Aching to Submit (3 page)

“A submissive who is as new to this, as you obviously are, and is searching. I would not leave her to navigate this road alone. You have to take care, always, Sophie. You’re a beautiful woman. You have to find your right partner—if you decide that is truly what you’re looking for.”

She had no words, once again feeling duplicitous.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he said, again guiding her with a hand at her back. “The private rooms are there.”

“What happens in the private rooms?”

“Anything the participants want.” He unlocked a door that opened to a staircase. “Only my security guards and I have a key to this floor. You’ll see why in a minute.”

Sophie climbed the steep, circling iron stairs with Kyan close at her back. She stepped onto the landing to find the corridor completely silent and she turned to Kyan, unsure what to do. There were six doors that led off the corridor, all of which were closed. At eye level were small 5″ by 5″ windows. Some were still dark, but from two, light shone through. He gestured in the direction of one of the doors. “Adam and Rebecca are inside that one,” he said. “Just a little background, they are a married couple with children. They’re fairly new to BDSM and quite private. They rent a room here twice a month to play without being caught by their kids at home. They’ve only played in public a handful of times.”

“Are we going to look inside?” she asked. “I mean, if they want privacy…”

“They’re aware they may be observed.”

Sophie thought about this, the idea of someone watching her if she were ever in a similar situation, and found the idea more arousing than anything else.

They passed another door on their way and she glanced inside, stopping immediately.

“Keep moving, Sophie,” he said.

“But… what’s happening in there?” she asked. The woman in the room was bound and by the looks of her, very upset.

“That’s a punishment. I don’t think it would be appropriate for you to witness that on your first night here.”

“Punishment?” she asked, the beginnings of the arousal she’d felt moments ago now turning to white heat. Why was she turned on by that word alone?

“Please keep moving,” he said, his voice just a little harder.

She looked at him and did as he said, the image of what she’d glimpsed, of the woman bound and bent over at the waist, the stripes of the cane the man was swinging already clearly marking the flesh of her bottom and thighs, now burning like a brand on her brain.

“Here,” he said, turning her so she faced the window and coming to stand behind her, his hands firmly planted on her shoulders.

“Adam is trying the crop on Rebecca tonight,” he said. “They got here only a little bit ago, so it looks like we’re right on time.”

Sophie was stunned at what she saw before her. The room was furnished with just one high-backed wooden chair at its center. Adam and Rebecca stood close together. She was naked and he wore a pair of tight jeans, his chest was bare, his arms muscular. In one of his hands he held a riding crop, but it wasn’t the crop that caught and held her attention. It was the way he was holding Rebecca. Although Sophie couldn’t make out the expression on her face, she must have been upset because they stood inches apart, foreheads together, his fingertips on her face. His lips were moving and she was nodding. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Adam speaking some words that Sophie thought must be assurances of some sort, and Rebecca listening, nodding now and then. He then simply pressed his lips to her forehead and they held there in a most intimate, tender gesture.

Sophie would have turned away, feeling like she was intruding on something too private, but when she tried, Kyan’s hands on her shoulders held her in place.

“Watch,” he said. “You want to. It’s one of the reasons you came.”

She didn’t answer, but did as he said. Adam released Rebecca, who glanced once at the long black leather crop he held. Sophie could see the hesitation in her eyes, but when she turned once more to her husband and he nodded, she went to the chair and bent over it so her belly was pressed up against the high back. She set her feet to the outside of the back legs and bent forward so far that she could grip the lowest part of the front legs.

The way the chair and now Rebecca were positioned, Sophie had a perfect view onto the woman’s bottom and, with her legs spread as they were, her glistening sex as well as the sparkling crystal that made up the base of the plug she held inside her anus. The flesh of her plump buttocks was already reddened. Sophie swallowed, her panties more than a little moist now as she watched the woman prepare herself.

“He’s already… spanked her?” Saying that word out loud made her blush furiously.

“He’s prepared her to receive the crop,” Kyan said from behind her. She noticed how he stood close but didn’t actually touch her, aside from his hands on her shoulders.

