Page 77 of Ashes of Sin and Stardust

Outside, the woman was leaning against the brick siding of the building. I felt my blood boil as I saw her standing there so nonchalant, and I walked faster to get a chance to give her another piece of my mind for bullying the underdog.

But as I neared her and began letting more words and insults tumble out of my mouth, she smiled, took Benny the waiter by the neck, bit him, and then kissed him on the mouth.

I stopped speaking.

She pulled away from him, and then tugged at his shirt a little, exposing a thin leather dog collar around his neck with a tag hanging off the hook.

“Oh.”

The woman looked back at her waiter and stroked the side of his face. “I’ll see you this evening, pet. You’ll get your punishment then.”

He blushed again, his eyes lighting up. “Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.” He gave a little bow and turned and went back into the cafe.

“So...” I said as I watched him walk back inside. “I’m Alice. And sometimes my mouth gets away from me.”

“I’m Becca Huxley. And I don’t mind at all.”

Becca met me at a barthe next evening, and we spoke for a long time. Turned out she was a therapist who worked with trauma victims and knew a lot about my disorder. I started seeing her regularly, confessing my need for pain, and she attempted to satisfy that need, but it wasn’t the same and she didn’t like my bratting. Eventually, she brought me to The Underground.

When I first walked in, I knew I’d found a magical place.

At The Underground, I met my kind of people. There were sadists and pleasure Doms. There were service subs and littles. And there were brats. Lots and lots of brats and their tamers who got together every Tuesday night to discuss antics and evil plans and pranks and loopholes, and all the best ways to tease their Doms and get themselves properly dominated.

It made me crave what I’d had with Mister Quinn. I missed our relationship so much, but I could barely think about him, because it shut my whole body down and made me ache inside and out.

It didn’t take long before I found a Dom who was interested in playing with me. I was hesitant to get into another long-term committed relationship because I didn’t want a repeat of my last experience. But Bruce Hawking didn’t want a romantic relationship. He didn’t want emotional intimacy. He wanted pain, sex, and obedience, and he wanted to make me do the things I craved but didn’t want to ask for.

So I let him make me. I let him punish me, and enforce rules like taking my medicine, drinking water, seeing Becca once a month, keeping a journal, and all that other responsible shit that a girl of nearly thirty should be able to do on her own. He wanted control over everything. He wanted to know what shampoo I used, how often I got a wax, and how many squats I did at the gym.

I relished it. I loved arguing with him and being forced into my place, and then fucked into oblivion. And sometimes, if he fucked me hard enough, and was mean enough, I could even have an orgasm.

About six months after I got involved with Bruce, I found his phone laying around while he was in the bathroom. Another few messages popped up, and I opened it to see he was chatting with three other girls.

He also had a behavior tracking app installed, and he had separate profiles for all of us. So that was cool.

I took screenshots of the incriminating evidence and texted them to myself, and then snuck out while he was still in the shower. I ignored him for three days while he fumed and texted and called, telling me I was in deep shit.

Then I planned a little surprise party for him at his house with all three of his other submissives who I’d contacted, who also hadn’t known they were with a cheater. One of the girls came over and asked if she could try topping him, and he stupidly agreed. She cuffed him to the bed, and then we all came out of the closet.

We had a great time breaking up with him, drinking all his expensive alcohol, and trashing his house, only to leave him naked and handcuffed to the bed with dicks drawn on his face with sharpie markers.

The four of us became pretty good friends and ended up at The Underground a few times a week. I started looking for more casual play partners, because fuck Doms, clearly they were out for themselves. The problem was, I’d meet someone, they’d have a blast with me, but then I’d get a little crazy on them, and they’d bail.

“Sorry kid, you’re just a bit much for me.”

“You’re not a brat, Alice, you’re a bitch.”

“This isn’t working out, let’s step back.”

Whoever said “always be yourself” didn’t know me very well. People didn’t like who I really was. And after a few times of people bailing on me, I decided one-night-stands and casual play was the only way I was going to get spanked on a regular basis.

One evening on a Sunday night, I was waiting in line at the bar to get a drink when I sawhim.

He was very handsome, in his late forties, with light brown hair and clear blue eyes. He had a soft smile and open face, and he walked with ease and confidence. It was the kind of confidence that couldn’t be taught or learned, it had to be natural. The kind that let you know this personknewthey owned the world.

He scanned the room, and his eyes fell on me. A slight quirk of his lips, and he nodded for me to follow him.

I’m not sure why I did. Maybe sadists can pick masochists out of a crowd, but he picked me out like a flashing neon sign.

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