CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I loved waking up in Damien's arms. It was mornings like this that made me feel like we were truly a couple. Maybe someday, I'd be able to wake up in his arms every morning. For now though, it was only a dream, and I savored it to the very moment that his eyes opened and he wanted something more.
He smiled and stretched, pulling me into his arms for a few minutes before rolling on top of me. Our morning romp between the sheets was less about passion and more about necessity. We were both achingly horny from the night before, and there was no better way to spend the day's first ounces of energy.
Kissing was at a minimum due to horrible morning breath. That was one thing I learned about Damien. He did not like kissing until both of us had brushed our teeth. It dulled the pleasure a bit, but I dealt with it.
When our bodies were satisfied, I assumed my submissive role and followed Damien into the shower. We bathed each other, and then I made breakfast, and we ate and settled on the sofa to watch some television. It looked like it would be a lazy Sunday.
“What do you want for your birthday?” Damien asked during a commercial break.
To be honest, I hadn't really thought much about it. My birthday was on the following Friday, and I had no idea what I wanted from Damien. He had been asking me about it for a while, but I couldn't come up with anything aside from just being with him. While I knew he had money to buy me something, it felt kind of rude asking for anything when he didn't have a job.
“I'm not sure,” I replied.
“It's coming up quickly. I figured you would have decided what you wanted by now.”
“There's really nothing I want.”
“If only all women were as easy to please.” He gave me a gentle squeeze.
A knock on the door startled us, and I quickly went to open it. If it was someone that I recognized, I was to act submissive. If it was someone that I didn't recognize, I was to get Damien immediately.
Unfortunately, I did recognize the person at the door. She was blonde and busty and very much unwelcome in my mind.
Danica smiled, looking me up and down as she normally did. It must be strange for her to see me in clothes. Then I realized she was also dressed normally for once. Instead of fetish gear, she was sporting a modest white turtleneck sweater and a pair of black leggings with stylish black boots. The outfit was form-fitting, but it was miles away from what I was used to seeing her in.
“Is Damien here?” she asked. “Of course, he is. I see his car out front. Would you be so kind as to take me to him?”
I nodded, leading her into the living room. Damien seemed equally surprised to receive her.
“Danica. To what do I owe this visit?” he said before turning down the volume on the television.
“I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. That was some play party last night, wasn't it?”
I tried not to scowl as I found my parking place in the corner. Her presence was ruining a perfectly good Sunday. Now, I would have to stand there for however long it took her to leave.
“It was. There were a lot of new faces,” he replied.
“Hopefully faces we'll see again. I like Sir Martin's parties. I can usually pick up a new client or two at them.”
“Good business for you then.”
“Indeed.”
“So, what brings you to this side of town?”
“Visiting relatives. I'm not going to lie though, I was kind of hoping to get your assistance.”
“Oh?”
“I ordered a custom-made Saint Andrew's cross from the man who built the furniture for Sir Martin's dungeon. He does beautiful work, but unfortunately, he doesn't deliver. I was hoping to seduce some big burly man into helping me move it,” she teased. “Or if you're busy, I could always use your pet.”
“I'll go,” I said almost involuntarily. There was no way I wanted Damien alone with her.
They both gave me a look of surprise, and I sank back into the corner, embarrassed by my own lack of manners.
“Apologies for speaking out of turn,” I mumbled.
“No need to apologize,” Danica said, cutting Damien off before he had a chance to punish me. “I really don't care which one of you helps me, as long as I get some help.”
“Are you sure?” Damien arched an eyebrow in my direction.
“It would be no trouble at all, Sir.”
“I promise I'll take really good care of her.” Danica smiled, though I didn't like the gleam in her eyes.
Before I knew it, I was climbing into the passenger's side of Danica's white Ford F150. My stomach was a ball of nausea, and I was already regretting my decision. While I had saved Damien from having to be alone with her, I had condemned myself to Danica's company for who knows how long.
She barely acknowledged me until we were out of the driveway and heading down the road. “So, how do you like having Sir Damien as your Master?”
It was a question she had asked before, but that was so long ago I didn't really have an answer then.
“I like it very much, Miss,” I replied.
