The taxi journey to the club was quiet. Besides checking in with me my mistress was content to look out of the window and watch the world go by and I, never to speak without permission during these times, sat silently, hands folded in my lap. Once we arrived she was welcomed into the club with a grace and courtesy befitting her status and I followed silently in her wake, not taking my eyes off her feet. We were both often too busy with work to perform at the club but when the opportunity arose we made sure our absence would be missed.
The public lounge descended into a hush at her entrance - a natural response to mistress entering any room she walked into. Presently standing at 6 foot 7 in her heels she commanded attention and presided confidently over the space she inhabited - from the red soles of her shoes to her matching red lipstick and every devastating inch of silk and lace in between. It wasn't until she had travelled the length of the room and stopped at the bar that the other patrons remembered themselves and the room ticked back into motion. As ever I stood silent and close to her heel whilst she ordered a drink.
Tonight she had dressed me relatively demurely in flat pumps and a loosely draped maxi dress, like the Roman stolas and tunics of old, held together by two silver clasps which sat atop my shoulders. The plain virginal white of the fabric wasn't lost on anyone. The look was completed by four simple silver bands around my wrists and ankles. Whilst they looked delicate they were sturdy enough to be used as cuffs should the want arise (my mistress had tested their capabilities. Rigorously). My bands matched a silver thread on her otherwise black corset and we would both shine when the light flashed correctly, further highlighting our presence. I am far from the statuesque beauty that is my mistress - when I'm not slouching I just reach 5 foot 1 and spend a lot of my life feeling generally shy and easily overwhelmed. But here, standing proudly as the other half of her with my precise appearance and tidy posture I feel powerful.
I stood obediently as she chatted to friends and acquaintances, her stance casual and relaxed. I wasn't paid attention to much - I didn't mind, though a passing comment about my behaviour or appearance would be made when her fingers would reach out to trace idle patterns over my skin, attracting their gaze my way. She smiled, not directly at me though I knew it was because she felt the goosebumps across the back of my neck. Each brief caress was making me hotter and when the back of her hand finally traced the outline of my breast I thought I would melt.
"Drink." She said when we were alone.
I brought my mouth to the glass of water she tipped towards me and took a few sips. Her own glass of wine stood empty on the bar. When she removed the glass I licked the drops slowly from my lips. I know she finds it seductive, I did it to tease. I lowered my gaze to hide my small smile before seeing if she had witnessed it.
"Thank you mistress." I hadn't been asked to speak, but she prides herself on my good manners. She set the glass down next to her own and stepped away towards the upper floor, towards the smaller and more private lounges. I followed her up, eyes firmly fixed on the curve of her tight skirt, unable to pull my focus anywhere else like a dog to a bone. Half way up the stairs she paused and turned towards me with a wry smile. The quick aversion of my gaze told her everything she needed to know, and I knew the extra sway of her hips up the remaining few steps was as much for her benefit as it was for mine.
Once in the room I shut the door and stood with my back to the wall. Her impenetrable exterior quickly changed to one of clinical efficiency and she set about arranging and checking the room to her safety and satisfaction. The lounge was warm and softly lit. Cosy. You could see people knitting over tea here. Were it not for the rack of canes my mistress was currently manoeuvring into position. Once satisfied with her display she placed a hand on a crop and turned to look at me hard for a moment. My body shivered involuntarily and she spun away with another deliciously sadistic smile. I had gotten my answer about teasing her in the bar.
"The chairs darling." She waved an arm around the lounge. "In a semi-circle facing the fireplace." She pointed to near where a considerable collection of toys were arranged on a small table.
"Yes ma'am." I said as I pushed off the wall.
Each of the eight wingback chairs were almost the size and weight of me. I think she enjoyed the flushed look of exertion the task left me with.
"Come here." She pointed at a spot in front of her once I had finished setting up the space.
When I was standing before her she gently cupped my cheek in her hand, raised my face up to hers and leant in for a deep kiss, her tongue slipping over mine and leaving me breathless. Her other hand skimmed up and down my arm in contrasting tenderness.
"Are you ready, little one?" She asked, looking into my eyes. Her thumb traced my jaw as she waited patiently for me to reply.
