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Oh God, was she going to have to give up her membership?Las Palmas most definitely filled a need in her life.Without it, she wasn’t sure how she’d get this need met.
The corset ties in back were now loose enough that she could undo the hook and eye closures hidden down the front, so Nomi started popping them open.As she did, her heavy breasts sagged to their normal position, her soft belly spilled free, and the pooch on her lower abdomen—no longer pulled up and flatted by the corset—was once more pronounced.
Nomi let her corset fall away.She looked down at herself, at this body she’d spent too many years hating.This was her body, and she loved it now, thanks to a lot of work unlearning the body shaming she’d absorbed in her teens and early twenties.She respected and appreciated herself, and she demanded the same from her partners.
It was why she was very, very careful about those partners.She only scened with people who found her attractive, because to do anything else was to risk cruel rejection.While she might know how to handle people out in the real world who felt they had the right to look down on her, or pass comment on her, here…
Nomi needed to submit.It was an emotional release valve, and one of the only ways she could offset her need for control.Despite needing it, wanting it, submission could be hard for her—she couldn’t just walk through the club doors and start dismantling mental walls and defenses the way she knew many of the people in the club did.For some, standing in the Subs’ Garden and changing into attire they only wore here was enough prep.They were submissive when they walked out the garden gate.
That didn’t work for Nomi.
She needed to submit, but every time she walked out that gate, she was afraid.Afraid that here, in this place where she let herself be vulnerable, someone would say or do something and their words and actions would cut deep.
She counteracted that by being highly selective when it came to her partners.She chose men and women who actively wanted to scene with her.She never settled, never subbed for anyone unless she was sure they wanted her, and that their needs were a good fit.
Until she was sure they wouldn’t make her feel fat and stupid—both things she’d been called in the past—with either words or actions.
And now the overseers wanted to assign her a partner.They wanted her to scene with someone who might take one look at her and decide that…
Her brain flashed up a series of traumatic possibilities.
The Dom would decide that since she was bigger than most of the other female subs, she could handle more pain.
…that happened about six months into her exploration of BDSM and it had taken weeks for the welts to fade.She’d been too new, and too scared to use her safe word, though looking back she absolutely should have.
The Dom would decide that she must have a degradation kink, and start calling her names and saying horrible things about her body.
…luckily that had happened before the scene really started and she’d backed out, but cried in the car on the way home.
The Dom would be kind, the scene acceptable but at the end, before they parted ways, he would order her to run a mile every day for the next week, then claim he was taking care of her by helping her focus on her physical fitness.
…multiple fuckers had tried that.She’d been shocked the first few times, then started asking them what they planned to do to make their dicks grow, since apparently it was okay to start requesting changes to one another’s bodies.
Nomi leaned her forehead against the locker beside hers.Her eyes burned with tears, but they weren’t sad tears.No, these were a combination of fear and rage.What was she going to do without Las Palmas?How dare the overseers do this to her?
Nomi cleared her throat, then grabbed her bra and a t-shirt.She could drive in the thick vinyl booty shorts she’d paired with the corset, so left those on, along with the fishnets.
Wearing an oversized white t-shirt on top, and fet wear on the bottom, she stuck her feet in a pair of slides, slammed her locker closed, and stalked out of the Subs’ Garden.She ignored the curious and worried looks people were throwing her way as she made her way to the club’s main foyer.
She wasn’t going to play this game.Wasn’t going to let herself be vulnerable with a stranger.
Even if it meant walking away from something she desperately needed.
Chapter2
Julen passed out the beer bottles, while Ilias pulled a pocket knife from his pants, used it to pop the cap, then passed the opener to his right.
Tareq accepted it, uncapping his bottle and setting his bottle cap on the trunk of the car behind him, then passed the opener to Peter, who stood to his right.
In silence they opened their bottles, then the five of them shared a long look.It was Julen who broke the silence.
“What the fuck.”
Tareq’s lips twitched, and he raised his bottle.Ilias snorted in amusement and raised his own drink towards the building in a silent toast before taking a sip.
The five of them—Tareq, Ilias, Julen, Peter, and Lihn—had retreated to the parking lot after picking up their assignment folders.It was a new grouping, and Tareq wasn’t entirely sure how freely he could speak in front of Peter and Lihn.
He and Ilias were friends, both inside Las Palmas and out in the real world, though they’d met here.Ilias, in turn, was friends with Julen, that friendship rooted in a shared interest in rope and shibari, though Ilias used it more as a tool within a scene, than as an art form as Julen did.What Julen could do with a body, some rope, and a good frame was undeniably art.
