Chapter 78

Kathleen

Nothing could have prepared me for this. No amount of sleep. No number of goodies to eat or coffee to drink. Not even a hundred kisses to my face or reassuring rubs to the shoulder are enough to bring me down from my anxious haze that says all of this is a huge mistake I can never make a comeback from.

Even so, here I am, in the coatroom at Midnight on the busiest night of the week, my knees shaking in my leather boots and my ponytail jerking against the back of my neck.

"Relax," Ira says, smoothing down the sleeves of my blazer. "You're going to do great tonight. Everyone will love you the same as they did before."

That also means they'll dislike me the same as before. "I don't know if I can do this," I say for the fifth time since we've walked through the door. Someone comes in, and Ira shields me in the corner, fingers readjusting the collar around my neck. "Besides, everyone knows…"

I shudder. Ira was late finding out about the Page 6 fiasco. Since then, she's done nothing but continuously tell me it means nothing. But I know. I know Stephanie did all of that. Even though she was blasted on the front page of the same paper, she made sure I was taken out with her since I was no longer paying off the blackmail.

Now here I am, dressed like a sub in Midnight with my Domme pulling a leash out of the bag she's about to check.

Fuuuuuuuck no!

I don't care if we already talked about it. I don't care if I was drunk on love and sex at the time of agreeing to wear a leash into the club, in case people were confused about my role in my relationship tonight. I don't care, because the moment I see that sparkling, glittery leash leaving Ira's pocket, I want to throw up and run.

It's true that I haven't had much backlash since that spot came out in the papers. Eve says there are whisperings about it, but everyone is assuming it's tabloid trash like it is half the time. Tonight, I am about to blow all of those doubts out of the water. People aren't going to see Kathleen Allen, Domme. They're going to see Katie, a woman whom only Ira has met so far.

Met and trained.

I have to put all of my training to good use. My ability to obey, to serve, to keep her pleased with me. I may love her, but this is going to push the final boundaries I've built around myself. My social ones.

"You are the most stunning woman in this club. No…" Ira kisses my forehead and rests her hands on my shoulders. "In the world. Everyone's eyes will be on you. They're going to love you as much as I do."

Honestly, I hope not!

"Are you ready?' She latches the leash to my collar and gives it an experimental tug. "We should mingle and try to relax before we go on in an hour."

Relax means getting me some drinks. I got started at home with an Old Fashioned, but it wasn't enough to settle my nerves.

If this were some other club where we didn't know most of the regulars, that would be one thing. I would still be nervous, but able to pull myself together a lot sooner. Except this is Midnight, one of my haunts. Friends will be there. Business associates. People who want me to dominate them in the future, and women who like me for my Top personality. Well, I'm anything but a Top tonight. I'm completely deferring to Ira's qualities. In fact, I'm worshiping them.

At home, I would do so readily. Out here, I'm vulnerable in all the wrong ways.

"You're powerful, Kathleen." Ira pulls me into her embrace and whispers into my ear. "Don't let them get to you. Own who you are tonight, and don't be afraid to send them some of those cut-throat glares you're so good at. I love you."

I snatch her shoulder before she can turn away. "You're going to do it, right?' My hand presses against the front of her suit jacket. "Promise me you'll do it."

"I promise." She kisses my hand before plucking it off her shoulder. "Now, let's go. We'll both get ours soon enough."

Easy for her to say. As she pulls on the leash and makes me trip behind her, I think about how I'm the one standing to lose everything tonight. Ira Mathison will merely go down as the one who bagged herself a Domme and turned her into a hungry slut.

Yes, I know what I've been talking about all along. Yes, I know I am a hungry slut for her. Give me a break, please. You damn well know what I mean.

The club is dark. It's always dark on weekend nights when it's all about partying. Nevertheless, I almost throw up stepping from the opening hallway into the main room of Midnight, which is packed with people.

People who don't notice me until we pass the third table.

I see their faces go from indifferent to shocked. One woman smacks a man on his chest to get his attention. Their nods in our direction say they know who we are and what this means.

I hear the thoughts in everyone's heads. "Guess the papers were true. How about that?"

Keep in mind how we look. Ira is in front, wearing her usual suit without a tie and stopping a server to preemptively order drinks. Meanwhile, that pretty leash in her hand is attached to Kathleen Allen's throat.

Or should I say Katie?

