Indulgence (135 page)

“What the hell do you care?” I spit out and try to wrest out
of his grasp, but he’s got me tight.

“Your submissive?” I hear Angus growl as he’s scrambling to
stand. “Looks to me like you’re looking to trade up.”

I watch Jaz’s eyes flicker darkly as they rotate to Angus.
“You’d do well to watch your mouth. If you ever touch her again, I’ll kill you
with my bare hands. Do you understand me?”

Angus sing-songs back toward Jaz, “Well, if you weren’t so
busy chatting up Goldilocks over there . . .”

“Who I talk to and what I do is none of your fucking
concern. You’ve got two minutes to vacate the premises or I’m going to clear
the room with pieces of your sorry ass. Got that?”

Angus snorts, then turns to me. “Well, slut, you know I can
deliver when he’s
otherwise occupied
,” he chortles. “Show up without
your
Dominant
,” he says, almost spitting the word, “and I’ll supply what
you’ve always wanted.”

“Go to hell,” I snarl back at him.

“Ungrateful bitch.” Those words are followed by the sound of
skin against skin, and Angus goes down again.

Jaz towers over him. “Speak to my submissive that way again,
and you’ll never utter another word.”

When Angus stands, he holds his arms up in the air. “Well,
you all heard him! This
Dominant
just threatened me! So if anything
happens to me, well, here’s your man!” He lets out a laugh, but no one joins
him; they all just stand and stare, and I want the floor to open up and swallow
me. “Okay, okay, I’m going. But I’ll be back.” He turns to me. “I’ll fuck you
soon, you can bet on it.”

I toss back, “Piss off.” We all stand and watch as his back
disappears into the darkness of the front hallway on his way out.

Jaz turns back to me. “Are you okay?”

I don’t even look at him. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Did you invite that in any way?”

That just pisses me off to no end. “No. I did not.”

I hear a voice from the bar say, “No. I was sitting right
here the whole time. She’s telling the truth.”

Jaz’s hand lands on the back of my neck, pretty much in the
same spot Angus’s did, but it’s gentle. “Okay. I just need to know you’re
okay.”

Now’s my chance. “No. I’m not okay. I’m being ignored by my
Dominant who’s over there . . .” And it hits me. “You’re negotiating a scene with
her, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I am.”

I’m hit by something that I can only describe as nausea. I’m
not sure what it is, but I feel my heart start to hammer so hard that I can
hear it in my ears. All I can think is,
Oh, god, please don’t let this be
happening to me. Please. Not again.
I try to get up and walk away, but my
legs are like lead and I can’t feel my feet. If I could figure out what to say,
I still couldn’t say it. When I finally make it to my feet, his hand is still
on the back of my neck, and I try to shake it loose, but I can’t. The only
thing I can get to come out of my mouth is, “Don’t.”

There’s an edge to his voice when he orders me, “Follow me,
submissive. Now.” He turns toward a performance platform and I follow, blindly
and silently, my heart breaking in a thousand pieces. I hear him talking to
someone, and then there’s movement around me. When I manage to catch a glimpse,
a bondage table has been moved up onto one end of the platform, and Jaz points
to the floor in front of it. “Present yourself, submissive.”

So this is what I am. I’m a sex slave. I knew it was all too
good to be true, and here I am, finding out that’s correct. I kneel and I’m
getting as comfortable as possible when he leaves the platform and returns with
the blond. They stand right in front of me, and Jaz orders her, “Strip.”

I watch in horror and humiliation as she removes every
article of clothing, and her toned, tanned, perfect body is on full display for
Jaz and everyone else to enjoy. A burning sets up in my gut, and I’m having
trouble breathing as I watch him readying things off to the side. To my utter
amazement, he turns to me and says, “Submissive, watch and enjoy.” I’m feeling
a lot of things at this moment, but pleasure is definitely not one of them.
And, because of his command, looking away is not an option.

From seemingly out of nowhere, a photographer steps into the
light, camera ready. Rope in hand, Jaz begins to bind the woman in intricate,
beautiful work that spreads around and across her body. It isolates her breasts
until they begin to redden, and I know they’ll soon be throbbing in pain from
the binding at his hands. As he works, she beams at him, her eyes sparkling and
clear, and I feel a tear start down my cheek, followed by another. The whole
club gets to witness my embarrassment and, throughout it all, the photos will
bear witness to the whole scene. I notice with confusion and then shame that
the guy’s making a special effort to
not
get me in any of the photos.
How nice. I don’t even rate that. That’s the icing on the cake for me, and all
my efforts to keep my shoulders from shaking with sobs are breaking down and
abandoning me.

