"She's not going to go through with this, you know that." Simon eased into the booth on the opposite side of the table. "I know you've got your heart set on showing her who she truly is, but she's going to back out before you have a chance to break through the walls. I'm betting she won't even walk into your house. She's just not the type."
Mark looked up from his drink and frowned at his old friend. "Yeah, I've been a little concerned about that as well but I'm not going to give up hope until she blows me off. You don't understand the attraction of the challenge she presents." She'd do it. He'd find a way to persuade her and then, once she was at his feet, she'd finally understand where she belonged.
All he had to do was get her into his home for that first time.
Linda Sasson, head of not only the department where Mark worked, but overall owner of the small company, was a challenge that he couldn't ignore. Every time she walked into a room Mark fought the urge to walk over to her, tangle his fingers in her hair, and pull her to her knees. She was the last person most would see as submissive, but he saw it in her. A need to let go with the right person. And he was the man who would tempt her to step into the darkness, the one who would lead the way and turn her into the pleading, whimpering, sexual woman he saw every time she looked his way.
He'd find a way to bring out those desires one way or another even if it cost him his sanity.
"She wouldn't be seen dead in a place like this," Simon nodded toward the scene on the stage. "Though the shock would do her the world of good. Might teach her that there's more to life than work." His friend snorted and shook his head. "Who am I kidding? She'd ignore what was happening, open up her laptop, and go right back to work. I swear, there isn't a sensual bone in her body."
The stage was a well-known focal point in the club. More than once Mark had been the dominant in charge of the major scene that served as the entertainment for those in the club but ever since he'd realized his interest in Linda was more than a passing fancy, he'd stepped away from the public scenes. Still, the stage was a well-lit space, designed to make any scene easily viewed by those in the club.
"No, she wouldn't come here, at least not yet." If things went the way he planned then one day he'd be the one on the stage with Linda kneeling at his feet.
A day that couldn't come soon enough for his liking.
His focus shifted, fully, to the show on the stage. The dominant was an older man, in his sixties perhaps, though it was hard to tell with the stage lighting. At his feet was a sweetly curved dark haired woman who couldn't have been more than twenty-one. Yet she looked up at the older man with a devotion that was impossible to mistake.
One that had been missing in Mark's life for far too long.
At a snap of his fingers the woman rocked to her feet, turned and positioned herself with a delicate grace, over the padded spanking bench. A finger width of material protected her nether lips from being exposed to everyone watching the show. But her naked breasts depended on the other side of the bench, easily seen from where Mark and Simon sat.
For a moment Mark permitted his gaze to linger on the woman's breasts before he returned his focus to the man on the stage.
The dominant lifted a thin rattan cane from the table where he'd, obviously sometime before, laid out the implements he would use tonight. He held the cane up in the light, giving those who were watching the chance to get a good look at the long, flexible piece of rattan with a dipped red handle. He bent the cane once and then let go of one end, letting the cane spring back into shape.
Only then did he move to position himself so he could strike clearly. The snap of the cane as it struck her offered buttocks followed by the gasp of shock and pain from the young woman, echoed through the hall and Mark smiled. The man knew exactly what he was doing.
"One day I'll be able to show her off here." Mark murmured over the rim of his glass.
"Living in a dream world, my man. But hey, your life to waste. Me, I've got my own plans. See that cute blonde watching the stage. The one in the red?"
Mark nodded, though he barely glanced at the girl. "What about her?"
"She's wearing a white collar."
"And?" The white collar was the house mark for unowned but submissive. He glanced at her again to confirm he'd looked at the right woman. Yes, there was the thin white house collar proclaimed her status for all to see.
"She's looking for a quad flogging scene. Up for it?" Simon flashed a grin and waved at the woman who shyly waved back at him. Only then did he turn his attention back to Mark.
"I don't know..."
"You owe me one, remember? Don't let me down with this, man. You're the only one I can trust with something like this." Simon all but pleaded, his gaze flicking back and forth from the woman to Mark and back again.
Mark chuckled and leaned back in the booth. They'd been friends for a long time but if Simon was to be believed he always owed his friend something. Still, the idea of letting off some steam and introducing the submissive to the sensation of four floggers hitting her willing body, appealed to him. "And how do you know that she's actually interested?"
