Chapter 57

Kathleen

Sometimes I'm amazed at the amount of free time Ira has. After all, she had enough time to handwrite this contract stipulating what's going to happen for three days next week.

Three days of me submitting to her full time.

Did I know that I would be expected to answer her every command? To cook for her if that's what she wants? To be her maid, her sex slave? Oh, and the best part... I'm supposed to at least pretend I get off on it.

Soft-spoken. Dressed in whatever she wants me to wear. Somehow still doing my work at the hotel while serving her every whim as well.

And at night, I'm sure I'm supposed to do whatever she wants in bed and then wash her prosthetic for her in the bathroom.

Fucking Dommes, I swear to God. What is wrong with us?

Ira was kind enough to include a list of things that I will not have to worry about during our trial. No electrocution, no hot wax, no suffocation, no latex, no other partners or public sex… oh well thank goodness for that!

However, I also have a lovely list of things that I can look forward to possibly happening. The moment I put on my collar, I'll give her permission to do whatever the hell else she wants to me. Sure, I can say my safe words and she'll stop, but it's the principle of the thing. The woman will own my body, my actions for three days.

I don't just need a drink. I need an escape.

Three hours later I find myself at Midnight on a Sunday night. You never know how it's going to be on Sunday. It's one of the few days people like us have off to spend time indulging in kinks, but it's also the night before a long work week. So, it fills up, but people tend to leave early. Hence my being here shortly after dinner, having a strong drink, and taking in the sights.

This time I don't take a private booth. I am secluded in a corner, however, far enough from others that don't really bother me, but close enough to see the action. It's mostly established couples here, although a few stragglers make the rounds, trying to strike up a threesome here or there. Hey, when a sub's horny, they will do what it takes to get relief.

A couple of people make eyes at me. I stare them down, threateningly, encouraging them to go find love for the night elsewhere. I'm not here to pick up a sub. Besides, Ira and I are to a point where I expect her to be exclusive to me, and it's only right I honor that in turn. That includes touching anyone – or not, in my case.

Even though a lot of men are ripped to hell and back, their chains enticing, their abs begging for my torture. The women beguile with God and surgeon granted curves, one girl possessing a face perfect for sitting on.

Can't think about that.

I'm here to soak up the fun of other Doms, Dommes, their toys, and their pets. I need as close to a thrill as I can get before I go ahead and try this lifestyle thing with Ira. Not only that, but I need to better understand it before submitting my mind to that sort of headspace.

I came to this club when I first considered submitting to her. Watching the Anderssens switch was a unique experience in that it helped me understand their lifestyle a bit more. Except that was sex. The Anderssens don't lifestyle. The only people I know who do that are Eve's family, but I'm not close enough with them to sit down and have a one-on-one girl talk with Monique about serving.

Thirty minutes pass before I find someone suitable enough. A young woman wandering around, doe-eyed in her faux innocence, but aware enough to know what she's looking for. She swaps smiles with many of the people in suits. At one point she approaches a man I don't recognize, getting on her knees and placing a hand on his arm. Since she's barely wearing lingerie, let alone any clothing at all, the Dom can look right at her hardened nipples and thong bunching around her ass. He turns her away only because he's already spoken for, his full-time sub currently in the restroom.

The girl with curly brown hair almost doesn't see me flag her down as she walks by.

"Excuse me, ma'am," she says with a demure voice. She doesn't drop to her knees for me, although her head is bowed and her hands clasped before her. "I'm afraid I'm not looking for a femme woman tonight."

"Don't worry. You're not my type either." I gesture to the empty chair in front of me. "I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes, though. I'll buy you a drink for your time and trouble. What have you? Cosmo?"

If she were having any luck tonight, I'm sure she would politely turn me down and go find someone else to serve. Yet it's a slow night at Midnight. She's not going to turn down a free drink for twenty minutes.

"What's your name?" A server brings a drink for the girl.

"I go by Nova, ma'am."

Everyone has a code name in this damned place. "All right, Nova, mind if I ask you a few questions about… what you do?"

She raises a sculpted eyebrow. "Ma'am?"

"Not your job. No, not like that." Most of the young female subs in here don't have careers unless they're aspiring actresses or singers. Most of them are looking for some sugar on the side as they go through college or struggle through God knows how many shitty part-time jobs. I don't envy them. I never have. "I meant being a sub."

Nova isn't responding. I think she may be on the verge of getting up and leaving me with an untouched drink.

"Go on, ma'am."

Well, then.

"How long have you been doing this?"

She pokes a finger beneath her chin and looks the other way, adding up time in her head. She's a cute sub, I'll give her that. Petite. Perky. Big, round lips most would go crazy for. I'm sure Ira would get a kick out of her for a night.

"About two years, ma'am."

"Why do you like it?"

I can tell she's confused, but thus far she's not asking any questions. "I don't know…"

"Do you lifestyle?"