Regardless, here I am, dressed in my black corset, boots, and blazer, with my hair up in Ira's favorite hair-pulling style. When we left my apartment an hour ago, I felt confident. Empowered. I was dressed to kick ass and still would in my own, special way. Except now I'm seeing the looks people give me. Some of them are intrigued. Others are confused. Even more whisper something to someone else. These are people I've never talked to before, but they definitely know who I am and my reputation around here.

I see Fawn, hanging out with a couple of other submissive women. One of whom I've Topped before. Their eyebrows go up, one of them shaking her head.

Fuck her!

"So the rumors were true. I guess you can trust those scandal rags sometimes."

Ira comes to a stop, and so does my heart.

Lara Anderssen stands before us, pursing her lips before sipping more of whatever she's drinking. Her demeanor screams she won a bet. Probably with her spouse.

"Good evening, Lara. Always a pleasure."

"Isn't it? I should be saying that to you. Look at what you've got attached to that leash there." Lara gestures to me with embellishment. Enough to catch the attention of some people around us. "I read the rumors and heard some people talking, but you know how all that is. I wasn't going to believe it until I got it from the source myself. So… you managed to get your honey to do this for you?"

I interrupt my Domme – an act I'll probably pay for later. "She didn't get me to do anything. I'm doing this of my own free will."

Lara tsks into her glass. "You need to train that one some more, Mathison. So rude." Her wink sends shivers down my spine, though I'm wearing this jacket indoors. "See you, kids."

My bottom lip curls inward as she walks away. Ira touches my chin. "She doesn't mean any harm, darling."

Easy for her to say. She's not getting the same amount of attention that I am.

"You're doing fine." Ira brings me into her arms, the leash dangling between us. "Ignore the fools."

"Some of those fools are important outside of this club."

Her lips are tender against mine. "If they value their working relationship with your father, let alone my family, then they'll keep it to themselves. Come on. I got us some drinks."

We don't join any friends, although I see some around. Jem and Gwenyth wave at us. Eve is upstairs with a submissive female friend. The Anderssens, of course, start a game of Telephone with their gaggle of buddies sitting in the common area.

I'm sure the subject is me.

The drinks are brought to us the moment we sit down on a leather couch in the corner. It gives us a grand view of the club while keeping an eye on who is looking at us in turn. I don't see any of my Domme comrades yet. Nevertheless, I get a text from Eve saying I look great and that her friend doesn't know if she wants to fuck me or be fucked by me.

I'll take that as a compliment, I guess?

"Tell me how you're feeling." Ira is comfortable settling me on her lap and wrapping the leash around my shoulders. Her hand rests on the small of my back. "Are you okay?"

Would it be strange to say that I wish she hadn't asked me that? Naturally, I'm glad Ira has taken a vested interest in my well-being. Any Domme I serve would have to be like that, but in this moment I ain't feeling great and don't need reminding.

"I'm fine," I lie. My legs cross, allowing me to lean against the back of the couch and loom over my very fine girlfriend. In my mind, she's the target of everyone's lust, male and female. Even if they don't want to fuck her, surely, they want some of this sexual power emanating from her. Trust me, I know. When we were going over what we were going to do tonight, I got so hot and bothered that I interrupted our plan to fuck her on the dining table.

"There's no sense in lying to me, Katie." Ira rubs my back, a soothing motion, but not enough to settle my nerves. "Tonight is going to be… an experience. I need to know exactly how you're feeling at any given moment. This means being open with me."

I take a drink. "All right. I'm anxious."

Strong fingers massage my neck. "What can I do to make you feel more at ease?"

There are a hundred eyes on me. No matter where I glance, someone is pointing to us, taking a drink while glaring over the rim of their glass, or excitedly whispering. We are going to be the subject of local gossip for some time to come. It's not enough to gab about Kathleen and Ira being a serious couple. Throw in the kink aspect? I wouldn't be surprised if the two sex and gender academics in the room tried to write a psych paper about us.

So, what would make me comfortable? Forgetting that these assholes are here would probably help.

"Who is the dominant one here?" Ira says it, but she doesn't reprimand me when I lean down and kiss her. In fact, her hands grip me so hard that I have to wonder how long she's wanted to make out with me in front of kinky friends. Knowing her? Probably since the first time she dominated me. All her Domme friends will be impressed with this spectacle.

No, I can't think about that.

