Fetish.com is opening up the curiosity cabinet to the seductive world of storytelling. Introducing our first Erotic BDSM Story Time piece is a short story written by Tamsin Flowers, called 'Taking You Home'. In it we follow one Dom on his hunt through several dungeons for the missing link in his otherwise perfectly run night club.
So get down on your knees, close your eyes and listen hard now, you're in for a good one!
Taking You Home
By Tamsin Flowers
Harry pulled on his Dom persona with his leather trousers. Why was Belladonna always right? What if the girl didn't show up? Or what if, when he arrived, she'd already got involved in a scene with someone else? No, that wouldn't be a problem. He'd stolen other Doms' subs before—he could do it again. Of course, poaching was considered bad form but so the fuck what? Wasn't that what being a Dom was all about? And none of the subs he'd ever poached had ever expressed the least interest in going back to their original Dom.
He wondered about having a quick snifter of vodka before going out but settled for a cigarette instead. Some sort of play was on the agenda, which meant drinking wasn't.
Sure, he was cutting it fine. Training started on January the first, in less than a week's time. He should have four trainees lined up to start a one-year apprenticeship with him. At the end of twelve months, they'd either join his team to work for the club or they could take up a contract with some other club or person, provided the person would reimburse Alchemy the cost of training. There were always plenty of takers for the subs Harry trained.
The three he had already lined up were pretty little subby types who were simply gasping to get their asses whipped and their wrists bound by a hard man with a big, bad cock. He envisaged enjoyable times with all three of them. Two girls plus one boy—the most beautiful of the bunch. But he needed more of a challenge. Someone who might just be able to give back as good as he or she got. More fun for him, and the club always needed switches on the team. This girl would be perfect. Who wouldn't want to be dominated by an Amazonian Domme with a waterfall of blond curls and thighs that could crack your skull? Who wouldn't want to dominate or subjugate such a wild and beautiful creature? And if you don't fall into one of those camps, you have no business in this part of the club at all. Go back downstairs to the bar and the Michelin-starred restaurant, the spa, the pool and the gym, the luxurious apartments and private clinics, the velvet-voiced concierges, willing to fetch you anything you want. If you don't want to beat or be beaten, you don't belong up here, mister.
Harry stubbed out his cigarette and pulled on a charcoal tweed coat. Bare-chested was fine for the club but not so great for trying to hail a taxi.
Master Blaster's pulsated with heavy rock and testosterone, the air moist with pheromones. The players and the watchers had probably spent four or five days over the holiday cooped up with their loving families. The same families who would disown them in an instant, of course, if they ever found out about their loved one's penchant for kink. Pent up libidos demanded release. Frustration needed to be stroked or sucked into a whimper or a scream. And Harry Lomax needed to prove himself right when it came to spotting a switch with potential. Because that was the feeling he had about this girl. The way her fingers had twitched when she watched that spanking…he knew.
He sauntered through the club like he owned the joint. Of course, none of the clientele here had ever been inside Alchemy and very few would recognize him from back in the day. Belladonna's description of the place as a dive could be considered a little generous. Harry liked dives. He would have called this place a dump. But Master Blasters had proved itself a good little hunting ground over the years. A beginner's club where the scenes were scrappy, the Doms barely in control, the subs bratty. Nothing like the tightly bound scenes they ran at Alchemy but just the place for discovering raw talent, diamonds in the rough. Young kids sniffing around for their first bite of the forbidden apple, looking for someone who might show them the way.
Harry took a deep breath, smiling to himself. Master Blasters had that familiar stink. Stale sweat and semen, spilled drinks and cheap perfume. The dungeon stench that carried him back to his own early days on the scene. He pushed past a clutch of tipsy tourists to make his way down the narrow stairs to the lower level. This was where the real fun happened, where he knew he'd find his girl. If she had come here and if she was what he thought.
A guy in a gimp mask stopped him on the stairs, putting a hand on his arm.
"What you looking for?" he said, close to Harry's ear.
"Nothing you can give me," said Harry.
The man thrust his hand between Harry's legs.
"But I could take what you want to give me."
"Another time," said Harry, pushing him away hard, making him stumble.
The man looked up at him, eyes wet and shiny behind the mask, tongue lolling behind the mouth grill. A trail of spittle ran down his leather chin. This wasn't the sort of scene Harry was looking to get involved in. He wanted to find a little cutie-pie with softly swelling buttocks begging for a swatting. He wanted to set up the sort of scene the tall girl might like to watch. Might dream of trying for herself. Might imagine participating in, as later that night she lay in bed with her fingers down her baby-doll panties. Harry's pulse quickened at the thought of it—the buttocks, the swatting, particularly the fingers.
