Page 3 of S is for…

Diann adjusted the web of straps she was wearing.The damn thing took forever to get on, but it looked sexy once she was actually wearing it.A three-inch wide strap of black leather ran from the molded collar down her front, between her legs and then back up to connect to the back of the latex collar piece.It was like a full body thong, with a buckle at the small of her back that allowed the strap to be tightened, so it pressed hard on her pussy and dug into her ass.

Since she didn’t know who she was meeting, or what they were doing, she had buckled it just tight enough to stay in place, but not tight enough to compress her pussy in that achy way she liked.Additional straps of various sizes branched off that vertical piece—horizontal straps crossed her tits, covering her nipples and compressing her breasts.A wider strap—nearly six inches, so it might even have qualified as a waist cincher—hugged her waist.Decorative rather than compressive strips of leather angled up to curve over her hips, and leather garters around her thighs were connected by thin chains to the hip straps.A starburst of alternating chain and leather cord webbed from the breast strap up to the collar, covering the tops of her breasts, while leaving the undersides bare.

Her simple sandals made inelegant flapping sounds as she walked towards the dining room.Many subs went barefoot, despite so much of the club being outdoors, but Diann had a thing about her feet.

She’d confessed it once, to a past partner.

Having anyone touch my feet makes me feel vulnerable.Yes, even more vulnerable than when you have me tied down, legs spread, pussy on display.No, it doesn’t make sense.

She’d slip off her shoes once she was inside, but for now, she’d deal with the mismatching aesthetic of wearing nothing but kinky straps and ugly shoes.

Desire hummed through her, but need throbbed inside her, reverberating with each step she took and the beat of her heart.

Desire and need weren’t the same, no matter how the words were used.And desire didn’t mean sexual desire, at least not exclusively.The desire Diann felt at Las Palmas was both sexual, and not.She desired touch, even if it wasn’t sexual.

But her need…

Diann needed to be used.She needed to feel the press of another’s control, the bites of pain and humiliation that let her know that right now she was the center of that other person’s world, even if the way they showed it was by debasing her.

It wasn’t until a very bad relationship in her mid-twenties brought her to a therapist who turned out to be kink-friendly, that Diann was able to articulate these things about herself.

Since then, negotiating scenes had become much easier, because she was not only upfront about her kinks, but she was able to give a Cliff’s Notes version of the psychology behind them to her potential tops.

Diann was less worried about the game than many of the other subs she’d talked to last night in the Subs’ Garden.She’d waited, and waited, but never heard from her new partner, eventually driving home.It was only this morning that she received a message asking her to meet in the dining room for dinner tonight.

Her partner had taken a night to plan.

Getting that message—through the club’s secure communication system—meant she hadn’t spent all day impatient and anxious.Instead she’d been able to drive up to Malibu in the early afternoon and still have plenty of time to spare before meeting her game partner.

Diann stopped just outside the dining room doors, and slid off her shoes.Turning, she tucked them under the chair in the open-air courtyard behind her.Almost all the buildings at Las Palmas were hollow squares, with themed courtyards in the middle ringed by a covered hallway.There were a few public indoor spaces, and all the outdoor spaces were public, while the playrooms were private.Though of course, the playrooms all had the option to open the doors and allow people to watch.And a few even had narrow viewing rooms and two-way glass.

Barefoot, Diann stepped into the dining room.

An elegant buffet, catered by a five-star restaurant in the nearby city of Malibu, waited along one wall.The dining tables were Spanish-style heavy dark wood, varnished to be both smooth and glossy.The chairs were strict looking wood-things, with hard seats and straight backs.They weren’t particularly comfortable, but they were excellent multipurpose furniture, since the rungs between the legs and the decorative carved panel backs made for easy tie points.

But tables weren’t the only places to sit.There were sunken seating pits—squares with one continuous padded bench and a table in the middle.

Tucked into dim corners where the gold toned light didn’t reach, were things like low square tables, plain wooden benches, and large trunks filled with floor pillows or heavy wool blankets.And rope.There was always rope tucked away somewhere.

The dining room had only a scattering of people there when she arrived, and most of them were sitting with drinks and maybe a shared plate of small bites.No one was really sitting down to dinner yet.

She scanned the room looking for a partner.The message hadn’t said who she was meeting, or what their letter was.Only a time and location to meet.

There were a few lone men.Two of which sat with their backs to the door.Diann started for the first man, stopping when she caught sight of bare flesh under the table.

The man sat with his legs spread, and between his feet a naked woman knelt on a thick cushion.Her hands were cuffed together at the small of her back, and her ass looked flushed and splotchy.Given the shadows under the table, the fact that Diann could see a color differentiation in her skin meant she’d received brutal spanking or paddling, and in full light her ass would be red and sore looking.

Lucky girl.

Diann veered towards the second solo man and stopped.

For a moment, clichéd as it was, she was frozen in place.Because she knew that head of hair.Knew the color, and the slight wave pattern.

Peter.

A disbelieving little laugh escaped Diann, the sound loud enough to have him turning.

Peter’s expression went from bland and neutral to cruelly blank.He looked at her as if he wanted to hurt her.It was deeply fucked up, but that hint of cruelty had goosebumps pebbling the skin of her arms and upper back and her pussy throbbing.Someone without her kinks would have run.

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