She smiled at them. “Okay, kids, let’s go.”
She herded them into the minivan with only a little backtracking—Jack had forgot his handheld gaming device—and headed off to her mom and dad’s.
Soon they were happily playing with Papa, who seemed fully recovered, and Sophia headed to the door. She’d learned it was better not to make a big deal of good-byes with them, and in any case, she would be back to pick them up in the morning at the latest—and probably much earlier. Nana followed her to the door.
“You should dress up more for your dates,” her mother said. “We want you to find a good one this time.”
Her mom meant well, she knew. That she didn’t think she’d be wearing any clothes on this particular date just wasn’t something she was going to tell her mother. “I’ve found good ones. I just haven’t kept any. No one wants to deal with two kids, and that’s okay. We’re okay by ourselves, and better that than a man who can’t see me in jeans.”
Nana shook her head. “You always were very independent. And I guess that’s served you pretty well. We’re proud of you. You know what you’re doing.” She gave Sophia a hug. “Now go and have fun.”
Do I?
Sophia wasn’t at all sure she knew what she was doing, but she went anyway. She thought about swinging back by the house and throwing on a little black dress, but she was already running ten minutes late. When she was late on Wednesday, Colby had spanked her for it. She hadn’t gotten the impression that he was really mad, but that he was looking for an excuse and she’d conveniently provided him one.
Maybe he’ll spank me again. But if he’s looking for a reason to drop me before we go to the club, maybe he’ll use that.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized that wasn’t his way of doing things. He was always straight with her. She didn’t know how the evening would go, but she did feel confident he would be honest, and that he wouldn’t be playing games, except for the sexy kind.
She walked up to his room, swiped the key he had given her, and let herself in.
“Good evening, Sophia.” He was sitting at the little desk in the corner of the room, working on his laptop. He clicked a few buttons and then closed it before turning to look at her. Rather than leather pants, he wore tight black jeans and a crisp white collared shirt. He looked totally yummy.
“Good evening, Master.” She was going to miss saying those words. Unless he decided he wanted something long-term— No, best not to fantasize.
He looked her over. “I see you followed directions as to clothing. Well done. Did you follow
all
my directions?”
She knew what he meant. She knew right then that if she had played with herself, she would have had to tell him, and he would have been disappointed in her. She could not have looked into his eyes and lied. And his disappointment would hurt far more than any spanking. “Yes, Master. I was tempted, but I did obey.” Would he be disappointed that she thought about disobeying?
He got up, a grin forming on his face. He closed the distance and stroked her cheek. “Your temptation is delicious. I left you wanting so you would be tempted and because I had faith that your submission was strong enough to resist. You will wait still a bit longer for your release.”
“Yes, Master.” She wanted him to take her hard right there.
“For now, take your clothes off. And kneel. I have something for you.”
She looked down at his crotch and saw that he was hard.
Yes, you do.
When boyfriends had denied her pleasure in the past, she was always inclined to retaliate, and yet she was looking forward to making him come.
There’s a difference. He’s not denying me out of incompetence or indifference. He’s actively choosing to withhold an orgasm when he knows he could give me one with only a little effort. And when he says I have to wait, that’s as good as a promise that he will satisfy me.
She stripped off as quickly as she could, her mouth watering at the prospect of servicing him again.
He waited, standing in front of her. She knelt. Being naked in front of him seemed natural now. And she’d learned not to reach out and start pulling off his pants, but to wait for instruction. Seconds passed. She hoped he liked what he saw.
“Very good.” He took a step back and grabbed a shopping bag she hadn’t noticed. She was pretty sure it hadn’t been there the day before. Apparently the something he had for her wasn’t his cock after all.
Presents!
A childlike glee hit her, even though buying her things was hardly proof he loved her. Still, presents had always come from people who loved her.
He took items from the bag and put them on the bed. First, a black bra that looked decidedly on the skimpy side. A matching garter belt. Sheer black stockings. And a pair of designer heels that must have cost a mint. They were the same height as the tallest ones she’d worn to see him—three inches.