Jaz continues on, seemingly unaware that I even exist, and I
grow numb in a short while. It helps – it lets me watch them as though I don’t
know either of them, as though they’re strangers I haven’t even met, and right
now, that’s how I feel about the man I pledged my life to. Out of the corner of
my eye, I see movement and I notice Michael and Robyn standing there, just out
of the light. When Michael sees me looking at them, he nods and points back
toward Jaz and the blond.

They knew. They’re my friends and they knew this was going
to happen. Had it all been arranged beforehand? Obviously so. The photographer,
the crowd that’s here tonight, all no coincidence. But my friends?

I’m alone. I’m utterly, completely alone. Jeffrey and Greta
live far away. I have no family here. Apparently, I have no friends. And any
dignity I might’ve had has evaporated. I had some savings, but I’ve spent it
all trying to do something important for him, and now I know it’s all been
wasted. It seems to me that the best thing I can do when this debacle is over
is to go to the locker room, change, get in my car, and just leave. I wonder
briefly about Alexander, but I’m pretty sure that, after watching me dressed
down this way, no one at this club will ever want to touch me again. I’ll be
that submissive who fell in love with the Dominant, the Dominant who made a
fool of her in a very intimate yet public way. Not a good line on a
submissive’s resume. My mind goes in all kinds of directions, none of them
healthy or helpful, and I just sit there and watch her ecstasy grow.

The one thing I do notice that seems odd to me is the
expression on Jaz’s face. Complete dispassion. He doesn’t seem to be enjoying
it at all, just performing some kind of task, kind of like sweeping a floor or
drying his hair – like it’s not a big deal. He’s paying close attention to the
rope, straightening it, adjusting it, but as for her body, he hasn’t really
touched her anywhere. I do note that he uses his fingers to spread her labia
apart, but then he draws a rope up her slit and never touches her again. I find
that strange. Maybe he’s at least going to be that merciful to me by keeping
his hands off her. If I have to watch him fuck her, I’ll die. That’ll be the
end for me.

She’s bound beautifully, I’ll give him that. When he seems
to be satisfied with the arrangements of the knots and lines, he attaches lines
to her just as he had me and begins to hoist her upward. Unlike me, however,
when she gets to a certain point, the ropes in which she’s bound are used to
secure her, their long, tendril-like extensions apparently tied into the
pattern for that purpose. The original lines are undone and removed, and she
hangs there, one arm up and pointed forward, the other crossed across her
ribcage. Her legs are wide open, and one arches upward toward her back, while
the other is straight and pointed downward at an angle toward the floor. Unlike
when he bound me in the hammock-like arrangement, she looks very graceful,
almost ballerina-like in her pose. After he takes a minute to stand back and
admire his work, he moves back to her and, taking a smaller, thinner cord,
braids it into her hair, then secures it to one of the ropes on her back,
drawing her head back with it. She’s completely immobilized, barely able to
breathe, and even though my heart is broken, I have to admit, he’s done a
beautiful job. She’s a gorgeous, alluring woman, and his work is amazing.

Jaz turns toward the crowd and begins to speak. “At the
request of the management, I have been honored to give this demonstration
tonight. Known in various forms as shibari or kinbaku, you are witness to a
form of Japanese rope bondage in which I was instructed by a kinbaku master on
the west coast, Master Morris Davidson. I usually perform this art only with my
own submissive, but tonight I employed the assistance of Master Davidson’s
daughter, Amelie. Raised in a household where her father worked out intricate
knot arrangements using her mother as his submissive, Amelie is quite
accustomed to the practice and not prone to the panic that an inexperienced
submissive might suffer. While I have worked with my own submissive to begin
her familiarization with the art, this particular demonstration is far too
rigorous for someone who does not practice on a regular basis. I’d like to
thank Master Aaron,” he says, and points to an equally attractive blond man
standing in the shadows, “for allowing me to work with his submissive tonight.
This scene is far from over. For my part, I will complete it with my own
submissive to allow her to experience it as well.”

