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A dominatrix I’d never seen before is currently on the stage with her sub, who kneels at her feet. He’s blindfolded and gagged; his arms restrained behind him with hooks that attached to rings on the back of his chest harness. The dominatrix whips his erect penis as he moans around the red ball in his mouth.
The perimeter of the main area is occupied by discreetly petitioned alcoves and private rooms where members can indulge in their activities away from prying eyes. The layout is much the same as I remember, and I lead Bliss past the semi-private partitioned areas. She’s particularly fascinated by a couple practicing the Japanese rope bondage known as shibari.
“Would you like that?” I ask, and felt my own arousal grow as she nodded. I can see her in my mind’s eye, kneeling and bound by an intricate network of ropes, her legs and mouth and breasts exposed.
“Have you ever seen one of these?” In an unoccupied alcove stands a Saint Andrew’s cross.
“Only on the internet,” she said.
I walk past it to open a large mahogany armoire, revealing an array of implements. Her eyes widen.
“Is my little girl ready to play?” I asked.
Her shy smile and flush told me she is.
Chapter thirteen
BLISS
It feels like a dream. As Tandy carefully shackles my wrists to the top of the x-shaped St. Andrew’s cross then my ankles to the bottom, I can’t help but remember the first time I saw that photograph in the hallway of the tattoo shop, and how I felt looking up at it.
Sometimes I would find myself fantasizing about dominatrix Tandy and I realize now that it was the power that attracted me. It spoke to the latent submission. It excited me, but nothing close to what I’m feeling now.
I’m naked now save for my heels, restrained spread-eagle. I feel small, helpless, and she looks larger than life as she stands face to face with me. Another three or four inches and her body would be touching mine and I want that. I ache for it.
“God, you’re beautiful,” she says. “Do you know how often I’ve fantasized about seeing you like this?”
I look at her in surprise. “Really? It feels like a compliment.
“Yes. I can’t wait to show you what your body is capable of.” She pauses. “But it can be overwhelming. If you feel overstimulated, just use your safe word and I’ll stop.”
“My safe word?” I didn’t choose one the first time we were played at her apartment.
“Yes. It can be anything. A color. A food.”
The only thing that comes to mind is Barbie. She smiles and tells me that’s a good choice.
Tandy walks to the cabinet. She tells me we’re going to start with some sensory play. She tells me to close my eyes. She uses feathers, a little stick with what looks like a ball of fur on the end, silk scarves, a little roller with spikes. I shudder and flinch and giggle and moan depending on the texture and where it’s applied. I feel aroused when parts of my body are stimulated that I never really considered erogenous, like the backs of my knees and the nape of my neck.
Tandy began to remove more implements from the cabinet, some that filled me with curiosity, others with dread. I felt like a child being given vegetables for the first time. Some I didn’t want, but Tandy told me she wanted me to try them. There were so many, far more than she had at home. I discovered the difference between leather thongs and rubber thongs on the floggers she laid gently across my breasts. She turned me around and paddled me with implements made of wood, plastic. The innocent-looking ping pong paddle with its pink textured surface, turned out to be more painful than any of the others, but maybe that was because my ass was so sore by the time she got to it.
I did not use my safe word. I did not want to. Her praise feels better than the paddles or floggers hurt. She turns me to face her once again and refastens the cuffs. Tandy binds the base of my breasts with a leather strap and pulls them tight. My breasts look engorged, exaggerated. I moan and whimper as she slaps them with a supple leather strap. When she releases the bindings, the blood rushes back into the deprived tissue along with pain that takes my breath away.
She tells me I’m a good girl, and how proud she is that I’m taking the pain so well. She puts clamps on my outer labia and teases the slick inner folds, rubs my clit and whispers in my ear that I’m hers and hers alone. I beg her permission to come. She does not tell me to do this, but I want her to own this moment, to own my response.
She tells me to come. I feel like I’m flying and sinking at the same time. The room, the people, the world falls away as pleasure quakes through me. I’ve never been so wet. I’ve never come so hard.
There’s a special room where Tandy takes me to recover from the scene. I’d never though such a space would be necessary. Now I understand. There’s so much to process. I replay the whole scene in my mind – the vulnerability and surrender, the empowerment and liberation of letting myself feel that deeply and fully.
Tandy asks me if I’d like to come back. I look at her and can tell by her expression that she’s hoping I’ll say yes. I don’t hesitate to answer in the affirmative.
“We’ve been invited to join,” she says. “Before you know it, you’ll be on that stage. Would you like that?”
I imagine Tandy playing with me, spreading my pussy lips, touching my ass. I imagine being her plaything in front of a crowd of onlookers. I can’t imagine anything more delicious.
Chapter fourteen
TANDY
