Page 5 of Kane's Fake Relationship

“Yeah, I leave in a few days. Are you going home this year?”

“I am. My flight leaves on Thursday.”

As soon as I opened my mouth to respond, I froze. The crack of a bullwhip ran through the club so loud I felt like it was right behind me. When I turned to see who it was, my jaw dropped. There on stage was none other than Madam Trinity, in all her dominating glory.

“Say it again, slave!” she shouted as she looked down at the man on the floor in front of her. Her high-heeled boot was holding his chest down as he looked up at her in awe.

“I’m sorry, Madam Trinity, I should never have touched you without permission.”

“What happens to little boys who can’t keep their hands to themselves?”

“They get punished, Madam.”

My feet had moved me in the stage’s direction without my mind even realizing it. I stood just outside the barrier and couldn’t move. She was mesmerizing.

“How do they get punished, slave?”

“However you wish, Madam.”

“That’s right. Now stand up.”

She shifted her weight and stepped off his chest. “Blindfold and restrain him.”

The woman who had been standing to the side reached for a blindfold and restraints on the nearby table and did as she was directed. The man’s hands were restrained above his head and he stood waiting for what she had promised him. In all my years of play, I had never seen someone wield a bullwhip in person. It was an extremely technical skill that, if done incorrectly, could seriously injure the person on the receiving end.

A crowd had formed around the stage and I had no idea if they came when they heard the whip like me or if they had been there all along. I was in some sort of daze, a strange combination lust and anger. I wanted to tear that man’s fingers off for touching her without permission, but at the same time I wanted to be him, the center of her attention.

“He’s ready, Madam,” the woman said, stepping back well outside of the strike zone.

Trinity stretched her neck slowly to the left, then the right, and then she turned and looked straight at me. A sneer came over her face that would have frightened a weaker man, but it only turned me on more. When she turned back to the sub, I felt as if something inside of me died a little. The level of desire I had for this woman was unlike anything I had ever felt before. I wanted her eyes back on me, not him.

“Tell me again, slave... why are you getting punished?”

“For touching you Madam.”

“How did you touch me, slave?”

“I pulled you to my body and kissed you without consent. Then I ran my hands over you and held you to my hard cock until you moaned into my mouth with need.”

I took a step back, shaking my head in disbelief. Whoever the hell that guy was up there didn’t touch her like that. I did. Instead of calling me so we could spend time together tonight, she’d brought me here to show me how she felt, and it wasn’t good. People build scenes for different reasons. Some liked to work through past trauma. For some it’s just fun, others it’s a sexual turn on. It never mattered to me what someone’s reasoning was, but this wasn’t right. People get on to me about not following rules and yet the most influential dominatrix in all of New York City was playing out a revenge scene for her personal enjoyment. That wasn’t right, was it? I was so damn confused I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t interrupt the scene unless I wanted to get my membership revoked, so I just stood there in silence.

She lifted her arm high above her head and the whip cracked. The first hit was with only the tip, and the red welt that appeared made it clear her intention was to mark. The man stood still and his body only swayed slightly when the whip hit him. The second strike was just as precise as the first. She continued as the surrounding people whispered about how amazing she was. I thought so too, but I wasn’t sure if it was for the same reasons. The approach to her final strike was different. Instead of a quick hit the whip wrapped perfectly around the center of his body and she yanked with so much force he went tumbling towards her.

“Do you hear me, slave?” she asked as she ran her hand over his cheek and down his neck.

“Yes, Madam.”

“What did you learn today?”

“That you will give yourself to me, but I can’t take you.”

“Very good.”

Her gaze turned from her submissive back to me, and my heart stopped.What the fuck was going on?I took in a deep breath when she turned back to him and started the calm down portion of her scene. It was one thing I had always heard she was best known for. Regardless of what she did with her submissive, she never just walked away, instead she slowly worked with them, pulling them back to reality and when they were ready, they stepped outside of the scene and back into the real world together.

The crowd started to dissipate, and I regained feeling in my legs, so I moved to sit on a black velvet couch right in front of the stage. I watched as she and the other woman held the man, removed his restraints and his blindfold. Her hands ran over his pale skin. She wasn’t gentle, not even when she reached the marks she left, but handled him as if she knew exactly what he needed. At the end, the man held his arms out, and she stepped into them, thanking him for the night and wishing him and his wife the best. I took another look and realized sure enough both he and the woman on stage had wedding rings on. When he stepped out of her hold, the woman hugged Trinity and then fell into her husband’s arms as they walked down the hallway to the changing rooms.

No one was left in the immediate area other than the two of us, and yet she still avoided my gaze. She cleaned up and packed the bag she had sitting next to her. Most members had everything set up and cleaned up by the staff, but it didn’t surprise me one bit that Trinity didn’t trust them to do it for her. When she was done, she picked up the bag, stepped down from the stage and walked right by me.

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