Damn! He should have brought an Alchemy sub with him. But on the other hand, if he hooked up with his girl, he didn't want a third wheel spinning along side them.
He wandered past a couple of ongoing scenes, looking out for her all the time. So far there was no sign of her. He wasn't unduly worried. It was still relatively early for a dive like this. She could arrive yet. Or if not tonight, thentomorrow. If not this club, then another. He spotted the sub who'd been spanked the other evening—her ass unmistakable. He recognized the tattoo of a feather down the back of one thigh. She wasn't totally naked though. A tight red corset cinched in her waist, accentuating the slalom curves of her breasts and hips. She was tied to a St Andrew's cross but the scene hadn't kicked off yet.
A cluster of baby Doms stood nearby, comparing the size of their quirts. Harry knew one of them—a sleek-haired Latino boy who'd been thrown off the Alchemy training program a couple of years ago. Rafael Castro had spectacularly fallen out with Dick Glass and was now hanging around less illustrious clubs. Perfect.
He went over to them.
"Hey, Raf," he said, touching the man's leather-clad shoulder.
"Harry!" They chest bumped. Rafael looked him up and down admiringly. "You're slumming it tonight."
"Recruiting," said Harry with a conspiratorial grin.
"Hear that, boys?" said Rafael. "Play your cards right with Harry and you could be at the top of the Alchemy tower."
Harry shook his head. "Not looking for Doms. Sorry."
The girl on the cross wriggled impatiently. Harry wouldn't put up with this sort of behavior but these were just kids.
"Whose sub?" he asked, jerking his head in the girl's direction.
"Mine," said one of Raf's friends, a short blond man, sweating in heavily studded leather.
"She needs some work," said Harry. "May I?"
He held out his hand for the quirt but the man looked anything but happy.
"Go on," said Raf. "You could learn from this guy."
Reluctantly the Dom nodded and handed over his quirt for Harry to use on the girl. The tool was practically brand new, unfortunately for the sub. Just like her, it hadn't been broken in yet. He walked up behind the girl, close enough to ruffle her hair with his breath. She twitched, pushing her ass out in invitation.
"You don't know me," whispered Harry in her ear. "But you'll never forget me."
The girl gasped, trying to look round, but she couldn’t twist her head far enough to see him.
"Sir?"
"He's busy. You're with me now. Give me your safe word."
"But…"
Harry slapped her hard with the palm of his hand across her rump. She let out a little shriek.
"Safe word. Now."
"Butterfly."
"Butterfly what?"
"Sir. Butterfly, Sir."
Harry turned towards the baby Doms, shaking his head.
"Have you ever used it?" he asked the girl.
"No, Sir."
"You'll use it tonight," he said.
"Thank you, Sir."
He had no intention of hitting the girl hard enough to make her safeword. After all, he didn't know where her limits were or how experienced she was—certainly not very, by appearances so far. But he wanted to scare her, just a little bit. And when he saw her leg tremble against the cross he knew he'd done just that. Pumped up on adrenalin, the whole experience would be intensified—the physical pain, the emotional stress, the blessed relief…
The club was too noisy for her to hear the whisper of the quirt's leather tails sliding through the air toward her, so she only realized he'd begun when she felt their impact squarely across her ass.
"Count," Harry reminded her.
"One, thank you, Sir."
Harry drew his arm back and this time brought the fine leather strips home against the top of her right thigh, just at the crease of her buttock. She yelled but remembered to count.
"Two, thank you, Sir."
He laid the next strike along the other buttock crease.
"Three, thank you, Sir."
Welts rose like the red tails of comets across a dawn sky. She writhed, but she still pushed her cheeks out to meet each blow rather than avoiding them. Harry added a little more impact until she yelped before counting. Butterfly was very cute. He liked the way she called out her count in a strong, clear voice. She would probably be just the right amount brattish after a bit of training. He definitely could have made something of her but he didn't have the space for her. Not when somewhere out there, his Amazonian waited.
"Six, thank you, Sir." Her breathing came harder now. Harry knew a couple more strikes would have her in tears. Time to put some diagonals across the horizontals. He changed the angle of his arm to make the tails of the quirt drag fiercely across the existing welts. Butterfly let out a scream that tailed off into a gasp of pure sexual pleasure. Harry smiled.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of familiar blond hair. He didn't turn to look but carried on working Butterfly's ass until he'd made a symmetrical diamond pattern all the way across both cheeks. Butterfly's cries became louder. The scene had attracted quite a crowd. Even the blond Dom she belonged to appeared excited by Harry's prowess. Harry crooked a finger to call him over.
