Page 23 of Freddie

“Hi Freddie, happy to be home?” Tim waved at me from his desk. What a cool guy. He wore these over the top suits and had a handlebar moustache that was nearly as white as his hair.

“Am I ever! Just grabbing the mail, then heading out. Did you have a good Christmas?”

“Sure did, that’s me up to eighteen grandkids.”

“Bloody fuck, Tim! Bet your house was packed,” I laugh as I unlock the mailbox and drag it all into my shoulder bag.

“You bet. Just the way I like it. I’m counting on my Jess giving me two more before I go senile,” he tells me with an amused look.

“Well, better Jess than me. I can barely look after myself.”

We part ways, and I get back to my apartment, turning the bag upside down and letting the mail fall all over the sofa and floor.

There’s a small black envelope that’s embossed with a pretty red wax seal. It stares up at me as I lean down and snatch it from the dusty floor. Plopping down on the rest of the mail, I carefully open it and take out the stock card inside. It has a sleek black card stuck to it, like a credit card. With nothing but gloss black lips on the front of it, I turned it over to read the print on the back.

Nyctra

12 month membership

The Flaming Hot Scot

HOLY FUCKING SHIT. I knew the interview went well, but oh my! On the stock card is a handwritten note from Burt, the owner. Thanking me for my respect and confidentiality, he warmly invites me to join the club for 12 months free of charge.

Burt, you beaut! I kiss the card, then ask my Alexa to play my sexy song playlist. Hold on to your latex panties, Nyctra, there’s a new bratty sub in town.

Chapter 25

Freddie

The Uber lets me out around the corner. I don’t really want him knowing that I was going to a BDSM club but given that I am barely dressed and what I do have on is shiny and like a second skin; I think he knows what I’m up to as I thank him and jump out.

It’s drizzly with rain as I make my way to Nyctra. The front looks like a normal, boring building, but there’s a guy out front, and he steps out from the shadows like Batman when I get closer.

“Hey, big man. I’m here with this fancy black card. Any chance you can tell me if I am in the right place?” I say playfully with a wink as I flash the membership card that glistens in the streetlight outside.

He grins a wide, white smile and throws his head back with a laugh. “You must be the guy Burt was telling me to look out for this week. I already like you. Maybe we can hang out another time and you can let me hear that sexy accent more,” he says as he opens the heavy black door behind him.

“Maybe, but I’m here for another big guy tonight. But I’m always on the lookout for new friends, especially playful ones,” I reply with another wink. He chuckles again and nods.

“Sure. Friends. I’ll get your info another time, but for now, go have fun and behave. I have a feeling you’re not one that behaves often though.”

“And you’d be right…”

“Hollins.”

“Right, Hollins. Well, I’ll try to be good, since you asked so nicely,” I tell him as I head on into the club and out of the wet weather.

I check my coat with a woman at the front, then get my wristbands that tell everyone what I want or don’t want for the evening. Excitement thrums in my blood as I think about what lies beyond the velvet red curtains.

Coming here was one part curiosity about what a luxury, exclusive BDSM club even looks like and the other part hopes to find Simmons here. Yeah, it’s dumb because what he did to me was shitty. But I want him to see what he could have had. We never even got to the better parts of sex before he abandoned the thought of us being anything more. His loss, but I intend to show him that his image of me as a brat is nowhere near what the real thing is like.

I opted for thigh-high black boots with a tartan latex mini skirt and a matching crop top. My hair is wavy, and my makeup is my version of slutty grunge. I’m wearing a thick silver paperclip chain with a padlock at the front, and my nails are a lovely chipped red. I take the token for picking up my coat later, and I finally step through the curtain to see what lies beyond.

Immediately, I hear the sounds of sex. Even though the music is playing, there are moans to be heard and cries of passion echoing around the floor I’m on. The layout seems to be that the ground floor has booths with privacy and a dance floor, and a bar. There’s a dark hallway that leads to where they must do performances and have equipment and furniture for public use. The upper levels have signs about private rooms and voyeur rooms too. I LOVE watching, so that’s something I might check out after I grab a drink.

Despite being offered tokens for a two drink max, I opt for a sparkling water with lime in it. Thanking the sexy-looking warrior who served me, I sip through the little black straw as I look around. The club is sensual, but provocative. There are people dancing, grinding against one another. There are cages hanging that are currently empty, and I feel a zing straight to my cock as I think about being forced into one of them for being bad.

What punishments would Simmons give out here to his subs? Is he into giving pain? I’d prefer pain as punishment, as I want to lose myself to the sting and heat of a cane. However, I haven’t really faced any kind of punishment and lack significant experience playing with a Dom or publicly in a club like this apart from work-related tours and invites to watch demonstrations.