Disobedience (2 page)

“The Club,. tThe name is,
The
Club
.”

“But…I don’t have any clothes on!”

“It’s a BDSM club, Jess. You won’t be the
only naked slave there.”

It wasn’t as if I didn’t know about bondage
clubs. We’d met in one after all, in Seattle, when I was first
learning about the scene. But I hadn’t been in one since we agreed
on our relationship, and certainly never as a slave. There had been
times, when he had used me until I wanted nothing more than to
fulfill his every desire, I’d considered suggesting it—letting him
show me off a little. But the plan was for me to be dressed, at
least mostly. My eyes filled with tears.

We stopped at a stop light and a guy in the
cab of a semi pulled up next to us. There were lights all around us
and visibility was very good. When I saw his eyes on me, I slid
down in the seat. It was just as I’d feared.

“Sit up straight, Jessica.”

“There’s a man in that truck looking at
me.”

“Yes, now sit up straight!”

I slid up a little, but pretty much stayed
hunkered down. As the light changed, my Master slapped my thigh
hard, leaving a bright red handprint. He also rolled the tinted
windows down.

“Sit up!”

I sat up in the seat, praying the truck and
driver would be gone, but when I looked up, there he was driving
right beside us. He was still looking at me, now with a perfectly
clear view. There wasn’t anything keeping him from paralleling us
forever. I almost covered my breasts, but I knew what would happen
if I did.
God, oh God, how can he do this to me?

“Pinch your nipples for him.”

“Wh…what? Please Master, no.”

Again the hard slap on the thigh, just
outside the truck driver’s view.

“You’re only making things harder on
yourself, Jessie. Now, pinch both nipples and spread your legs.
He’s already seen how hard the cool air makes your nipples. I want
him to see your dark curls blowing in the breeze.”

With a strangled sob, I spread my legs and
pinched both nipples. It was only then, when the breeze did hit me
between the legs, that I realized I was wet. The fact only
embarrassed me more.

“Pull them out.”

As tears ran down my cheeks, I grasping
grasped them between my thumb and forefinger, stretched them out
and held them there. I glanced up at the man, and he was grinning
broadly. I could feel my whole body flush.

“Shake them.”

I didn’t think I could be more humiliated,
but, as I shook my breasts by the nipples and watched the truck
driver leer, I found out I was wrong. I had never felt such relief
when we turned left at the next light. As we turned, the man in the
truck gave us a salute with his air horn.

We were in a part of town that had some
businesses and some warehouses in it. Pulling into a small
warehouse, we stopped at what looked very much like an instant
teller machine. My Master took a card and put it in the slot of the
machine. A green light blinked and the card came out. The gates in
front of us opened. We pulled into an underground garage and
parked. He opened his car door, but I just sat there.

“Get out of the car.”

I opened my door and got out. I just stood
there, looking down, my leash hanging from my collar. He came
around to my side and took the leash. He put his hand under my chin
and lifted it until my eyes met his.

“Remember what I have taught you, Jessie.”
Without waiting for my reply, he turned and walked away. I followed
him, two steps behind as he had trained me to do, wondering what he
was talking about. He had taught me so much, but nothing that
prepared me for this.

We walked through the garage and came to an
unmarked door. Standing beside it were two very large men. They
were dressed in tuxedos, but instead of the regular tie, they had
black collars around their necks. They were slaves, too.

As we approached the door, they came to
attention and talked in unison. “Good evening, Master Daniel. It
has been quite a while since we have seen you. It is good to see
you again.”

“Good evening, John, Henry, . Oover two
years, actually. You are both looking well.”

They thanked him in unison and one of them
opened the door. When we went inside, I was amazed at what I saw.
Though the outside was a non-descript warehouse, the inside was a
posh club—far nicer than the ones I’d visited in Seattle.

There were dozens of people there. About half
were slaves in various stages of dress, or undress as the case may
be. Some wore evening wear, some wore lingerie, some were in
corsets, some were dressed in leather. A few were naked, like
me.