I am a sub. I came here to be adored and to serve in turn. That means I should only have eyes and words for my Domme. Fuck the others.

"When did you suddenly get frisky?" Ira grabs my ass the moment I push my hand between her spreading legs. There was no doubt she'd be packing our favorite extension of her gender. You know, one I'm intimately familiar with already? So, what does it matter if I put my hand on it and let half the room take a gander? Oh, who am I kidding? In this place, the contents of nobody's pants stay hidden for long.

I break off our kiss and pick her drink off the nearby table. Without asking for permission, like the insolent sub I will always be, I swallow some of it before handing it to Ira. She finishes it off, puts the glass back down, and pulls me down onto the couch.

As a Domme, I have never done anything in the world of exhibitionism. I'm usually not into that. I don't need people watching me fuck to get off. On days when it doesn't make me shudder, I feel completely indifferent about it. I guess it's because I'm a woman from local social circles. Not one people got to know through my pussy being displayed in a club. Hey, I've got nothing against those girls, especially those who married their rich-ass dominants and now run half those circles. But it ain't me.

Until tonight. Until I needed a distraction from the world around me, and Ira is always the most convenient form of escape. Whenever I need to let go of the pressures pushed upon me, I think of her, go to her, or, you know, fuck her.

I don't know where this making out is going, but little by little, I forget the bullshit and merely exist for my Domme. Wow, this submitting shit is addictive.

"Do you want to hear something?" Ira breaks off our kiss so she can nibble on my ear, eliciting a soft moan from my lips. "Remember how you told me that night… you know, that night here at the club…"

Of course, I remember. It was the night this whole debacle began.

"Well, you told me that you made that woman pleasure herself for you. Did you think of me, by chance?"

I don't say anything. I may have. I may have not.

"Because I thought of you even before I caught you watching me with Stephanie."

Oh, I remember. I remember sitting up where Eve is now, looking down in this direction, and seeing Stephanie's pretty blond hair give Ira good enough head to haul her off to a private room. No, neither of us want to think of her, but hearing Ira say that she was thinking of me…

"How long have you wanted me, Mistress?" My hand goes back to her thigh, massaging her flesh through her pants. "You make it sound like your mission has been getting me in bed."

"Only for the past few months. I had forgotten how much you turn me on until we started working together." She takes my hand and pushes it onto her prosthetic. "You trying to tell me you never felt the same way?"

"Oh, Ira." My hand closes around her, fingers searching for the zipper. She shudders beneath me, nearly breathless, and I resist the urge to kiss her before I finish my spiel. "I wanted you from the first moment we met all those years ago. Remember? It was me who seduced you. I only made it seem like your idea."

"Is that what happened?" Hair twists around her fingers as she caresses me. "When I danced with you that night, all I could think about was kissing you. All right, and fucking you, but I was seventeen. I couldn't stop thinking about fucking even if I wanted to."

"And it's different now?"

Ira ignores that. "I'm sorry things ended up the way they did. If they had gone better…"

"If we had managed to have sex, things wouldn't have changed much. I wanted to hook up with you, Ira, not date you. Besides…" Why, hello there, Avalon. You think I don't know exactly how to rub those ridges against her mound by now? Ha! I could teach a class on how to pleasure Ira Mathison. "I don't think we would have been a good couple back then. We both needed to grow and mature before we could handle one another."

"Isn't that the truth…"

I kiss her cheek, reveling in her cologne. "Relax and let me take care of you, Mistress."

Earlier I mentioned that I've never had sex of any kind in public. That remains true… until this moment. Those hundreds of eyes are burning into my back as I move to the floor, my knees digging into a patch of carpet placed beneath this couch, my head bowing between Ira's legs. She fantasized about me being Stephanie all those weeks ago? She has no fucking clue what the difference would be.

At first, my eyes are closed, blocking out the voices and stares around me as I pleasure the one I've come to love and want to serve once in a while. My tongue goes on a journey as my hand grabs her by the thigh, steadying her, bringing her closer to me as my ass rises into the air and my hair spills over Ira's leg.

She strokes the top of my head, groaning, certainly thinking of Stephanie for a split second and comparing me to her. I know I win, hands down, no contest, and I am such an awesome girlfriend.

How many people are watching? I don't care. They could be getting off, or they could be so confused that I, of all people, am doing this. Shit, maybe this corner of the club is so dark they can't even see. Almost seems like a waste.

