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  “You’re uncollared?”

  “Yes. Have been for many years. I was collared by a Dom for a few years in my late twenties, but he left the lifestyle to marry.”

  “Perfect. I think you’ll enjoy being here. We have a number of unattached Doms and also Masters. The same as with the other two clubs you mentioned our Masters are not 24/7 Doms of slaves. Rather they are people who have attained a great many years of experience in various areas of BDSM. As you saw, our rules are pretty much the same as The Lair and Threshold, so you’ll have no problems at all fitting in. We operate under medium protocol although we do have a couple of attached Doms who prefer high protocol all the time. Most of us only use it if we have a formal function, which I might add, doesn’t happen very often.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Feel free to wander around, get the feel of the place. I’m sure you’ll soon find plenty of partners interested in meeting you.”

  He stood, and Emily did as well. He shook her hand again, and they walked back down the corridor.

  “Stan, do you have a locker for our Emily?”

  “Sure do.”

  He held out a small round glass bowl with a number of folded cardboard cards inside it.

  “Dive in, Emily. The outside number is the locker, and inside you’ll find the initial code to open it. If you then close the locker, press reset and enter your own five-digit code, it’s all yours from then on. If you let me know the actual locker number I’ll enter it alongside your name.”

  Emily checked the number before replying. “Thank you, Stan. It’s one-five-four.”

  Alex smiled down at her, “Right, I’ll leave you to enjoy our club. If you have any problems simply speak with any of the DMs—Dungeons Masters or Mistresses on duty throughout the club. They’re easily identifiable by the black and red armband they wear. We have a small dining area serving light meals, mainly finger foods, and all food and drinks are included in your membership fees. Only one alcoholic drink per person, per night.”

  “Thank you again, Sir.”

  He nodded and left. Stan pointed to another door.

  “That’s the ladies’ locker area, rest areas, and changing room. Once you’re ready, there’s an entry into the main club from inside there if you don’t want to come back out through the foyer. Enjoy.”

  “Thank you, Stan.”

  She entered the locker area. Like The Lair and Threshold, it had thick, dark carpet underfoot muffling sounds, and the walls were covered in darker wallpaper. She thought the room was hugging her, making her safe, and she sighed thankfully.

  She found her locker and followed the directions given to her. Taking off her coat and shoes, she put them in the locker along with her bag, then closed it. Deciding to investigate, Emily walked further into the room and found it had several plush, comfortable-looking couches scattered about. Doorways led to bathrooms, toilets, and private changing areas. She checked herself in a full-length mirror. Tonight, she wore a navy corset holding in her ample curves, but her full breasts were desperately trying to escape the constriction. Her matching tiny panties barely covered her lush, round cheeks. She’d painted her toenails bright red and put on twenty-four-hour lipstick that matched her nails. Nodding at her reflection, she moved to the door.

  Tonight, she had no intention of playing. Tonight was only to familiarize herself with the place. Maybe tomorrow night or next week she’d play.

  Ha, who am I kidding?

  She knew perfectly well she wouldn’t play. Emily couldn’t risk letting down her guard, couldn’t risk that emotional baring of the soul that usually happened after a scene. There was no way she could cope with sub-space and the effects that followed it without letting her demons escape.

  If these people knew what had happened to her…

  No, that was wrong. If she allowed herself to acknowledge what had happened, she doubted she could survive. Better to stay on the fringes, watch, and simply know she was now wrapped in the safety of this club.

  Taking a deep breath, Emily pushed open the door and stepped into the main club.

  Chapter Three

  Sounds and smells assaulted her.

  Screams, the thwack of a crop hitting a body, shouting as someone came, and, coming faintly to the ear, was discreet music. A light floral smell, maybe from incense, that perfumed the air as well as the scent of leather, arousal, and the slightly bitter tang of sweat. As she moved further in, the sights hit her—naked bodies, men and women dressed in leather, an attractive, tall man walking past, dressed in a pinstriped suit. He nodded to her as he went along the hall. This more, than anything else, convinced her she was exactly where she belonged.

