to check people in. She has her legs curled up, an anime comic resting on her thighs. Even though she is, technically,a submissive, even Carver knows better than to come for her. Everyone respects Princess. Ignoring the outbursts of brutish doms, she keeps to herself and quietly turns the pages.
“Princess.” Her blue eyes lift when I call her name. “Do you want to go to Ophelia’s party?”
She shrugs. I’ve known her well enough to understand the translation. It means,yes, but I’ll do whatever you want.
“Go,” I tell her. “I’ll watch the door.”
Her eyes light up. She flips the comic closed and scampers upstairs to her room to grab her coat.
“Club’s closed,” I announce to the rest of the crew. “Stay if you want, but no one is playing tonight. Come back next week.”
“You serious?” Carver says. “I want a refund.”
“You didn’t pay.”
“Yeah, but have you seen the subway fare?”
Carver wears name brand items, always looks fresh, but I know the telltale signs of someone who is struggling and doesn’t want anyone to know. Tags tucked under his clothes. Holes in his socks. I pull out my wallet, relieve it of the cash inside, and hold it up to him. “Take a cab. Get home safe.”
He takes the money, but points it at me. “This is for emotional damage.”
The dominants grumble as they leave, some making plans with each other to meet up at bars in the neighborhood instead. Carver complains loudly on his way out. It’s fine. I deserve it.
I deserve all of their ire.
Hers, most of all.
7
Ophelia.Now.
When Princess enters my apartment, I blow a party-favor and it makes an obnoxious, duck-like sound.
“Woohoo!” I cheer for her arrival. “Welcome to the Sub Club!”
Princess jumps, startled at the sound, but when it’s followed by the cheering of the other submissives in the room, she smiles and turns pink.
Within just a couple of days, Dove and I have managed to transform our small, two-bedroom apartment into a glittery, submissive safe space.
I toss my arm around Princess’s shoulders. “I’m so glad you made it! Let me give you the grand tour.” I sweep my arm across to my apartment. “Ta da! That’s it. Welcome. You did it. But look—over here, Dove has set out one of her infamous charcuterie boards.” I lead Princess to the kitchen to show her the table, overflowing with cheeses, fruits, and crackers. Then I draw her a couple paces to the living room and point to the cracked open window. “The fire escape is for vaping and gossiping.” As if oncue, two embers light up like fireflies against the city skyline. I gesture finally to the living room, where Dove and I have shoved a foam mattress on the floor and covered it all up with blankets and pillows. The subs are cuddled up in a puddle in front of the TV. “They’ve been watching trailers for the last thirty minutes, but no one can make a decision?—”
“FernGully,” Princess says. She settles onto the couch and helps herself to the bowl of popcorn in Zero’s lap.
With Princess settled in, I lean against the wall, cross my arms, and admire my club. In total, we had maybe ten submissives and switches that came out tonight. It’s a good enough crowd, and honestly about the max that my tiny apartment can hold. Everyone is sharing wine, food, gossip, getting cuddly and giggly. It’scute, and my heart swells with pride that Dove and I were able to pull this off in only a couple days, with little to go off of but an inspiration and pure fucking spite.
Dove comes up beside me. She has a slice of cheese and cracker in both hands, and she hands me one before munching on the other.
“See this?” I gesture to the club before popping the cracker in my mouth. “Phantom could’ve never dreamed of a party like this.”
“I’ll bet the dominants are eating each other alive right now.”
“Princess! Are the doms miserable?”
Princess lifts her palm in surrender. “I’m not getting in the middle of it!”