She shrugs. Her sheer, pink lingerie shuffles along her breasts and stomach, but does not accidentally show me her goods. I can see those nipples well, though. "Depends on the Domme, ma'am. Some of them are fun for a night, but after that, it's only for the sex. Others make me want to serve them all day. I don't have a preference. Every relationship is different."

I nod. Good. That's what I wanted to hear. "So you would confidently say that you enjoy being a sub, possibly in a lifestyle sense?"

"Sure."

She doesn't know where I'm going with this. I barely know where I'm going with this. There are things I want to know, for sure, but it's not exactly kosher for strangers to ask each other these things. If I'm not delicate, Nova might bail on me. I wouldn't blame her.

"Could you tell me… what you find appealing about it? Submitting and serving, that is."

We've reached an impasse. Nova doesn't know me from Adam, and yet here I am, in a BDSM sex club acting like I'm a college reporter doing an exposé on seedy lifestyles and how it relates to feminism.

Gradually, I get Nova to open up. She takes a steady sip from her drink and keeps her eyes on her lap as she answers.

Fun. Thrills. Self-empowerment. I expected to hear those words, so I ask for more information. I'm hoping she has a good vocabulary.

"All I can say, ma'am, is that there's nothing like it in the world. I can understand how it's strange to other women. We hear that we shouldn't let women treat us like that, and yet it's so ingrained in our society that it feels perfectly natural, totally safe to do it. Especially with powerful women like the ones here. They can take care of you. They give you an escape from reality. In turn, you give them one too."

You give them one too?

"How so?"

Nova cocks her head as if I'm the stupidest woman she's encountered in a long time. "Don't you see? Women like me are an escape for you dominants. We give them everything they want emotionally. They don't get that outside of places like this, no matter how successful they are at business. Sure, they have a ton of money. Sure, they can have sex with a lot of other women who aren't into kink, but what does it mean? It's fun for a while, but it quickly loses its luster. They need more emotion. Maybe not love, but they need to feel like the center of someone's universe."

It's compelling, but it's not helping any of her points.

"I think I get what you mean," I say after a few moments of contemplation. For so long I assumed the masculine people in my life – people like my father and Ira – didn't have to want for anything. Yeah, they had to work. Even we wealthy bastards sometimes work to keep from getting bored. Wanting for things? If a relationship isn't working, it's not hard to find a new one. You can move at a drop of the hat. Go on vacation on the other side of the world. Buy the latest gadgets and games and gizmos to keep you amused.

Hell, you can buy whatever sex you want.

Of course, I know that it can feel hollow if you don't have anyone, such as a lover or other family, to share it with, but I'm a woman. Everything's tinted by my disadvantages, even in this world. I've always assumed others live a high life outside of work.

Perhaps not.

"So what makes it so great for you?" I ask Nova. "What do you gain from a random hookup in a place like this?" Besides free drinks and perhaps a getaway weekend with all expenses paid and a few gifts like designer clothes and a charitable gift into a bank account.

"Well, there's the sex."

Thanks, Nova.

"Except it's not about rough, possessive sex with a dominant who looks great and smells good. It's the release they give you. I don't know how else to explain it."

Nova is losing interest in me. I can tell because there's someone in a suit making eyes at her from across the room. Never seen them before. Probably here on business from out of town. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Tanned. The kind you expect to hear a sexy accent from. They nurse a hard drink and won't remove their gaze from Nova's curls and tiny, pebble-like nipples poking through her lingerie.

"For the love of God, go get some."

I finish Nova's drink for her after she leaves, slinking her way to her rich partner. I watch them out of the corner of my eye. They're staring at her tits and ass, but they're also listening to her soft words, waiting for permission to touch her, The moment they do, Nova sighs into their gentle embrace, and just like that, these two are paired off for the evening.

That happened faster than junk at regular nightclubs.

Just my luck, I soon see the stranger take their new prize to a dark corner, lift her against the wall, pull aside her thong, and start fucking her without a care for who's watching – like me.

I don't feel like a perv in places like these. Half the room is covertly watching them, some leaning in to whisper into ears and vice versa. More than one couple is making out as this party gets going.

Nova is a woman living in ecstasy. She met this person fifteen minutes ago, but they're already inside her, thrusting like a maniac between her legs and whispering into her ear. Her fingers curl against the back of their jacket, wrinkling it, trying to tear it apart before they can get away from her.

It makes me think about Ira, about the times she slammed me against a wall and had her way with me. Is that what we looked like? Was I that… relenting?

Back then, did I want this from her?

Why do I want it now?

I almost text ask her to join me here. Even if we don't have sex in front of people – which I'm not into – it might be nice to see how she reacts to the people around us, but I don't text her. I don't even entertain going over to her place to see if she's available for cuddles and sex. I know it's a bad idea when I'm in this state.

There will be plenty of times for that bullshit when I willingly let myself be collared for three whole days, starting Wednesday night.

I guess I'll find out if I do understand where women like Nova are coming from.