“Stand and dress,” he said.
She did as directed. The lacy garter belt fit just right, and the stockings were soft and felt smoother than anything she’d ever worn before. They even had seams down the back. Her feet slid into the shoes easily, and just a moment of standing in them let her know why that designer’s shoes cost so much. They were both elegant and comfortable. There were no panties, she noticed, and the combination not only left her waxed pussy bare but framed it. She reached for the bra and started to put it on. The cup was firm and well-wired, but soft and silky at the same time.
He didn’t skimp on quality or, no doubt, price. I hope he doesn’t think he can buy a month with me.
But the lingerie was too seductive to resist on principle.
And it will give me something to remember him by.
She looked down. The cups didn’t quite conceal her nipples. The bra was not only elegant, it was a marvel of engineering, holding her breasts up without really covering him. Like the garter belt and stockings, it emphasized what was normally covered.
“Is my Master pleased?” she asked, posing for him, hoping she was being seductive.
“I am. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
And I can’t go out into the front lobby like this.
He reached into the bag and pulled out something made of stretchy, shiny black fabric. “A shame, but we need to keep you legal.” He spread it out on the bed. A short dress, with little cutouts, that looked a bit too small for her. The lingerie had fit perfectly, so clearly he knew her size. She picked it up and didn’t find a zipper, but the fabric was stretchy, so she pulled it over herself like a T-shirt. It hugged her curves and didn’t quite come down to midthigh.
“Look in the mirror,” he ordered, and she did.
The collar dipped low in the front, revealing plenty of cleavage, and was so tight that her nipples made clear indents in the fabric. Along the sides, cutouts showed a diamond of flesh on each side and another at her hips—right where the band of her panties would be, if she had been wearing any. Some of the lace at the top of her stockings was visible, and if she stretched, the suspenders showed as well. She wouldn’t have thought that she’d look good in such a tight dress.
But I do. I look sexy. Slutty but sexy.
“The dress is just to keep you decent on the way there.”
“It’s not very decent, Master.”
“If you would rather, I have a trench coat, and you could wear that.” He paused, and when she opened her mouth to accept, he added, “Instead.”
She took another look in the mirror. She wanted to wear the dress, and if she wasn’t allowed to wear it in the club, this was her only chance. She just had to brave an elevator ride to his car in the garage underneath the hotel, and then a walk to the club from wherever they parked. She had no idea how long a walk that would be, but she doubted he’d make her walk far in heels, and she wasn’t likely to run into anyone she knew downtown. “I would prefer the dress, Master. It’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” he corrected. “The dress just stops you from concealing it better than most clothes do.”
She blushed, happy he thought she was beautiful. It was certainly true that the dress didn’t conceal much. She turned around to look at how it looked in the back but got distracted. There was something else in the bag. She caught sight of a thin band of leather before he whisked the bag away and put it out of sight.
Was that a collar?
Preoccupied, she glanced over her shoulder toward the mirror. The dress hugged her in back the way it did in front and stretched over her ass. She thought Colby would enjoy the view.
What would a collar even mean? Is that about extending things for a month, or just a hot piece of fetish wear for an evening at a club? Maybe something to tell people hands off, she’s mine?
A moment of sadness passed over her. She wanted what she couldn’t have. She wanted it to mean something deep. Something lasting. Love, commitment, all that. She remembered her resolution. She was going to enjoy the evening, and if he put the collar on her for just one night, so be it. Better to have one more night of undivided attention from Colby than to miss out simply because it couldn’t last.
He took the collar, if that was what it was, from the shopping bag and put it in his toy bag, using his body to shield the object from view. He hefted the toy bag over his left shoulder and reached out for her waist with his other arm. She nestled against him, and together they walked to the elevator.
One floor down, a man got on. He was younger, maybe in his thirties, and his long hair and scruffy chin reminded her a little of the father of her children, back when they were still in love and before she realized what an ass he always was. He stared at her. Colby moved her to the other side of him.