Then I open my eyes. I drink in what I can see of the club. To my right is a wall, but to my left I catch a glimpse of a few nosy busybodies watching intently, their tight smiles showing how much they love my show. The fact I don't know these people makes it hotter. Safer. They probably know who I am, but what does it matter when all I want to do is devour my lover?

She lets me take control of this moment. Ira does tug on my hair, however. I will know who my King is. I will know that she's the one in charge around here.

I will know that I am hers.

"Look at how she worships me," I can practically hear her say. "Does it matter if she dominates other people? For me, she gets on her knees and enjoys the other side for a change. There's no shame. Leave her alone. If you come for her character or try to imply she's less than you thought before, I will destroy you."

Thank you, Ira.

I wonder if this is going anywhere. Or is she going to keep sitting there, petting my hair and drinking? To my mild horror, she summons a hostess and asks for a refill. "Make hers a double. She's going to need it." For fuck's sake, that's the last thing I hear before the hostess walks away.

Okay, so that hostess probably sees fifty bouts of oral sex a night and doesn't even register me going down on my Domme. But holy shit! That was an intense moment.

I want more. The thrill that gave me wasn't embarrassing at all. Dare I say… I like having people watch me pleasure her?

Suddenly, pain.

"Mmf!" My scalp burns as Ira pulls my hair.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" How can she be so composed? Doesn't she know she's about five minutes away from coming on the other end of those ridges? I can tell by now. "You enjoy having everyone in this club watch you and think you're a dirty, promiscuous…"

She doesn't have to finish. I know damn well what she's trying to say. I don't disagree.

"Tell you what, Katie. If you can make me come in under another minute, I'll do that thing we discussed – with fervor."

That thing, huh? You don't know what the thing is yet, but let me tell you, it means the world to me.

So if Ira makes a promise like that, by God, I am going to send her to the moon.

Everyone in this club! Watch how you bring a Domme to their knees! Or at least make them throw their head back on a couch and grunt so hard that their voice coats your body like a second skin.

I mean, I like to think that a lot of the people in this club could learn a thing or two from watching me. I've been rewarding submissives for years. It may be a completely different headspace going from, "Good job on doing what I told you to do, here's some oral," to, "Yes, Mistress, anything you want, Mistress," but I am somehow making it work.

For her, anyway.

"Holy shit." Ira is doing her damnedest to remain composed as I increase speed and pressure, but I can feel her thighs tense and her hold on me deepen. Heat floods her skin. I'm about to make this cool and controlled Domme lose control in front of the whole club. Damn, there's a lot of power in that.

I hope she can feel how much I want her to do it. I hope she knows how much glee I am feeling. I almost forget about the people surely watching us. I don't even care if some Domme like Dawn Lovett starts spreading the word that I'm a lost cause. Fuck her. I'm pleasing my fucking dominant over here.

I look up and catch Ira's gaze. I may be submissive right now, but I don't want to look it. So my eyes are narrow, powerful, saying, "Do what you want, Mistress, but know that I am in full control of your pleasure." Of course, a look like that makes someone like her punish me for my insubordination.

Bring it on, Mathison.

How much time do I have left? Thirty seconds? Twenty? Now would be a good time for the Ira I first met to come back and lose herself sooner than she planned. But no, since she embarrassed herself twelve years ago, she's learned so much about her body that not even her raging arousal for me can make her succumb to coming in five seconds.

"You want it, do you?" Her voice is huskier than usual, and I can barely hear it over the music and the conversations of the club. "You want me to come? Right here? Would that make you feel proud?"

I narrow my eyes even more. Yes, asshole. Come in front of all these people.

She does.

Her whole body shakes, and here I am, still working her in an attempt to make her climax harder. I want to see her combust on this couch.

Too bad she's too controlled for that shit. I'm the only one who can smell her feminine scent, taste her sweat, and feel the shivers rocking her body. As I take every thrust of her hips in stride, I imagine the other Dommes wishing they had a sub like me and the other subs wishing they had even half my talent.

Most of all, I imagine Ira rewarding me so well that I completely forget I'm in this club making my naughty debut as a submissive.

The hostess returns with our drinks. She tries to keep a straight face, but I can tell that the sight of Ira's prosthetic and the look on my face is making her eyes glaze over. From a woman who has worked here for as long as I've been visiting? That's an amazing compliment.