"I asked her before I came over here. I've had my eye on her for a few weeks now." Simon admitted sheepishly. "She's not very experienced but she's eager and willing to learn. She's got this thing for floggers but -- well, quad flogging is a whole new level for her."
"Yes, it would be." There weren't many dominants who could work as a team on a submissive, each using two floggers, able to time the blows so that no more than one flogger landed at any one time.
Now the pieces fell into place. It wasn't like Simon to ignore a woman he was interested in unless there was a damn good reason. And at least he know knew that the woman wasn't completely new to the club. She'd know the rules, which would prevent a few potential problems and perhaps it would keep Simon from interfering if all went well with Mark's own plans in the coming days.
"Well, are you in?"
Mark laughed, downed his drink and set the empty glass on the table letting his gaze move over the woman one last time before he answered. "You can't do it without me, and who am I to spoil an eager young submissive's dreams?" He eased his way out of the booth. "Where do you want to do this?"
"The silver play room, I thought it best that we had a little privacy for this. She's a little nervous about the idea of everyone watching."
And perhaps she had every reason to be.
"Good idea. I'll need to get my bag. Go tell the girl it's on, and make sure she has a safe word picked out. I'm not playing without that in place." Hopefully the newbie would at least understand the need for such a word. There was always that risk, when indulging in a scene with a newcomer that they hadn't understood why such things were needed. But Mark wouldn't do this without one. Not with this girl, or with Linda if she turned up tomorrow.
"Yeah, she has one."
Mark nodded and walked away from the booth, stopping only long enough to watch the man on the stage and his use of the cane. Not every strike fell with a harsh crack, instead he tapped the cane in small, rapid movements that vibrated over the girl's quivering buttocks.
She arched and moaned, her hips rolling with the fast tempo set by the cane. Even from here Mark could see how aroused the woman was and had little doubt that the small piece of cloth between her thighs was now soaked with her desire.
The man glanced over his shoulder and smiled, a dark tint to his eyes. Before it happened Mark knew what the man was about to do.
A loud crack split the air. A cry of pain, pleasure, of the need for more, followed from the woman. Her hips rolled, her bottom lifted for the next stroke but the man shook his head and returned to the rapid tapping of the cane.
"Masterful," he sighed and grabbed the bag. That was a technique he'd have to learn when he had the time and chance to do so. Perhaps when the night drew to a close he'd find the time to talk to the man. If not, then he'd seek out another to teach him. He wasn't one of those dominants who believed they'd already learned everything there was when it came to BDSM or anything else for that matter.
No, life would be very dull if there was nothing new to learn in the world.
Simon smiled as he spotted Mark walking over to the entrance to the silver room. The club sported several private playrooms for paying members, but they had to be requested before you could use them. That way no one could walk in on a scene without permission and potentially cause problems or distract someone at the wrong time.
Disturbing a scene could be a dangerous situation at the best of times, and something to be avoided whenever possible. As such the club, like many others, had strict rules about behavior when there was a scene-taking place, be it a public one such as the one on stage, or a private one in the playrooms. Each new member had to sign off that they had read and understood the rules. Older members were given one warning before they were placed on a one, three, six or twelve month ban, depending on the infraction.
In his time as a club member he'd known of only one lifetime ban, and the man had well and truly earned it.
"Mark, this is Irene," his friend gestured to the woman who smiled nervously at both men.
"N-nice to meet you," her voice quivered softly.
"A quad flogging hmm? You know what that is?" Mark set his bag down by the door. It was one thing for Simon to say she was interested, another to hear the details from her own lips.
"Four floggers, two dominants or tops, and one submissive, and it's just a flogging right?" Her voice was light and uncertain. Her gaze flickered from one man to the other and back again, her weight shifting from foot to foot. "It's something I've been curious about for a while."
"There's no need to be nervous. If you want to leave, you can. As for your description, that's one version if it, yes."
"Oh, that's what I was looking for. If that's not what you're going to do then -- then maybe I should rethink this." She looked from Mark to Simon and back again, a hint of fear glimmering in her eyes. "I don't want to bite off more than I can chew."