I could say 'no' if I wanted. This was my chance to say so, if I was feeling too overwhelmed. I knew she would still love me either way. I thought for a moment about what I wanted. There was a fluttering of nerves in my chest, however there was a much larger and more urgent throbbing occurring lower down between my legs and that made my answer much easier.
"Yes, Miss." It came out sincerely. I needed to be touched. Needed whatever she had planned.
She held my gaze. I saw the intensity and lust in her eyes - surely a look reflected in my own.
"But will you help me down, please?" I asked quietly. I wasn't quite there yet, still hovering on the edge between being her private little one and the public sub she wanted to show off.
"Of course little love." She pressed a final kiss to my temple then, quicker than I could register her grey eyes changed to ice and a firm hand gripped the back of my neck. I shivered again at the difference.
"On your knees." Her voice was colder, flintier, as she pushed and I let myself drop. "Lower." I sat back on my feet. Not satisfied she pushed again. "I said lower." I bent forwards in her grasp until my nose touched the carpet and steadied myself with my hands. I felt the briefest of strokes on the back of my head as a final reassurance.
"You will not move until you are told. Do you understand?"
"Yes mistress." I replied quietly.
For a while my mistress didn't move and I calmed myself by being able to see her shoes in what little view I had. But then they were gone and I knew better than to look where she went. The door to the small lounge opened shortly after and I heard a number of people file in, though their footsteps were muffled on the carpet and I couldn't tell who it was or how many. Encouragingly, as I remained stock still in my low bow I heard a few murmurs of appreciation as the group took their seats. I felt a firm hand run over my back and down my sides, like an owner inspecting the flanks of their pet.
"Up." That was her. Voice of velvet and steel.
I rose up to sit straight back and settled neatly on my heels, eyes on the floor.
"You can look."
There were four men and three women. Two I recognised, the rest I did not. They were all dressed smartly and appraised me with hungry eyes. As my gaze moved between each one my brain put the pieces together and the intentions of my mistress became clear.
All seated on the chairs. Fully clothed - no collars or cuffs. Doms, then. The cane - canes. A selection box of toys
. Training and demonstration evening.
With me as the live canvas
. At my revelation my body practically hummed with excited energy and I ended my assessment with a brief glance at my mistress before returning my eyes to the floor. I sat up a little neater, ready. With this action she had my consent, and my blessing. I could already feel a warm wetness between my thighs in anticipation of bearing their marks.
"Stand." It was only a whisper but I was on my feet before she had finished the command. I stood, hands at my sides as she came up close behind me and tipped my head back to rest against her chest, making the tendons in my neck stand out. I could feel the heat radiating between us, the spark of anticipation. Slowly she brought a hand over my shoulder and began to tease my nipple through the fabric of my dress. Her other arm locked around my waist. There was a sharp nip to the shell of my ear.
"You can make noise for them pet, let them hear you moan."
I did. It came out breathy and needy. I felt her lips twitch up in approval.
Her nimble fingers worked their way in the side of my dress, stroking over the soft flesh until they reached their target. There was a sharp pinch and pull and I wanted to arch up for more. The action elicited another moan but I kept myself still - I had been given permission to make a noise, not to move and she was expecting my best. Fingers unhurriedly roamed around and moved higher, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake until she reached the silver clasp. Her hand paused on the catch and I held my breath in hope. After several agonising beats she moved and in one easy motion a breast was bared and displayed to the group as her fingers danced their way back to my nipple. She cupped and lifted the flesh in one hand and brought her mouth down to taste, tongue taking over where fingers had previously teased.
Oh god. The other one. Please. Touch the other one
.
As if reading my mind the hand around my waist was removed and the second clasp unceremoniously undone and I was exposed to the hips - her arm returning to its place the only thing holding up the remaining fabric and keeping me partially and tantalisingly covered. I could feel my pulse throbbing in my breasts with each pull, my nipples hardening under each lick and pinch. With my focus on the sensations of her swirling tongue and vision obscured by her leaning over me I sensed rather than saw the small crowd becoming more attentive - the shuffling of fabric and shifting in their seats. I took it to be a favourable sign. My body did too and I felt another warm pulse slick the top of my thighs.
She placed her hands on the sides of my hips and took a step back.
"Shoes off. Hands behind your head." More steel than velvet this time.
