Chapter 79

Kathleen

We forego any formal introduction. Not that people usually do introductions around here. Typically, they hop on the stage and get to it, but for debuts, the club likes to do a bit of a talk so everyone knows what's going on.

Ahahaha. As if people don't know what's going on tonight.

Ira stands tall, unwavering on the stage as she yanks on my leash. I take the first step, feeling every eye in the room move in my direction. Some of them think I'm hot. Some of them think I'm crazy. All of them think this is the most exciting thing to happen all night.

My knees shake in my boots. I hope nobody can tell.

The only sounds I hear are the beating of my heart and the jingle of my leash and jewelry. The audience is reverently silent. Thankfully, the lights keep me from seeing any faces beyond those closest to us, and I don't know who most of those people are.

"Kneel." Ira pushes my shoulders, forcing me to my knees at the edge of the stage. My hands clasp the wood beneath me. Suddenly I feel very small. Not in a bad way, but…

Vulnerable. I've never been vulnerable in front of so many people before.

"Most of you know this woman." Ira's voice is loud, carrying throughout the club known for its fantastic acoustics if you're standing on stage. No doubt that even the people sitting in the back of the second story can hear her with that booming voice. "She's got quite the reputation in this club, doesn't she?"

A few whistles and claps make their way to my ears. I remain still, staring at the floor. My ponytail hangs limply on my shoulder.

"Everyone here knows Kathleen Allen for being the biggest Domme around." Ira removes her jacket. She's worn one of my favorite shirts, the pink silk one that she leaves unbuttoned on top. As she rolls up her cuffs and looks down at me, I feel that wash of lust take me over. Why isn't she kissing me? Why aren't her hands all over me? Why, for the love that is good and pure, isn't she fucking me?

Oh, right, we're in public.

"Dommes get a hard break around here, don't they ladies?"

More cheers.

"You lovely pioneers of ass-kicking have a lot weighing on your shoulders. You always have to be on. We expect such weird things from you, no matter how many times you tell us you're not interested." My Domme strokes the top of my head, weaving her fingers into my hair. "So it's only natural that we wonder what it's like to dominate such beautiful women in turn."

She yanks my ponytail so hard that I'm instantly looking up into the lights, a cry of pain tearing through my body.

The room is silent.

"When Kathleen came to me, I knew what she wanted. What she needed." Even though my scalp burns, Ira soothes me when her other hand cups beneath my chin. My head rests against her. "Of course I was flattered that she wanted to submit to me. We hooked up a few times before that, but you all know how it is… two personalities like ours clashing together isn't always the smartest idea. So imagine my surprise when Kathleen Allen showed up at my door and said she would hang up her whip if it meant sexual salvation."

Inside my chest, my heart beats furiously. I'm aching in lust for her. I'm burning in apprehension for myself. Although I can't see the reactions out in the crowd, I know they're wondering how much truth there is to Ira's tale. It's not that far off, is it?

She needs to keep going, though. Don't leave the story hanging where it makes me look desperate and noncommittal, Ira.

"I've been a dominant for many years," Ira continues. She eases her grip and pinches my ear. "I've seen all sorts of reasons women turn to submitting. Some love the sexual thrill. Others want to explore a darker side to their sexuality. Then there are women like Kathleen."

She squeezes my shoulders, both hands encircling my throat, gently, but the pressure is so great that I'm convinced I need to struggle to breathe.

"Kathleen came to me because she needed release."

Ira does not elaborate. Yet her tender touch sends waves of understanding through my body. Yes, Ira. I came to you for the release I craved for so long but didn't know how to pursue. I sank deeper into the comfort of dominating without even considering how liberating it could be on the other side. Not until you showed me how life-changing it could be did I change.

It helps that I also love you so much.

"Don't look at this woman and assume she's confused or misunderstood. Don't judge her for her previous actions and those of today. I am humbled and honored that she has chosen to serve me. It will be my life's goal to make sure she is taken care of and properly treated as a sub should be, but don't think this makes her a submissive woman. I'm afraid the next time you see her in the boardroom she'll still be slamming her boot into your balls."

I think I hear laughter.

"The woman you see before you debuts tonight as a sub… my sub. No other will have her the way I do, but we can give you a taste of what it means to be us. A part of my Katie's journey on the path to pure release is confessing everything that makes her… well…"

Ira steps away, leaving me alone at the front of the stage. When I feel her near me again, it's to have my arms spread above my head and attached to two elastic binds hanging from the ceiling. The tension in my shoulders instantly pleasures me.

Or is it the sensation of not being able to escape?

"Tell them, Kathleen. Tell them why you're here tonight."

