Page 11 of Shrouded Desires
When it comes to you, I’m in charge.
Raine pushed the words to the back of his mind. It’d been exactly two weeks since Master’s heart attack. While on the business front, he and Storm were getting along, he needed a scene in the worse way. Which was why, he who never came down to the main floor on a Friday night, was kneeling in the submissives corner wondering why the hell he’d thought he could do it this: find his own top for the night. His social anxiety was at war with his desire for emotional release. If he didn’t have a good impact scene and soon, he knew himself. If a dom didn’t give him what the needed pain, Raine would do it himself. The slight weight of the lighter in his pocket of his leather shorts taunted him.It’d be so easy, it whispered,a flick of the finger, a slight hold, then you’ll have all the glorious pain you require. My kiss is so sweet. You know this.
“No.” He muttered. “I’m stronger than that. I don’t need to do that anymore.”
“What?” Another submissive, a sweet twenty something girl with a high blonde ponytail, looked at him in confusion. Amber was her name, if he remembered correctly.
“Nothing, sweetie.” He gave her a smile. “Talking to myself. It’s been a while since I’ve done this.” He gestured to the designated corner. Filled with a plush couch flanked with low end tables, and several colorful bean bag chairs, it was the perfect place for unattached subs to lounge.And hopefully attract the eye of a dominant who wants to play.He tugged on the bands he wore on his left wrist. Color coded, they allowed the dominant to know at a glance what kind of kink he liked and what he would or wouldn’t do. He owned several, but tonight he only the wore two: white for no sex, and red for heavy impact play. Both stood out against his pale skin.Hopefully like a beacon to the right dominant.
“Aren’t you just the tempting morsel?” A feminine voice drew his attention. He looked up expecting to find a Domme all decked out in black leather or other fetish gear, but instead found a svelte woman wearing skintight jeans, and a racer back t-shirt that showed off her well-developed biceps. Her long red hair had been plated into two long braids that trailed over her shoulders to rest on either side of her breasts.
“Excuse me?” He croaked. It wasn’t the first time that a Domme had approached him, and he’d played with several in the past, considering his status as a service sub.
She smirked at him. “I’ll keep it short and sweet. I’m looking for a willing body to beat on. Nothing more. Interested?”
Hope stirred in his chest. This might be the answer to his prayers, but he was beyond rusty at negotiations since Master normally lined up his scenes for him. He wanted to jump up and just dive in, but...
When it comes to you, I’m in charge.
His mind protested, even as his body begged for the sweet relief he knew she was offering. He wanted it so bad, and normally would just send the Dominant in question to Master for permission, but Master wasn’t here, nor was Storm. He’d gone to Master’s house to give Lizzie what Raine needed. He didn’t begrudge his bestie from Storm’s attention, but damn it what was he supposed to do? With neither his dominant nor stand-in dom on the premises, he shouldn’t even be here, but desperation had drove him to this.
“Sounds good, Ma’am.” Even as he spoke, he knew what he was doing was wrong. That it would probably come back to bite him in the ass if Storm found out, but he’d already committed. Heneededthis.
She eyed him up and down. “I’m into heavy impact play, boy. I love ratan canes, single tails, and tawses. I will leave marks.”
She was obviously expecting him to protest despite the bands he wore.Not gonna happen.He refrained from rolling his eyes, not wanting to fuck this up. Instead, he countered with his own terms.
“No blood, club safe-words, and I’m yours for only an hour.” Raine wasn’t stupid and knew his limits. An hour of heavy impact play and he’d be floating, but not so insensible he wouldn’t be able to safe-word if needed.
She narrowed her eyes. “Done. Come with me. I saw a pillory next to the main stage that I want to try out.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” He rose to his feet, his heart pounding wildly. In anticipation, apprehension? He wasn’t sure which, all he knew was that whatever it was, would be better than the alternative.
He followed her across the crowded floor, hoping that if any of the DMs noticed his presence, they wouldn’t rat him out to Master, or worse, Storm. But when he made it to the pillory without seeing any of them, he gave a sigh of relief, even as the Domme ordered him to lose the shorts.
Obeying, he unbuttoned his shorts then slid them down his legs. Under the shorts he was bare, but had long ago lost any modesty inside the club. If others got off on looking at his dick, that was their prerogative. He was here for the pain, and humiliation that came from a public whipping.
Once secured in the pillory with his head and wrists in the appropriate holes, he waited for the first blow, expecting it to be on his ass. Instead, the back of his thighs lit up like a Christmas tree as a wooden paddle struck his sit spots. Glorious pain radiated from the spot and up his spine.
“Level?” The domme called out from behind him.
“Green…ma’am.” The words came out as a pant.
“Good boy.”
Then the barrage of blows started. At first slow, then a bit harder as she warmed him up. He yelped when she finished with another strike to his sit spots. The pain was consistent but not overwhelming.
“What a lovely shade of pink…” She scraped her long fingernails over his throbbing ass.
“Thank you, Ma’am.” He hissed at the new sting.
“Ready for more, sub?” She used his hair to tug his head up, obviously checking his alertness.
“Yes, Ma’am.” While his ass might be throbbing, he needed it to burn. Because only then would he be able to cry – release the anger, the worry, the panic, and the frustration that had built over the past two weeks.
“Then kiss the implement of your next torture. I want to see your nasty tongue all over my crop.” A slender black crop tipped with a red flapper appeared in front of his face as she brushed the latter across his lips. He sucked on the small piece of leather, hating but loving the humiliation of it.
“Such a dirty little boy, sucking on my crop, and getting your disgusting germs all over it. It’s all wet now. I should beat you harder for that.”
