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Neither of them was a novice, so they were unfazed by the myriad lascivious activities happening in each of the rooms. About halfway down the hall, a woman leaned against a doorframe and wielded a flogger, slapping it against her leg as Dylan and Lucy walked by. “Two for the price of one? I can please both of you. Trust me. I have done it before.”
With a toss of her hand, Dylan declined just as she might have to a beggar on the street corner. It was Lucy who asked, “Wait ... do you have to pay to play?”
They didn’t stop to find out as Dylan continued forward, heading toward where the crowd of people had migrated. It was nothing like Dylan remembered, reminding her of a cheap motel where hookers preyed on horny bystanders. It lacked the luxurious vibe that Adytum promised its members: a clean and safe space to play, where everyone said yes to the whims of paying members, not the opposite in which guests negotiated a price for their entertainment.
At the end of the hall, Dylan pushed her way between some voyeurs who were watching a show in the small arena. With her hand tightly gripped to Lucy, she pulled her through the crowd and found a spot among the others, just as a Dominatrix struck a submissive’s back with a crack of her whip.
The stage bore a resemblance to that of Adytum’s, though scaled down considerably. A notion flickered through Dylan’s mind: perhaps the new owner of this club had visited and swiped elements from their playbook to recreate within these walls. What was strikingly different were the erotic displays of naked women bound within intricately knotted rope. The soft red uplighting along the perimeter of the room illuminated each art piece with a warm glow, making them look like delicate, suspended works of art. While shibari was not new to Dylan, she had never seen it used in such an evocative way.
Awestruck, Dylan leaned toward Lucy and said, “I love the new decor. Have you ever seen a beautiful display like this?”
Lucy nodded in agreement as she looked around. However, when her gaze caught sight of the ceiling, she noticed a centipede of women hanging in midair, all engaging in a line of oral sex on the one in front of them. She pointed, directing Dylan’s attention upward. “Wow!”
Dylan pressed her lips together, relishing the sights, sounds, and smells that made her feel at home, reveling in the realms of sexual depravity. Before, the space was nothing more than scattered mattresses. In the present moment, The Pendulum boasted a transformation that exceeded her expectations. The room had undergone a metamorphosis, now housing performances that were entirely novel. An evolution had taken place over the past three years. “They really have stepped up their game.”
“They have to be making a killing. If this is the crowd on a weeknight, imagine what they take in on a Friday or Saturday.”
Both Dylan and Lucy turned their attention to the show in front of them, watching the Domme reward her submissive with a delightful fuck. Upon command, the bound love slave reached a climax, spasming in ecstasy as the crowd cheered. Dylan watched, delighting in the display of power and the ability to elicit bodily responses on command. She wondered if she would ever truly be able to do that with someone. The prospect of pursuing a career as a professional Domme held no allure for her. What she sought wasn’t for show, but instead, a connection with someone who would place their trust in her, willingly surrendering their power for the warmth of her love and the security of her protection. A true Domme.
Maxi’s words echoed in Dylan’s mind, “Sometimes, all it takes is the right submissive ...”
She drew upon Maxi’s opinions, and her focus redirected to a figure situated across the expanse of the room, positioned just beyond the dominatrix’s performance. A gentle flush graced the woman’s cheeks as she tucked a light brown curl behind her ear, her unwavering gaze transfixed by the spectacle that played out before her.
A subtle poke from Lucy jolted Dylan from her reverie, a sudden interruption that broke the hold of her contemplations. Alongside the physical nudge, she caught the sound of her friend’s voice asking, “Did you see that?”
No, she had missed it entirely. Yet a mischievous smile played across Dylan’s lips as she kept her tireless gaze in that very direction. She chose not to reply, allowing her silence to pique Lucy’s curiosity. She followed Dylan’s gaze to a young woman engrossed in watching the center stage. “Do you know her?”
Completely captivated by the woman, Dylan confessed, “Nope. But damn, I definitely want to.”
Chapter 5
Ari and Billie entered The Pendulum, attired in skimpy outfits that left little to the imagination. Jitters fluttered within their chests as they peered from the upper level. The terrace offered a panoramic view of what appeared to be an ordinary club. It showcased a bar area with ample seating arrangements, tables, chairs, and a scattering of booths—a perfect spot to unwind over drinks and mingle with friends. It was a sight straight out of the seventies. There was a dance floor bathed in lights, a throwback to the era, complete with luminous floor panels that pulsated in sync with the rhythmic beats of the music.
“This looks like any sweaty nightclub in the city,” Ari said as she leaned over the balcony, casting a glance at the bodies bouncing in unison below.
Based on the photos online, she had expected an environment steeped in sex and had braced herself for a realm of carnal indulgence. However, the actuality she faced with the flashy clothing and the pulsing disco music felt like a voyage through the past. An experience surely similar to being at the legendary Studio 54 in New York.
As Ari absorbed the scene before her, her gaze captured the expanse of a lengthy mahogany bar stretching along one wall. “Let’s head downstairs and grab a drink.”
Billie offered a nonchalant shrug, trailing after Ari. They sailed down the staircase that coiled around the dance floor below, each step leading them deeper into the vibrant circus. As they reached the bottom, they weaved through the sea of women bumping into each other unintentionally, like they were on a bumper car ride to the bar. While trying to make their way through the crowd, they apologized repeatedly, more than they ever had before in their entire lives.
Emerging from the bustling throng, Billie’s laughter rang out. “Damn, I almost lost you in that ocean of disco for a moment!”
“Tell me about it,” Ari responded with a relieved exhale, allowing the sense of claustrophobia to dissipate from her body.
Billie leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh my god, did you check out all those hotties? I swear, it’s like I’ve died and gone to lesbian heaven.”
Not wanting to miss their chance, they took advantage of the vacant spot at the bar. Just as they settled in, a woman with teased hair resembling a lion’s mane appeared before them. The wild tresses framed her face, and her cleavage practically brushed her chin. She tossed two napkins before them. “What’ll it be tonight, darlings? A cocktail, a beer, or perhaps a Shirley Temple for the young lady here?”
The jab at Ari’s youthful appearance was a familiar occurrence; it never failed to irk her. Tonight, she refused to let it pierce her composure. In a silent display of frustration, she suppressed the urge to unleash a string of profanity at the woman. Instead, Ari channeled her irritation through gritted teeth and ordered, “An old-fashioned with rye.”
“What about you, cutie?” the waitress asked, her gaze directed at Billie with a playful flutter of her eyelashes. That was the difference between them. Billie’s chiseled facial structure gave her a mature presence despite her youthful appearance. Unlike her friend, Ari’s round face and wide eyes gave the impression of an innocent and cherubic presence.
“What do you have on draft?” Billie asked.
“What don’t we have? How dark do you want?”
“Give me a stout,” Billie declared with a grin, then shifted her attention to Ari as her drink arrived in front of her. “How the hell do you drink that crap?”
