Page 221 of The Dommes

Kathleen

Nothing could have prepared me for this. No amount of sleep. No number of goodies to eat or coffee to drink. Not even a hundred kisses to my face or reassuring rubs to the shoulder are enough to bring me down from my anxious haze that says all of this is a huge mistake I can never make a comeback from.

Even so, here I am, in the coatroom at Midnight on the busiest night of the week, my knees shaking in my leather boots and my ponytail jerking against the back of my neck.

“Relax,” Ira says, smoothing down the sleeves of my blazer. “You’re going to do great tonight. Everyone will love you the same as they did before.”

That also means they’ll dislike me the same as before. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I say for the fifth time since we’ve walked through the door. Someone comes in, and Ira shields me in the corner, fingers readjusting the collar around my neck. “Besides, everyone knows…”

I shudder. Ira was late finding out about the Page 6 fiasco. Since then, she’s done nothing but continuously tell me it means nothing. But I know. I know Stephanie did all of that. Even though she was blasted on the front page of the same paper, she made sure I was taken out with her since I was no longer paying off the blackmail.

Now here I am, dressed like a sub in Midnight with my Domme pulling a leash out of the bag she’s about to check.

Fuuuuuuuck no!

I don’t care if we already talked about it. I don’t care if I was drunk on love and sex at the time of agreeing to wear a leash into the club, in case people were confused about my role in my relationship tonight. I don’t care, because the moment I see that sparkling, glittery leash leaving Ira’s pocket, I want to throw up and run.

It’s true that I haven’t had much backlash since that spot came out in the papers. Eve says there are whisperings about it, but everyone is assuming it’s tabloid trash like it is half the time. Tonight, I am about to blow all of those doubts out of the water. People aren’t going to see Kathleen Allen, Domme. They’re going to see Katie, a woman whom only Ira has met so far.

Met and trained.

I have to put all of my training to good use. My ability to obey, to serve, to keep her pleased with me. I may love her, but this is going to push the final boundaries I’ve built around myself. My social ones.

“You are the most stunning woman in this club. No…” Ira kisses my forehead and rests her hands on my shoulders. “In the world. Everyone’s eyes will be on you. They’re going to love you as much as I do.”

Honestly, I hope not!

“Are you ready?’ She latches the leash to my collar and gives it an experimental tug. “We should mingle and try to relax before we go on in an hour.”

Relax means getting me some drinks. I got started at home with an Old Fashioned, but it wasn’t enough to settle my nerves.

If this were some other club where we didn’t know most of the regulars, that would be one thing. I would still be nervous, but able to pull myself together a lot sooner. Except this is Midnight, one of my haunts. Friends will be there. Business associates. People who want me to dominate them in the future, and women who like me for my Top personality. Well, I’m anything but a Top tonight. I’m completely deferring to Ira’s qualities. In fact, I’m worshiping them.

At home, I would do so readily. Out here, I’m vulnerable in all the wrong ways.

“You’re powerful, Kathleen.” Ira pulls me into her embrace and whispers into my ear. “Don’t let them get to you. Own who you are tonight, and don’t be afraid to send them some of those cut-throat glares you’re so good at. I love you.”

I snatch her shoulder before she can turn away. “You’re going to do it, right?’ My hand presses against the front of her suit jacket. “Promise me you’ll do it.”

“I promise.” She kisses my hand before plucking it off her shoulder. “Now, let’s go. We’ll both get ours soon enough.”

Easy for her to say. As she pulls on the leash and makes me trip behind her, I think about how I’m the one standing to lose everything tonight. Ira Mathison will merely go down as the one who bagged herself a Domme and turned her into a hungry slut.

Yes, I know what I’ve been talking about all along. Yes, I know I am a hungry slut for her. Give me a break, please. You damn well know what I mean.

The club is dark. It’s always dark on weekend nights when it’s all about partying. Nevertheless, I almost throw up stepping from the opening hallway into the main room of Midnight, which is packed with people.

People who don’t notice me until we pass the third table.

I see their faces go from indifferent to shocked. One woman smacks a man on his chest to get his attention. Their nods in our direction say they know who we are and what this means.

I hear the thoughts in everyone’s heads. “Guess the papers were true. How about that?”

Keep in mind how we look. Ira is in front, wearing her usual suit without a tie and stopping a server to preemptively order drinks. Meanwhile, that pretty leash in her hand is attached to Kathleen Allen’s throat.

Or should I say Katie?

Regardless, here I am, dressed in my black corset, boots, and blazer, with my hair up in Ira’s favorite hair-pulling style. When we left my apartment an hour ago, I felt confident. Empowered. I was dressed to kick ass and still would in my own, special way. Except now I’m seeing the looks people give me. Some of them are intrigued. Others are confused. Even more whisper something to someone else. These are people I’ve never talked to before, but they definitely know who I am and my reputation around here.

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