"Another half dozen will be more than enough," he said, handing the quirt to its owner. "Then make her come with your fingers. She won't take more than a second or two—she's ready for it now."
"Thanks," said the Dom. He appeared impressed.
"Afterward, take her to one of the quiet rooms and look after her. Make her come again, then keep her warm till she's back on planet Earth."
"Sure," said the Dom. He lined himself up to take over with the quirt.
Harry glanced around. He didn't see his girl anywhere but she'd seen him, in action, and that was the purpose of the display. He'd finished playing for the night so he went to the bar and ordered a vodka. He could nurse this for a few minutes while he caught his breath. Then he'd go cruising the floor again. The icy chill of the liquor slipping down his throat felt good—the dull ache in his wrist from wielding the quirt felt good. Hot damn, Harry Lomax loved his job.
"I guessed you'd be back." The voice dripped like honey with a side order of grits.
Harry knew it was her before he even turned to look. He stood up but she towered over him by several inches. He looked down. She had on the highest fuck-me heels he'd ever seen.
"You did?" he said, skewering her with a look.
"I saw you checking me out the other night."
This time her outfit was even hotter. She'd poured herself in to an unadorned black basque and a hobble skirt a size too small. Her hair fell in unruly curls over her shoulders, clumped in places by sweat. Her eyes were the darkest blue Harry had ever seen. And she was making the play. This was going to be better than in his wildest dreams.
"But you're different tonight," she said.
"How so?"
"Harry,"—she raised her eyebrows—"if you need to ask that, you're not the man I thought you were."
"But you appear to be the woman I thought you might be."
She grinned at him.
"Drink?" he said.
"Yes."
Harry signaled to the barman for two more vodkas.
"How did you know my name?"
"I asked those nice boys you were showing off in front of. How else?"
Warmth surged up through Harry's cock. He hadn't wanted to fuck someone this much since…since he couldn't remember. Spit on her and she would sizzle!
The girl took the drink he handed her and downed it in one, slapping the tumbler hard on the bar when she'd finished.
"Name," said Harry.
"Rank and serial number as well?"
"Your name will do. For now."
"And later?"
"I'll want every last detail about you."
"Olivia Roux. Pleased to meet you."
She held out her hand. Harry wondered if she expected him to shake it or kiss it. He raised it and sucked her index finger into his mouth. A small shiver of excitement swept through him when she didn't pull away.
"I watched you work that girl," she said, eyes wide, not smiling. "I found it…"
She slowly withdrew her finger from his mouth, trailing the wet tip down his chin.
Harry grabbed her wrist and held her still.
"How did you find it, Olivia?"
Her eyes dropped to his chest, which still glinted with sweat in the sulfurous light of the bar. Then she lifted her face to meet his gaze full square.
"I found it…erotic. It turned me on."
"That was my intention."
He let go of her wrist and waited. She raised the finger he'd sucked to her mouth, tugging on her own bottom lip.
"I need a smoke," he said.
They picked up their coats and left the club. Harry produced his cigarettes. Olivia took one. He cupped his hands around hers to light her with the Zippo. She took a drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke into the cold air. Harry thought about clichés as he lit his own. Your place or mine? But that wouldn't do with this girl. She might be new to the scene but she wasn't wet behind the ears.
They stood smoking for a minute on the sidewalk. Sexual tension escalated until the air between them practically crackled. Harry ground out his cigarette with his boot, turning to face her. He put one palm flat against her cheek, then leaned in to whisper in her opposite ear.
"I'm going to take you back to my club now and tie you up. Then I'm going to hurt you," he said. "Is that what you want?"
When her mouth closed around his and her tongue pushed between his lips, when her kiss became ferociously deep, Harry Lomax knew his hunch about her had been spot on.
Erotic BDSM Story Time has been brought to you by Fetish.com and Tamsin Flowers. If you enjoyed today's post please let us know in the comments below!
PS You can open your eyes now...
Tamsin Flowers has been writing erotica for three years. During which she has been featured in more than 20 anthologies from various publishers and celebrated editors- and has received several awards and recognition for her writing. Tamsin has also self-published a sizzling collection of zombie erotica, including novels and novellas.
For a complete list of her works check out her website or follow her on Twitter @TamsinFlowers
© Andrew / Dollar Photo Club and Heidi Rewell - alternativefashioninsl.com and MIΚΛ CΣЯПΛ via Flickr with CC BY 2.0 license
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