“Oh, you don't have to call me Miss. I know you're under my protection, but I'm not a fan of having little girls grovel at my heels. I reserve that honor for grown men.”
I wasn't sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult, but I was happy about it, none the less. It would have been strange calling her Miss all day, minding my p's and q's as if she was my Domme. That's what you were supposed to do when your Dom handed you off to another Dom or Domme for temporary keeping.
“How did you meet Damien?” I asked.
“We met at a munch. It was my first time stepping into the BDSM world. Up until that point, all of my boyfriends had been vanilla, and I was craving a bodice ripper type romance. I really didn't know what I was doing there.
“But then I saw Damien. And when we slept together for the first time, I became addicted. I'm sure you understand what that's like.” She gave me a knowing look. “Anyway, it wasn't long after that he took me under consideration.”
I waited for her to continue, but she didn't. While I was upset that she'd ever been with him at all, I was a bit curious as to what had happened between them.
“What made you switch sides?” I questioned. “I mean, going from being a submissive to a Domme is a pretty big change.”
“It was.” She grinned. “I always had issues being a submissive. Even though I loved Damien and wanted to please him, I seemed to have trouble giving over full control. You see, I've always been a bit sexually aggressive, which is one of the reasons I got into BDSM in the first place. I wouldn't say I enjoy the norm in the bedroom. I like my fair share of pain. Biting and spanking and whipping. But I like dealing it too, and that was something I couldn't do while I was Damien's submissive.
“He'd tolerate the occasional biting and scratching, but when I'd get too intense with him, he'd stop our play sessions and send me to the corner. Even though the sex was amazing, I just felt like something was missing.
“Then we went to a play party, and I saw the Domme's with their male submissives. I was so turned on watching them beat their men. They could do anything they wanted to those guys, and they'd just sit there and take it. Needless to say, it wasn't long before I figured out I'd probably enjoy doing the same.
“I wanted to experiment with Damien, but he strictly forbade it, so I swallowed my dominant tendencies for a while longer. When we were together, I tried my hardest to be the perfect submissive. But when we were apart, I found myself researching being a Domme. I even befriended one and had her show me the ropes.
“Damien started noticing a change in me. I just wasn't as happy as I was in the beginning. Finally, we sat down and talked about it. He said he'd release me and allow me to go try out being a Domme, and if I didn't like it, I could come back.
“I never came back,” her words sounded somehow sad, though she didn't seem to regret her decision. After all, she was still a Domme.
“Did you still see Damien after you became a Domme?” I asked.
“For a while. It was hard in the beginning. The first submissive I had, I didn't know what in the hell I was doing. I'm horrible at controlling people in the longer term, and that made me confused and doubt myself. I'd find comfort in Damien's arms, only for a night or two. And then I'd remember what it was like to be his submissive, and I knew I didn't want that either.
“It took almost a year before I figured out I wasn't cut out to own my own submissive. That's when I started offering scene services as a Dominatrix. I've been happy ever since.
“I get to abuse a variety of men, and I get paid for it. They get off. I don't have to put out. And when I'm done with them, I send them on their merry way. I don't have to worry about bossing them around day in and day out. It works well for me.”
“I had wondered if you had a submissive of your own, since I never saw anyone with you at the munch or the two parties,” I said.
“No,” she sighed. “There are several of my clients who would very much love for me to take them on, but I'm not ready for that type of commitment, and I don't know if I ever will be.”
“If you don't have a submissive, then what do you do for sex?”
“I have some clients that will let me have my way with them. At the end of the day, men are men, and they have base needs. The unwed ones are more than happy to provide a service to me in return for my service to them.”
“That's rather convenient.”
“It is.”
I tried to imagine what it would be like to have sex with a variety of men. One would never get bored. That's for sure.
“Don't you worry about STDs?” I asked.
“No. I make all of my clients routinely get tested. And I always make them wear protection. You can never be too careful.”
“Yeah.”
It wasn't much longer before we arrived at our destination. To my surprise, it was a furniture store tucked away near the cheer studio where Damien and I had first had sex. Danica pulled around to the back where we were greeted by a friendly older gentleman. I stayed inside the car, watching in the rear-view mirror while a group of men loaded the Saint Andrew's cross into the bed of her truck. It looked heavy—too heavy for the two of us to handle. Danica signed some paperwork, and then we were back on the road again, presumably heading towards her house.
