Page 3 of Jaded
The woman was stunning. I’d noticed her the second she’d come into the club earlier tonight. She was older than me, maybe late thirties or early forties with a lean but curvy body. The domme was average height, maybe five-four or five-five without her heels, and she had tousled blonde hair and thick, pouty lips that were painted a dark red.
She was wearing a short black dress that fit her like a second skin. When she turned around to respond to someone’s greeting, I realized it was completely backless, cut down all the way to the upper curve of her ass. I damn near swallowed my tongue at that expanse of smooth skin.
I’d always been bi-curious, and I’d fooled around with a couple of women in the past, but somehow all my sexual partners had been men. Maybe because I’d never met someone like Lauren before. I had the oddest feeling that she was who I’d been waiting a lifetime for.
“Do you want to scene, little girl?”
I pressed my thighs together, the diminutive turning me on even when it shouldn’t. I was thirty-two, far from a little girl. All this focused attention from the dominant and stunningly beautiful woman was making me giddy.
“Yes, Mistress.”
My boss Angela consulted the iPad that seemed permanently attached to her hand.
“Room seven is open for the hour.”
I knew from working here that room seven was one of the all-purpose playrooms, adaptable to most scenes.
“I guess I’ll have to wait on that drink,” Lauren said.
The club didn’t allow drinking before scenes. She grabbed a bottle of water from the tray on the bar top.
“I’ll meet you there. Don’t dawdle.”
I watched her walk away, my eyes fixed on her bare back. I was simultaneously excited and nervous. Excited that I was about to try my first scene, and nervous because I had a feeling that meeting Lauren was going to change everything.
When my shift ended, I cashed out my register and went to the employee locker room to freshen up and stash my tips in my purse. That was one of the perks of working here, the tips were great. Much better than any other club where I’d bartended. Although this wasn’t like any other club.
I stopped to pee and wash my face, then headed down the hallway leading to the private playrooms. The Surrender Club was a huge space with a dance floor, various play stations, and several private rooms. You could dance while watching someone get a whipping at a St. Andrew’s Cross, sit in the lounge area with a sub over your knee, enjoy one of the themed playrooms, or do something private.
I was glad Lauren chose a private room. I didn’t know how I’d react to a real life BDSM scenario, and I really didn’t want an audience of my new coworkers. Plus, I was dying to be alone with her.
This isn’t a date,I reminded myself.Just because you have a crush on Lauren, it doesn’t mean you should be a weirdo.
Lauren was standing in the corner of the room when I entered. I saw her take a deep breath, and then she donned her domme persona. It was fascinating to watch, almost like she’d flipped a switch. She’d exuded a friendly warmth at the bar, but in here, she was cold and detached.
“Angela gave me your paperwork,” she started.
“My paperwork, Mistress?”
“With your likes, dislikes, hard limits.”
I nodded, remembering that Angela had asked that any staff who wished to play after hours fill out the standard intake paperwork that the customers completed. We’d also had a thorough background check that rivaled the FBI’s.
“Oh yes, thank you, Mistress.”
She glanced at her phone where she presumably was reviewing my intake form.
“It says you’ve never been spanked, but you want to be. Any impact play including with implements is acceptable. Sex – oral, vaginal, or anal – is okay too. No blood play, scat, urine, gagging, or sensory deprivation.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
I’d read enough books and spent enough time on the BDSM forums to understand how to address Lauren while we scened.
“Is a blindfold okay?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Very well. Take off all your clothes and assume the position.”
