Disclaimer:
Please read and take note. This work explores Femdom themes of power imbalance, female domination and male submission, humiliation and corporal discipline. Please do not read this story if you find such themes offensive, distasteful, or upsetting. This is a work of fiction that I wrote for my sweet sub, Jason, and is freely offered up for the enjoyment of those who would like it. British English spellings are used throughout. Troll comments will be deleted with extreme prejudice.
Jason's body was taut with anticipation as he looked at himself in the full-length mirror. Outwardly, he might almost be able to walk down the street and not raise too much attention. Almost. Well, in some parts of town, at night, perhaps.
What did one wear to a sex club, anyway? It'd be easier if he were a Dom; black jeans and a tight t-shirt, and he'd be fine. But as a new sub, he had very little in his wardrobe that would give off the right vibe. He'd eventually settled on his silky, black gym vest, which showed off his tattoos and was cut low under the arms and flashed the odd hint of nipple. He teamed this with his tight, black cycling shorts, which he thought showed off his modest package rather well. The biggest issue was what to wear on his feet, as his customary trainers were banned by the club's dress code. He had decided that his steel-toe cap work boots added a certain edge and completed the outfit.
But, what really put him in the right mindset was what he had on under the shorts. He'd ordered a leather harness that cinched around his waist and pulled tight between his butt cheeks, then flanked his cock and balls with two chains that connected to the waistband with an O-ring. Feeling his junk being restrained by the chains while caressed by the silking material of his cycling shorts as he walked kept him aroused to such an extent that he could push down his fear and finally fulfil his fantasy of visiting a sex club.
Perdition
had been open for about a year, and Jason had been psyching himself for at least that long. Once a month, the BDSM club opened its doors to newbies. Jason decided that he'd wasted enough of his life suppressing his submissive desires, and with his birthday looming, tonight was the night. He'd go to the club, soak up the atmosphere, watch a few scenes that would enrich his wank bank of memories, then return home with one more thing ticked off his bucket list.
When he arrived at the club, the seductive lighting, low, throbbing music, and sounds of pleasure and pain were like a shot of adrenaline straight to his groin. Seeing the risqué outfits and skin on show, Jason realised that he could have been a lot more daring, but this was good. He wouldn't stand out. He could hide in the shadows and watch without attracting any attention.
Ordering a drink from the bar to steady his nerves, he spent some time people-watching. It was very clear who was dominant and who was submissive, and not always due to the outfits. It was more in their demeanours: the way they walked, the eye contact, the tilt of the lips in a provocative smile. He noticed a few women and more than one man giving him an appreciative once-over, and he preened while looking down into his drink to deter any further advances. While it was exciting to be wanted, he had no idea what to do in this sort of encounter, whether he'd even enjoy it as much as his fantasies suggested, so he was much more comfortable with watching.
When one older man, well-muscled with a neatly trimmed beard and just a hint of grey, started to approach him, Jason was ready to bolt for the door. He'd heard somewhere that some clubs used coloured wristbands indicating sexual preference, but this club didn't offer that. He angled his body away and stared studiously across the bar, hoping the guy would get the message.
It was then that his gaze was caught and held by an elegant older woman in a skin-tight leather bodysuit that fastened high up on her long, slender neck. The only skin showing on her curvaceous body was her hands, tipped with blood red nails, face with sweeping eyebrows, high cheeks and lush red lips, and a cut-out just above the swell of her beautiful breasts. Her hair was swept back into a tight, high ponytail that trailed over her shoulder like a gleaming lash.
Jason could barely breathe as she deliberately examined him up and down before tipping just the corner of her mouth in a knowing smile. Then, before he could summon any semblance of a thought, let alone words, she stood, turned, and sashayed away into the teaming club.
When Jason turned back around, the other man had gone, and most people were making their way to the stage. The music lowered as a sultry voice announced that Mistress K was taking to the main stage for a demonstration, so Jason picked up his drink and followed the crowds.
When he reached the periphery of the audience, he stopped and stared at the woman who'd just dissected him with her eyes. Mistress K was standing resplendently spotlighted centre stage. For the first time, he saw her whole body and the impact was even more striking than his first impression, not least because she was lightly tapping a riding crop along her leather-clad thigh. While she was clearly statuesque, with her patent platform boots tightly laced to her knees, the Domme must stand over six feet. In fact, she might even equal his impressive 6ft 4in stature. How long had he yearned to look up into the face of a confident, commanding woman and be pulled into her firm and demanding presence?
Kneeling at her feet was a young woman in red latex ruffled panties and matching peekaboo bra, fishnet tights that showcased the ample rounds of her bottom, stripper heels, and a three-quarter face mask complete with ears. She also wore a lush tail, which was clearly anchored in a very intriguing place. This must be her sub, the one she would be demonstrating on. Jason was very much looking forward to seeing the two of them together. He also felt just the tiniest twinge of envy.
Mistress K stroked one long, slim hand over the girl's upturned cheek, and the kneeling woman nuzzled into the touch.
'Kitten,' the older woman purred, 'go hunt. Find me some pretty little prey to play with.'
When Kitten slinked off the stage, and the lights came up on the audience, Jason realised his position in the shadows was no longer the safe haven he had hoped for. In fact, as the feline huntress stalked towards him with laser focus and a determined smirk, he understood that he was more vulnerable than he had ever been.
---
With nowhere left to hide, Jason allowed himself to be captured by the young woman. Kitten had his tattooed bicep in her surprisingly firm grasp, her sharp black nails--
claws
--ensuring he could not escape. Every bit the huntress, Kitten dragged him back to the stage like the prey he was. The rest of the crowd parted as she tugged him along, many smirking and showing signs of predatory interest as they took in his reluctance. They could smell fresh meat being led to the slaughter, and they were out for blood.
As he nervously mounted the three steps to the low stage, Kitten gave him a hard shove, and he found himself sprawled at the feet of the beautiful Domme, a fresh kill offered up to her Mistress. So close was he, that Jason saw his distorted reflection in the glossy leather of her boots and smelled the fresh polish. Fleetingly, he imagined a loyal Kitten lovingly polishing them.
Mistress K shattered his reverie when she used the tab of her crop to tip Jason's head up to meet her withering gaze.
'What do we have here?' She directed her words to the crowd, who laughed and called out suggestive comments. 'Kitten, how sweet of you to bring me a delicious virgin subby who needs his cherry popped.'
Looking once again at Jason, she asked, 'Well, little sub. I can see that you are lost and alone in a big, bad world. Do you have a name?'
Jason cleared his throat and managed to croak, 'Jason, Mistress.'
That pitiful attempt elicited a low chuckle. 'Tonight, you are mine and, if I deign to address you, I will call you