“They wrapped it up well,” I commented. The thing was covered in so much bubble wrap and tape that there was no way to tell what it was just by looking at it.
“John likes to be discrete with this type of stuff, even though most people would have no idea what it is,” she replied.
“Are you sure we're going to be able to move that thing?”
“We should be able to. I have a dolly, so that should help.”
“What if we can't move it?”
“I have a client coming this afternoon. And while I hate to ask such things of clients, I'm sure he'd help move it in.”
Now I felt oddly guilty. Perhaps I should have let Damien come after all. This definitely looked like a job for a man.
When we pulled into Danica's driveway, I was surprised to see that she didn't live in a mansion. It was just a normal house in a normal middle-class neighborhood. There was no circular driveway. No fountains. It was kind of nice to know not all BDSM people were extravagantly rich.
As soon as we got out of the truck and went around to start pulling the Saint Andrew's cross off the bed, it quickly became apparent that it was more than we could handle. The thing felt like it weighed a ton, and by the time we got it lowered onto her driveway, we were both out of breath.
“Holy crap. How much does this thing weigh?” I asked, feeling a burning in my lungs from over exertion.
“I think he said it weighs close to a hundred and fifty pounds.” Danica leaned against the truck.
“How are we going to get it into the house?”
“I figured we'd go through the garage. My dungeon is the first room to the right.”
I followed her through the garage and up into her house. When she opened the door to her dungeon, my mouth about dropped to the floor. For as small as the room was, it was packed with BDSM stuff. There was already one Saint Andrew's cross pressed against the far wall, so I wondered why she needed another one. On both sides of it, lining the walls, were multiple racks. One had various handcuffs, another had paddles, riding crops, and floggers. There was also a small clothing rack with costumes, and a set of shelves with all sorts of lube.
“Where are we going to put it?” I asked.
“I thought I would put it in the corner for now, but now that I'm looking at things, I'm not sure it will fit. We best put it in the living room. I had planned on taking the Saint Andrew's cross and bondage table out. John designed it so that it's an all-in-one. It can adjust between being a table and a cross, thus saving space. I saw him demonstrate how it works, but I'd like to mess with it for a bit before I actually use it with a client.”
“How heavy is the other stuff?”
“Not as heavy as the new cross.”
“Do you want me to help you get that other stuff out of the dungeon first then?”
“We need to at least get the new cross into the garage. I don't want it sitting out in the front yard unattended.”
“Alright.”
Danica got the dolly, and we struggled to put the behemoth of a cross on it. It took slow careful movement to bring it up her driveway, with Danica doing most of the work. I felt absolutely useless, guiding her and making sure the thing didn't fall over. By some miracle and a lot of muscle, we were able to push it over the small lip where the garage met the driveway. Almost as soon as it was inside, she set it down, surrendering to the idea of letting her client do the rest of the work.
After that, we went into her dungeon and moved the old Saint Andrew's cross into the spare bedroom. She said it would eventually end up in the shed behind her house, but she wanted to wrap it first so the moths and rats couldn't get to it. It was fairly light, and we were able to move it with ease.
“Water?” she asked when we were done.
“Yeah. That would be great.”
Danica went to the kitchen, and I wandered back into her dungeon, looking around curiously. There were so many strange things in there, and I couldn't help but wonder how long it had taken her to collect them all. She had enough gear to stock a small store. It must have cost thousands upon thousands of dollars to amass so much stuff. And I wasn't even sure I wanted to know how much the new Saint Andrew's cross cost. Did she make enough money to pay for it all from being a Dominatrix?
“It's small, but it works,” Danica said, startling me as she walked up with two bottles of water.
“It's nice.” I smiled, taking one.
“My clients think it is, and that's all that matters. Then again, there really aren't many practicing Dominatrices in the area. If I recall correctly, there's only one other, and I've never met her. So, most of them don't have anything to compare it to.” She paused for a moment, “Would you like to see?”
“See what?”
“One of my sessions.”
“I saw a Domme with her sub at the play party.”
“My sessions are different. I think you'd find it fascinating.”
