The men shook hands. “Jake, nice to finally meet you. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to my club.” He turned to me, his gaze resting on my face, his expression sincere.
Jake spoke. “Chase, this is Abby, my sub.”
Chase extended his hand, which I shook. I nodded my head in greeting, a compromise between speaking and doing nothing. His deep brown eyes locked with mine for a moment. There was a curiosity there, that openness that drew me in. I had the strong sense this man never dealt in bullshit, regardless of the outcome. And somehow, in the context of this situation, I found that comforting.
“Welcome Abby. It’s a pleasure to have you here as well.”
He turned to Jake. “Let’s take a quick tour of the club. You can get the lay of the land, so to speak, and start to feel comfortable. Sometimes first visits can be overwhelming.”
Chase ushered us through the lounge area. “Something to drink? We have an excellent selection of imported mineral waters, sodas, and juices here in our lounge. No alcohol, but you already knew that.”
I didn’t, but I didn’t say anything. I declined Chase’s offer; I was too nervous, but Jake took a club soda. As we moved out of the room, I could feel the gazes of the men in the lounge sliding over me, along with looks from some of the women. It made me self-conscious for a moment, until I saw one of the men look at me and smile, briefly nodding his head. I turned back to listen Chase.
“People usually start out here, or gravitate back here after playing. There’s no nudity in this area; people use it kind of like a quiet zone, a decompression chamber or just a place to meet friends, see who’s here.”
Chase took us through a curtained archway and down a narrow hall. The sounds of music grew louder, along with other sounds; voices, some raised, a single muffled scream and then, much closer, the distinct sound of bare flesh being struck. A chill went through me, a brief flash of Jake’s punishment coming back, not a pleasant memory. I pushed it aside.
We passed another archway leading to a dance floor. There was a DJ spinning on a raised platform, and a fairly sizeable group of people dancing. The room was almost pitch black, the only lighting coming from the DJ platform and the flickering light from a few candles in glass holders on tables scattered along the edge of the room.
“Another popular place, although it usually is far more crowed later on. Again, no nudity in the dance area, but there’s a lot that goes on in the dark. Some members like to dance before to raise some energy; some are keyed up after a scene and like to dance to relax.”
The hallway took a turn and we moved down it past a series of doors, most with groups and couples gathered around them, some covered by curtains. Chase stopped in front of the first open door. The small group gathered moved aside for us.
“This is one of our scene rooms. If the curtains are back, it’s public. If they’re drawn as they are in some of the rooms down the hall, then it’s a private scene.”
I peered into the room, which was much larger than I imagined from the hall. And then I gasped.
There was a nak*d woman bent over a padded bench, her arms held out to her sides, tied to supports. A man dressed in completely in black leather was using a cane on her ass, striking her over and over, her ass bright red. As I watched, the man raised the cane again, bring it down across the woman’s ass.
She cried out, not in pain, but in pure pleasure. I caught a glance of her face. She looked like she was in rapture, her face wearing a blissful expression. I knew I was staring, but I was powerless to look away. The man was getting ready to strike her again when I felt Jake take my elbow.
“Come on, Abby.” Jake’s voice was low in my ear. I glanced at his face. In the dim light, I wasn’t sure if he was enjoying this or not. There was something unreadable in his expression.
But then Chase was leading us down the hall, past other rooms, some open, some curtained. I heard a variety of sounds, moans and gasps, stray words, Master or Sir among them. Behind one curtained arch I heard the distinctive grunts of a man f**king a woman…or maybe another man. I took a deep breath, concentrated on Jake’s hand on the small of my back and followed Chase further down the hall.
He took us to a one of the small rooms, pulling the curtain aside, gesturing for us to enter.
“Have you decided what you’d like to experience? We talked about me doing a scene with Abby….” He voice trailed off, his eyes fixed on Jake. I looked at Jake as well. It seemed surreal to know that these men had been talking about me, about this, without me being there.
Jake met my gaze, an unspoken question on his face. I nodded. If he wanted to share me, I was willing.
“Abby is fine with doing a scene with you, and with me watching.” Jake’s voice was neutral but his body was tense.
“Good.” Chase turned to me, that same easy smile on his face. “I’d like to do some rope play with you.”
My heart thudded, remembering the pictures I’d seen online of the intricate knots involved in rope bondage. I was excited to experience this, only a moment of panic intruding.
Chase explained briefly what he’d like to do in the scene: tie me with hemp ropes, in a symmetrical manner to a table, restraining me in such a way that allowed him to penetrate me, if that was the outcome of the scene.
“Sex isn’t always the outcome of a scene, although it can be. But with rope bondage, sometimes the goal is aesthetic, not sexual.”
