Chapter 4: Power, Submission and the Blue Tattoo
A UFO seeking a hospitable landing site need only locate the night lights of Las Vegas. Billions of megawatts beam their message to all life forms capable of cognition – "Welcome!" "We're Tolerant!" "There's plenty of room to land the largest space craft." "Play! Spend!" Quickly scan the creatures walking the streets; some may have accepted the invitation. As they say, what happens on the road . . .
Whooshhh! Ahhh!
When the elevator opens onto Mistress Simone's private party at her Penthouse, a.k.a. "Mom's Attic", it is clear that Vegas is deep in transmission mode again tonight.
A submissive male in red bow tie, black leather vest and jock greets and offers Goddess Nyx a glass of champagne. As she sips, she follows the panorama window by window. At the north end of the room, about 180 degrees from where she starts, the collected subs sit on benches. Easy to spot the experienced ones, stoic but alert.
The rest are like designer dogs ready for pickup at the Groomer's – they've suffered the poking, handling and sundry indignities of the day. Confused and feeling abandoned, each waits for his Mistress to take him home.
Sensing her presence, Sweet Cheeks looks up expectantly.
Before she can react to him, Mistress Isabella calls to her, "There you are! We've been looking for you . . ." The rest is muffled as they rejoin the party.
'Well, at least she knows I'm here.' He looks around.
Where are Big Boy and some of the Long Dong contestants? Sent home by their Mistresses? One male is fully dressed in street clothes, a couple more are in tight pants, others . . . others, like him, are in jocks or ladies panties, or harness contraptions. All wear collars and leashes.
He doesn't realize that he and Goddess Nyx share a common feeling about the surreal evening – neither has a clue how it will end nor what comes next. His mind wanders as he waits.
***
His body jerks as Sweet Cheeks tries to make sense of the whirling room closing in on him.
"What the FUCK!!!"
Ms. Rich Bitch in punk chic goes flying as he rips his taut, muscular body from her probing fingers. Glitter from her hair floats like confetti as she falls. A scissors-wielding bastard with a "You die!" smirk on his face slouches against a barstool, eating up the tension.
Goddess Nyx, crossed arms smashed against her breasts, tries to find voice for her rage, while desperately suppressing an icy shard of fear.
No. This is NOT happening. Not to him. Not now. Not ever.
Reality Check. Past, present, and future implode.
He struggles from his nightmare. Eyes open now, clammy with sweat, he doesn't know if he's into another bad dream or is awake. He's worse than naked, wearing red women's panties and a heavy leather collar, surrounded by other equally bizarrely dressed males. 'Breathe,' he tells himself. 'It's Vegas. You'll be going home soon.'
***
". . . No shit! The strip Sweet Cheeks did at the start of the evening wasn't planned?"
"Well, I know he has a sexy body, and has done some cute dances for me, but – I don't know – it must have been – " Goddess Nyx takes a big gulp of champagne, "something in the bubbly at dinner . . ."
Laughter, other voices rising and falling. " . . . And THAT'S how last year's contest ended!" Glasses clink toasts as snatches of conversations fill the space.
Earnest new members (like Goddess Nyx) seek counsel from those who've been around the scene for a bit.
What works to keep focused? How do you treat your sub? What do you do with him – how do you use him – in public? How do you get what you want, when you want it? What disciplinary tactics are most effective? What seminars have you taken here? What toys and tools do you like the best? Ever have to use safe words?
What about love?
Ideas rip fast and free. "Trust yourself, but push your limits." "Back off and you lose the opportunity to see what will work for you." But there is concrete advice, as the Ladies network. Sharing is the secret treasure of Mom's Attic and the Club.
Mistress Simone, dressed now in a form-fitting sequined gown, circulates, savoring the great evening. She takes time to talk with each of her guests, impeccably timing her interruptions.
"My Dear Goddess Nyx, thank you again for sharing Sweet Cheeks tonight! What do you think about the weekend, so far?"
"I can't believe this is real. How can I thank you for – for everything over the past year? And the chance to meet these amazing Ladies. If the window were open, I'd probably float into space!" Her copper hair and dazzling emerald green dress glow as she twirls around.
They chat a few more moments, then Goddess Nyx asks, "A favor – where can I get my hair done, perhaps have a massage, and, um, also find a special place for something I want for Sweet Cheeks?" She blushes as she explains.