  Soft lighting wrapped gently around her except over some of, but not all, the stage areas. There was plenty of comfortable seating scattered everywhere. Moving deeper in, she found a lounge area alongside a bar and across it came the light, delicious aromas of food—the small dining area.

  Opposite the bar was a wide, regal-looking staircase, and more sounds drifted down—a woman shouted her Dom’s name, pleading for him to let her climax. The crack of a whip. Someone crying. Emily could almost shout with joy, but even that would be dangerous. She padded to the bar, her throat decidedly dry after the tension of coming to the club.

  “Hi, what can I get you?”

  “Do you have apricot juice?”

  “Most certainly.”

  He filled a glass with the icy cold juice and put it in front of her.

  “Thank you.”

  “Name’s Scott.”

  “Hi, I’m Emily.”

  He shook her hand.

  “First night?”

  “First night here but years in the ‘style.”

  They chatted idly for a while as Emily relaxed and sipped her icy cold drink, Scott telling her about the various areas of the club. When she finished she bade him farewell and continued her tour. Going upstairs, she found at least eight stage areas as well as a number of private rooms, like those downstairs. She settled on one of the couches and closed her eyes, letting the familiar sounds and scents wash over her. She wondered if she’d ever be able to find that woman that she’d buried so deep inside, without damaging herself in the process.

  It would have been oh so easy to let her mind journey back, especially here in the safety of the club. Here was where she felt safe, but if she did would mean she would have to face what had happened, face the bitter truth, and face the agony, the horrendous pain. Accept her grief. No—she had to push it away. The trouble was, it was like a hole in a tooth. You’d keep prodding, touching, probing it with your tongue, impossible to ignore, impossible to forget. It always sat there, forever in the background, waiting to pounce.

  Opening her eyes, she took in the scene in front of her. A tall, shapely woman, a Domme. Her sub, naked, his wrists bound to hooks on the wall, was standing with his legs well apart, ankles fastened by a spreader bar. The Domme plied a flogger across his chest and then his thighs. As Emily watched, a flick across his testicles. He grunted. Another flick, this time the Domme wielded it upward and over his legs, catching his penis as well. His mouth opened in a silent scream as she landed a second on his cock.

  Emily idly wondered what it must be like for a man to have his dick flogged, his balls whipped? Even from this distance Emily could see sweat on his face, the sheen of it glistening across his chest, as his Domme switched to a crop. A few gentle “love pats” on his nipples then thwack!

  Between his legs again, and this time his scream rang around the area, but Emily noticed, if it was possible, his erection seemed even harder. A few more hits, then the Domme took his face between her thumb and fingers, and she kissed him. A savage kiss that had him begging for another when she stepped away. Instead of a kiss, she grasped his cock, twisting it, pulling at it until he pleaded for release. She shook her head.

  “You were a very bad boy, Brian.”

  “Please, Mistress. Please.”

  “No.”


  His plaintive begging echoed as she hit him with the crop again, and he sagged against his restraints, disappointment radiating from him. She stepped next to him, her lips close to his ears. Emily strained to hear her words, leaning forward to catch them.

  “You’ve taken your punishment like a good boy. I shall let you fuck me, but I haven’t decided yet if I shall permit you to come.”

  Emily saw how the words affected him. His smile lit up his whole face as she undid the restraints. He fell to his knees, and taking her hands, he kissed them.

  “Thank you, Mistress. Thank you.”

  The Domme made him stand. Emily could see he was wobbly on his feet, his erection still hard and strong. The Domme didn’t give him a moment to recover, and instead she led him away after making him carry her bag of tricks. Comfortable, Emily remained where she was seated. About ten minutes later a junior sub came and rubbed down the area with disinfectant before heading off. She thought about fifteen minutes passed until another couple arrived. This time a man dressed in traditional black leathers cuffed a pretty young woman’s wrists to the hooks after making her remove the wrap she wore. Underneath she wore an under-bust corset and a tiny thong. The Dom rummaged in his bag and removed a flogger.

