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By the time Tuesday rolled around, Rae’s upper back was so tight with anxiety, she had trouble holding up her whip during her session with her midmorning client, a lanky CEO of an architecture firm she had tied to her Saint Andrew’s cross, his back covered in lovely red welts.
She tried to rub out a sore muscle in her right shoulder as she assessed how her client was doing when she heard a banging at her dungeon door.
“Police! We have a warrant to search these premises,” an officer called out. “Open this door.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Rae watched her client wiggle in his restraints as she heard Angel’s frantic voice mixing with the yells from the police.
“What is this? A role-play thing?” her client said.
“Hold on, please!” Rae yelled as she worked to untie her client.
“Are we done already, Mistress?”
“Yes. Get dressed.”
More banging on the door. Rae’s rapid heart rate pounded away in her head as she helped her client gather his things, his expression a mixture of confusion and disappointment.
“Last chance! If you don’t open this door right now, we’ll bust it down.”
“Okay, okay! I’m opening it!”
There was nothing she could do. Her stomach fell somewhere near her ass as she unlocked the door. Three officers swarmed inside, guns out and raised. Detective Dayton Clearwater entered last.
“Put your weapons down,” he said to the officers, and they complied.
Her client stood there, halfway dressed, as the detective and the other officers took in the dungeon space. Rae could tell Detective Clearwater was surprised at what he was seeing, but he was trying his damnedest not to show it.
“You can finish getting dressed,” he said to her client before turning to one of the officers. “Hold him in the lobby for questioning.”
“But I didn’t do anything illegal,” the client said, sounding like he was about to cry, and Rae didn’t blame him. “We didn’t have sex. Tell them, Mistress.”
“It’s okay, James,” Rae said. “I’ll take care of this.”
Detective Clearwater finally turned to face her, his expression back to being a mask of neutrality even as he avoided looking at her Domme outfit: thigh-high stiletto boots and a black latex bodysuit unzipped enough to show her ample cleavage.
“It seems we have a lot to discuss, Ms. Dixon.”
CHAPTER 9
RAE
2009
Rae didn’t know what to make of everything Viv was telling her about her work. After she had finished up with her online client, Viv poured a glass of wine for herself and a Coke for Rae, sat on the couch, and started talking a hundred miles per minute like she was afraid Rae would run out the door.
Rae didn’t know anything about BDSM or what being a dominatrix involved, and she couldn’t picture Viv doing the things she was describing to her.
“Listen, Rae, I know all this may be a shock for you, but it’s not illegal.”
Rae shook her head. “But don’t your clients, I don’t know ... get off on it? How is that not illegal?”
“Please, sit down.” Viv patted the couch cushion next to her, and Rae sat, arms crossed. “I don’t have sex with any client, and I don’t permit them to masturbate during sessions, but sometimes they come without meaning to, and I don’t hold it against them.” Viv seemed toweigh what she was trying to say. “Some people, and—yes, a lot of men—enjoy pain and being humiliated. Or they simply like servicing a dominant person. There are all types of submissives and masochists. And if they can’t find a partner who’s into it, they use my services.”
Rae uncrossed her arms. “And you only see them online?”
“Now, yes. But I used to rent a space where many Dommes—that’s what women Dominants are called—see clients in person. I made great money, but I was also losing a lot of it for the space rental. I learned I could make about the same amount through a website catering to people into kink, and it’s less physically demanding on me.”