Mistress Simone grins at the last request. "I know just the place to send you for all three." They walk to her Attic office, slightly away from the noise. Goddess Nyx stares, wide-eyed, as her Hostess picks up her phone. It's almost 3:00 a.m. A moment later . . .
"Yes, Darling, I know what time it is. What are you doing in bed so early, alone?" With a throaty laugh, her head nodding, she continues. "Listen, Darling, I have a very special new Member with me right now, and I want you to take care of a few things for her. You are the best, and she deserves only the best."
Goddess Nyx shakes her head in amazement when Mistress Simone finishes her conversation. "I don't know what to say."
"Your face says it all! Please, my Dear, this is a time to celebrate and explore. You are among friends and like-minded, understanding people, so go enjoy. At some point, you'll be in a position to pass along a favor, and I know you will. We share our knowledge and resources."
They walk back to the party. "Have you met Lady Melanie? She lives near you, and is a marvelous person to know. Let me introduce you." As Mistress Simone leads her to a strikingly featured woman standing at the window, she adds, "Please stay as long as you'd like tonight. When you are ready to leave, just tell my boy by the elevator, and he'll have the chauffeur take you back to your hotel."
With that, she introduces the two Ladies and leaves them to chat. Goddess Nyx desperately wants to memorize every detail of the evening, each guest and conversation.
Time to crash. The sub speaks softly into the house phone, then says, "Mistress Simone's chauffeur will meet you down stairs in five minutes. With your permission, I'll see that Sweet Cheeks is dressed appropriately to accompany you."
On the ride back, Sweet Cheeks is very quiet, and Goddess Nyx lets her mind drift with Coltrane's soulful saxophone on the stereo. The Chauffeur addresses her. "I'll pick you up at 9:00 p.m. for the evening's activities, if that is acceptable." She nods.
The very tired couple enter the lobby of the Bellagio Hotel. Once inside their suite, Sweet Cheeks lets out a big, deep sigh and leans against the wall. He is done in, completely and utterly.
"Well, Sweet Cheeks, I am exhausted. Arrange a noon wake-up call and have room service deliver breakfast a few minutes after. Then get ready for bed." She walks over to the still-unopened gift basket, caresses its ribbon and opaque foil.
He looks up gratefully. His wild cock is now a turtle hiding in its shell.
She takes her time unwinding. Sweet Cheeks is sound asleep when she climbs into the bed they share.
***
They drink their coffee quietly. Sweet Cheeks doesn't know what to say, or how to say it. The previous evening replays in his mind; he can't truly believe it happened. Or anything else since they arrived – or even in the months prior.
***
He is a professional man, successful in his field. A well-respected banker, powerful, in command of almost any situation. Married and much in love with a thoughtful, articulate, sensitive woman who can't even watch Disney movies, for crying out loud, because something dreadful always befalls the animals.
An incident a year or so earlier makes him realize his wife needs to become more assertive, more capable of making decisions and taking control. If anything happens to him, he worries, she could be taken advantage of, so he wants to toughen her up. But how?
On the internet, he discovers the key – Femdom – and an aching realization that it powerfully turns him on, too. What if he doesn't have to be in control all the time? What if she would take over those duties, and let him react, respond, and serve her?
Those thoughts blow him away. How in the world did they even enter his mind? What would his friends say if they knew what he was checking out? Mr. Macho on the tennis courts. But the naughty, tantalizing world keeps luring him back.
Eventually, he shares his concerns about his wife's ability to take care of herself, and what he's finding online. After the shock wears off, she's intrigued. Never in her wildest imagination did she think in the terms her hubby related. Never.
But they talk about it further, long into the nights, on walks, at meals out, trips away, intermissions at the Theatre, in bed. They keep talking and exploring the nuances, the logistics, the funny possibilities.
And one day, she actually starts believing she can do it, that she can take charge of her life, make decisions, risk being wrong. Move beyond her comfort zone. And beyond his.
They make a pact. He agrees to become her sub, to do her bidding, dress as she chooses, acquiesce to her desires, no matter how strange they seem to him. He agrees to give up being The Male In Charge.
And she agrees to become The Female In Charge.
They start with little fun things, like selecting their names. She reads books and begins researching online. He had no idea who she's communicating with, or where she surfs. She keeps that very private.
At one point, quite curious about her activities, he tries to check her "Favorites" sites and history. She's password-protected her computer, for the first time, and he can't get in. That's when he knows he's lost control of the experiment.
Tentative at first, then bolder in her ideas, his wife changes. What he's put in motion, takes on a life of its own.