I hadn't really considered it before. Watching the scene between the Domme and her sub at the play party had piqued my interest, but once the party was over, I had thought nothing more of it.
“I'm not sure if I'm really into that,” I said finally, too embarrassed to admit I was curious.
Danica sighed, “Well, if I take you back to Damien now, I'll really be cutting it close. It took longer than expected for John to get the cross loaded, and even longer for us to move everything around. I'd hate to make my client wait, so I hope you don't mind staying a bit longer. I think he'd let you watch, but if you don't want to, you could always just hang out in the living room and watch television.”
The corners of my mouth sulked. It was bad enough that I had to hang out with her at all. Now she wanted me to stay longer.
Then again, I hadn't really been much of a help. She probably would have done just as well without me. Feelings of guilt made me submit.
“Fine, I'll stay,” I surrendered, though I didn't sound happy about it.
“Good. He should be here in about forty-five minutes. If you don't mind, I should really go take a shower and get ready. Make yourself at home.”
And with that, she left me alone in the dungeon. I thumbed through the rack of costumes. At first, I had thought the costumes were for her, but instead, they appeared to be gear for men, harnesses and chastity belts and hoods. Half of them, I had no idea what they were used for.
After a while, I retreated to the living room, not wanting to seem obsessive by lingering in the dungeon for too long. I had just gotten into watching a fashion design show when Danica rounded the corner, fresh out of the shower. She was wearing a tight black leather vest with matching leather shorts and six-inch stilettos that looked eerily like the ones Damien made me wear. Her long blonde hair had been straightened, falling over her ample breasts and framing her face. Dark eye shadow and blood-red lipstick completed the ensemble, making her look more like a skanky biker than a Mistress.
“Have you decided yet?” she asked.
“Decided what?”
“If you want to watch.”
“Oh. I hadn't thought much of it, to be honest.”
“You should watch, if he'll let you. Who knows? Maybe you're not as cut out to be a sub as you think.”
You'd like that, wouldn't you? I thought bitterly, though I didn't know why. The more time I spent with Danica, the less of a threat she appeared to be. Sure, she was busty and gorgeous and seemed to have lingering feelings for Damien, but she had been the one who walked away, and as she said, she hadn't gone back.
“Sure,” I replied, slightly annoyed by her comment.
The doorbell rang, and Danica quickly left to open the door. A man's voice came from the other side, deep and low and submissive. He greeted Mistress Danica like a sniveling slave and asked permission to come inside.
“I have a few favors to ask of you today,” she told him.
“Yes, Mistress. Anything for you, Mistress.”
“I have a friend over that's interested in watching our session together. She's relatively new to BDSM in general. Would you have a problem with her watching?”
“I would prefer if she didn't see my face, Mistress,” his voice was reluctant.
“That's fine. I don't want to look at your face anyway,” she paused for a moment. When he said nothing, Danica continued, “I also got a new piece of furniture in that my friend and I haven't been able to bring up into the house. I'd like for you to help me move it after your session is over. I'll give you a discount for your service.”
“I would be honored to help you, Mistress.”
“Good. Now let's get you to the dungeon and get started, shall we. I'll bring my friend in after your face has been masked. She's sitting in the living room right now, so you might want to avoid looking that way as you make your way down the hall.”
“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”
Their footsteps approached, and I stared blatantly. As he had been told, the man kept his back to me when he turned the corner and headed down the hallway. He looked to be an older gentleman, slightly portly with short black hair speckled with gray. The suit he was wearing was a good indication he had just gotten off from work.
Danica grinned at me over her shoulder before she followed the man back to the dungeon. I sat obediently, waiting, nervous as hell, wondering what I was about to witness. It took nearly fifteen minutes for her to return and retrieve me. She grabbed a chair from the living room, and I tailed her down the hall, pausing right outside the closed door to the dungeon.
“While we're inside, I want you to be as quiet as possible. You're not to say anything or so much as move. If you have to use the restroom, you may do so without asking permission. Above all else, try to stay out of my way. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma'am.” I nodded timidly.
Danica was in full Domme mode. Her voice and eyes said it all. In that moment, she reminded me a lot of a female version of Damien. It was strange to see her in such a way, but also intriguing.
