Page 35 of Used

The second floor of the club, where all of the play areas are set up, wraps around the balcony that looks down onto the dance floor below. It is split into two areas.

We come up the stairs that lead to an area with a St. Andrew’s Cross, spanking bench, and hard point set up in the center for rope suspension scenes. Couches wrap around the space, with plenty of seating for a crowd to gather and watch whoever is being put on the equipment for a scene. On the mirror side, there’s a similar set-up with a voyeur bed at the center of the space for public play.

Elsie drags me through the throng of people who have gathered to watch our friends, Alvie and Bex, put on a show on the cross. Elsie glances into a few of the rooms, only to find them occupied with people already fucking, but she keeps searching until we get to the final bedroom in the row.

We walk into the empty room, and Elsie quickly closes the door behind us, locking it with a click.

“Strip.” She commands.

Chapter 11

Elsie

There’s something about tonight that has me feeling bold.

Having Marshall come up behind me and wrap me in his arms to protect me was both aggravating and comforting.

And hot.

Maybe it’s outdated, but having a partner come to your rescue still sends a shiver down my spine.

Plus, I’ve hit the point in my pregnancy where morning sickness is no longer an issue, but instead, that daily problem is replaced by another.

One which makes me extremely horny.

The dreams started a few nights ago, visions of me and Marshall together, naked. Every one of them feels more vivid than the last, and everyone leaves me worked up and needy.

Tonight, I plan on doing something about it.

Hence, dragging Marshall through the club to find an empty bedroom where I can make all those dreams come true.

The room is simple but beautiful, with wainscotting on the walls, all painted a deep plum color. Every room is a little different, but we’ve luckily snuck our way into one with one of the industrial four-poster beds, built for tying or hooking up restraints and a myriad of other playtime aids.

I look around, see what the room has to offer, and see the dresser, where sheets and towels, along with other self-care items like wipes and water, are stored.

Nothing catches my eye that I might want to use tonight, though; I want this simple and fucking dirty.

“I said strip,” I repeat, annoyance growing.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Queen.” I correct. “Tonight, I’m your ruler, your queen.”

“Yes, my queen.” He says with a smirk. “Should I kneel as well?”

“Not yet. First, I want you naked.” I say, smiling up at him before taking a step back to enjoy the view.

Marshall takes his time undressing. He starts by, ever so practically, taking off his boots and socks before he lifts his shirt off in one smooth movement in that sexy way that men do.

His naked chest is a marvel. All of his muscles are on display, toned from years of hard labor. His tattoos are less visible in the dim lighting of the room, but their black ink beautifully contrasts his tan skin.

Then he reaches for the button on his pants and slowly undoes it. He lets the jeans fall open at his hips but makes no move to pull them down and reveal what I really want to see.

“You want me, Elsie?”

I glare at him for breaking the moment by calling me by my first name.

“Take what you want, my queen.” He corrects, but his next words light me on fire. “I’m yours to use.”

---