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It’s light play, to be sure, but it’s incredible. I was never into the harder stuff, anyway. Whips and chains are fantastic, but I prefer to focus more on the pleasure side of Domination. I like my subs to come undone beneath my hands. I like them to come over and over and over again.
I like them to come so hard they can’t remember their own names, and then I like them to come once more.
As Anthony and I watch, the woman floats higher and higher. She’s in subspace, all right. It’s its own sort of high, from what submissives have told me. It’s like smoking a joint or being drunk but all it takes is a good Dom or Domme to get you there.
“Come,” the Domme is saying to her sub. “Come for me. Come now.”
She hits the woman with the flogger over and over, moving from her breasts to her pussy. As soon as the flogger touches the space between her legs, the beautiful brunette comes. She comes hard. She screams as her body shakes and quivers, pulling against the ropes. She cries out, and her eyes open, and for just a second, they connect with mine.
My cock has never been harder.
As her orgasm subsides, she sags against the ropes. Her body is worn and spent. She’s tired, exhausted, and more than ready for a little aftercare.
Tenderly, gently, the Mistress unties her from the pole and helps her to a nearby chair. I’m expecting the Domme to go to her, to sit with her, to wrap a blanket around her and comfort her after such an intense scene, but she doesn’t.
To my complete horror, the Domme simply gives her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and then she turns back to the stage and begins cleaning up. The submissive sips a bottle of water and then rises. Without another word, she heads toward the locker room.
“What the actual fuck?” I say out loud, but Anthony shushes me. He looks around, as if I’m going to accidentally offend someone.
“Dude, chill.”
“Chill? That Mistress didn’t give her any fucking aftercare. A hug? Really? That’s all she’s going to give her?”
“You don’t know their situation,” Anthony warns me, but I’m too pissed. I march over to the Domme and tap her shoulder.
“Excuse me,” I say. She turns around, surprised to see me standing there.
“Can I help you?” The Domme is beautiful. She’s just as beautiful as the submissive she was playing with, but something inside of me hates the way she abandoned her woman after such a scene.
“What the hell was that all about?” I motion to the chair where the submissive was sitting.
“What are you talking about? You didn’t enjoy my scene?” The Mistress seems offended, but I don’t even care.
“Your scene was incredible. It’s the complete lack of after-care that has me pissed off. What kind of mistress are you?”
The woman’s eyes suddenly look sad and she shakes her head. She stops cleaning and just looks at me. For a second, I think she’s going to tell me to go to hell, but she doesn’t.
“You’re right,” she says. “And I shouldn’t play with Christina anymore. I can’t play with her anymore. Not after tonight.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She doesn’t do aftercare. I’m guessing you’re new here. You must be new. I’ve never seen you, and if you’d been around here for any amount of time, you would know her. She doesn’t want to snuggle. She doesn’t want a backrub. She doesn’t want anything. She wants to scene and then she wants to go home. She doesn’t want emotional entanglements. She plays, and then she leaves.”
“What? Why?” I manage to choke out. “Aftercare isn’t about becoming emotionally involved. It’s about coming down safely from a high.”
“I know that,” the Mistress speaks quietly. “And you know that. Hell, everyone in this fucking dungeon knows that, but that girl?” She nods to where Christina disappeared. “That girl is so scared of getting close to anyone that she refuses everyone. There’s a reason we call her the Damsel of the Dungeon, sir.”
Then the Mistress turns and she walks away.
Chapter 3
Christina
When I step into my empty house, I pour a glass of wine and lean against the fridge as I down it. The house feels empty. Bennett is spending the night at my babysitter’s place. Every Friday, I watch Susan’s daughter and every Saturday, she watches mine. It works out well. We both get to have some “me” time and our daughters are best friends, so they love the sleepovers.
It helps that we live close to each other, too.
I finish my wine and pour another glass. Then I sink to the kitchen floor. I just sit there for a little while, wondering when my life started spinning so out of control. I suppose it was when Cameron died. I suppose it was when he disappeared from my life.
