Page 10 of Reveal Me
Someone lowers the music slightly. His lips graze the microphone as he speaks. ‘Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to our Submissive Night.’
A tiny gasp permeates the air, and for a split second, I think it comes from one of the potential subs, but I must be mistaken. Their contracts were crystal clear.
The members clap. Murmurs of anticipation and approval echo around the high ceiling.
‘As you know, our leader is in the market for a new sub, and we thought you’d enjoy the audition process. We will require your input throughout the night. You’ll find a remote control on the right arm of your chair to vote on how you would like Mr Beckett to test out his potential new submissive. I’ll keep track and announce what you decide.’ He clears his throat. ‘Usual house rules are in order.’ He swivels slowly on his heel until he’s facing me. He offers a single clap as if he’s opening a gladiator fight. The members burst into applause, the air buzzing with anticipation.
Dominic exits the stage, returning a minute later with two glasses of whiskey. Some sex clubs have a two-drink limit. Not this one. There’s no need. Not with his men as security. No one would dare to get messy in here.
He hands one to me, then taps his glass against mine. ‘Cheers.’
‘It’s not a bad life.’ Willing women on their knees for me, and my favourite whiskey—I feel like a fucking king. Hell,down here, Iama fucking king. This power, this control, it’s everything I crave.
I give the members another minute before motioning for them to simmer down. ‘Let’s get started.’ I thrum my fingers thoughtfully on the arm of the throne as the room falls to a hushed silence.
‘We’re going to do this in numerical order.’ My voice is low, calm and commanding. ‘Number One.’
The blonde’s face tilts up, and her blue eyes meet mine. They exude an eagerness to please—to obey. I can already tell she’d make an excellent sub, and she hasn’t even opened her mouth.
‘What are we going to do with you?’ I muse, thrumming my fingers over my lips.
‘Whatever pleases you, sir,’ she says. I swear I hear a scoff from sub number three, but then she coughs.
I rise from my leather throne and stride slowly, deliberately, across the stage to eye the crowd. ‘What do you think? Shall we start with spanking? Suspension? Both?’
Hushed murmurs of excitement fill the air.
‘Time to vote. Press one for a spanking, two for suspension. You have two minutes to decide.’
All heads dip down to their remotes. I take the chance to stalk back to the throne and take another sip of my drink. Sub number one looks to the floor again, her thighs clench together in apprehension, and a small smile plays on her lips. Looks like she’s fine with either option. Good to know.
‘Which one takes your fancy?’ Dominic whispers lowly. His eyes roam over the three candidates, lingering slightly longer on sub number three.
I take a long, deep drink and eye the women over my glass. All three are perfectly poised in position—stunning, naked and all ready to submit to me. If number three’s arrival didn’t do enough to stir my dick, the scene in front of me islascivious enough to render it solid in seconds. Just like Dominic, my eyes keep straying to her though—number three. There’s something intoxicating about her, something ethereal. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. ‘Three looks like she could be trouble.’
‘I love trouble.’ His eyes gleam as he watches the votes roll in on an iPad. Frenzied whispers circulate. ‘You have voted.’ His lips open in a wolfish grin. No wonder half the country is petrified of him. I probably would be too if I hadn’t met him when he was a gangly teenager in one of the homeless shelters my family sponsor. ‘Apparently, you’d like to watch sub number one get a spanking.’
A low round of applause follows as two of the staff carry a state-of-the-art black leather spanking bench onto the stage. A third follows with an extensive collection of floggers and riding crops mounted on a portable chrome stand.
I turn to Dominic. ‘Let’s organise some restraints in case our new girls attempt to escape when the pressure comes on.’ It’s all part of tonight’s entertainment.
Another ripple of approval sounds from the members above as more staff carry out a selection of restraints in a glass display unit.
‘Rise,’ I instruct the blonde, and she immediately obeys.
‘Yes, sir.’
I beckon her towards the bench. ‘Bend over. Face down, ass up.’ She arches over the luxurious leather and sticks her ass out as instructed. I turn my back to her, running my fingers over the selection of restraints. Leather bound handcuffs. Cold chrome chains. Collars. Elaborate selections of rope. Leather arm binders. Ankle cuffs.
I make a point of drawing it out. This life is about delayed gratification. Not just physical restraint, but mental restraint too. Exercising control in every aspect.
Finally, I settle on an adjustable spreader bar with anklecuffs, and Italian leather wrist cuffs. I’ll save the real show for later. It’s no coincidence that that will involve sub number three.
I turn back to sub number one, who’s still bent obediently over the bench. A string of black leather nestles beneath her peachy ass cheeks. I lean in closer, so only she can hear me. ‘You comfortable with this?’ I double check as I cuff her wrists to the bench, even though spanking and restraint were both clearly stated in the contract.
‘More than comfortable with it, sir,’ she glances at me over her shoulder, then catches herself, and reverts her eyes to the floor.
I fasten a cuff around one of her ankles, adjusting the chrome bar to spread her legs wider, then cuff the other one. ‘And your safeword is?’