Adam positioned himself and Sophie could see the bulge that took up the front of his pants. He lifted the crop to Rebecca’s waiting buttocks and rubbed the square tip across it. He said something Sophie couldn’t hear before lifting his arm and, with a flick of his wrist, brought the crop down.

Sophie gasped and jumped. Kyan chuckled at her reaction.

“It’s soundproof?” she asked.

“They can’t hear us and we can’t hear them,” he said, pressing her shoulders, signaling once again for her to be silent and watch.

Adam lifted the crop again and hit her other cheek. Sophie could see Rebecca clenching in anticipation of the assault, but as he continued, as her buttocks reddened, she relaxed them, even as her breasts rocked with each stroke and the flesh of her bottom trembled.

“He’s not hitting too hard; he’ll take it slowly and I don’t believe he wants to punish her.”

“I thought you said it was all consensual?” she asked, unable to peel her eyes from the couple.

“One can consent to being punished. It all depends on the dynamics of the relationship. But tell me,” he said, turning her to face him. “How do you feel as a witness to this?”

She flushed, wondering if he could see how aroused she was.

“Sophie,” he said when she still hadn’t answered after a few moments. “You are welcome to come back here—as my guest—any time I’m here. But there are certain rules I’ll expect you to follow.”

“Rules?”

“Yes, rules. First one is that if I or any other man here asks you a question, you are to answer it. Verbally and with proper address. In case you’re unsure what that address is, it’s Sir. Is that clear?”

She looked at him with wide eyes, her belly tightening at his words, her mind wanting this, exactly this. It seemed to come so naturally to him. As kind and gentle as he’d been with her since he’d seemingly taken her under his wing, he was still able to dominate without question. “Yes… Sir,” she said, her body tingling to life from head to toe at her muttering of that word.

“Good girl,” he said.

“Now answer my question. Do you remember it?”

She nodded, but when he gave her a look she opened her mouth to speak. “Yes, Sir. You asked how I felt when I was watching. I felt, feel…” She took a moment, breaking eye contact, unsure she could do it but somehow trusting this stranger. “I feel aroused. Sir.”

He smiled.

“Would you like to come back tomorrow night?” he asked.

She would have said yes, but remembered Michael would be home then. Her heart twisted in her chest. “I’m out of town this weekend,” she lied. “I can’t.”

Kyan nodded. “It will be my pleasure to meet you again, whenever you return. I have to leave you for a bit now, but you’re welcome to stay.”

She couldn’t imagine being here alone. Wasn’t even sure how she’d ever thought she could do something like this alone. “No, I should go home. It’s late. Sir.”

“Where do you live?”

“On the Brouwersgracht,” she said, then mentally berated herself for telling him. What if he just showed up at her door one day? At least he wouldn’t know the house number. “I don’t mind walking—I need the fresh air.”

“I’ll walk you out then,” he said.

She was relieved he didn’t insist on walking her home.

He led the way down the stairs and collected her coat. Once they were just outside the doors, he turned her to face him and reached inside his pocket to hand her a business card. “If you would like to talk, my cell phone is on the back or you can e-mail me anytime.”

She looked at it and nodded. “Thank you,” she said, slipping it into her purse.

“Oh, and one more rule, Sophie, in case you choose to return,” he began.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Your clothes.”

She knew this would come up, didn’t she?

“Do you remember how the other submissives were dressed?” he asked.

She nodded. They weren’t.

He waited.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. I’ll expect the same from you.” He gave her a moment, allowing the words to impress upon her.

She understood him, even appreciated his not giving her an out. As welcoming as he was, as he promised to be the next time, he wouldn’t let her off the hook. It was exactly what she wanted and needed.

“Enjoy your weekend, Sophie,” he said.

“Good night, Kyan… Sir, and… thank you.”

He simply nodded and watched as she walked down the street and around the corner.

Sophie lay in bed trying to process the events of the evening, trying to make sense of what she’d seen. The images alone—the club, the main room, and then the private rooms. The punishment she’d glimpsed made her shudder, but watching Adam with Rebecca left her wanting, almost jealous. The way they’d been together, their obvious intimacy, his care of her… it awoke feelings inside her. It wasn’t desire and it wasn’t merely arousal. Those would be easier to manage. No, this was much deeper. It was nothing less than a longing that twisted her stomach.

