Page 45 of The Dommes

If you were to ask anyone in this club who the most well-known submissive is, almost all of them would say Monique Grant, the woman who owns and operates a BDSM pleasure house in the countryside. I’ve never been, but Eve says it’s everything I’ve heard about and more. Apparently, that’s where Helen and Monique met a few months ago. Caused quite the scandal, since Monique’s ex-Domme is none other than Jacqueline Lyle, a crooked bitch whom nobody likes but everyone does business with because she’s so insanely rich that there is some debate between her and Bill Gates when it comes to wealth. It was the stir of the century when Monique and Helen had an exhibition and earned millions of dollars in one night.

I know. I was there. I may or may not have been convinced to throw a few thousand dollars in their direction because damnit, Monique Grant is a ridiculously talented sub.

And gorgeous.

They make a beautiful couple. Helen Warner is tall, blond, and always a sophisticated lady. Monique is petite, brunette, and carries an effortless grace that begs to be examined.

So, I examine her.

I don’t consider myself attracted to her. That doesn’t mean I don’t care to look at her, especially when dressed in a see-through negligee with silk underwear beneath. Only in this club could you get away with that. And only Monique could get away with walking around as if it’s no big deal everyone’s seen her nipples and vagina before.

She’s the perfect example of a confident sub. She knows what she wants, and she knows how to get it from a Domme. Right now, she’s sitting on Helen’s lap in the main gallery, serving her and some business associates drinks. A hostess could do it for them, but Monique is the type to get off on doing it herself. She’s the ultimate in pleasing someone like that. I’m not sure that’s the kind of sub I'm looking for. I want to feel like a goddess, but I don’t want my sub to be my servant.

Many dominants see their subs like that.

I’m back to thinking about Ira. I imagine that’s us down there, me barely clad in her lap while I say “Yes, Mistress,” and pour everyone enough drinks to get them plastered. She’d grab my ass in front of everyone, call me a pet name, and cop a feel on my breasts. She’d want everyone in the club to know that I belonged to her.

I shiver. It’s not in pleasure.

Still, it’s interesting to watch a woman who is so comfortable in her skin, in her role that she makes it look completely natural. From a feminist perspective, I find it interesting. Monique Grant was meant for a life of servitude, sexual or otherwise. In the hands of a good Domme, she’s the happiest woman in the world. She’s also incredibly susceptible, and I don’t like that kind of vulnerability.

Vulnerable women are easy to manipulate. To use. To hurt.

Monique is the perfect example of that as well. We’ve all heard her story. Not everyone gets the kind of happy ending Helen Warner provides.

I look away as Helen pulls her close and whispers something in her ear, making Monique giggle. Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for their happiness, but I feel so uncomfortable right now that I can’t help but turn toward anyone else in the room.

Like the Anderssens, hanging on each other as they enter the club and say hello to everyone they know – which is everyone.

Lara Anderssen isn’t like Monique at all. She’s a switch, like her spouse, and that’s almost rarer than a bona fide Domme around here.

I don’t know what they’re celebrating – probably The Ace – but they’re buying a round of drinks for a table. Lara is in Kennedy’s lap, draping herself like an ornament for everyone to admire. Certainly, a couple who likes swinging and being watched. Everyone loves them because they’re always a guaranteed good time when business isn’t at the forefront of our minds.

It doesn’t take long for things to heat up. After only a couple of drinks, Lara has her mouth all over Kennedy, the two of them acting like teenagers as people cheer them on and incite them to be raunchier in their display. We all know what will happen the minute the stage opens.

Sure enough, once the current show is over, Kennedy hauls her wife to the stage and announces that her flushed sub of the night is going to take one for the whole team. Glasses are in the air to toast their antics. I’m sitting here stewing over what happened with The Ace.

I’m also too intrigued for my own good.

Another drink is on my table before I realize I’ve ordered it. Nothing hard. Just enough to relax me as I shift my concentration from “those people” to “those people.”

This isn’t the Anderssens who turned my life upside down with Ira. These are the Anderssens who forget themselves and let everyone around them partake in their escapades.

The club is quiet, aside from the music playing. Another hostess comes by and asks if I need anything. I tell her I want to be left alone until the show is over. Time for Kathleen the voyeur to go into full throttle.

Like Kennedy, who spanks her wife’s ass and watches her shudder in that marital hold. Shit, that’s hot.

They’re both hot when I allow myself to take a good look at them through the eyes of a sexual being. A handsome couple, the Anderssens have always been known for their impeccable styles and flaunting what they have to their advantage. Even though Lara’s self-satisfied laugh annoys me, I can’t deny that the way her voice trills when her spouse caresses her skin and whispers into her ear is erotic. Probably because she’s not meaning to be self-satisfied right now. She’s purely at Kennedy’s devotion and mercy.

That woman slowly disrobes until her open shirt is on display for the likes of me to see. She’s not as eye-catching as Ira, but as far as Lara’s concerned, Kennedy is Aphrodite (Adonis?) incarnate. When she gets down on her knees and lets Kennedy stroke her face, I know she’s so smitten that she’ll let her spouse do whatever she wants in front of these people. And Kennedy Anderssen wants what a vast majority of dominants want at any given moment. Male. Female. Some secret in between. We all want it.

She wants her wife to serve her.

I’ve seen a ton of nudity in my day, mostly here in this club. Kennedy’s body is nothing special – not unattractive by any means, but not special – and yet Lara is kneeling before her, gazing up at Kennedy as if the sun rises and sets on everything she possesses. She’s lost in those eyes as Kennedy gazes upon Lara, hair in her hands and her skirt riding up her bare ass as she crawls on all-fours to where her spouse sits on an armless chair, legs wide open as Lara brushes her cheek against those knees and buries her face between those thighs.

I’m sure they’ve performed this a ton of times. It’s not uncommon for exhibitionists to perform once a month for the thrill of it. Most of the time, we get bored after seeing the same people do the same ol’ thing. The Anderssens are different, though, because they feed off each other’s obsessions so well. I don’t doubt that they enjoy a very healthy sex life at home and see Midnight as an extension of it, not a cure.

Briefly, I wonder if they switch equally… or if Lara is usually the submissive wife in the bedroom, urging her spouse to fuck every orifice and to make her come again and again.

---