Saving Sunni (35 page)

Before Debi could say anything, Sir walked back into the room and swept me up in his arms, planting a kiss on my lips that made my knees weak. “I’m home, pet,” he announced as he let me go.

“I see that.” I wobbled a little, and he grabbed me, laughing.

When I stood on my own again, he turned to Debi. “Greetings,
kleine
. How are you today?”

“Fine, Sir. Raring to go,” she said, practically dancing in place as she looked over all of our supplies.

“It’s good to see someone so excited about cleaning.” Sir laughed again. It made me warm inside to see everyone in such a good mood after all the stress we had been under lately. “Simmer down there, missy, and help the ladies get everything ready. Then we can get busy.”

sage came in with the tea and Debi helped her put it out while I started laying out the towels we would be working on to protect the carpets. We put out small bowels of water, brushes, rags, saddle soap, conditioner, and polish. By that time Sir had returned with the last of the leathers that needed to be cleaned. He flipped through television channels, looking for a movie to put on, and we all settled ourselves on the floor to work.

“Sir, we can get this if you have other things to do,” I suggested, trying to be helpful.

“No, thank you, sunni. A good master takes his share of the dirty work. Besides, I need to teach our young, eager
Kleine
here about bootblacking.” Sir gave Debi a friendly smile, and she scooted a little closer to him.

“Why is it called bootblacking?” Debi asked.

Sir handed around various pieces of leather clothing and spread my favorite pair of his leather pants out on the towel in front of him. He winked at sage and me; we were about to hear a familiar lecture one more time. “What do you know of the early days of the leather community?”

“Not much,” she admitted, looking down in embarrassment.

“Come, come now. There is no need to be upset or shy. The only time for that is if you don’t answer or you lie to me. That must never happen.” There was steel in his voice for a moment.

Debi looked surprised but said immediately, “Yes, Sir.”

He smiled again to let her know he wasn’t angry. “Much of our history and traditions come from the gay and military communities. When someone entered the lifestyle back then, they usually had to start at the bottom of the totem pole, as they say. They would apprentice to a master to learn the skills required and were not allowed to wear anything made of leather until they had earned it by showing proficiency in their training. That training often took the form of becoming the submissive of the master, regardless of their normal inclinations. As the submissive grew and learned about the lifestyle, leathers would be presented to them. The first piece of leather earned would be their boots, which was again influenced by the military. The student had to show they could take care of their boots, keep them clean, conditioned, and polished to an incredible shine before they were allowed to get any additional leather. Thus the term bootblack, which refers to someone whose job was to shine shoes—something that seems to be unfamiliar to you.”

He glanced at the old boots lying next to her on the floor, making me giggle. Debi looked a bit confused.

“I know that isn’t the entire story,” Sir said, “but it is enough for now. If you find you enjoy this, we will get you some training with a real bootblack and you can learn the official history. For now, though, my amateur explanation will have to suffice.”

Two hours later we were finishing up the last pieces when sage asked, “Sir, I know we have our house protocols, but what does ‘high protocol’ mean and how does it affect ours?”

Sir turned to sage. “A number of the members of The Keyhole, and in the community at large for that matter, enjoy having the opportunity to explore and engage in a higher, more restrictive form of protocols. In a dinner such as we are attending tonight, these protocols will be observed by everyone attending. They will not supersede ours, but all the dominants and those submissives who enjoy this type of play have worked out and agreed to a set of rules to be observed during these dinners. They are designed to help us remember why we are drawn to this lifestyle in the first place. They include many of the rules of behavior we normally use at the club anyway; they are simply turned up a notch and formalized for all who attend.”

“Okay, I get that. But how does that affect us? What are we supposed to do so we don’t embarrass you?” sage sounded worried.

Sir must have thought so as well, because he reached over and rubbed her knee. “You never embarrass me, beautiful.” He looked at me and added, “And neither do you, pet. I am always proud of each of you for the strength and love you bring to our relationship. Nothing will ever change that.”

“Thank you, Sir.” sage looked down at the rag in her hand modestly.

But now I was a little worried as well. “Are there any special things we should or shouldn’t do? We don’t want to mess up and make you look bad.”

He took a deep breath. “The most important thing to remember is to be polite and mind your normal club manners. One thing that is more formal than usual is the slaves’ and submissives’ behavior toward the dominants and masters present.”

“What does that mean?” Debi sounded worried now, too.