Her throat tightened and she turned over onto her side. She’d never have this. She’d never experience those things herself; she’d never be able to fill this gaping hole.

Michael. Oh, Michael.

Guilt edged its way alongside the longing. Things hadn’t turned out as she’d expected them to. As either of them had expected them to.

After two years of marriage, they’d tried to get pregnant. The first pregnancy happened quickly and they were thrilled. But she’d lost the baby before the end of the third month. The second pregnancy had lasted a few weeks shorter. After the miscarriages, they’d done some tests. When nothing had come of those, the doctor had suggested more tests, but she hadn’t wanted to go further, afraid to find out she’d never be able to have children of her own. That thought alone had sent her tumbling into depression.

This thing, this need, this desire, it wasn’t new. It had only resurfaced after those events, and it had done so with a vengeance. It had somehow become a sort of lifeline for her. Something she could hold onto to stay afloat. She’d been able to subdue it for a long time, managed to live with the lack, but since she’d given in to the other, it was as if there wasn’t enough space inside her to carry both losses, both holes in her life. The one she had no choice in and this other she denied herself.

Now there was Kyan. She hadn’t felt a sexual energy from him, although she wasn’t naïve enough to think he wouldn’t take it if she offered it. He was kind, she knew that in her heart, but he was still a man.

She imagined Michael having that air of authority, that ability to make her knees go weak with his words. And it would have to be Michael, wouldn’t it? That was the irony of this. She wouldn’t cheat on him. She couldn’t, she just couldn’t imagine it. There was no question she loved him and he already deserved better. She’d gone to a BDSM club alone behind his back. What would he do if he ever found out?

Well, he wouldn’t find out because she wasn’t going to go again. What if the next time Kyan asked for more? She’d already be expected to be naked—at least partially so—if she went back.

The thought of being seen like that, of submitting to this rule of the club and essentially submitting to him, titillated on a level so base that it confused as much as it frightened and Sophie wondered just how well she knew herself after all.

* * *

Friday dragged as Michael checked his watch every few minutes. He wanted to get home, get back to his wife. He hadn’t been able to get hold of her for more than a few minutes on Thursday night and when he’d spoken with her today, she’d sounded better. At least she’d tried to sound more cheerful, but he knew it was forced, like she was trying too hard.

His flight was late leaving due to thunderstorms in Paris and by the time he got home, it was almost eleven o’clock on Friday night. He paid the taxi driver and carried his suitcase up the stairs to the front door. The lights were still on inside, but the curtains on the huge front windows were drawn. He walked in and set his bag down, retrieving the box of macaroons he’d picked up in Paris for her. She loved the colorful little cookies, especially the pistachio-flavored green ones, so he’d made sure to buy extra of those.

The sound of the TV came from the living room and he went in that direction, surprised she hadn’t come out to greet him as she usually did. But when he walked in to find her curled up in the corner of the couch holding the small throw over her scantily clad body, he had to smile.

He was powerfully attracted to her, had been ever since the first day he’d seen her. She was pretty, beautiful even, although she hardly seemed to know it herself. Long dark hair, a small, pale face with delicate bones, large caramel eyes, and full luscious lips. She stirred when he pulled the blanket away and glimpsed her bare legs. She opened her eyes and sat up, still a little confused from the look in them. He whistled, his cock stirring to life.

“Wow,” he said, taking her into his arms and covering her mouth with his. He held her tight to him before his hands wandered to the bare cheeks of her ass. She wore a dark red halter-neck teddy that just covered her small breasts with a thin strip of lace. It was split down the middle and underneath she wore a matching thong. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he said, lifting her off the floor. Although high-heeled slippers lay on the floor by the couch, she was barefoot and at 6′4″, he was a good foot taller than she and weighed almost twice as much next to her petite form. He loved that disproportion between their bodies. He loved that he could pick her up and put her where he wanted her, how he wanted her, and fuck her tight little pussy.