My words are lost. I know what words I want to say, but getting my mouth, my tongue, and my lips to cooperate is like trying to wake up when the rain falls outside and the one you love is wrapped tight around you. The kind of mornings I want to experience every day for the rest of my life.

"I'm here because I need to be freed."

I don't expect to cry. Yet one hot tear makes its way down my cheek, and I'm blinded by the lights shining above me. Ira pats my head and touches the top of my spine.

"How does binding you like this free you, darling? Seems like it would do the opposite."

I'm too hung up on her calling me "darling" in front of these people. When her words sink in, I respond, "They keep me in place, so I don't have to worry about going anywhere."

"Why's that?"

I know that this is therapy when we're alone, but confessing my real feelings in front of an audience is otherworldly. It's like I'm preaching to the choir for half of them, while the others are leaning in intently, waiting to hear my eternal truths.

"People always want something from me. They want me to drop everything I'm doing to come fix their problems. I don't have a choice most of the time. What am I supposed to do? I can't not go. But when I'm tied up, I don't have to go anywhere. Because I can't. All I need to do is sit still and finally rest."

Something stiff touches my back. It's a crop.

There are two layers of clothes between my skin and that crop, and even though I know Ira would never strike me there, I still tremble. Having that implement of therapy touch me is enough to make me moan. I don't, however. Not in front of these people.

"You're under a lot of stress, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Tell us."

I take in a deep breath. "Under a lot of stress" is something nearly everyone in this building can say. We're rich. Some are powerful. You may think that's a ticket to happiness, and while it affords us many freedoms, it does not protect us from anxiety and stress. Last year a patriarch jumped from his fiftieth-floor window because a deal fell through. It didn't bankrupt him. Financially, he was still fine, but I knew his daughter, and she said that her father often felt unworthy because he wasn't perfect. Perfectionism runs rampant with people I know. I don't want to be like that when I get older.

"My parents wanted a boy…" Why I decided to start here with my confession, I have no idea. I suppose it's the root of everything, isn't it? "When they only got me, it was a blessing and a curse. I love being a woman, but even as I am, the disadvantages are too much. People don't take me seriously. I'm only as good as my ability to dominate others, both in and out of the bedroom. I will always be compared to men, and I will always lose."

Ira hesitates, and I sense that my own words have taken her back. Is she thinking about her relationship with her assigned gender? How she fought against it, seemingly triumphed, and came out the other side a more confident version of myself? You're the envy of half the women in this room, Ira. They wish they could be as comfortable in your body as you are, now that you've found your way.

The crop curls around my ear and strokes my cheek. "You forced yourself to be strong, even when you wanted to be vulnerable." It's as much a statement as it is her confession.

"Yes. I missed out on a lot of opportunities to explore that side of myself."

I can practically hear the arrogance in her haughty voice. "What made you decide to explore the role of a submissive, Kathleen?"

Yeah, I bet you'd love this public ego stroke, Ira. "Someone put the idea in my head a while ago. It made sense. So I started my journey, and here I am."

"Yes, here you are." The crop taps my cheek. "Making up for all that lost time. With me."

Inch by mind-numbing inch, the crop makes its way down my chest, touching my stomach, my thigh, and around my ass. Tension multiplies in the audience. They want her to strike me. That's why they're here, after all.

In truth, I want her to smack me with the crop too.

Not here. Not like this. This isn't the time for that. Yet.

"Say it in front of all these people, Kathleen. Free your emotions once and for all. Tell us what you've been hiding in your heart even from your closest confidants."

I bite my lip as it begins to tremble. Let go of my emotions? Let them run free from my mouth? Course over my tongue and spill for all to see? Bare my heart and leave it exposed to the elements? In front of this neck-biting crowd?

"I feel guilty because I wasn't born a boy."

Another hesitation. "And?"

"I feel like it's my fault my mother had a breakdown and moved. I should have tried harder in school so I could prove to my father that I was worthy to take over the company one day. And I… even though I love to Top, I still feel guilty that I am here doing this, because now everyone is going to look at me differently. Treat me differently! Aren't you? Aren't you all?"

Even Ira is silent. I doubt she thought I would dive into that.

The audience wasn't expecting it either. The few people I see are transfixed on me, eyes clouding in thought and consideration. Did they even know they would judge me? I bet not. I bet they were going to laugh and move on with their lives. I don't care. Deep in their minds, they would judge me. How do I know this?

Because I would have judged me.