Jaz turns to me for the first time and I have to wonder what
he thinks about my tear-stained face. Does he even realize what he’s done? How
much he’s hurt me? He steps in front of me and simply says, “Submissive, rise.”
Once I’m on my feet, he points to the girl in the ropes. “Kimberly, please step
in front of the bound submissive.” Great. She gets to laugh at my discomfort.
That’s going to be fun for me, I’m sure, and I can’t imagine what he hopes to
accomplish by breaking me down this way. Addressing her, Jaz states, “Amelie,
eyes on me.” Her eyes open and she looks directly at him. He turns back to me
and asks, “Are you ready?”

I have no idea what I’m supposed to be ready for, so I just
stand there, mute. He puts a finger under my chin, tips my head up, and kisses
my forehead, then turns back to the girl. “Amelie, tonight I finish this scene
with my own submissive. Her name is Kimberly, but to you, she is Mistress
Kimberly. For the rest of this scene, Mistress Kimberly is in control of your
orgasms. You will not climax unless she allows it. Disobedience will result in
punishment. The safeword we negotiated earlier in the evening remains in play.”
He turns to me and says, “Her safeword is sky.” Returning his eyes to her, he
states firmly, “Submissive, address your Mistress.”

In a shallow, breathy groan, her ribcage restricted in its
expansion by the ropes, Amelie looks at me and says, “My orgasms belong to you,
Mistress Kimberly. I beg your mercy.”

I’m dumbstruck. I don’t understand what’s happening. Nothing
is making sense until he looks back to her and announces, “I will finish the
scene with my submissive and you will watch. Although you will want to come,
you will not do so until Mistress Kimberly approves.” Without another word, Jaz
takes my hand and leads me to the bondage table. He climbs up, sits down, and
reaches out toward me. “Come to me, Kimmie.” I don’t know what to do. Part of
me wants to run, and part of me wants to be with him. When I reach the edge of
the table, he smiles. “Shoes off.” I toe them off and climb up, wondering what
to do. He takes my hand and I stare down at him. “Stay standing. Okay, stand
astride my legs. Move right up in front of me, baby, up, up, right there –
stop. Put your hands on my head. And don’t worry for a single second – I’ve got
you. I won’t let you fall.” With that, he buries his face in my slit and drags
his tongue upward.

I almost collapse. After everything I’ve been through this
evening, it’s too much, and I feel my spirit wilting even as my body comes to
life. I cry out and he grips my ass tighter, pulling me in closer, sucking and
tugging at my clit until I’m whining and panting. My hands wind into his hair
and I know I’m yanking hard on it, but I can’t stop myself. And every time I
pull, he just sucks and tugs harder on my tiny little pearl until I’m a mess, a
writhing, squirming, sweaty mess. I’m losing ground, giving in a little at a
time, until one last moment when he slides his hands from the globes of my ass
to the insides of my thighs, then slips two fingers into my pussy and one into
my tight, dark back entrance.

Everything around me explodes as my entire core clenches and
spasms, and my knees buckle to almost let me fall but, true to his promise, he
holds me tight, torturing me until I think I’ll faint. When he finally stops,
I’m gasping and shaking. His hands leave me and I feel him moving around until
he says, “Look down, Kimmie.”

Leathers unzipped and tucked back, Jaz’s rock-hard cock and
full, tight balls are on regal display, and I look into his face. “That’s
yours, girl. Belongs to you and no one else. I’m going to let you down on me.
Wrap your legs around my ass and just enjoy. I’ll do all the work.” I’m so
overwrought that I still can’t speak. “This is your reward for being the best
submissive any Dominant has ever had.” I’m limp as a noodle as he lowers me,
and when he gets me close enough, he drops me on his length and I scream out
through the deliciously painful stretch.

“Here we go, Kimmie. Rock your hips, baby, and I’ll do the
same.” His hands under my ass, we rock together as he raises and lowers me
slightly, and I’ve never before felt the things I’m feeling. Holding me almost
as though I were a rare treasure of antiquity, he strokes down my upper arms,
then curves his hands around my breasts and cups them, teasing my nipples with
his thumbs. “I love you, Kimmie. Only you. No other woman. Ever. Do you understand?”