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Leslie nodded.
“Good. So, you’re hot, huh?” Jane asked.
“Very,” Leslie answered. She’d realized only then how heavy her breathing had become, how her chest was heaving, and her crotch twitching so badly that it was difficult to sit still.
“Good, but don’t let that pussy of yours insist on cumming, I’ll tell you when you can cum. You understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Leslie answered. She watched as Jane returned to her chair.
“Now, get me another beer, will you?” Jane ordered.
Leslie scurried to the kitchen and found Jane’s stash of beer. She thought of getting one for herself, but she had the feeling that Jane would have told her to, if that’s what she had wanted. Was being submissive always this hard? Knowing when to make decisions and when not to? Jane had said she’d take away all those decisions. But it seemed now, she had even more to think about. Especially since she didn’t want to do anything wrong. In the last ten minutes, she’d suddenly discovered that pleasing Jane was the most important thing in her life.
After handing Jane the beer, Leslie stood at her side, silently waiting for further instructions.
“You can go now,” Jane said at last.
“Go?” Leslie questioned. As in leave? She didn’t want to leave. Leaving meant waiting, and she couldn’t wait any more.
“It’s what I said, isn’t it?” Jane cut curtly into her thoughts. “Get some rest, you’ll be up most of the night.”
“Yes, sir,” Leslie replied. The meeting was over as simple as that, Leslie leaving in an awkward rush, with no further comment. She had until seven o’clock before she’d be with Jane again. She was halfway to her car before she realized that she had neglected to button her blouse.
After spending the day obsessing on the possibilities of servitude to Jane, Leslie was in her car driving to The Arrowhead at six thirty. The club was a lesbian meeting place, with no specific agenda other than providing its clientele with a private place to meet other gay females. There were no S&M overtones, in fact the club seemed rather bright and cheery in tone compared to Jane’s somber purposes. Leslie wondered if the Domme had chosen it for that reason. An afternoon’s worth of second guessing trying to figure Jane’s motives had only left her more anxious, second guessing her own reasons for submitting to this woman.
What it finally came down to: Leslie wanted Jane. Desire, lust, longing, that strange concoction of arousal that had arisen during their first meeting and was confirmed at Sapphos, couldn’t be put off or ignored. It didn’t even matter about Robin anymore. Yes, Jane was right, Leslie wanted her to teach her how to love Robin more, more in the way that Robin desired and needed. But behind that lofty goal was Leslie’s own desire to be used by this remarkable master. She wanted to be taken, abused and then deeply loved. Why? The answer was a mystery that would have to wait for later to be solved – if it ever was.
Leslie had never felt about any woman, any lover, the way she felt about Jane. Maybe this would be a long term relationship, maybe not; it didn’t matter. All she cared about now was how the zealous butch woman would subdue her. She wanted to crawl at her feet, be at her mercy, and experience her tender care once the blows had driven her over the edge.
Arriving at The Arrowhead at the stroke of seven o’clock, Leslie walked in the door, not immediately seeing the object of her search. But while trying to decide what to do next, she heard her name called.
“You’re Leslie?” a quiet voice asked.
Leslie turned to a woman just behind her, seeing a young woman with huge eyes and pigtails bobbing on the side of her impish face.
“Yes.”
“Jane’s expecting you.”
The sassy tramp led Leslie into the club, which was already quite full for seven o’clock – as filled with people as it was cigarette smoke. The music playing in the background was noticeably erotic.
Jane sat at a table with another woman who looked a good deal like Jane herself. Not in appearance, but in attitude. They were obviously both dominant, both butch.
“This is Leslie,” Jane introduced her to the woman, although she didn’t introduce Leslie in return. “Sit down,” her Domme ordered and pulled out a chair next to her, which Leslie immediately took. The two women continued talking for some time, ignoring Leslie, who listened attentively to their conversation, even though they were talking about people Leslie didn’t know.
“I think she’s going to bring her tonight,” the other woman said.
“I doubt it. She’d never come with her,” Jane said. “The little one is hardly sub.”
“Maybe this time Sybil doesn’t have a choice.”
“She never should have in the first place,” Jane retur
ned. She finished her Scotch and soda and set the glass firmly on the table. Finally, she turned to Leslie. “Open your blouse.” She then sat back in her chair and stared at Leslie with a stony expression. Not a hint of affection; the discipline had commenced.
The club was open, the lights still bright enough to see clearly, and suddenly she was being asked to expose herself in a public place, something she had never done before. She shivered nervously, waiting as long as she dared, eyeing Jane’s unwavering attention. The excitement racing through her body finally rid her of all trepidation. She began unbuttoning her blouse, slowly, her fingers shaking so much, that she could hardly work the buttons. Jane’s intent gaze did not waver, as if it were there to give her courage, or an ample threat to ensure her obedience. With three buttons loosened, Leslie’s blouse opened wide to reveal the alabaster white of her breasts and the bright red mark from Jane’s baton.
“Impressive,” the Domme said, admiring them. “Put some on her ass, too, why don’t you?”