"Face it. The only way a woman is taken seriously around here is if she's constantly busting ass and balls alike. The moment we decide to serve for a change, to let go of everything we're hauling around, we're seen as weak. Do we treat men the same way? Do we look at male subs and assume that they can't hold their own out in the real world? I would ask you to think about the number of female subs you know who run businesses, volunteer, teach, and take over the fucking world every damned day."

"All right, Katie…"

"No!" I shake in my binds, more tears falling down my face as Ira gives me a warning tap on the ass with the crop. "I'm not done!" Before she can interrupt me, I talk over her. "I'm not any less because I switch now. I'll always be a Domme. But even if I made a complete turn from Domme to sub, I would still be strong and capable. So don't think that because I'm up here like this I'm not worthy of your respect. I didn't plan on this. I didn't know this was inside me until recently. And…" I swallow, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. "I never planned on falling in love with a fellow Domme."

One of the women sitting up front clasps her hand over her mouth. She looks like she's going to have a super hormonal cry, but the man she's with rubs her back until she puts her hand down, lips wibbling, but eyes dry.

My binds come undone, making me fall forward and brace myself on my palms. Ira hooks her hands beneath my shoulders and lifts me up. The leash around my neck pulls at me, and I'm led to the other side of the stage, my jacket pulled off my body until I stand in nothing but my corset and boots.

Ira is rougher than I expected. She forces me over a leather bench, my wrists bound to a handle and my feet latched into a spreader. She doesn't say anything. Nobody says anything. More than once the crop taps my ass as it sticks out in the air behind me. More warning shots.

I've been a bad girl. Tonight, I've interrupted my Domme countless times. It's like my training didn't even matter.

Ira, however, looks those things over unless she's in a mood. She said that she finds my insolence hot to a point. Except now we're in public. We're on a stage with everyone watching. The attention is off my switching and how Ira Mathison can't keep their sub under control.

"Sorry, but you know I have to," she whispers into my ear. This is right before her hand lands on my ass, sending pain as bright as the day through my body.

I yelp.

"I thought I had trained you better, my love." Ira says this louder, for the audience to hear. "If I thought you would behave like this, I would have kept you at home." Another spank. "These nice people are watching and hoping to see an obedient sub. Now, are you going to play by my rules, or do I have to keep punishing you until you can't continue?"

Blood covers my taste buds. I'm biting my lip too hard. "I'll obey!" This cry is almost wiped out by the pain I feel. And this is from her hand… with a corset covering my ass!

"That's what we like to hear." The crop delicately touches me in place of Ira's hand.

I'm not soothed. I know that as soon as she gets going with that thing, the pain will be even more intense than the flat of her hand.

"Since you're being so obedient…" Ira takes a step back with the crop. "I think it's time we all finally freed you."

"We all," she says.

"What do you say?' The crop whizzes through the air as Ira opens her arms to the audience. "Will you support this woman feeling the same fucking shit you assholes all feel?"

I don't hear anything at first. Then, as if a wave passes through everyone, there is muted applause and a few cheers of support. These types of people aren't going to get too involved. They prefer to sit and quietly watch shows, not join in… so to hear as much as I have means a lot. I wonder if any of my fellow Dommes are included.

It doesn't matter. Because Ira is with me, and by channeling the energy of the audience, she's going to free me.

Possess me.

Take me.

Even though we planned this… even though we went over it countless times in the days leading up to this night, I'm still startled when the crop hits my ass and sends shock through my skin. I'm numb. I'm weary. My inexperienced body is already losing purchase as I fight for God knows what.

Every strike represents one of my insecurities being purged from my body. This I know. This I gladly accept with famished cries that echo in the room.

"What's the first thing you want eradicated?" Ira pulls my ponytail, forcing me to look into the lights. "What are we freeing you from?"

"My guilt," I say, exasperated. My ass must be beet red beneath my corset.

"Be more specific. You need to think of concrete ideas for this to work."

I struggle to find the words. "That I'm not good enough to run my family's business."

Crack! My ass is on fire!

It works. That toxic thought I had is blasted from my brain. I can practically see it spill from my ear, snivel on the floor, and then disappear over the side of the stage. My mind is liberated from that crippling fear of disappointing my family.

"What else?"

My fingers are curled into the bench, turning red, then white. "That I'm not womanly enough. Maybe I don't want kids. Maybe I don't even want to get married someday. Is it so bad to want to live alone from time to time?"

Crack!

Shit! I feel that one! What, Ira, did I strike a nerve with talk of marriage? Or was it the kids? I remember how much your mother wouldn't shut the hell up about grandbabies. You're an only child, right? Well, so am I. Suck it up. We can ruin our family lines together, the Bonnie and Clyde of genealogy, the Paul Bunyan and Babe the Big Blue Ox of family trees… well, shit, that's nowhere near as sexy, but you get my point, Ira. You get my fucking point.