Delicious. That taste of terror called to him, summoning the darkest part of him, tugging at him until his cock thickened and pressed against his pants. Yes, this was consensual, but there was something about the fear that urged him on. He swallowed and brought himself back under control. "No, that's what we're going to do, girl. Do you have your safe word picked out?"
The woman nodded, swallowing hard. Her full breasts moved as she nodded and for a moment his attention was drawn to them.
A pity she wasn't looking for breast play. She'd be a delight to experiment on.
"And what is it?" He prompted.
"Halo." She looked up at him and then away. "Will that work?"
"Yes." Mark grinned. That was a new one to him, but it would certainly stand out as a safe word. "All right. Anything else you want to go over before we start this? Any questions, doubts, or concerns?"
"Do I strip? I mean, I've never done a private scene before. What do I do? Where do you want me? And will my safe word really stop everything?" She took a deep breath.
"Yes you strip, you can keep panties on if you really need to, but I prefer naked flesh to work on." He nodded to the St. Andrew's cross against the far wall. "Over there. We'll secure you to the frame. As for the safe word, yes, it stops everything but if you want the scene to start again that's not just up to you. We get the final say on if we're willing to continue or not. We might also stop the scene if we see something out of place, or believe you've hit sub space and you're unable to use your safe word."
Well, maybe we would. His dark side whispered from between the bars of its cage. He'd never let that beast have full reign, he'd never dared, and wasn't about to begin now.
"I understand." Irene looked at the door and then at the two men. Without another word she turned her back on them to strip.
He'd never understand women. She had to know that they'd see everything yet there it was, the false modesty that so many of them tried to pull off in the moments before they allowed themselves to be brought to a new height of pain and pleasure combined.
"She want anything else or is it just the flogging?" Mark leaned closer to Simon, keeping his voice pitched low. Better to find out ahead of time.
"She hinted she might be open for something more, but not going to believe it until she brings it up herself. Don't need trouble with the club."
"I hear you on that." Neither of them wanted to be barred from the club and certain behaviors were frowned up, such as taking advantage of a submissive in sub space.
He looked over at the woman. She'd stripped down to her bra and panties and hesitated. Mark smiled and shook his head. Was she really shy or was it something else? Hard to tell with a woman he'd only just met but then again her nervousness was all too obvious with the way she shifted her weight almost constantly.
Irene took a deep breath and stripped off her bra, setting it aside with her other clothing before she hooked her thumbs into her panties and shimmied out of them.
Perhaps she has more courage than she first thought? Or there was a good chance that this was all a part of a persona Irene used when she visited the club. Well, by the end of the flogging he'd know the truth.
"I'm ready," Irene looked back over her shoulder, her hands positioned to cover her breasts and mound.
"Okay, move to the cross, and from this point on you will address both of us as sir, is that understood?" Simon took a step toward her.
"Yes, sir." She took a step toward the cross and then stopped. "Thank you for this, sir. I wasn't sure I'd be able to do this before I found a dom of my own, sir."
"You'll find one who will work for you, my girl. Just take your time before you commit to someone," Mark advised and shot a look at Simon. He'd known the man long enough to see what he had planned. Simon wanted Irene as his. It was the only reason why he'd want to indulge the girl in this type of scene.
Simon gave a small shrug and followed Irene to the cross. In silence he bound her to the wooden frame, using the leather and metal strap and buckle set up to hold her in place. He secured her arms in place first before taking the wide belt and fixing it around her waist before he moved down to her left leg, easing his hands down the length of her leg.
A low whimper filled the air as Irene shuddered against the cross.
Had she ever been bound to one before? Mark frowned slightly, his gaze fixed on the girl, before he his head and turned his attention to his bag. If that reaction was anything to go by there was a lot more on offer than a flogging. But he wasn't going to jump the gun on this. Besides, even if the girl was hot for it, that didn't mean she'd welcome both men. For all he knew, the only one Irene was interested in, sexually, was Simon. If so, he was cool with that. He could leave the room when it reached that point.
If Irene wanted both of them? Well, he was a man, and she was a submissive. If she reacted as well as he hoped then he'd be truly aroused. Not just the hard on that pressed, currently, against the inside of his pants.
