Authors: Amy Valenti
Tags: #romantic bdsm, #Kink, #Erotica, #switching, #erotic romance, #submission, #ds, #Bdsm, #rack and ruin, #erotic romance series, #dominance and submission, #erotica series, #adult romance, #amy valenti
Rack and Ruin #1
Copyright 2011 Amy Valenti
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by Amy Valenti
They’re all watching us, you know.” Josh’s casual tone sent a shiver down my spine, and I flicked my gaze over to the spectators’ area of the play space without raising my head. I couldn’t see too well through my peripheral vision, but I got the sense that they were all there; every single person who was present the night we were introduced.
My mind spun further into a submissive haze, and I closed my eyes to try to ease it. Not that it helped. I was kneeling in front of him in my underwear—even if we’d been alone, that would’ve been enough.
We’ve drawn this game out for too long for them not to be curious. And word travels in this scene. By now, even the dungeon masters want to know what I’m gonna do to you. I’ll bet they wouldn’t even step in if I was to fuck you in front of everyone here…”
I forgot how to breathe; humiliation and longing combined to prickle over my skin. “You wouldn’t,” I said, but I wasn’t sure whether it was a declaration of bravado or a question.
You sure about that?” Josh crouched beside me and stroked a hand over my tense, trembling body; down my abdomen, over the waistband of my panties and down between my spread thighs. I bit back a whimper as his fingers trailed over my cunt for the first time, rubbing lightly over the scrap of damp fabric, then just a little harder.
Or maybe I was pressing myself into his hand. I didn’t know any more.
Looked at you,” he growled in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Desperate for me to get you off with my fingers, and we haven’t even kissed yet. You little slut.”
There was just the right amount of feigned disgust in his voice to turn me on still further. If I could remember how to speak, I’d be pleading for his kiss, his touch, his
He got to his feet and paced around to my other side. “I’m betting you won’t even last a five minute scene before you’re begging for me to fuck you. Maybe I should just skip the formalities and get right to it, here in the middle of the dungeon.”
My exhibitionism fetish wasn’t usually this extreme, but another surge of heat rushed through me at his words, and I was almost sobbing with frustration now. “Please… Sir…”
You’re begging me to take you in full view of everyone here?” Josh adopted a mildly shocked tone, and I thanked god the spectators’ area was far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to hear him over the music. “Sorry, little tease. Not really my style. While you’re mine, only
get to watch you come…”
I scrambled for the last shred of my defiance, the only part that hadn’t been frayed by time and imagination, his voice and his gaze. But there was nothing left. I was tired of resisting. I wanted him, and to be his. Completely his.
Give me your orders, Sir.”
* * * *
Eight months earlier…
The opening night of a new fetish club was always an interesting event. Pretty much everyone you’d ever met on the kink scene was likely to be there, plus some out-of-towners, plus a few people coaxed there by curiosity or pulled back into the scene after a hiatus.
I wasn’t expecting to play that night. My intention was to soak up the ambience and check out the new people and surroundings; to dance and socialise and generally have fun.
I let my eyes wander around the designated social space of Rack and Ruin, from the dance floor to the collection of tables and couches, and from there to the archway that led to the dungeon. Watching people play was a big kink of mine, and I resolved to head over there in a little while.
As Tamara began recounting a weird scene story I’d heard before, I turned my attention to the rest of the group we were with. There were twelve or so of us, and we’d managed to commandeer three comfortable couches, which were set at right-angles to each other in one corner. The atmosphere was great—relaxed and friendly, with no expectations.
Three people approached our corner, and were greeted with smiles, hugs and backslaps by my friends. I vaguely recognised one woman from a rope workshop I’d been at the previous year, but her two companions were strangers to me.
The younger guy was blonde and stocky, and obviously the woman’s submissive. The other guy, though…
He was tall, and I guessed in his early- to mid-forties. His salt-and-pepper hair was enough to make me melt, and he was simply clad in a black shirt and pants. Something about him was fascinating, although all I could see right then was the back of his head. Maybe it was the way he held himself—alert, a little aloof, maybe.
Then he turned to be introduced to Izzy and Ben, and—
Wow. He’s really, really hot. I mean, not centrefold material… more like… striking.
I swallowed the urge to laugh at the significance of the adjective, feeling the kind of submissive pang that I hadn’t in a while. If he wanted to strike me… well, I could live with that.
Nudging my friend Mel, I whispered, “Who’s that?”