"What else, Katie?"

Once my legs stop shaking from the last impact, I say, "I feel guilty about turning into a switch. What if the other Dommes don't want to work with me anymore? What if I'm turning traitor? I don't want to lose my friends and acquaintances because I'm finally embracing who I am. I can be a Domme and your sub."

Crack!

I think I've got the point now.

My ass is raw beneath my corset. Ira balances the crop on my back and steps away, turning to the audience. She slowly unbuttons her shirt.

I contain a new cry. She's going to do it. Fulfill her promise.

"I have a confession to make too," Ira says, letting her shirt hang open. She's not binding. It wouldn't work with our plan, just like one of her sports bras would be counterintuitive. So there she is, breasts bare to a world that hardly knew she had any. "I've been selfish. A real asshole, depending on who you ask." She glances in the direction of Eve's table. "From the beginning, I've asked Katie to do nothing but give to me, and I've done nothing but take from her. I took from her until she barely knew who she was anymore. For that, I am sorry. But, you see, I had some things to figure out about myself as well. For one, I had to ask myself how far I was willing to compromise with a fellow Domme. Was it love, or was it me acting like a proud fool for doing what it's done to her?"

My body is shaking again, but it's not from subsiding pain. It's anticipation.

When Ira takes off her shirt and tosses it aside, I'm grinning.

There, on her bare back, is what I left on her with a long-lasting marker. It's not subtle. I practically graffitied her skin with the intent of showing the world…

…That she belongs to me.

That I've marked her.

There are some murmurs loud enough for me to hear. I don't know what they're saying. I don't know their tone. All I know is that Ira Mathison is gorgeous with my initials emblazoned on her back, the same mark I've left on others before. They all know what it means.

I've Topped her. Maybe only once. Maybe every night. They don't know. It doesn't matter. Ira did this for me. It may not have been what she craved for deep inside, but she did it for me. She gave back. She explored that side of herself with me. She asked for it. She played along. She proved that she was listening and would do anything to have me.

If that's not love, then what the hell is!

Ira snatches the crop off my back and stands behind me. "Who wouldn't want to worship this goddess? What prince wouldn't sit at the feet of this Queen? She may bend before me today, but Kathleen Allen has not forgotten her other self. That's how much I love her."

Tears hit my chin. I can't believe this is happening.

"I love you too," I say. "I love you so much it makes me feel guilty and ashamed, because how can I love another Domme?"

Crack!

Fuck. Me.

"I've asked myself the same question," Ira says, breathless. "How could I fall in love with you?"

This time when the crop hits my ass, I feel the frustration in both of us.

Somebody save us.

"None of that matters now." The crop lands on the floor beside my feet. Ira unties me from the bench, stands me up, and turns me toward the audience. I feel like a meat shield. "Because at the end of the day, you're still my sub, and you belong to me."

I sink to my knees. Ira holds my arms up. My ass is so sore I can barely lean on it.

"Do you hear that?" Ira's voice is so loud that it shakes me to my core. Or maybe I'm hyper-sensitive to everything going on now. "It doesn't matter what you think of us. Because we only need each other."

Her hands cover my chest, my throat, the bottom of my face. No matter what, I'm touched by Ira, the one who has declared her love for me and her intent to possess every part of my being.

Yeah, I think I could keep her for a while. The rest of my life, sure.

"This woman is mine. I'll spend however long it takes to free her from the guilt and shame she feels deep inside. In turn, I'm sure she'll purge me of my insecurities too."

The audience is silent.

"What do you think, Katie? Are you up for the challenge?"

Somehow, through the pain and the burning agony of my guilt, I say, "I thought you would never ask… Mistress."

She pulls me up, my arms looping around her neck as she bends me down and kisses me, hard. Here we are, two fucked up people trying to make the best of our personalities and situation. We know it will be hard. We know there will be moments where our attitudes clash and we'll need to cool off for a while. I'll feel insecure and she'll overcompensate. But, you know, there is no such thing as the perfect couple. I think we're pretty darn close, though.

So does the audience, who politely applauds.

As my leg brushes against Ira's, she lifts me off the ground and hauls me off the stage. I may have my initials emblazoned in bigass letters on her back, but right now I solely belong to her and rely on whatever comfort she can give me.

You know, like crazy intense sex.

Ira doesn't wait to get us a room. This is the person who didn't bother to pick up our clothes we dropped on the stage. Nope. She's taking me to an empty hallway near the restrooms, where I'm shoved against the wall, my legs spreading around her waist, and the prosthetic driving into me once the crotch of my corset is opened.

