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“Show me.”
She looked terrified to reveal what she had on underneath, which was silly, because I’d seen the uniform hundreds of times. Of course, I’d never seen it on her. She undid the belt and opened the coat slowly, like a timid, adorable flasher.
I let her see all the lurid approval in my gaze. Jesus, she was voluptuously beautiful, the dark angles emphasizing all her feminine curves. I’d seen the uniform hundreds of times, but not like this, on my blue-eyed, wild-haired sparkler. Breasts, belly, hips, pussy, legs, all the lovely parts of her body on display. Black four-inch stilettos completed the ensemble.
“Do you like it?” she asked, when my silent perusal strung out. When I didn’t answer, she started to close the coat, but I raised a hand to stop her.
“No, let me look a little more. I’m just trying to…”Pull your shit together, Fort.“You’re beautiful,” I said. “It suits you so perfectly.”
“The only thing missing is the socks,” she said, joking.
I reached for her, needing to touch her, needing to run my hands over the bared parts of her body. I pushed the coat back and let it drop, so her naked nipples and belly were pressed against my front. I held her with one arm and grasped her nape with the other, trapping her for my kiss. I fed her my hunger, my approval in a violent kiss. I had to restrain myself from pushing her back on the floor and mounting her.
No. That wasn’t what tonight was about. I pulled back, distracting myself with the way she touched her lips. Her fingertips were so delicate. I traced my less-delicate fingertips along her silver leather collar to the dangling lock.
“Thank you for doing this with me.” I tugged the lock to pull her close for another kiss. This one left me feeling a bit more sane. Definitely invigorated. I felt ready to introduce her to the pleasures of The Gallery. “I’m going to do everything I can to give you a good experience tonight,” I said against her lips. “And I’m going to hurt you, baby, in all the best ways. Just trust me, and everything will be fine.”
I pulled away and picked her coat up from the floor. I helped her put it on and wrapped her up tight, my little package, cinching the belt and straightening the collar to hide the other collar, the one that was just for me.
Well, for everyone at The Gallery, if things went all right.
“Will we be arriving late?” she asked.
“No. We’ll arrive just in the thick of things. Scenes start around eleven, and midnight is the witching hour, when everyone gets down to business.” I took her hand, squeezed it, and let it go. “It’s best if we get into our roles now. It’ll make things easier when we get there.”
“Okay. Yes. Yes, Sir.”
All week I’d been imagining ways to torment her, but now, with her in The Gallery’s collar, none of those fantasies touched what I wanted to do. She avoided my gaze as I helped her into the car, perhaps because I looked at her like a predator. Like a sadist, but that was my role. She fulfilled her role too, biting her lips as she gazed out the window, a uniformed vessel for my passions and desires.
Chapter Twenty: Juliet
He was silenton the way, letting me stew in my nervous, submissive juices. I squirmed in the seat, trying not to drench the lining of the coat where I sat on it. I was already so wet. My nipples rubbed against the fabric, reminding me of my peek-a-boo bra the whole way there. The driver stopped outside the Bridgeport, and Fort came around to open my door. He took my elbow, leading me past the doorman, into the building, and over to a gleaming bank of elevators.
My eyes darted everywhere, taking in the lobby’s regal decor. It was quiet. There were no other dark-suited men or trench-coated women arriving at the same time as us. I still burned with exhilarated shame.
Once we were in the elevator, he used a key to take us to the clock tower level. He didn’t say anything, but he stood close to me, a steady, comforting presence at my side. My stockinged knees knocked together when the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. We exited into a lobby of sorts, far larger than I expected. The foyer rose two stories, decorated in the way he’d described, with carved wood molding and gilt etching. A young man stood at a mahogany podium beside a fire. He eyed me as Fort led me over.
“How old is he?” I whispered.
“Old enough. Hush.”
Fort greeted him, calling him “Rene.” Now that we were closer the man looked a little older, but still awfully young to be working the door of a sex club. His skin was perfect, his lips full and suggestively bee-stung. His manner was deferential, almost effeminate, but at the same time, he looked strong enough to throw out any unwanted visitors.
“I’ll be happy to take your submissive’s coat,” he said. “And your jacket, Sir, if you’d like.”
“Thank you.”
Fort looked at me expectantly as he shrugged out of his suit jacket. I untied the coat’s belt and unbuttoned the six buttons, taking far too long because of my shaking fingers. I was pretty sure from Rene’s mannerisms and speech that he was gay, but he was still a man, a stranger I didn’t know who was about to look at me in all my perverse sexual gear. I took a deep breath and lifted the coat away, handing it to him. Cool air rushed over my skin, hardening my already exposed nipples.
Rene inspected me with detached diligence, taking in the collar, bra, garter, stockings, and stilettos. This was as perverse as the rest of it, having this gay, beatific, muscle-bound man-child act as gatekeeper for their Gallery of sado-masochism. He wasn’t looking at me to admire me; he was checking to be sure I was properly dressed in the prescribed uniform.
After that, he held out a page to Fort, containing the same list of rules he’d shown me at his apartment. Fort handed it to me, and Rene gave me a fountain pen so I could sign. His smooth, flawless twenty-year-old cheeks unsettled me, because I was sure mine were bright pink. I signed the non-legally-binding agreement and handed it back. Without a word, Rene moved to the adjacent ivory-gilt door and swung it open.
Fort caught and held my gaze, giving me strength when I wanted to turn tail and run. I wanted this, yes. I wanted him. I steeled myself and let him lead me up a set of stairs to The Gallery’s inner chambers.
There were two open stories—a main floor, and an upper floor with stairs that rose to a rounded dome. An iron balcony looked down on the larger room we stood in, but it was currently unoccupied. Victorian sconces illuminated walls covered in dark gray wallpaper embossed with a vine and floral pattern. One whole side of the space was taken up by the inner workings of the clock tower’s face, surrounded by frosted-glass Roman numerals facing out to the city. At some point, the clock’s huge hands had halted at seven forty-five.
I drew my gaze from the clock to check out all the other spaces of the dungeon. There were too many racks and benches to take in at once, far more than Fort had in his home dungeon. The floor was weathered, lacquered wood, and dark leather sofas and club chairs were scattered around the main floor, dividing it into sections. And in those various sections were men, all of them clothed, and women, all of them dressed like me.