Simon walked back toward his friend. "Ready?"
Mark pulled out his matched set of red and black, heavy cowhide floggers and shook them both out. "Yes, and you?"
Simon opened the bag that had been waiting for him in the room, pulling out his own matched floggers, these a deep purple and the weight of the leather very close to those that Mark owned. Not surprising since they'd both purchased their floggers from the same leatherworker.
"Ready for this girl, or are you going to change your mind?" Simon inquired. "You can stop this at any time. No one will be angry with you."
Upset and disappointed, but not angry.
"I'm ready, sir," her voice quavered.
The two men glanced at each and, on an unspoken signal, they walked over to the bound woman on the frame. Simon stood to the left, and Mark to the right. Mark lifted his floggers and began the rhythm of blows.
Mark took the lead, first the flogger in his right hand struck, then the left, followed by the double blow by Simon before Mark struck again. With his gaze moving from Simon to Irene and back again, timing the blows carefully.
She moaned, her eyes closed as she relaxed into the blows. No cries of pain. No whimpers. Just low, sensual moans of delight. Mark smiled and added a little more force to the blows, angling them a little more so a sting mixed with the thud of the leather against her flesh. Simon followed suit.
Irene gasped, arching in delight, her breath coming in small sobs as she clenched her hands. Each new wave of blows sent a roll through her hips and the air was quickly saturated with the scent of her arousal. Over and over again the floggers struck the woman. Never stopping. No pauses. Only the rapid, deep beat of leather against flesh.
She whimpered in pleasure, moving to the beat of the flogger and the heady scent of her arousal tinged the air, undeniable and compelling. He didn't have to touch her in order to know that her pussy was ready and willing for a man's touch.
Any man's touch.
Mark focused on every blow, taking care with the placement as he worked with his old friend. He heard everything. Saw everything. His skin tightened as he worked on the girl. Even the slight breeze that came in from a crack under the door, was something he was now hyper aware of.
He was in control of his environment. Control of the leather. Control of the woman bound to the St. Andrews cross. His pulse steady, his breathing calm as he kept up the blows. This is what he lived for. The power that surged through his veins as he worked the leather against the willing living canvas that the girl offered was a drug he never wanted to give up.
Dom space. That's what he'd come to call it. That sense of complete and utter and control that could never be denied or forgotten. Not something he could, or would ever walk away from either.
This was who he was.
Simon caught Marks eye and they stopped, letting the leather fall until the strands hung toward the floor. His arms ached from the workout they'd been given but he wasn't about to complain. He'd enjoyed every minute of it.
A quick glance at the clock made it clear they'd been at this for a good thirty minutes and Irene moaned in delight before she glanced back over her shoulder, her gaze hazy. "I didn't give my safe word. I know I didn't." Her voice soft, little more than a gasp.
"No, you didn't," Simon trailed one flogger between the girl's thighs. "Do you want more, or are you interested in something else?"
Mark arched an eyebrow. Pushing like this was risky at best. If the girl complained then they'd be banned. If she didn't and she was open for more, then there was a chance that she'd regret it later and still complain about how she'd been handled.
The submissive arched her back, lifting her buttocks away from the frame. "Want you, sir. I wanted you from the first!" There was no doubt in her words. No hesitation or hint of uncertainty. She wasn't in sub space, but right on the edge, in that zone where she could still think and act clearly.
"Me or both of us?" Simon gestured to Mark. "There's no wrong answer, girl."
"Both, sir." She purred.
Mark took an involuntary step toward the woman before he forced himself to stop. "Are you sure about this, Irene? I'm not forcing you. Neither is Simon. Are we clear on that?"
"Yes, sir. Very clear." She took a deep breath, making her voice as steady as possible. "This is what I want. I want to serve both of you. Please both of you. If you'll let me."
Simon walked away from the frame and the naked woman, his voice pitched low. "Well, you interested?"
Mark took a moment to look at the woman, taking in the way her hips moved, the toned thighs and full lips -- both sets -- that he might be able to enjoy. His cock throbbed against the inside of his pants, thick, full and demanding.
How long had it been since he'd had a woman?