  With confident strokes, he struck the woman’s back maybe four or five times. Emily was surprised when she began screaming loudly from the second hit. The level of the Dom’s hits certainly wasn’t hard. But then she began sobbing. “Please Sir, I’m sorry! I won’t do it again. Please, no more, Sir.”

  Obviously, this was some sort of punishment for a misdemeanor. Tears poured down her face as he gave her a final five flogs. He uncuffed her, standing stern and staring down at her as she faced him. Emily thought she was forlorn, her tears streaking her face.

  “Next time I won’t be as lenient.”

  Her face was downcast, and Emily could see her shoulders shaking as she cried.

  “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir. Sir, I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again.”

  He nodded. “Get your wrap.”

  She quickly picked it up and fixed it about her body. As Emily watched the man picked up his bag and strode from the area, the little sub still crying, followed him. Emily wondered idly what she had done to deserve the punishment. It was obvious she had no love for any type of pain, which meant the fact he’d given her about ten made Emily think it her “crime” was fairly severe.

  She thought back over some of the subs she had instructed back in Threshold. One had been a real nuisance, and she’d delighted in annoying the Doms she played with, often being a brat. She did it so much that in the end no Dom wanted her as a partner and she’d come to Emily crying and bemoaning the fact. She honestly didn’t get it.

  Emily had tried to explain to her that being a brat was one thing, but the fact she had to back-answer almost every order meant the Doms considered she had no respect at all for them. After a few days of talking things through, Emily approached one of the unattached Doms who she’d known wouldn’t accept any sort of laxity in his sub, and he also preferred high protocol, not only during punishments. He was very strict and never took any unacceptable behaviors from those he played with. A lot of unattached subs didn’t like him because he was far too exacting.

  He’d reluctantly agreed to take the girl for two sessions after Emily pleaded with him to give the sub one last chance. Emily had drilled into her she needed to behave. Amazingly, it seemed exactly what the sub had needed. So much that after six months he’d collared her and as far as Emily knew they were still together. Obviously, the scene Emily had just witnessed involved another strong Dom who wouldn’t accept any nonsense from his sub.

  Emily remained in the past, thinking about different people she’d met, different Doms she’d scened with. She sat up quickly. Her thoughts were leading her into dangerous territory. She was remembering too much, recalling the fun, close to reliving the emotional highs. This wouldn’t do. It would be opening the doorway to the horrors locked away. She couldn’t, wouldn’t allow that!

  Getting to her feet, Emily noticed a wall clock showed almost eleven. She went back to the changing room and collected her things. She’d tasted her sanctuary, and it was all she’d hoped for. Tomorrow night she’d come back again. But she needed to steer clear of those thoughts that would lead to splitting her into thousands of pieces.

  Chapter Four

  Gradually over the next weeks, Emily began to make a few casual friends. She was very careful not to give too much away, not to get too close, but it was nice to be able to say “hello” and have it returned. Some people she was able to put a name to. She’d shared a laugh with a sub named Denise and her Dom, Evan. A giant of a Master called Finn had scared her at first until she discovered he was just a huge teddy bear. As well she’d had an attractive man, a Master, flirt with her outrageously. He had made her laugh every time she saw him. Kaden was his name, and he’d taken good-naturedly her refusal to let him tie her up.

  “I’m sure you’d enjoy being covered in rope, Emily.”

  “Maybe another time, Master Kaden.”

  “You do realize all your lovely curves are just screaming at me to be bound.”

  “They are?”

  “Most definitely. Listen.”

  He’d held a cupped hand to his ear, pretending to listen. “See, they are saying ‘let Master Kaden tie me up’.”

  She could only laugh at his outrageous talk, and he’d winked at her and left but not before whispering, “I adore a woman with plenty of curves, and yours are a delightful handful.”

