She looked at the tube. “I don’t know.”
I hoped it wasn’t. There was something about messy, running eyeliner as your masochist submissive broke down in tears. When she finished the eyeliner, she put on some crimson-red lipstick, and I wanted to fuck her mouth so badly. I wondered if this whole leisurely makeup process was meant as a tease.
“What should I do with my hair?” she asked. “Leave it loose so you can grab it?”
“No, braid it for me. You know, that thing where you wrap the braids around your head?” I motioned over the crown of my dark hair. “It excites me when you have that innocent-Heidi look.”
“That ‘innocent-Heidi look’? You’re a pervert.”
“Maybe. When I see those braids around your head, all I can think about is taking them down and doing nefarious things to them.”
“Hair pervert,” she muttered, but she humored me and picked up her comb. She loved humoring my whims, and it made my life a fucking dream. After she braided her hair with quick, deft finger movements, she squirmed into her Gallery uniform. The sexually overt costume had featured prominently in my dreams ever since she’d tried it on for me. I got hard watching her pull up the stockings. “Here, Cinderella,” I said, picking up the stilettos. “Allow me.”
She held onto my shoulders as I slipped the first shoe on her foot, then the second. When she stood, she almost reached my height. Almost.
“You’re so beautiful,” I said. “So ridiculously beautiful.”
She smiled and straightened my tie, then ran a hand along my suit coat’s lapel. I was in formal business attire, because the Doms at The Gallery had a dress code too.
“You’re ridiculously beautiful as well, Milo Fierro. Oh, I still need my collar.”
“Let me do it.”
I’d wanted to put on her shoes because I loved her feet and her elegant calf muscles. I wanted to put on her collar because she belonged to me. I was more certain of it every day. Mine. My woman, forever and ever. Even so, her collar, like all the women’s collars at the club, had a dangling, decorative lock that read Property of The Gallery.
It was okay. She could belong to me, and still play with others at The Gallery. I’d have to work that out. Once we were in the thick of things, in the passionate violence of the main dungeon, I’d most likely be able to share her to a reasonable extent. Passing willing women around was just kink, fun stuff, and I trusted every Dom there to take care of her and follow the rules.
“The silver-toned leather looks nice on you,” I said. “You were made to wear a collar.”
She put a hand over mine. “I wouldn’t have thought that a couple months ago, but now…”
I took her chin and pulled her close for a kiss. She braced against me until she found her footing in the stilettos, then my other hand traced down the straps framing her ass. It was so lovely, so round and beautiful. I groaned into Alice’s mouth.
“We should go,” I said. “Otherwise we won’t get there at all.”
I went to the closet to get her fitted black coat that ended just above her knees. She couldn’t go up on the elevator without it, even though I hated covering up her sexy outfit, even for a moment. As she tied the belt closed in front of her, I hugged her from behind, pressing my cheek to hers.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” I asked. “We don’t have to. We can wait a little longer.”
“The longer I wait, the more anxious I get about going. So let’s go.” She reached to stroke my cheek. “I’m sure it will be great, and if I don’t like it, I’ll tell you.”
“You promise?”
She turned her head to kiss me, then said, “I promise, Sir.”
We got into the elevator and rode it up to the top floor, to the clock tower that had been renovated into a three-level wonderland for sadomasochistic play. The doors opened into the lobby, and I smiled at her delighted intake of breath. It was a gorgeous, soaring space, with ornate molding and eighteenth century reproduction iron sconces lining the walls, making the gilded, flocked wallpaper glint in the low light.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said.
“I think so too.” Even so, it wasn’t as beautiful as her, with her shining eyes and shapely, scarlet lips. Rene, a young man who served as both greeter and security, smiled at us.
“Welcome to The Gallery, Mr. Fierro.”
“Good evening, Rene. This is Alice. She’ll be joining us tonight for the first time.”
“That’s wonderful. Welcome, Alice,” he said with his typical smooth elegance. “I’ll be happy to take your coats, and then I’ll have a document for you to sign.”
