Page 1 of Jaded
Lauren
“Have you been tiedup before?”
The submissive’s eyes widened with a combination of interest and fear. I resisted the urge to roll my own eyes. Newbies were so exhausting.
I didn’t used to feel this way. I used to love it when I’d come to the Surrender Club and be matched up with some fresh young woman. I loved being the first one to mar their perfect skin with my palm or my paddle. I loved watching them yield to me and embrace their newly discovered submissive side.
Now, every woman who walked through the door seemed the same. They were all in their twenties, straight, and looking to explore their fantasies with someone they knew wouldn’t hurt them. Too much. The newbies always thought I’d go easier on them than a male dom. They were always wrong.
I hadn’t even bothered to get this one’s name. She was average height, average weight, with hair darker than blonde but lighter than brown. Her breasts were way too small for my taste, but she had a decent ass, round and pale. It would be red soon.
These sessions weren’t about sex anyway. At least not for me.
“Tied up?” The sub seemed confused by my question. “No.”
I grabbed her chin, squeezing it tight. “You will address me as Mistress.”
“Yes ma’am. I mean Mistress.”
She fidgeted in the submissive posture I’d put her in: on her knees with her ass resting on her heels, palms facing up on her thighs, head down. Well, it was down until she answered my question.
“Keep your eyes on the floor,” I growled, making my tone as menacing as possible.
She jumped. “Yes, Mistress ma’am.”
This time I didn’t resist the eye roll. I hadn’t really wanted to come to Surrender tonight. It had been a long week and I didn’t have the energy for the monthly “first timers” night. In my day job I was a contract attorney, and nothing sucked the life out of a person faster than a long week of staring at legalese hoping to find a loophole for an angry client.
Honestly, I didn’t like my job that much, but it paid the bills. Until the last year, playing at Surrender filled my need for excitement.
I hadn’t been coming to the club as much lately, but yesterday Angela, the club’s owner, had reached out to me, tempting me with the promise of a month’s free membership if I scened with some of the guests. Honestly, I’d been toying with the idea of quitting the club altogether. But it was exorbitantly expensive to belong to this exclusive club, so I’d be an idiot to turn down the offer of a free month.
Several of our regular dommes had gotten into committed relationships over the last few months, and while you didn’t have to have sex to scene with someone – in fact, I rarely did – I understood how people’s partners would feel uncomfortable about their girlfriend spending the night with her fingers in some other woman’s pussy.
It would be a woman too. People who identified as male were not allowed at the Surrender Club. Angela wanted this to be a safe place for women. You didn’t need to be a lesbian to come here, but you definitely needed a vagina.
I eyed my wanna-be submissive carefully. Based on her inability to sit still, I knew she was going to be a wiggler. I didn’t have the patience for a wiggler, not after dealing with the other wiggling newbie before her. I definitely needed to restrain this one before I gave her the spanking that she’d come for.
“Stand up,” I ordered.
She popped up to her feet with the easy grace of a woman with knees that were less than thirty years old.
I reached out to grab the strip of bare skin at her waist. She was wearing a tight miniskirt, knee high leather boots, and a corset, no doubt assuming this was what a person wore to a BDSM club. In fairness, it often was. Using my fingernails, I pinched her. Hard. She squealed.
“When I address you, you will respond to me. Do you understand me, girl?”
“Yes ma’am, Mistress.”
I smothered a sigh.
“Lay face down on that bench.”
I grabbed some velcro restraints from one of the drawers built into the wall. I didn’t like to use handcuffs on the first timers. I made quick work of restraining her ankles and hands then brought my palm down on her milky white ass, ignoring her cry of surprise. The sooner I reddened this girl’s ass, the sooner I could go home and have a glass of wine.
***
“How was it?”
Angela Lewis was stunning. Tall, curvy, and commanding. She had a smooth face and a head of dark silver hair, the juxtaposition making it difficult to place her age. She could be forty, she could be sixty, no one knew. What we did know is that she had turned Surrender into the premiere BDSM club in the region, her focus on serving only woman heightening her success. A lot of women avoided the other clubs due to fears of assholes masquerading as alphas.
