Tonight, Tonight

August 31, 2020

“It’s tonight, Princess” he’d said, as he arrived at the hotel room they were sharing for the weekend. “Wh...wh...what?” she stammered as he bustled around, heading to the bathroom to run water. His raised voice came back to her above the hissing of the shower. “Tonight… we’re going out ...come on...you want to look presentable don’t you?”

He strode back into the suite, and gestured behind him… “The shower’s running… we’ve talked about this before… no time like the present. Go!”

Slightly dazed, and somewhat panic-stricken, she went into the bathroom and closed the door. As she showered, she tried to imagine what this evening would bring. Yes they’d talked about going to a club, but she’d always imagined that she’d have had more warning. The fact they were leaving in...what...thirty minutes, filled her with trepidation. She was naturally shy anyway, though she could hold her own in a social setting, but the thought of going to a place where others would not only look at her but – in the way that she assumed fellow kinksters would – they’d look ‘into’ her… judge her… wonder about her, strip her with their eyes, wonder what turned her on. It was… vaguely hot actually, but that did nothing to quell her anxiousness.

Stepping out and drying herself, she went back into the room where he’d laid out her clothing. He smiled at her. “There you go, darling,” he said, “your choice, up to a point.”

She looked at the attire he’d chosen for her. Against her expectations there was nothing risqué, not even sexy… no corsets, no stockings, nothing tight-fitting or sultry, and definitely nothing slutty, which is something she had wondered if he’d choose for her. He liked to humiliate her. She hated it… and loved it too. Well, she loved the memory of it afterwards. At the time it was mortifying, of course.

She chose a long dark green dress, one she knew hung well on her slim figure. She noticed at once that although he’d allowed her a choice of bras, there were no panties, no thongs, nothing she could wear to give her a modicum of dignity. She wondered what that meant at this club. Maybe he just wanted easy access to her. That she didn’t mind at all. It might even be sexy – as long as it was just between them. She didn’t like the thought of others being allowed to touch her. He liked his exclusivity. She’d be fine, she thought to herself, comfortingly. He’d already assured her they wouldn’t be ‘playing’. For that she was grateful. She hated the idea of an audience.

She dressed, and put on the necklace he’d bought for her. It was a silver chain, with a heart. Not original, no, but given with such a smile that she treasured it. She knew he treasured her. He looked after her, made her feel special. She adored feeling special, and although she wanted somehow to be everything he needed, she knew she had instincts of her own which sometimes got in the way. She liked his simple understanding. His patience. His tolerance. He wasn’t a bully, his natural authority was part of him, a kind of natural confidence almost, and she responded to that far more than if he’d been autocratic or domineering.

She fastened the clasp at the back, and taking a breath, and a final look in the mirror, she took his proffered hand and went with him into the corridor, to the lifts, and down to the hotel lobby. In the lift, he looked at his watch.

“Are we late?” she asked.

“Not yet… amazingly”

He turned to her and gave her his lopsided grin. And the look he gave her, often. The one when she knew he loved her. It was comforting. She didn’t know what to expect this evening but his relaxed attitude and easy humour calmed her a little. It didn’t seem that there was anything much to be scared of.

Outside he opened the taxi door for her. She loved that. He went to the driver’s window and, bending down, gave the cabbie the address. She knew he did that so she couldn’t hear. Ah well… all part of the mystery she supposed. He was so dramatic sometimes!

In the cab he held her hand, tightly. She loved that too. Her fingers were small and slim in his larger ones. He liked her to know he had a hold of her, even if only like this, that he was bigger than her. His way of telling her she was His. At one point he removed his hand, and gently tugging at her dress, hoiked it up so her bare ass was on the leather of the back seat. His fingers traced softly down her thigh. Sensual, not rough. Softly authoritative, not heavy-handed ‘ownership’. Subtle differences. She knew she was responding. Perhaps tonight would be easy after all. She told herself to relax. To trust him. She told herself that in all probability the club would be dark anyway. They usually were.

The journey wasn’t long. A mere ten minutes or so. As they turned into a well-lit main street, he turned to her and showed her the blindfold in his hand.