I followed her into the room, sitting in the chair as soon as she placed it in the corner, well away from the action. The man was tied down to the bondage table with rope. He was wearing a leather hood decorated with metal grommets. The only holes in it were for his nose and mouth. Just the sight of it made me feel claustrophobic, and I wasn't claustrophobic by nature.
The hood wasn't the only thing the man was wearing. He also had on a strange leather harness that hooked under his balls and held his cock flat against his stomach with a leather sheath. A thick pink head popped out over the rim of it, his shaft fully erect, pressing against the leather sheath.
I could see why Danica had taken so long to retrieve me. The man was well secured. Barely a loop on the bondage table was left without rope in it. Even the top of the man's hood was hooked to the table, rendering him completely immobile.
He must trust her greatly. I don't think I'd even allow Damien to tie me down to this degree. He's completely helpless.
“You can't really hear, can you?” Danica asked the man, though I could sense she didn't expect a response. “You can't see either, but I can see you.” She bent over him, fidgeting with the hood, looking especially sexy, though the only person who could see her was me. I wondered if the man was imaging what she looked like, or if he was too busy anticipating what was coming next.
Danica was very vocal, leading the man through the entire process. He seemed more like a toy to her than anything else, and judging by the look on her face, she was really enjoying playing with him. She poked at the mouth hole on the hood, prodding at his lips and forcing him to suck on her fingers, then she rubbed all over his face before moving down his body to tweak and play with his nipples. The man lay as still as I sat, breathing and saying nothing.
For a while, I wondered if the session was more about her pleasure than his. She rubbed his bound cock and balls for a while, then crawled on top of the table, straddling him. I found it interesting how she never stopped talking. When Danica wasn't busy telling him how helpless that he was, she was informing him of her next move, or moaning out her amusement.
Things got interesting when she took a length of twine from one of the racks on the wall and began further binding his balls. I leaned forward, trying to get a closer look. She skillfully looped it around and between his testicles until they were separated, the skin pulled taut. His cock never softened the entire time. If anything, it got even bigger, and it was already an impressive size.
“This is sensory deprivation at its finest,” Danica said. “You can't see, can't move, can't hear.”
To which, the man didn't reply.
It was true though. I had never seen anyone in a more helpless position. The only thing not bound was his mouth. He just chose not to use it. And probably rightfully so. No one would be dumb enough to piss Danica off in his position.
It wasn't until she took out a pair of tongs and began roughly pulling on his nipples that the man began to make some noise. I couldn't tell if it was sounds of pain or pleasure coming from the hood, but with as brutal as she was being, I could only imagine it was the first of the two. She tugged and pressed and pulled until I was wincing in my chair, worried she was going to rip his nipples off. The man never used his safety word though. All the while, she laughed while she tortured him. She seemed to be really enjoying herself. This was definitely Danica's element.
When she got bored with his nipples, she put the clamps up and moved back down the table to rub his balls, squeezing them gently. She leaned over the table, looking at his cock head.
“You're already dripping,” she commented with a smirk. “Making a mess all over your stomach.”
I guess I was wrong. Maybe his moans had been for pleasure after all, though I couldn't understand how someone could endure so much pain and actually like it. This was akin to the guy being struck with the bullwhip at the party. Screams of agony must have turned into pleasure for his body, because he never lost his erection.
Danica unfastened the straps on the man's cock sheath, letting his penis spring out. She gripped his balls, applying gentle pressure while she stuck a finger back in his mouth, commanding him to suck. I could only imagine how difficult it must be for him not to bite down when she squeezed a bit too hard. He seemed to have good control though, and I never heard her cry out in pain. Then again, Danica had said this man was a long-time client. She was probably as in tune to his body as Damien was in tune with mine.
When she finally released his balls, the man's cock began to twitch crudely. Danica grabbed a pair of nipple clamps from the wall, fastening them to each of his nipples. Then she took another length of twine and wrapped it around the head of his cock, looping the twine around the chain between the nipple clamps and tying them together so that whenever the man's cock twitched, it pulled on his nipples.
