Page 23 of Dominant

Maggie opened her wardrobe and pulled a white dress out from a row of identical white dresses. She watched me, without averting her eyes, and I undressed in front of her, leaving my panties on and dropping my car keys down the back before slipping the dress over my head.

“You’ll lose those,” she said, making a tutting noise.

She reached back into the wardrobe, thrusting her hand through the dresses for something at the back, and pulled out a small vial, unscrewing the dropper and squeezing a drop of clear liquid onto her tongue.

“If you’re nervous, I have the perfect thing,” she said, holding up the brown glass vial.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s not a big deal. It will make you feel relaxed and sexy. I find it helps.”

I hesitated, considering the sequence of ill-advised decisions I was making, and tapped the car keys in my panties reassuringly. Worst case scenario, I figured, I could get my cell phone from my car and call an Uber.

“Okay,” I stuck out my tongue and she squeezed one tasteless drop onto my tongue.

She checked the hallway before ushering me out of her room, and I followed her back down through the quiet house.

“We wear necklaces to show we belong,” she explained, pointing at her necklace, where a small silver X hung on a chain. “Just keep your head bowed when we enter the house and no one will notice you don’t have one.”

We slipped on our winter boots and exited the back door. The backyards of both houses had been converted to parking lots and there were many expensive cars parked on both sides. The cold wind whipped through the thin fabric of my dress, biting my skin as we hurried across to the other house.

The back door opened as we approached. “Greetings,” said a man’s voice, as we passed through.

I kept my head down as instructed and didn’t dare look up. Maggie took her boots off and stowed them neatly by the door, and I followed suit. Then a heavy velvet curtain brushed across the floor and I followed Maggie through it in my bare feet.

Beyond the curtain, I raised my eyes, and saw that I was in another beautiful, grand home. This one was sensual and moody - dim lighting, and deep, rich colours. The wide hallway was covered in a patterned red wallpaper, and softly lit by old-fashioned gas lamps mounted on the wall. Quiet jazz music seemed to be playing everywhere at once, through a network of hidden speakers.

Two men walked past us without even acknowledging us. They were both wearing black masks that obscured the top half of their faces, but I had a shock of recognition as they swept by, and quickly bowed my head to hide my sharp intake of breath. I would know that tanned jawline and easy, self-assured way of walking anywhere - it was my boss, Mark.

“This way,” said Maggie under her breath, grabbing my hand and pulling me forward. “Don’t look at them. It’s an invitation.”

“An invitation to what?”

“An invitation to sex. I usually try to avoid getting grabbed by just anyone. Let’s go to the living room. There are some younger guys that usually hang out in there.”

“Wait, stop,” I pulled back on her hand. “Can you please tell me what this place is? Why are those men wearing masks?”

Why is MarkGibson wearing a mask? was what I really wanted to know.

She stopped and took both my hands in hers, looking at me and massaging my hands gently with her thumbs as she spoke. Her hands felt good and my attention shifted, zeroing in on the electricity of her touch. I felt my nipples harden in a surprising response.

She smiled seductively as though she could feel the change rippling through me. “These men are some of the richest and most powerful men in the country. They wear masks to protect their identity, and they come hereto do whatever they want to girls like me. Girls…” she jerked her head towards me, “... like you.”

“What do you mean whatever they want?”

“I mean anything. They fuck you, but they also hurt you, you know? Like BDSM stuff. You ever do anything like that?”

… I saw a naughty girl who should be punished. I felt a compulsion to snap the elastic band on my wrist, but Maggie was holding my hands. I shook my head no.

“Well, it’s not for everyone, but for me…” she raised her shoulders and dropped them. “For me, it saved my life. BDSM is about giving up your power to someone else. Trusting them. And sometimes it’s about losing yourself in the pain as well. That’s the part that’s really not for everyone.”

… The pain helps with the pain.

“So it’s a BDSM sex club,” I said in a tone of voice that implied the mystery house had been overhyped.

She shook her head. “No. It’s a training facility and a lifestyle. You and me, anyone without a black pendant around their neck, we’re slaves. We do what we’re told, when we’re told, and we always obey the Masters. For the most part, the Masters all wear masks, too, although sometimes they’ll take them off if you get more intimate with them. But if a Master tells you to do something, you must do it.”

I made a mou of disbelief. “But I didn’t sign up to be anyone’s sex slave.”

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