I was watching my Master while trying to look
around me. Despite my earlier chagrin, I had started to feel a
little less embarrassed until I noticed that everyone seemed to be
watching us as we walked across the room. My Master nodded at
several other Masters as he went to the bar and sat on a stool. He
made a slight motion with his hand, and I knelt beside him, facing
the bar.

“Turn around and face the room.”

I rose, faced the room, and knelt again. I
felt my face flush as I assumed a perfect presentation position,
with my legs spread as they were supposed to be, my hands on the
top of my thighs, my breasts thrust out. I wanted to lower my head
in shame, but I kept it up, looking straight ahead as he had taught
me.

My Master ordered a glass of wine and a large
glass of water. When the drinks came, he handed me the wine, not to
drink, but to hold for him. Staying in position, I cupped the glass
in my hands and looked up at him, ready for whenever he wanted it.
As we sat there, several people came up and talked to him. Most of
them looked me over, but I just guarded the glass, pretending as if
I didn’t see them looking.

After he chatted with a couple more people,
another man walked up to him. He didn’t even start with casual
conversation. Instead, he stared at me openly. “So, this is the
one. Let me take a look at her.”

Master motioned for me to stand, and I rose
to my feet, handing my Master his glass.

“Very nice, Daniel., sShe will be fun to work
with.”

Fun to work with?
While I tried to
figure out what he meant by that, he reached out and pinched my
right nipple, then my left. I gasped. No one had ever touched me
like that but my Master, and he didn’t seem to mind at all. What
made it even more embarrassing was my body’s reaction. My nipples
had always been sensitive, and they became very hard and erect
right away.

“I like her nipples, Dan., tThick and
crinkly.” He looked at them as if they were an expensive cut of
steak on the meat rack. “Nice and tasty.”

I wanted to hide, but I stood there as my
Master had instructed, letting this stranger tweak my nipples and
fondle my breasts, none too gently. After a couple of minutes of
meaningless chat, the man told my Master we would be starting in
about fifteen minutes and then walked away.

Starting? Starting what?
Now he had
given me even more to worry about.

Master handed me the glass of water. I took a
sip of it, but I really wasn’t thirsty.

“Drink it all, Jess, you will need it.”

Need it? Why will I need it?
Every
comment made me even more worried now, but I didn’t want to bring
it to the forefront. I drank all the water and gave the glass back.
He ordered another drink and then led me to the left side of the
room where there was another door.

We went through the door, and I stopped in
amazement at what I saw. It was a complete dungeon, a torture
chamber—the most elaborate I had ever seen. Several crosses stood
prominently throughout the room. There were hooks in the ceiling,
hooks in the walls, hooks on the floor. Posts were mounted in
different areas; a pommel horse sat in each of two corners; a
couple of gynecologist tables gleamed in the lights. Chains and
ropes were everywhere.

There was everything I could imagine and
more. All kinds of clamps, vibrators, and other torture instruments
filled a huge, open cabinet covering half of one wall. I had no
idea what all of them were for. I wasn’t sure I want to find out.
Along two walls were plush sofas, chairs and end table, obvious for
people that just wanted to sit and watch what was happening.

My Master took me to the center of the
dungeon, the center of attention. He buckled leather restraining
cuffs tightly around my wrists and attached them with chains to a
hook in the ceiling. Before he had even let go, the chains started
rising, controlled by some hidden technician, stretching my arms
above me until I was almost on my toes.

The worries that had been in the back of my
mind came to the forefront.
He is going to punish me in front of
all these people.
That is what that other Master meant when he
said they would start in fifteen minutes, why my Master had said I
would need the water. And, if it was going to take that long, he
planned on going the distance. This wasn’t going to be a simple
spanking.

“Please Master, no. I’ll do what you say from
now on. Take me home. Please, use your belt however you like. I’ll
even change the contract so you can use it whenever you want"

I wasn’t certain if the look that flashed
across his face was intrigue at my offer, anger at my mentioning
our contract in public, or something else.

