Page 161 of The Dommes

Everyone has a code name in this damned place. “All right, Nova, mind if I ask you a few questions about… what you do?”

She raises a sculpted eyebrow. “Ma’am?”

“Not your job. No, not like that.” Most of the young female subs in here don’t have careers unless they’re aspiring actresses or singers. Most of them are looking for some sugar on the side as they go through college or struggle through God knows how many shitty part-time jobs. I don’t envy them. I never have. “I meant being a sub.”

Nova isn’t responding. I think she may be on the verge of getting up and leaving me with an untouched drink.

“Go on, ma’am.”

Well, then.

“How long have you been doing this?”

She pokes a finger beneath her chin and looks the other way, adding up time in her head. She’s a cute sub, I’ll give her that. Petite. Perky. Big, round lips most would go crazy for. I’m sure Ira would get a kick out of her for a night.

“About two years, ma’am.”

“Why do you like it?”

I can tell she’s confused, but thus far she’s not asking any questions. “I don’t know…”

“Do you lifestyle?”

She shrugs. Her sheer, pink lingerie shuffles along her breasts and stomach, but does not accidentally show me her goods. I can see those nipples well, though. “Depends on the Domme, ma’am. Some of them are fun for a night, but after that, it’s only for the sex. Others make me want to serve them all day. I don’t have a preference. Every relationship is different.”

I nod. Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. “So you would confidently say that you enjoy being a sub, possibly in a lifestyle sense?”

“Sure.”

She doesn’t know where I’m going with this. I barely know where I’m going with this. There are things I want to know, for sure, but it’s not exactly kosher for strangers to ask each other these things. If I’m not delicate, Nova might bail on me. I wouldn’t blame her.

“Could you tell me… what you find appealing about it? Submitting and serving, that is.”

We’ve reached an impasse. Nova doesn’t know me from Adam, and yet here I am, in a BDSM sex club acting like I’m a college reporter doing an exposé on seedy lifestyles and how it relates to feminism.

Gradually, I get Nova to open up. She takes a steady sip from her drink and keeps her eyes on her lap as she answers.

Fun. Thrills. Self-empowerment. I expected to hear those words, so I ask for more information. I’m hoping she has a good vocabulary.

“All I can say, ma’am, is that there’s nothing like it in the world. I can understand how it’s strange to other women. We hear that we shouldn’t let women treat us like that, and yet it’s so ingrained in our society that it feels perfectly natural, totally safe to do it. Especially with powerful women like the ones here. They can take care of you. They give you an escape from reality. In turn, you give them one too.”

You give them one too?

“How so?”

Nova cocks her head as if I’m the stupidest woman she’s encountered in a long time. “Don’t you see? Women like me are an escape for you dominants. We give them everything they want emotionally. They don’t get that outside of places like this, no matter how successful they are at business. Sure, they have a ton of money. Sure, they can have sex with a lot of other women who aren’t into kink, but what does it mean? It’s fun for a while, but it quickly loses its luster. They need more emotion. Maybe not love, but they need to feel like the center of someone’s universe.”

It’s compelling, but it’s not helping any of her points.

“I think I get what you mean,” I say after a few moments of contemplation. For so long I assumed the masculine people in my life – people like my father and Ira – didn’t have to want for anything. Yeah, they had to work. Even we wealthy bastards sometimes work to keep from getting bored. Wanting for things? If a relationship isn’t working, it’s not hard to find a new one. You can move at a drop of the hat. Go on vacation on the other side of the world. Buy the latest gadgets and games and gizmos to keep you amused.

Hell, you can buy whatever sex you want.

Of course, I know that it can feel hollow if you don’t have anyone, such as a lover or other family, to share it with, but I’m a woman. Everything’s tinted by my disadvantages, even in this world. I’ve always assumed others live a high life outside of work.

Perhaps not.

“So what makes it so great for you?” I ask Nova. “What do you gain from a random hookup in a place like this?” Besides free drinks and perhaps a getaway weekend with all expenses paid and a few gifts like designer clothes and a charitable gift into a bank account.

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