“Sorry princess,” he said, “it’s not actually my choice. It’s just a rule of entry. I’ll take it off you once we’re inside, OK?”

She looked at him. He did look apologetic. “OK.”

“I won’t let go of your hand until I have to,” he said.

Strange phrase, but before she could ask him what he meant, the taxi slowed and stopped. She heard the door opening, and then his hands helping her out and onto her feet.

He led her by the hand, slowly, telling her where the kerb was, and then leading her down what felt like a narrow alley. It was fairly quiet here, though she could hear traffic and the occasional voice. It was as though they were treading in some hallowed place, part of the city and yet not engaged with it.

“Stand here.”

She stood, and heard him talking quietly to another. A man’s voice, she thought, and then he was back by her side, and ushering her through a narrow door into a quiet world. A world of musty carpet smell, and distant voices. Now she started to feel unease. Yes she trusted him, but she wanted to see this club, get used to it bit by bit, see the others who would be in the distance … have a chance to see what she was about to be a part of. She hoped the bar was close. She could use a drink. She held his hand more tightly.

From what she could sense, it seemed … odd. They were obviously following a corridor of some sort. Then a door opened, and another, and suddenly she could tell they were in a large space. There were voices… distant… as though somehow obscured. The floor beneath her feet felt oddly … temporary…no that wasn’t it. Hollow, that was more accurate. His hands propelled her forwards and turned her slightly.

“Listen princess. In a moment I’m going to remove the blindfold. Now… this might sound daft, but you must count to a hundred before you open your eyes. I know it’ll be tempting but if you don’t do it…” he paused, “look this isn’t about obeying me, ok? It’s just that if you don’t do it, the whole evening won’t work. Understand?”

“OK,” she said. She knew she’d do as he said. This wasn’t about obedience. She knew how he planned for her. She would do it because ... well, he deserved it of her.

“I won’t be far away,” he said, and gently removed the blindfold. She heard his footsteps walking away. Silently, she started counting.

She was aware, as she counted, that the silence around her… if it was possible… grew louder. Rather - there was an absence of sound. A faint desire to sneeze came over her, as if the room was dusty. She wondered what the rules of the club were, to insist upon such a rigmarole of instructions.

She reached one hundred.

Slowly she opened her eyes. For a moment she couldn’t work out where she was. The light in front of her wasn’t daylight, it was… blinding. But not sunlight. She blinked. In her clearing vision she became aware that she was, herself, staring straight into a wall of lights. Maybe there was a stage, she thought in confusion. She took two steps forward, and the move was just enough to shift everything into focus. There was a stage. She was standing on it. It was huge… far more than some nightclub set-up. In front of her, someone coughed. There was a whisper, and a rustle of paper.

She could feel herself begin to shrink… could feel the need for the floor to open and swallow her. To be anywhere but where she was. In front of her were row upon row of people. Nothing outrageous. Nothing too out of the ordinary if you looked at the big picture. She was on the stage of a theatre. The theatre was full. It was full of well-dressed people gazing expectantly at her. Some had a faint smile. Others just stared. One well-dressed patron was beginning to frown.

There was a disturbance to her left. A man was making his way along the front row, to a central seat in the aisle. He sat. It was Him. He looked directly at her, looked left, then right, and raised an eyebrow. His meaning was clear. It said “You are onstage in front of seven hundred people. They are all looking at You. You are their entertainment. So… what the FUCK are you going to do now?”

She pulled her gaze away from him and gazed out once more. There was a balcony that she hadn’t seen until now. It too was full of people staring at her. Waiting. Such an innocent situation. Not a club at all. No need to show her nakedness. No need to play with others. Just … this waiting. This close attention on her. Curious. Patient. Their entire attention on what she would do now. Someone cleared their throat.

She was mortified. She wanted to die. She wanted to become invisible. She wanted to be anywhere but here. She moved her gaze back to him. He was looking at her; just looking. Bastard. He’d put her in this position. Though her legs were shaky, though her breath was shallow, she could – Jesus help her - feel her cunt throbbing, and she knew – hoping desperately that those on the front row seats slightly below her couldn’t see up her delicate dark green dress- that there was a single bead of wet desire starting to run slowly, tauntingly, down the inside of her left thigh.