“It’s too late, Jessie. You're tonight’s
entertainment.”

“Please, I beg you. Please don’t punish me in
front of those people.”

“Oh, Jessica, I’m not going to punish you.
I’m not going to touch you at all. I’m just going to watch.”

My knees became so weak that I would have
fallen if my wrists weren’t tethered. Tears filled my eyes again.
Suddenly, the idea of his punishing me in front of these people
paled in comparison to being punished
by
them. I knew my
Master. More importantly, he knew me and I trusted that. There was
no telling what these people might do.

“No Master, please don’t do this. I’m yours.
At least punish me yourself.”

“Yes, you’re mine, and I’ll do with you as I
please. We’ll see if maybe you’ll learn a lesson from others, since
you don’t seem to be able to learn one from me.”

“No, no! I have learned! I will learn! I will
never disobey you again.”

“I hope that’s true Jessie.” He turned and
walked back through the door, leaving me there, naked and
helplessly chained to the ceiling, alone with my thoughts.

It wasn’t long before people started coming
into the room. Most were Masters and Mistresses, but there were
several slaves, perhaps there to learn a lesson through me. The
Masters and Mistresses sat in the sofas and chairs. Their slaves
knelt beside them. I could feel all of their eyes on me, looking at
me, judging me—or worse, sizing me up as they decided what they
were going to do to me.

Once most of the seats were taken, my Master
came back in and walked over to me. “This is Jessica. She’s a
willful slave. So, tonight she is here for your entertainment.
Hopefully she will learn a lesson in obedience, too.”

He turned and faced me, then raised my chin
to look into his eyes. I could see the love there, but I could also
see something else. Excitement, the same look he had those few
times he’d picked up the belt.

He looked at me for a long moment then
whispered, “Make me proud, girl.” He turned and walked away and sat
in one of the chairs along the wall. Yet again, my eyes filled with
tears, but they did not spill. I would make him proud of me. This
time I wouldn’t let him down. Something about that look that had
changed things. He was looking forward to this.

As soon as my Master sat, the man he had been
talking to in the bar came up to me. He ran his hands slowly down
my body then back up. Had my eyes been closed, I would have thought
it was a caress, gentle, even provocative. But my eyes weren’t
closed, and I saw the hungry look, a look that grew more predatory
when he came back up to my breasts.

He began to fondle them, lightly at first,
sending little thrills through my body as my nipples responded to
his touch and drew tight. He reacted to their hardening by turning
his attention to them, tweaking and twisting them until they were
as stiff as they could get. Then he turned away from me and went to
the wall where the many whips and floggers hung.

Without hesitating, he took down a medium
sized brown leather whip. I shuddered, knowing from his certainty
he had planned to use that whip from the start. Unlike the simple
leather belt my Master used, this was braided and stiff. Even among
those that used flogging as part of their regular play, this one
was for punishment.

Even in my Master’s hands, this would have
frightened me. But I was being punished, after all. I straightened
as best as I could and looked at my Master, showing him I was going
to make him proud. Though I couldn’t say it made my fear go away,
the barely masked look of anticipation on his face calmed me a
little.

Just as I thought I was ready, I heard the
crack of the whip and felt it bite into my flesh. I bit back a
whimper as a second crack signaled the sting of the thongs across
my bottom. The lashes came slowly and steadily. I heard each snap
of the whip just before I felt it nip. He worked down my bottom and
upper thighs, gradually picking up the pace and the intensity.

By the time he’d worked back up and started
back down again, I couldn’t help but whimpered a quiet cry with
each crack, my body jerking under the lash. The snapping became
louder and more close together until the snap and the sear of the
thongs became one. My moans became cries of pain, pain only
tolerable because the image of my Master’s face lit with
pleasure—an image I couldn’t have seen through the tears—kept me
going.