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When they reached the center, in front of the footlights, he stopped to sweep Tracy in front, fully facing the crowd. He braced himself behind her, hands atop her forearms, keeping them pinned to her trembling sides.
“My friends. Thank you all for coming tonight.”
His voice boomed out over the crowd. Would some of the Doms recognize the bold baritone as that of their supposedly dead friend, John Franzen? Perhaps but not likely. This was his first time in the club in six months, and even before, Abbie’s body image issues had usually led them to favor private sessions. At the moment, he was almost beyond caring. Tracy’s identity was completely protected, and that was his foremost concern.
“As you’ve been informed, my girl has been dealing with some nasty stage fright issues. We all have them from time to time, of course, but she’s about to accept a job in which this cannot be a stumbling block anymore. I’d like to thank you all in advance for assisting me in…exposing…her fears then conquering them.”
A round of polite applause answered his greeting. Tracy started, obviously surprised. John tucked his lips against her ear and chuckled softly. “Relax, kitten. The catcalls don’t come until later.”
He could tell she considered a comeback, though speaking aloud could mean disastrous disclosure. Instead, with her posture tense and her lips clamped tight, she allowed him to lead her to the bondage bench. It was a modified horse, with only the back end angled up, though it still had knee and elbow pads where they would keep her most comfortable. After all, his goal wasn’t to turn her body into a pretzel. Twisting the dough of her mind was going to be challenge—and enjoyment—enough.
“Up you go, pretty.”
As he watched her comply with the direction, positioning her arms and spreading her knees, he clicked the remote to the house sound system, setting free a laid-back techno beat backing a woman who couldn’t decide whether to moan, sigh, or sing. In short, the perfect music for this interesting “lesson”.
He moved quickly through the next part, latching her down with the leather ankle and wrist restraints. As he finished with the latter, he wheeled the instruments rack over, enabling the woman before him to get a good look at it. “I won’t use it all,” he explained, “but will freely choose what treatment you’ll take, unless any of this is a hard no.”
Almost at once, she shook her head—once more as he had expected. This afternoon, when loading up the cart, he’d deliberately left off extreme implements like bullwhips, clamps, and electro-stim. That was shit for people who’d known each other a lot longer than six days, in much more private settings. The only thing he wanted tonight was to bring some of her useless walls down, inspiring her self-confidence to grow. There was more than enough here to get that job done.
Including his next step.
A necessary one.
The cart also contained drawers. He slid open one, removing the two contents within. Rotated back to Tracy with one in each hand.
“Necessary evil, kitten—and you know why—but I’ll let you pick.”
He hadn’t been able to fathom which way she’d go on this one—though her open glare at the ball gag all but handed the default win to the bit gag. Though she glowered as he fastened it around the back of her head, Franz shot back nothing but his hooded, knowing gaze—as the crowd sent back a murmur of kinky-minded approval.
“If you really don’t like it, I’m sure we’ll find something else to keep you quiet for a bit.”
“Not until we watch her drool for a bit.” The comment, issued by a sultry female in one of the front rows, was seconded by a round of soft chuckles from everyone. Franz used the pause for walking back, toy rack with him, to the V between his subbie’s spread legs.
“I already know my kitten enjoys a good spanking,” he announced, delivering a series of light but sharp smacks to both her ass cheeks, waking up the blood just below her skin. “But this is the first time she’ll feel my flogging skills.” He glanced at the half-dozen instruments hanging nearby, all beautiful works of art in various forms of leather and rubber. “Suggestions?”
A male voice, British accented, called out, “Latigo and buffalo are always perfect for waking up my girl.”
“Bullshit.” The self-sure female again. “Use the rubber tails—or the braided strands with the spiked tips.”
The crowd ooooo’ed then laughed.
Tracy jerked then moaned.
But only until Franz brought both hands down on her ass again.
He waited a few beats, stroking the heat from the blows over the skin beneath her shorts, before pulling the big buffalo hide flogger out from the display. Tracy shivered, clearly interpreting the sound. He walked, carefully and slowly, back to the space in front of her face. Reached out, curling one hand around her head, bringing her close to him so he was certain she knew which instrument he’d picked. Not anything that was going to hurt her. Simply an instrument to, as the Brit had stated, wake her up.
And yeah, if he was being honest, it was a good excuse to stroke her head once more—an experience, he openly admitted, unlike any he’d ever known. The necessity of putting her in the hood was rapidly becoming the sight he couldn’t do without. Everything about her raw sensuality was still there—her huge eyes, expressive nose, and sexy-as-hell mouth, especially with the bit parting her lips like that—but now, because everything else was literally blacked out, the force of her desire was refined into something more. Something so perfect. So potent…
Something ensnaring every inch of his dick, as she let out a high, exigent moan.
“The buffalo hide.” He needed to ensure her of it, despite looking at the direct line of her gaze on the flogger. “This is what I’m going to use, kitten. Now just take deep breaths, and focus simply on the sensation of the leather against your skin. Let it jolt you…warm you. Let it soften you…send you soaring. Think about how hard I’m going to get, watching these strokes heat up your skin…each and every one branding you as wholly mine tonight. Think about how thoroughly that knowledge pleases me…and about how I’ll dream of claiming you as my kitten alone tonight.”
Not even Sadist Sally in the second row had a smartass snark for that.
The room was quiet, except for the incessant throb of the music.
Until Franzen swiveled the flogger high, and swung it across her back with smacking force.