His brown eyes swept over me. There was nothing hidden in that look at all; if Chase had his way, and I believed he would, there would be sex at the end of the scene.
“You can undress, put your clothes in the cabinet over there.” Chase was moving around the room, taking out ropes, placing them on a small table. Jake was standing in one corner of the room, watching intently.
The curtain at the door was still pulled back and I’d noticed one or two people looking in, curious expressions on their faces. I hesitated briefly, debating whether I wanted this to be public or private. It was my choice although no one had actually asked me.
But I remembered my brief walk through the lounge and the frankly admiring glances of the men, and women. They found me attractive; they found me pleasant to look at. There was nothing I needed to be ashamed of. I decided the scene would be public.
I undid the zippers on my skirt and corset, peeling them away from my body. I undid the clasps on the garter, slowly removing my stockings, tucking everything away into the cabinet.
Chase was done arranging the ropes. I stood off to the side, eyes lowered, waiting for instructions. He came to stand in front of me.
“I know you have a safe word you use with your Master, but for tonight we’re going to use green, yellow and red. I’ll ask you for a color, and if you’re fine, say green. If something bothers you, at any time, you may say yellow and tell me what it is. And if you want to stop, for any reason, any at all, you say red, any time you need to. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.” It felt distinctly odd, but also strangely arousing, to call someone other than Jake Master. I glanced over at him but he didn’t return my look.
A smile played across Chase’s lips. He looked very pleased with himself, and with me. With a jolt, I realized I wanted him to say ‘good girl’, like Jake did. But he went on.
“Good. I’ll ask you periodically if you’re okay, if something’s too tight or if your arms or legs are getting numb or cold. Rope play has its risks. Be honest and tell me exactly what you feel. Ropes can cut off circulation or pinch nerves. If anything starts feeling unsafe, speak up. Say the color word or just tell me what’s happening. I’ve never had anyone be hurt in my club, and you’re not going to be the first. I take this very seriously and your safety is my responsibility. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good. Let’s get started then.” His smile deepened, lighting up his eyes.
There was a waist-high table in the center of the room and Chase guided me to it, helping me up to sit on the end. The table was narrow, with two extensions on either side near the other end, making it look somewhat like a cross. I shifted my weight and suddenly had the panicky feeling I was going to fall off the table.
“Breathe, Abby. You’re fine.” Chase was looking down at me, still smiling. I managed a smile in return.
I heard him moving around behind me. He reappeared holding a white rope, doubled, in his hands.
“Okay. I’m going to start with your waist.” He wrapped the rope around me, gently straightening the rope, making it lay flat against my body. He wound the rope round my waist and up my torso several times, eventually tying it in front of me in a complicated looking knot. He ran the rope up my body, making more wraps beneath my br**sts and then above them. From the back he ran one strand down either side of my shoulders, threading them beneath the ropes that ran around my chest.
The sensation of his warm hands contrasted with the slightly scratchy feeling of the rope. His fingers brushed against my br**sts periodically, sending little frissons of pleasure coursing through my body.
With gentle but continuous force, he pulled the ropes tight. I could feel them pulling against my br**sts, tugging them up and apart, squeezing them. I made a small noise.
“Are you alright, Abby? Give me a color.” Chase’s voice was instantly in my ear.
“Green, Master.”
“Are the ropes too tight?”
“No, Master.”
Chase tied the two ends of rope together in front of me. He then helped me lie back on the table.
“I’m going to tie your arms next.”
My outstretched arms were tied to extensions, in a series of wraps and elegant knots. I could see them by turning my head and they were extraordinarily pretty.
Chase asked me again if I was okay and I said that I was. But this time there was something different in his voice. He’d moved to the end of the table between my legs and I glanced at his face.
“Your legs are next. Just relax.” He took one leg and then the other, bending and manipulating them, pulling them up and out, wrapping them with white rope. I was completely open and exposed, nothing hidden from anyone. I could feel cool air on my p**sy, but the heat that had been building slowly in my body as Chase had been doing his magic with the ropes suddenly blossomed. I knew I was wet, knew Chase could see. And at that moment, I wanted him to see, wanted him to know how aroused I was.
He disappeared from my field of vision periodically, moving methodically through his tasks. I caught sight of his face at times and there was a rapt expression, as if he were meditating or in prayer. The occasional question to me came in a voice that had grown softer, lower. I wondered what effect this process had on him, how binding someone in a series of complex knots made him feel.
And then he was done. I was asked again for a color, I again said green.
I closed my eyes, allowing myself to mentally examine each part of my body, to feel the ropes against my skin, to tense and relax my muscles, testing my bonds. They were restrictive, but not tight. There was enough give in the ropes that I felt comfortable. I smiled at that thought; I was bound on a table, unable to move but was comfortable.