I helped take off her coat, enjoying the small, anxious shiver that came as I lifted it from her shoulders and exposed her to Rene’s avid gaze. He had no sexual interest in women, so her charms wouldn’t arouse him, but he did raise a perfectly plucked brow in appreciation. She looked like an ancient Greek statue, tall, curvaceous, voluptuous, womanly, built for sex. I noted with pleasure that her nipples were tightly erect.
As soon as Rene completed his check of her uniform, he offered the submissive’s contract for her to sign. Alice accepted the paper and scanned the five rules she needed to agree to. We’d gone over them in detail already—when she was calm and thoughtful, and not in the throes of kinky ecstasy—because I wanted her to know what she was getting into. After a cursory reading, she put her signature at the bottom and handed it back to Rene, and we were waved toward the large gold and ivory door that led to the dungeon.
“Things are already in full swing,” Rene said. “There’s a crowd tonight. Enjoy.”
“I’m sure we will.” I turned to Alice. “Ready?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said in a soft voice. “Let’s do this.”
I gave her ass an encouraging squeeze as I opened the door and led her up the circular staircase to the main dungeon. The sound of sex and pleasure—as well as the shrieks and groans of masochism—flooded our ears before we even reached the top. As we came to the landing, Alice paused, holding onto the banister for support.
I let her look a moment. She’d never been to a mainstream BDSM club, much less a private dungeon, so for her, there was a lot to take in. The Gallery rose to a grand dome overhead, and featured several scening areas with professional-grade bondage furniture and racks, as well as couches and chairs where members chatted, cuddled, or fucked. The lights in the dungeon were dim enough to suggest eroticism and mystery, but bright enough to showcase lots of naked, glistening skin, stark bondage equipment, and polished leather implements.
“What do you think?” I asked, as she stood frozen beside me.
“It’s so amazing. I can’t believe this is real.” She watched some cavorting couples nearby, then lifted her gaze to the balcony above us, and the large, frosted glass clock face on the wall, half obscured by interlocking gears. “That clock…it’s huge. Look how it glows.”
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” I’d always loved to play in the light of that glow. “Unfortunately, it hasn’t worked for some time, and no one’s been able to fix it.”
She’d moved on from looking at the clock, to gawk at the various groups playing on the main
dungeon floor. “Oh.” She made a small, shocked sound. “There’s Ella and Devin.”
Ella was straddling Dev’s lap on the couch farthest away from us, both of them doing some raw, animalistic fucking as they gazed into each other’s eyes. From the looks of Ella’s butt cheeks, she’d already endured a strapping or paddling—or both.
“Come on,” I said. The longer Alice stood there, fingering her collar, the more nervous she’d get. I decided to take her to a rack near the back of the room, not because I wanted to hide her…
Well, maybe I wanted to hide her. Other Doms were starting to notice her. Even Devin tore his gaze away from Ella for a moment to give me a distracted thumbs up. Damn it. Alice was too striking for the others not to notice, and she broadcast “newbie” and “innocent” on top of it. Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted on the braids.
I tried to push the jealous thoughts out of my head. That wasn’t why we’d come here. I needed to tease and torment her, and show her what The Gallery was all about. The other Doms could fuck themselves, because this was Alice’s journey. I led my wide eyed submissive to a square-shaped rack, so I could put those long legs to use. It was designed with sturdy posts and a top and bottom bar, so the victim could be bound facing either direction. I decided to cuff her facing outward to the dungeon, so she could see the other scenes, and understand that she’d become part of this secret, depraved world.
I soon realized my mistake. After I bound her arms, and spread her legs impossibly, obscenely wide, cuffing them to either side of the rack, she made too desperate and too beautiful a picture. Men started drifting over, some of them with their submissives in tow.
The old Milo would have been proud to show off a bound, scared submissive, her tight nipples thrusting from her peekaboo bra, but the new Milo who was in love with Alice wanted to shout at all of them to go away. One of them moved toward her in a manner that would have been perfectly acceptable with any of my other partners. He gave her hard nipples an appreciative pinch. “Going to use clamps? I’d be happy to help with that.”