Page 6 of Menotte avec toi

I’d always been drawn to redheads. I loved their feisty behavior and no-nonsense attitude. Heightened sensitivity and their overall reaction, absolutely delicious. But when it came with a side of uncertainty and wonder, as Sonnet presented, well then, that was the ultimate foreplay to me.

Beneath Sonnet’s gloriously ribboned exterior was a woman begging to be held, tied down, and repeatedly brought to climax. I’d bet my salary on it. The way she sketched, so lost in themoment. There was no way visions such as the ones she laid out before us were born of a completely vanilla mind.

And that dress…

Did each bow untie? I’d love to find out. Undo them one by one, press my lips to each piece of naked flesh that peeked out beneath it. Jesus, if this evening didn’t end with her in my bed, my vibrator was getting one hell of a workout.

Don’t mix business and pleasure, Harper.

I swear, at times my mind forgot what I did for a living. Seduction. Compassion. Aftercare. The ability to read a sub's needs and bring them to fruition was a gift and one I proudly possessed.

Though Sonnet wasn’t a job. Her trust I’d have to earn right along with her heart.

Fuck, how I thrived when challenged and always did my best work then.

I hadn’t dated in years. The thought never even crossed my mind when my needs were met within the club. For a while I’d been content, and it wasn’t until we had closed for the renovations that I had time to truly reflect, and the loneliness hit.

And it wasn’t until Sonnet walked through those doors that my life came full circle. It was a partner I desired. Not a playmate, nor a sub, well, not necessarily, though I knew on some level Sonnet was a sub. To what extent was yet to be determined, but I looked forward to peeling back her layers and learning what made Sonnet tick.

I can’t remember the last time I felt this alive, this energized.

“Good evening, Mistress Harper,” Lana, a member of the new waitstaff, greeted us. “Would you two like to order anything off the menu or from the bar?” The bar was only available to those not partaking in the dungeons.

“Kitten,” slipped past my lips. Surprised, she glanced up from her drawing, and her eyes met mine. I didn’t dare flinch and apologize and instead stayed the course. “Are you ready to order?”

A slow nod of her head as she found her words. “Yes, please. Why-why don’t you order for us? I-I have no allergies or dislikes save for Brussel sprouts.”

Stuttered words filled with uncertainty, but what about? My choice of a pet name or for shocking herself in requesting I order for us. “I too am not a fan. Lana, tell Chef we’ll take two specials. Would you like wine or anything besides water to drink?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Sonnet returned to her sketch without another word. I’m sure my slip of the tongue would be addressed once the extra set of ears was out of hearing range.

“Ask Chef to pair our dinners with the perfect wine.”

“Very good, Mistress Harper. I’ll be back with your drinks momentarily.”

“Your brain is about to work overtime.” On-the-fly icebreakers weren’t a gift, but I did my best. “The main show is about to begin.” The lights dimmed and the curtains around us opened, revealing the various subs on display.

“Oh my.”

Sonnet’s eyes widened as she stood, then paused and turned to me. “Can we?”

“Get a closer look?” She nodded. “Of course.” I rose and took her hand in mine. She glanced down at them, seemingly fine with it as I led her over to the human displays.

“Do they, do they want this? Or are they being punished?”

“I can assure you, Kitten, all are here of their own free will and have signed contracts stating such. There are many within the BDSM community who enjoy this kind of painful pleasure.” There it went again, the pet name, slipping past my lips. Shedidn’t question, nor did I, given I’d never blessed another a special nickname of their own.

“Pain sluts?” She blurted the word out and nearly slapped her mouth. “Sorry, was that rude?”

“Only if it’s said to someone who isn’t. Most of the time those who say it are their masters or Doms for a scene.”

“A scene?”

Oh, my sweet Kitten, I have so much to teach you.

“Some that come to the club are solo members, while others are couples. All of which are either looking to just do a scene—a one-and-done or an occasional meet-up. Anything from being put on display as these subs have chosen.” I gestured around the room to the half dozen display boxes we now had. “To a more masochistic play down in the dungeons. Each encounter is called a scene.”

“Wow, that’s interesting. Would you like some of the more explicit scenes,” she tried the word on. “Depicted in my art?”

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