At least Ira waits until she leaves again to push my errant hair behind my ears and speak. "You are too beautiful, whether you're down there or up here."

"Like that? I've got more tricks up my sleeve. I know every ridge of that thing, and you."

That gets me a cheeky grin. "Come here and let me kiss you."

I'm hoisted back into her lap as Ira kisses my throat and rubs my breasts. The alcohol in my drink isn't enough to completely wash away the taste of my Domme's body, and for that… well, I'm grateful.

Ira glances at her watch. "You about ready to make your official debut, my sweet?"

The empty stage calls to us. "If that is your wish, Mistress."

She tugs on my collar. "My wish is to make you happy and love on you for the rest of my life." Ira grins. "And to make sure this whole club knows who you belong to."

If they don't know by now, I'm not sure we can help them.

Ira looks down into her lap. "Perhaps it would be best to wait a few minutes," she says.

Yeah, we don't have that kind of show planned. She probably went ahead and got this out of her system to get any potential frustration out of the way.

Just as someone approaches us, I get a text from Eve. "Ew. I need bleach for my brain. Thanks for the lovely image."

"No problem," I text back. "Maybe you learned something?"

"Ewwwwww I stopped watching once I realized what you're doing. Girl, that's Ira Mathison. Go brush your teeth."

I turn off my phone, glancing up and catching the stupidest grin in the universe on my best friend's face as her friend crawls all over her.

"Guess I'll have to take some notes from you in the future, Allen."

I dump my phone in my clutch and look up at Lara Anderssen, still making the rounds. Ira puts her arm around me, not that I need any protection from this woman.

"Glad you could learn something," I say, feeling Ira squeeze my knee. In what? Warning? Honey, I don't care if you're the most masterful Domme in the universe, you can't stop me from defending myself. Noble of you to try to intervene on my behalf, however.

Lara's mouth twitches, and I can't tell if she's about to start laughing or snorting in derision. "So would now be an awkward time to mention the news I heard on the grapevine? I heard the council was about to support your little museum project."

"Who did you hear that from?" Ira asks.

"My friend Colleen from the council. She and a few others have been to The Ace since the reopening and, protestors aside, are impressed." Lara looks at me. "Good for you." Finally, she lets a smile cross her wrinkle-free face. "Looks like all sorts of good things are happening for you recently. I'm kind of jealous."

I see the way she eyes Ira, and in her euphoria, she's reveling in it. I slap one arm across her chest and let a flicker of Kathleen the Domme overcome my demeanor. "They're mine, Anderssen. And I'm not in the mood to share."

Ira chuckles. "You heard the woman. Maybe next time."

Fat chance, buddy. If I'm having a fun time with another couple, it is not going to be the Anderssens. How about some standards?

"Touché. Well, if you two are going to run around this club fucking in front of everyone, at least make sure it's as hot as what happened there."

"Oh, didn't you hear?" Ira says. "Kathleen and I are due on stage for her grand debut as the prettiest submissive in this desolate wasteland they call sin."

The look Lara gives me is practically predatory.

"Looking forward to it." That's the last thing she says before waving her fingers at us and stepping away. I am neither flummoxed nor inspired, so I guess that's good.

"Ready?" Ira kisses my forehead. Now that inspires me. "It's about time this club knows who you really are."

Who I really am.

I was afraid of my real identity a few weeks ago. Back when I went to Ira and told her I wanted to explore my submissive side. I didn't think I could handle it. I thought I would die, spiritually and emotionally. Now? It's nothing. When I think of submitting, I think only of Ira, the one taking me by the hand to help me off the couch before latching onto my leash and bringing me forward.

As long as it's her, I can do anything my heart and body desire.

People part as we walk through the club, Ira holding my leash over her shoulder with that look of, "See what I have and you don't?" all over her face. It shouldn't endear me to her as much as it does. This crazed possessiveness once frightened me. Who was she to say that I was hers? Now I realize it's not about controlling my life or stripping me of my agency. Ira isn't that kind of person.

No, what she offers me as my Domme is something I'm about to share with the world.

Ira signals to the same hostess from earlier that we would like to begin. She nods, finishes her current job, and hops on the stage while we wait in the wings.

The nerves settle in again. Ira takes my wrist as the lights go down and the stage is lit up in an array of purples, blues, and hints of red.

"God save us," I mutter.

She sucks in her breath. "Yes, we need all the holy intervention we can get."

Don't I know it.