  One Friday night, after getting a juice from the bar and talking casually to Scott, Emily wandered upstairs and settled beside one of the stages. A sub was stretched over a flogging bench as his Dom worked a paddle over his body, paying particular attention to his butt cheeks. The Dom was flicking between his sub’s legs, making contact with his testicles, and the sub was writhing against his restraints.

  If Emily turned her head to see across the way she could watch another area where there was a female sub being fucked. Her breasts were red with welts from a flogger, and she was screaming with pleasure.

  Either, or both, scenes should have made Emily excited, but she felt nothing, only casual interest. Normally seeing something like that would have her searching for a partner to relieve her, but instead she knew she was still dead.

  Inside her head she screamed, Will I ever live again?

  Silly really. She knew all she had to do was face the past, and then she could enjoy the present, and look forward to the future. Yet she knew she wasn’t strong enough to deal with her grief, with the pain. She rubbed her left arm, still aching after all these months. It was a reminder. It reinforced the fact she couldn’t allow her guard down. No—better to stay emotionally dead than to deal with the horror.

  So, she sat alone, watching the scenes change before her but never accepting invitations to play, politely refusing all who asked.

  Each week she spent Friday and Saturday nights living in another world. Between times, she cared for her mother, declining any conversations which might lead to her opening up.

  For the first few months when she’d arrived back, she’d done everything in the house—the cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, but recently her mother had begun cooking again. She was responding exceedingly well to her therapy, and the walking stick was now permanently in a cupboard. So many times, she tried to get Emily to talk, but Emily always pushed it aside.

  “Emmy, you can’t go on like this.”

  “I’m okay, Mom. Truly I am.”

  “We both know that’s not true. You’re not the Emily we all know and love. You’re hurting, you’re killing yourself, and we all want to help you, but you won’t let us.”

  “I’ll be okay. I need time to heal. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  She knew her mother meant well. She knew she should break down, should cry on her mother’s shoulder and let it out. But what if she didn’t sur
vive? What if it tore her apart to face her grief?

  She knew she wasn’t the same woman, knew she wasn’t sleeping properly. Her dreams haunted her too much. After binging on food when it first happened and she was released from hospital, now she mostly ate because her mother would be upset if she didn’t. Occasionally she went crazy—ate blocks of chocolate, tubs of ice cream, stuffed herself until she felt ill. She’d always been very much a plus-sized girl, but lately she’d dropped down a couple of dress sizes—to a size twenty. She was, however, still a large woman, but it was additional proof she wasn’t looking after herself. Her life was crumbling around her. She knew how to stop it, yet still she resisted. Her lifeline was the club, and she knew without it she honestly wouldn’t survive.

  Her mother took her silence in pain. It would have hurt Emily to know exactly how much she was putting her family in agony if she’d allow herself to accept it. Instead she blanked out their concerns, their fears for her, their pity, and acted strong.

  One evening after she’d been at the club about a month, Emily had only just put her things in her locker when a lovely woman came in wearing an amazing kimono. Emily couldn’t help complimenting her on it.

  “My goodness, your kimono is very beautiful. I love it.”

  “Thank you, isn’t it gorgeous? My Master gave it to me months ago, and I can’t resist wearing it every chance I get.”

  “It is stunning. I don’t blame you.”

  The woman held out her hand, and Emily shook it. “I’m Avril. I’m really new to all this, only been in the lifestyle six months. I only started coming here in February.”

  “Hi, Avril, my name’s Emily. I’ve been in the lifestyle all my adult life. Came from a club back east.”

  “Oh, then you really do know all about it. I’m a masochist, and I’m still finding my way. This is such a steep learning curve.” She gave a huge grin, then added, “Half the time I’m acting on instinct alone.”

  Emily was really tempted to tell Avril all about being a sub, ask her if she had any worries or fears, or if she wanted to talk, but that could lead to a whole lot of questions. Better to leave things as they were.