Page 19 of Amy's Santa

Only one thing becomes clear. I need to show my face and keep up the pretence.

Can I go down there without Xander?

Looking down, I see my hands are unsteady.There’s no way Flint could get onto the compound.I repeat that, then repeat it again, managing to open the door on my second attempt.

It’s a hive of activity in the kitchen. There will be over thirty people sitting down to Christmas dinner later on, which means there’s a mountain of potatoes to prepare. When I enter, Sam sighs with relief and puts a peeler straight into my hand. She sits me in a corner, out of the way, with a sack of the vegetables beside me.

She couldn’t have done anything better. She’s given me a mind-numbing task that means I have two choices, stay quiet and think, or join in with the conversation going on around me.

I choose the former, but in the background, the sounds of joking and chattering is a comforting one.

I can only assume the worst, that by now Xander will have spilled the beans, and my father will know exactly what his daughter is up to in her spare time. I can only hope that he won’t be too disappointed. These men think women and men behave differently, one rule for them, one for us. While I know Dad was faithful to my mom, then to Marc when she came along, before that I don’t doubt he made full use of the club whores. But heaven forbid, women should enjoy putting themselves into a sexual environment moving on from one man to the next.

These men I’d grown up around certainly aren’t shy or try to hide that sex makes the club go around. I’d walked in often enough to full-on sexual activities unashamedly going on in the open. As I grew older, their exhibitionism didn’t turn me off, but had turned me on.

When a college friend, my roommate, drunkenly pointed out an ad online for a BDSM club, and jokingly suggested we go, I was intrigued. I wasn’t a virgin in any sense, but none of the men I’d been with had given me the satisfaction I was seeking.

I decided to do some research before diving in. I’d read up online about what happened in such clubs. I didn’t think I’d enjoy being spanked, definitely not whipped, but sensual play? That sounded like fun. The idea of putting myself into the hands of a dominant man was definitely arousing, even just reading about it.

I’d looked up the club my friend had found and then searched for what I could discover about others. I settled on one that emphasised safety and consent, and which had a play party coming up for newbies to attend.

We’d gone. I hadn’t known what to expect, but quickly found I was in my element. The Dom I was paired with was fun, but knew what he was doing, and more to the point, how to arouse me to the point he’d made me come harder than I’d come in my life, and in doing so sent me soaring into subspace, where I was completely and totally relaxed, knowing nothing more until I was coming to in his arms as he provided what I understood was aftercare, gently bringing me back to myself.

My friend, not a natural sub like I found I was, didn’t want to return. I, however, had.

I’m submissive, but I’m a confident person, comfortable in my own skin. For the past five years, I’ve spent at least one night a week being tied up and sensuously tortured. I love it. Even when play means I’m instructed to give service to my Dom, such as massages, I enjoy being told what to do, and bringing him pleasure. In that environment, I can give up all control, and my worries and day-to-day concerns disappear.

Do I want my dad to know that? Of course I don’t. I doubt he thinks I’m still naïve and innocent, but knowing I’m sexually active with a variety of men, and that countless members of both sexes have seen me naked? Or, when I do wear clothes, it’s fet wear, and worse than that worn by the sweet butts. No, I don’t think he’d ever want those visions in his head.

A year ago, I heard about a different club, one more expensive, but hey, I’ve not much else to spend my money on. So, I joined and loved it, until Flint came along.

I’ve worked in a number of different wards while I’d been training, and now I give end-of-life care. It’s hard, dreadful, when you’re doing the little you can for a terminally ill child. That day, we’d lost a young man who’d been in a car accident and had suffered a severe brain injury. A lot of the time he’d been unconscious, but in his lucid moments, I’d talked to him, and found him cocky and amusing, despite his situation. When he’d gone, I’d felt a loss.

I’d needed somewhere I could go and forget, recharge my batteries for the next day, so I’d gone to the club.

That night had started normally enough. A Dom, new to me, had approached and asked if I wanted to play. He was in his thirties, a debonair attitude about him, and not bad looking. I’d said yes, then entered into the negotiation. Giving me no hint of what was to come, Master Flint, as he’d introduced himself, said he wanted to tie me up, and was I into sensual play? It sounded ideal. I’ve a weakness for the violet wand he was proposing to use, and excited to begin the night, like any good sub, I’d given myself totally over to my Dom.

He’d taken me to a private room, private except for the viewing pane in the door, so I knew our play would be monitored. After all, it’s why I’d chosen that club, for their deference awarded to safety.

I allowed myself to be bound. While Flint was tying the velvet ropes, I’d glanced at the door and saw a dungeon monitor observing.I’m safe. Once I was blindfolded, my anticipation had started to build, and I felt secure in the knowledge that I could trust this Dom to get me out of my head and forget the young man’s death.

The first sign something was different was when a ball gag was forced into my mouth.

I’d waggled my fingers in the safe gesture the club uses when gags are applied, but he hadn’t seen.Stop, I was telling him.I frantically waved my hand again. Then again.

But he hadn’t stopped…

“You want some help?”

I’m dragged out of my thoughts as Sophie sits down. “That’s a bloody big pile of spuds to get through.” She’s also waving a peeler.

Still half lost in the past, I just nod.

“You hear about Olivia and Eli?”

I had. I force myself to speak. “It was always in the cards.” I attempt to smile, pushing bad memories behind me. “I think they were meant for each other from the time they were born.”

“Yes. It’s strange to think of my little girl as an old lady.”

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