“That cock is out of control,” she said. “You better get it to behave, or I'll have to do something much worse to you.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Danica squeezed his balls a few more times until the twitching died down. His cock was still fully erect though, its head as purple as a plum from the twine around it.
When the twitching had completely subsided, she began messing with the nipple clamps again, pinching them to crush the sensitive nerves beneath. Each time she pressed them between her fingers, she asked the man what he was to say, and he thanked her for the pain. It amazed me how obedient he was, a perfectly trained submissive.
She took the clamps off and played with his nipples some more, commenting on how erect and tender they were. The man did little besides breath heavily and thank her. If it had been me, I would have been struggling to get out of the restraints. He had an incredible tolerance to pain.
“Are you ready for things to get a bit more intense?” Danica asked the man, and I wondered how much more intense the session could possibly get.
“Yes, Mistress,” he replied.
She quickly went to work removing all the twine until his cock and balls were left bare and unrestrained. Then she went to the shelves and got these big pink clamps that reminded me of the type you use to clip notes to the refrigerator. When she straddled his stomach, facing his feet, I had a pretty good idea of where those clamps were going.
Danica played with the man's scrotum for a bit, pulling the skin to see how pliable it was. Then she placed the clips one at a time. One on the skin between his balls, two on the skin below each testicle. If it was painful, you never would have been able to tell. The man's cock was twitching away as it had been before.
When she was done, she squirted some lube into her hand and jacked him off a bit. Then she turned around and played with his nipples. Now the man was moaning, and I knew it wasn't from pain. The whole display looked borderline prostitution, though she wasn't having sex with him and wasn't allowing him to come.
When she went to take the clamps off, the pain came. He cried out as each one was removed, and I cringed, feeling a bit too empathetic, though I didn't even have balls. Danica straddled the man, sitting on his cock so that only his balls peaked from behind her. I couldn't help but wonder if that's what Damien and I looked like from that angle when we were having sex. Just ass and balls.
Occasionally, she'd readjust her weight, lifting herself before settling down to grind on him, then shifting back to tug on his balls. I could see they were swollen where the clamps had been. That must have hurt like hell.
“Should we get you on your hands and knees now?” Danica asked.
“Yes, Mistress,” the man replied.
“You know what it means when I put you on your hands and knees?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Cheyenne.” She turned her attention, and I jumped, both startled and fearful of what she might ask of me. “If you'd like to take a bathroom break, now would be the time. It's going to take a few minutes to get him ready for the next part of our session.” Danica had already begun working on the knots that kept the man restrained.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said almost reflexively, then felt embarrassed for it.
She grinned at me over the man's body, and I quickly stood to leave the room, wondering if I should come back to witness the rest. To be honest, I wanted to see it. But I didn't want her to know I wanted to see it, so I decided to stay away for the remainder of the performance, retreating to the living room to watch television after I finished using the bathroom.
I kept the volume on low, listening for a few minutes. I heard nothing but the faint sound of Danica's voice. The man was silent as ever, bearing the pain with amazing reservation.
No wonder Damien didn't want to do this stuff. That was absolutely horrible. I would never enjoy torturing a man's balls, though the idea of having him restrained is appealing. What would I do to Damien Reed if I had him helpless?
I allowed my mind to wander, going to dark places it had never been before. It was hard to picture Damien being submissive. He just wasn't built for it. Still, I did my best to manipulate the image in my mind.
About thirty minutes later, Danica emerged from the dungeon with the man at her heels. He was fully dressed, but was wearing a different hood. This one had holes for his eyes.
They went straight to the garage, and I listened to the man's heavy breathing as he helped move the new cross into the dungeon. I could only assume he had also helped move the bondage table out. When they were done, he disappeared through the front door, and Danica returned to me, looking amused.
“You didn't come back,” she noted. “Too intense for you?”
“A bit.”
“Maybe you're not cut out to be a Domme after all.”
“I suppose not.”
But despite my words, I thought about it all that afternoon. Images of Danica and the man played in my mind until I went to bed. Then I found myself sitting in front of my computer after school the next day researching it even more.
Apparently, the things Danica had done were pretty standard. While I wasn't into the idea of genital torture, the idea of being able to do whatever I wanted to a restrained man was intriguing. And it wasn't long before I figured out what I wanted for my birthday.