She followed my gaze, an eyebrow rising in speculation. “
would be Josh. And yeah, he’s Dom…”
She thinks she’s so smart…
“How do you know I don’t wanna Domme
Mel snorted. “You’re kidding, right? I know that look… it’s the same one you used to get when Matt was around.”
I opened my mouth to protest that it
, but Izzy carried on with the wave of introductions, interrupting us. “Heidi, Josh and Tim, you know Mel… and this is Lena.”
I smiled and gave a tiny wave, looking at each of them in turn. As Josh’s gaze turned to me, I felt an irrational longing to sit at his feet and rest my head in his lap. I
it when that happened with someone I didn’t even know; it made me feel like I wasn’t in control. I only gave up control when I chose to, and that was rarely. Very rarely.
Sit down, guys,” Izzy said, and Heidi slid into the booth beside her. Tim sat at her feet without being asked, and she ran her hand through his hair. Josh was left standing, with no space left on the couches, and there was no way anyone would ever expect
to sit on the floor.
There was a moment of debate—for the opening night only, the club’s rules stated that tops and Dominants got the seats, and subs and bottoms had to take the cushions if there was no space. It was at times like this that I was glad I wasn’t an outright sub—
I blinked at Tamara, who was looking up at me from her spot on a cushion. “Huh?”
You’re the sub—you have to give way so Josh can sit.”
The image of me sitting at his feet returned, and my heart leapt.
I told it fiercely, frowning at Tamara. I couldn’t get all mushy over a stranger like this. It made no sense. “I’m a switch!”
Yeah, but everyone else on the couches is Dom,” she pointed out.
I looked around and realised she was right.
When was the last time I subbed for anyone?” I reasoned. “A couple of years, right? I’m seventy-one point two percent Domme right now!”
I was sitting at the end of a couch closest to the bar, and Josh stood only a couple of feet away, looking down at me with an amused expression. Indulging me, the way he might an unruly submissive.
Seventy-one point two?” Ben asked, grinning.
I have a spreadsheet,” I said, scowling. “I add all my D/s partners to it after I play, and seventy-one point two is the figure right now. I earned this seat!”
I didn’t like that Josh was standing over me. It almost made me headspacey, and I didn’t need that right then. Getting to my feet, I stared him out, and he returned the gaze with a slightly raised eyebrow. I could almost hear his voice in my mind:
You’re out of your league.
Behind me, Mel asked, “How about you, Josh? What percentage Dom are you?”
I don’t have any figures written down,” he said. It was the first time I’d heard him speak, and the quiet, intense timbre of his voice just made him sexier, if that was even possible. “But I’ve only ever bottomed for one scene, and that was just to see what it was like for my subs.”
a responsible top? Argh—the more I dragged this out, the more unreasonable I was gonna look. And everyone was already watching us.
Holding out for a couple of seconds more, just to prove to myself that I wasn’t under his spell, I stepped aside. “Go ahead.”
To his credit, he didn’t gloat, just sat down with a nod of thanks. The only available cushion was the one at his feet, and I was
not going to give him the satisfaction of sitting there. Grabbing the cushion, I threw it down beside the arm of the opposite couch, and Tamara scooted across to make room for me, biting back a giggle.
Conversation resumed, but every now and then I looked over to find Josh studying me. When I caught him at it, he didn’t look embarrassed; he just gave a small smile and transferred his attention elsewhere.
never subbing to this guy, on principle.
* * * *
I’d only been back from England a couple of months, sans my cheating ex-wife, when I felt my sadistic side begin to bite. The launch of a new fetish club downtown seemed like a chance to get back into the local scene, and I waited for the opening night with an impatience I hadn’t felt for a while.
I bumped into Heidi and Tim in the parking lot. It had been a long time since I’d seen either of them, and the reunion was warm. We headed inside and grabbed drinks, and then moved over to a specific area at Heidi’s insistence.
I recognised a good few people from way back when, but there were some new faces. I’d just about managed to fix names in my mind when the last woman was introduced to me.
She was youthful and energetic, but older than her style of dress indicated. The tiny skirt and pigtails left me thinking she had a schoolgirl fetish—not my style—but when she stood up to put herself on level footing with me, challenging my right to her seat, I reassessed her quickly.
I’d come across my fair share of stubborn women in my time, and Lena was fairly easy to read. If I was right, she was pissed off and intrigued simultaneously, and determined not to back down.
I could sense there was far more to her than met the eye, and my sadistic impulses surfaced once again, sending a thousand questions my way. What would it be like to break down that overly tough exterior, to make her gasp with a word, to order her to her knees and to watch her tremble as she obeyed?