“Nice,” drawled the man. Even his voice was a little like that of her ex. “I bet she cost quite a bit.”
The toy bag hit the floor, and Colby let go of her. She didn’t have to look to know that his fists were bunched; she could feel it in his shoulders.
“You couldn’t possibly afford me,” she retorted back.
Maybe I look like a hooker, but if I do, I look like a damned fine one, expensive and classy.
She tugged on Colby’s elbow.
“I do pretty well for myself,” said the man.
Colby’s voice was cold. “Stop insulting my woman, or you won’t make it to the ground floor intact.”
The elevator door opened on the third floor. The man took a look at Colby, then at Sophia. She just shrugged and nodded. She didn’t want things turning violent, but maybe the best way to do that was to make Colby’s threat stick. She let go of his arm. The older woman waiting to get on the elevator looked at the tense scene with uncertainty but didn’t move.
Then the man got off. The woman got in. And they rode the rest of the way down in silence.
“I’m sorry about that,” Colby said once they were in the parking garage and out of earshot.
She laughed. “Don’t be. It’s nice to be desired. I’m not with you to be a respectable mom—I’m here to get away from that. He looked at me and saw sex, and I hope that’s what you think when you look at me too.”
“It is.”
“Well then, you can’t control other people. You were going to hit him, weren’t you?”
“For a moment there, yes. Then I decided you couldn’t afford to have to go to the police station. Not really the kind of date that’s worth getting a sitter for. So I held back. Reluctantly.”
“Except for the look that made him run away,” said Sophia with a smile. It seemed unlikely the man intended to get off on the third floor all along. She wasn’t the only one who could feel the power that seemed to emanate from the dominant.
My Master.
For now.
They arrived at the club thirty-five minutes later and only had to walk a hundred feet or so to the front door from where Colby parked. Colby paid the entry fee. He’d paid for every lunch they ate, which Sophia appreciated in a way. He’d pulled rank on her when she objected. He’d spent all the money to travel, however, and even if part of that was because he wanted to tour the nation’s capital, she felt a bit as if she was the host, and it was her job to feed her guest. But since that argument had gone nowhere at restaurants, she knew there was no point in rehashing it in front of the bright-faced young man who served as receptionist at Crypt of Fate.
She suspected the receptionist was closer to her kids’ age than he was to her own, and it made her feel old and a little bit unsexy as a result. Colby led her by the hand, and she had almost put the thought aside when the first thing she saw when she entered the play area was a blonde girl of college age in black shiny heels, a short plaid skirt, white blouse, and a black bra. The woman was flogging a man with a touch of gray in his hair, and she wondered at their relationship. All men preferred younger women, didn’t they? Even if the girl was the dominant, Sophia was uneasy at the power balance between two people of such diverse ages. But if that man, with a bit of a paunch and apparently submissive, could attract a pretty young thing, surely Colby could.
But he chose her.
He looked over at her. “You’re suddenly tense. The surroundings?” He gestured around, and she took a moment to take them in. The room wasn’t much different from how she’d imagined it. Bondage furniture was scattered around the edges of the room, rather than being mostly in the center like it was at Bondage Ranch. There were places to sit, relax, and chat near the center rather than on the edge. There were a few people playing, and the sound of a man cracking his single-tailed whip punctuated the techno beat that poured from the loudspeakers. It was darker than the dungeon at Bondage Ranch but not so much as to put her off.
“I feel old.”
Colby snorted and led her deeper into the room, toward one of the tables. “You’re younger than I am.”
She supposed that was right. But she pressed the point, because the feeling that this was their last date was getting to her, and a part of her wanted an argument even if she knew that was stupid. “I’m sure you could do better.”
“What I care about is maturity, not age. I value your experience. You know what else I value?”
“What, Master?” she asked.
“Your obedience.” He stopped and stood in front of her, blocking her path just a few feet from the tables. “Do you like that dress?”