Without his submissive, Cujo was just some guy with a rope who could tie elaborate knots. Big deal. It was the submissive who gave the Dom his power.
Jenna was beginning to see firsthand what her research had always told her. The submissive really was the one who held all the control. Being inside an actual club gave her such a new perspective on the relationships between the players that she was connecting the dots between all the BDSM concepts she’d read about in whole new ways.
Without a submissive, a Dominant was nothing. And without a submissive’s permission, a Dominant could do nothing. Taking it one step further, if a submissive had had enough and used her safeword, the Dominant was required to stop. If he didn’t, he broke the necessary trust that was required for a D/s relationship to even exist.
But Cujo obviously had his submissive’s trust in every way, because she seemed to be enjoying every moment of what he was doing to her, even as she whimpered behind the ball gag stuffed in her mouth and mascara-tinted tears streaked her face as he fingered her, used a dildo on her, then a vibrator, wielding each new toy with mastery.
The scene ended with Cujo fucking her as he manipulated the ropes holding her legs open with one hand and held a Hitachi Magic Wand vibrator to her clit with the other. It was all very fascinating to watch, like a puppet master pulling the strings of the marionette to give the audience the best show.
Jenna hadn’t realized how enraptured she’d been with the scene until it was over and she looked to the right to see another submissive kneeling in front of her Dom sucking him off. And a few feet in front of Warren, another Dom had his submissive pressed face-first against the wall. He’d just finished shackling her wrists in cuffs that were bolted to heavy chains that hung from the ceiling. A smaller crowd gathered as the Dom took a flogger from a nearby hook, then slapped it across her ass.
Couples paired off all around her, male and female Dominants riding Cujo’s energy as they manipulated their submissives where they wanted them as small crowds splintered from the main group to watch, no doubt waiting their turn.
“See anything you like?” Warren asked quietly, taking her hand and strolling her down the center of the room.
She felt as if she were at an all-you-can-eat buffet for adults, and every dish looked as appetizing as the one before. This buffet needed a sampler platter.
The basement was quickly becoming a symphony of moans, commands, and slaps of leather against skin, followed by choked squeals. So much was happening in so many different places, Jenna didn’t know where to look. It was like a deconstructed orgy.
“I, uh . . .” She blinked at a burly male submissive being led across the room by his diminutive female Dominant who was even shorter than Jenna. The man’s cock had been bound and was ruddy and swollen.
“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?” Warren said, wearing a knowing smile, which held a hint of cocky amusement.
All she could do was gape at the orgiastic carnival being erected right before her eyes in real time.
For the next hour, Jenna felt like she was in one massive adult game of show-and-tell. A veritable display of hedonism. Warren walked and talked her through each scene, quietly filling her in on who the players were, what she could expect from them, warning her not to talk to this one, encouraging her to get to know that one, and answering her questions. But mostly they watched, voyeurs to submissives being laid bare, punished, rewarded, and pleasured.
As she was watching a particularly intense scene where a Dom had his submissive bound to a table and had been mercilessly edging her with a variety of vibrators, as well as his fingers, mouth, and cock, Warren moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. A moment later, he pressed his groin against her lower back, letting her feel his full erection.
“Would you like to play?” he whispered in her ear, his breath warming her skin.
The suggestion sent a powerful ripple of excitement through her, making her tremble. “Here?”
The idea definitely tempted her, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for such a huge step. It was only her first time at the club, and she didn’t want to disappoint him. What if she couldn’t follow his rules? Or, even worse, chickened out mid-scene? What if seeing the faces watching her was too much. Sure, fantasizing about being watched while she had sex got her hot. But what if the reality wasn’t as exciting? What if, instead, it made her self-conscious rather than aroused?
“No, not here.” He took her empty glass and set it on a small table with his, then reached for her hand. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
“Someplace private.”
“Private? Isn’t that against the rules?” The list of rules he’d sent her said that all play was to take place in the dungeon and that the rest of the house was off-limits to anything but socializing.
That wicked mouth of his curved into a sexy smirk. “It’s my house. I’m allowed to bend the rules.”
“Is that so?” She took his hand, eager to be alone with him after a month of tantalizing phone sex and two hours of watching everyone around her living out her fantasies.
She had dreamed about being with a man like Warren since that first spanking all those years ago. Now, here she was with enough sexual tension coiled inside her that she could spend a month as his sex slave and still not exhaust it all.
He merely grinned and led her to the elevator.
Sliding a card into a slot on the keypad, he pressed the button for the fourth floor.
“Why do you need the card?”
