Page 58 of Mob Knight

It shocked the hell out of me to discover she wasn’t wearing any panties. I love the demi bra and garter belt with the fishnet thigh highs. She definitely understands the dress codes at these types of play places. The dress she wore made her look like the living embodiment of Venus on a half shell. I’m glad she wore a coat over it, or I might have had to gouge her taxi driver’s eyes out. I don’t mind other people seeing her in here wearing that.

All the women have similarly revealing and enticing clothing. However, outside of here, I admit a level of possessiveness I’ve never felt toward any of my previous subs or women I’ve scened with here and at other clubs.

I watch Joey as her gaze sweeps the open area before glancing up at the mezzanine and second floor. There are more private rooms like the one we were in last time, each with different themes. There’s a classroom, a child’s nursery, an extreme torture room. Users of that room can indulge their very darkest fantasies in private. Those who are into lesser stuff can still enjoy the room. It’s just there for those whose preferences might shock even the most experienced members of this lifestyle.

“Can we try the chain station?”

Joey points toward the wall where there is a set of chains with cuffs on a pulley and chains attached to the wall at floor level.

“If that’s what you would like, little one. Is your elbow up to being restrained over your head?”

“Yes, sir. It’s almost entirely healed. I only get a twinge once in a while.”

I stoop to pick up her dress, and she reaches for it. I cock an eyebrow, and she lowers her gaze, a small smile playing at her lips. As her Dom, even small things like carrying her dress showstaking care of her is important to me. I guide her over to the open station, passing a couple of people I know. They don’t know who I am here, but I can recognize them. It pays to be silent owners of the best BDSM clubs in the tri-state area. We know who likes to spank and who likes to be spanked. That’s been invaluable information over the years.

Who knows to what extremes people will go to protect their privacy? We do.

A couple just finished here at this chain station. The Domme’s cleaning off the cuffs while her sub guzzles a bottle of water.

“It’s all yours.”

I keep my voice low when I speak to others here. I thank her for switching off with us. Because of some clientele, I don’t want people to recognize my voice any more than I want them to recognize my hair. The full-face mask also hides my swath of freckles. While my eye color is pretty unique, it’s something I don’t worry about as much since the lighting is so dim in most areas. I lay Joey’s dress over the back of a chair and lead her to the wall.

“Face me, arms up.”

My command is crisp and unemotional, even though part of me is as giddy as a kid on Christmas. It’s not like I think of her as a new toy to unwrap, but I am excited we’re making progress. That she wants to be part of my life and will allow me to be part of hers.

I attach the cuffs to her wrists, adjusting the pulleys to make sure they’re the right height for somebody as petite as her. The last man attached to this was at least a foot taller than her. I test the cuffs once they’re on to make sure they won’t chafe her wrists or ankles, and she gives me a nod. I remember she told me a blindfold or earplugs but not both.

I pull a satin blindfold from my pocket. I know the ones here are good, but they aren’t as soft as I’d like for her. I don’t know why I thought of it on the way here, but I did, so I stopped at a salon my cousin used to go to that I knew carries things to pamper yourself with, including sleep masks.

“Cailín, I’m going to blindfold you. I want you to remain silent. If you can’t do that, then I will gag you. Anytime I do that, make sure you can still snap. If you need me to stop, I know what signal to look for.”

“Yes, sir.”

I slip the satiny material over her eyes, then back away. Much like I made her wait before, I do the same now. I let a minute, then two minutes tick by before I know she grows restless. She shifts, trying to sense where I am, but I know she can’t. Since I checked the blindfold myself, I’m certain she can’t see me. I’m not close enough for her to hear me breathing, and I haven’t moved enough for her to feel any change in the surrounding air.

I move on silent feet, trained to be undetectable. She’s fully unprepared for me to flick one finger at her left nipple and then her clit half a second later. She opens her mouth to cry out but catches herself and stifles it. Her lips are open, so I can see how she grits her teeth. I know how it stings, and that’s exactly what I want. I back away yet again, letting her remain confused and needy. Her sheer bra’s material does nothing to protect that nipple I now pinch. Her arousal’s obvious from her tightened nipples and how wet she is.

I can admit it’s always been flattering to know I arouse my partners like this. Whether it’s from my looks, my attitude, or my touch. It’s always nice to know your sexual partner desires you. But for reasons I don’t want to dissect, knowing how turned on Joey is brings me an entire level of satisfaction—smug satisfaction—that’s unprecedented for me. I appreciate knowing she wants me as much as I want her.

My fucking cock hurts. It’s not just a dull ache or a horny desire to get off. I feel like my balls are going to explode. I’ve wanted women to the point of distraction in the past. I’ve enjoyed my past partners and had some mind-blowing sex and some average sex and unfortunately some pretty shitty sex too.

All of this shocks me. It’s not just my body that craves her. There’s more to it than all of that. It’s heightening all of my senses, making every feeling exponentially more intense than it has been. But I’m not in a position to make this anything more than it already is. It’s probably not even wise that I enter a new D/s relationship so soon after my last one ended. However, nothing about Joey reminds me ofthatwoman. I don’t want to even think her name, or it’ll piss me off. I don’t want her ghostly presence to dampen my mood.

I pull Joey’s right bra cup down. I wrap my hand around her breast, and it’s the perfect size for my palm and fingers. I squeeze, then massage, then squeeze again before bending forward and flicking the nipple with the tip of my tongue.

I swirl my tongue around it before sucking the very, very tip. Just enough of a hint for what I could do without actually giving in. I move to the other side and repeat the same motions. When I step back, I admire how distended they are. They’re like a light milk chocolate against her sun-tanned skin. Since I see no tan lines at all, she must sunbathe topless somewhere. That’s another arousing thought. It’s both sexually arousing and arouses my jealousy.

Who’s looking at her when she’s like that? This jealousy will drive me crazy. With my past subs, we agreed to monogamy, but I wasn’t overly concerned with who else they were around or what they did away from me. With Joey, I’m interested in her daily life, but thinking of other people seeing her naked bothers me more than I expected.

I walk over to a dresser that’s positioned between the chain station and the St. Andrew’s Cross. I open the second drawer, knowing what I will find there. I grab the implements of choice and head back to Joey’s side. I slide the blindfold up for a moment and hold up a pair of nipple clamps.

“Have you worn these before?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Even the kind without the rubber covers?”

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