We've come full circle. From the closet of the gala twelve years ago, to that corner in her family's office building, Ira and I have the kind of sex we're best accustomed to. Her, taking me against the wall, and me, encouraging her to worship every part of my body.

You know that cliché about how two people seem physically made for each other? Well, I won't give you any lines about how she fucks me so perfectly that it's like she was blessed with that damned talent. I won't tell you that the way she thrusts, holds me, and plants her lips on mine is the exact way I love and need. I won't even tell you that hearing and seeing her become so consumed with me is like ascending the stratosphere and marching my way to heaven.

I won't tell you these things because they are cliché and trite. That, and I don't really believe that two people are "made" for each other. I believe that we find each other through happy accidents. Like the happy accident that made me born the privileged daughter of a multi-millionaire, now a billionaire. Or the happy accident that was Ira's mother inviting me to work on a project with her daughter, someone I've fancied for a long time but never thought to pursue.

Thank God she held my hand that night.

"Ira!" My sore ass is slammed against this wall but shit I don't care. I'm wet, I'm ready, and for the love of everything quaking inside me, I need her to finish every job she started twelve years ago. For fuck's sake, I let her fuck my ass!

Her tongue meanders from my mouth to my throat. Her thrusts are slow, yet she's still merciless, pounding me as my nails sink deep into her bare skin. I'm about to scream.

Instead, I let out three consecutive wails of tortured pleasure. My core clenches around the Avalon, and I swear to fucking Aphrodite or whatever bitch is in charge of this shit that I'm not letting go until she gives me release.

I'm not disappointed.

Hey, maybe it's me. As in maybe it's me being so irresistible that this person, who has declared their love for me very publicly, comes the hardest I've ever heard her. Not just her voice, either. I'm drenched by her sweat, my body opening more to take what she's giving me. If I purged myself out there with a crop, then she's here purging herself with my pussy. Can't say I find that unfair.

Quite the opposite. It's so seriously hot that after a second I'm screaming, my head smacking against the wall as I hold onto her shoulders for dear life. I'm convinced I'm going to fall to the floor, even though the one who was stupid enough to fall in love with me has me held fast against the wall for the sole purpose of fucking me senseless in the only way she knows how.

The last thing I taste is her tongue on mine. The last thing I hear is her languished groan as she finally comes down from her orgasmic high.

"Fuck it all," Ira groans, slamming her hand against the wall as her head falls against my shoulder. "I'm in chaos."

"Aw, my poor baby." Even though I'm sore, even though I'm exhausted, I get back on my knees and lift the prosthetic as far as it can go, giving me just enough access to her wet mound beneath. She tastes like sweat and sex. I love it.

Ira grunts from the overstimulation so soon after a hard orgasm. I'm gentle, avoiding her most sensitive areas. She stiffens a little, but not enough for me to think she wants to have sex again. That's more than fine. As her sub, I'm more than happy to serve her like this without expecting any reciprocation.

Hey, I mostly do it out of love.

"Come here." She yanks me up, kissing me, unashamed of tasting herself all over my mouth. Our lower halves may be too tired to continue, but our upper halves are more than eager to make love… regardless of how rough or ridiculous it may be. "Did you mean what you said about feeling guilty about being a woman?"

I can't believe she's bringing this up now, but I go with it. "You know what I mean…"

"Yeah, but if you weren't a woman, we would have never found each other. So don't feel ashamed about that, Katie. You being a woman is one of the best things about you."

"And what about you?"

Something darkens her face in this half-lit hallway. "What do you think, huh? Is it one of the best things about me?"

"Only if you want it to be."

"Nah. I want to hear you say it."

I kiss her again. This time, I'm the one mauling her lips and scratching her bare skin. "I love you just the way you are," I say between kisses. "Let's just fuck gender and get out of here."

It's not until I see someone out of the corner of my eye that I pull away from Ira and smile at our voyeur. "Like what you saw?" I ask Eve's date, who is much more petite now that she's not on the second floor. She looks to have come from the women's room, and I don't doubt she decided to stop and watch the show. "Tell your date all about it. For me."

The young woman raises an eyebrow before scooting off.

"And tell her to fuck you half as good tonight!"

"Now, now," Ira gently reprimands, pushing me against the wall again. "No need to be so intense… with anyone other than me."

"I'll be intense with whomever I please, Mistress." The closer I feel to her, the more I want to test her patience. Especially in private.

"I'll hold you that, my darling."

She kisses me. The rest of the night is a dream I hope to never wake up from.