Too long, and at least this way the edge would be taken off before he had to deal with Linda.
"Yeah, I'm interested."
He did, after all, have a pulse.
That's all the encouragement Simon needed. Without another word he walked back to the frame and unbound Irene before he helped her down from the cross. Together they stood there, Irene leaning on his weight, her eyes slowly returning to normal before she began to take her own weight again. When the woman was steady on her feet he stepped back and waved toward Mark.
"Crawl to him, little one. Crawl to him and put that mouth of yours to good use." His voice thick with desire.
"Yes, sir." She lowered herself down to her hands and knees and began to slowly crawl toward Mark. Her breasts depended toward the floor, swinging as she crawled, her nipples full and hard, almost brushing the floor as she pressed herself closer to it. Her shoulder length blonde hair curled about her shoulders and her gaze fixed on Mark's crotch.
His cock throbbed and twitched behind the zipper, his balls tight and full as he watched her crawl to him. She licked her lips, tracing a wet pattern over their full pink softness. No lipstick. No make-up at all from what he'd been able to see. Good, he preferred women that way.
Mark settled down into one of the chairs in the room. He had a good idea what Simon had planned and being seated would make things easier on his friend.
"May I, sir?" She eased up onto her knees and smiled.
"Yes," he reached down, touching her hair. Soft. Well tended. This one knew how to look after herself.
Irene reached for the zipper and gently tugged it down. Her gaze softened as she looked up at him, a hungry fire dancing within her eyes. The flogging had worked well with her but with her type, the eager willing submissive, it always did. Not the same as taking a proud woman like Linda and turning her into a soft, trembling submissive that let the walls down only with him.
He groaned at the touch of her lips to his cock. He'd lost track of what she was doing in that moment of musing. Linda. She was on his mind too much these days and tomorrow would see the end of the matter one way or another.
His gaze focused on the woman at his feet then shifted to Simon who watched the show. They were both ready for the next step in this little scene.
Just let it happen. Enjoy. Don't think about Linda. He forced thoughts of the other woman to the back of his mind.
Simon moved to Irene, shifting her back from Mark with a gentle touch here and there, but all the time the woman's mouth and tongue worked slowly and with growing confidence on Mark's cock. His eyes drifted closed briefly as he lost himself in the sensations. Her cheeks hollowed, the suction growing around his erect cock. Her tongue teased at his shaft, tickling the head, wrapping around his cock, caressing it as her head bobbed up and down his length. His hands tightened into fists as he forced himself to move them away from her hair. Grabbing her head wouldn't work. He didn't know what her reactions would be if he did so. Better not to make that mistake to begin with.
Fuck, she was good.
New at being submissive, but not new at this.
His cock throbbed within her mouth. His balls tight and pressed against his erection as he fought not to thrust mercilessly between her wet, willing lips.
So damn sweet.
Simon settled behind her, opening his pants before he eased his cock into place. Mark didn't have to watch closely to know when Simon had thrust into the woman's body from behind. She groaned around his cock, working up and down his erection as Simon began to pound into her.
"So fucking tight!" Simon cried out, gripping Irene by the hips. He lifted one hand only to bring it down in a stinging slap against her buttocks.
Mark struggled to keep control. The entire set up, the way the girl submitted, the need to please them, and the feel of his cock in her mouth, all combined to pull him closer to the abyss. This was what he'd do with Linda. This and so much more. She'd crawl for him. Beg. Plead. She'd become his in so many ways that by the time he was done with her, she'd never want to be with anyone else again.
She'd be his.
He reached for Irene's hair, tangling his fingers within it. He no longer cared if she might bite or protest. She'd consented and this is what he needed. What he wanted. He pounded into her mouth, his balls slapping against her full, swollen lips. His breath burned in his lungs, the need to conquer, control, dominate all threatening to rip out of his control.
With a roar Mark ejaculated, filling her mouth and throat with his seed. He didn't stop moving, didn't stop until his balls emptied out into the woman's throat. Only then did he ease away from her, his gaze dropping to look down at the blissful expression on the woman's face.
Yes, this was what he wanted to see in Linda and he'd make it happen. Somehow he'd make it happen...