“I am sorry, Debi. I forgot you aren’t completely familiar with our protocols and club behavior yet. For the sake of our conversation I will use ‘masters’ and ‘slaves,’ but ‘dominants’ and ‘submissives’ could just as easily be substituted. Ordinarily, a slave will not address a master unless they have been addressed by the master first and have their own master’s permission to speak. Now, in a normal club setting this is often relaxed around members of one’s own leather family and the slaves are free to talk amongst themselves. But in high protocol a slave does not speak unless asked a question by their master, or someone else that they have permission to speak to. They do not speak with the other slaves unless it is to accomplish a task set to them by their dominant. It is not a time to catch up on the local gossip.”

When Debi indicated that she understood, he turned to us. We each nodded in turn, and he continued. “A slave will usually not sit on furniture during these events unless they are instructed to. Many of the masters have their slaves sit on the floor at their feet after they have served the meal. Personally, I think this is silly and have made arrangements for the three of you to sit to my left at the table once the serving is over.”

I was surprised. “But, Sir, we like sitting on a cushion at your feet. We aren’t allowed to do that tonight?”

“Of course you are, sunni. I meant during the meal itself. I should have been more specific. After the meal, which will be served in the dungeon space, we will all retire to the social area for coffee and discussions. You will not only be allowed but required to sit on cushions at my feet during that time.” He smiled reassuringly at sage and me. “The high protocol group at The Keyhole is a subset of the normal membership. No single masters are allowed to attend, and single submissives can only attend as house slaves for the evening. They help serve the meal in any way that is needed and aid in setup and cleaning. No touching of the house slaves is allowed unless they have negotiated and agreed to what is happening. Some love to be handled by anyone, but others do not. Their individual boundaries are closely respected. They can be identified by their wristbands. A red band means the slave is not to be touched by anyone. They are there to satisfy a service and are not interested in being considered playthings. A green band means anyone—master or slave, male or female—can touch the slave any way they wish. This is usually someone wishing to fulfill a fantasy but could just be a very free spirit. A blue band means only members of the opposite gender may touch them, and then only after negotiation. A yellow band means the same thing, but for members of the same gender. Does that make sense?”

We each nodded. “These dinners are mostly attended by members of the various families in the community,” Sir continued. “Each will have one head of household who is responsible for the behavior of everyone in his party, regardless if they are dominant or submissive. In our case, that would be me.”

He turned to Debi. “That means that even though you are not yet an official member of my household, I am responsible for your behavior since I am bringing you. That is, of course, if you still wish to go tonight.”

“Oh, yes, Sir,” she said enthusiastically. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Sir reached out his right hand and cupped Debi’s chin in his palm, looking deeply into her eyes. “Do you still wish to be under my protection?”

She looked like a bird who had been mesmerized by a cobra until I saw her blink rapidly, as if a tear had formed in her eye. Her head bobbled slightly. “If you will let me, yes.”

Sir smiled at her and we went on with our work, chatting and joking periodically. I watched Debi for signs that she was developing a serious crush on Sir, but I couldn’t tell for sure. She directed just as many comments to sage and me as she did to him, and I didn’t notice any other meaningful looks passing between them. I didn’t know how I felt about the prospect of her joining our household. Other poly groups had people coming and going all the time, but I had never thought of us as that kind of family. What would Sir do with someone who wanted to join us but not be exclusive? Or someone who wanted only a part-time D/s relationship but didn’t want to be a full-time slave? It wouldn’t take much to make our lives extremely complicated.

As we parked in front of the club later, I chuckled at the front door. It had recently been painted to resemble a large keyhole with an eye looking out. The words
Join us for a look through the keyhole
were lettered in a dark red Gothic script around the picture.

Once inside, Sir ushered us into the coat room. He turned to me first and helped me off with the leather vest he had given me, the one with our family patch on the back. He hung the vest up and then inspected me to make sure everything was as it should be. He repeated the maneuver with sage and hung her vest next to mine. Debi didn’t have a vest but was wearing a light jacket over her corset and Sir went through the process a third time.

I took a few seconds to admire the way we all looked in our fetish finery. I had on a hot pink underbust corset, trimmed in black with small delicate flowers embroidered on each panel; a short, black Lycra skirt; and a very nice fuchsia Byzantine nipple chain. sage’s corset was a deep purple with light gray trim and geometric designs running down the length of each panel. She also wore a long, black leather skirt that was split on the left side almost to her waist. She wasn’t as comfortable with nudity as I was, but with Sir’s help her self-image was much better than it used to be. The outfit Sir had picked out for Debi suited her much better than I had expected it to. When I had first laid eyes on the bright orange waist cincher, I thought he had lost his mind. But she wore it over the top of a short little black dress. The bright color and contrast went well with her bouncy personality.

Finally I there was Sir. As usual, he was the sexiest master in the room. I was a little biased, but that didn’t make it any less true. He had on my favorite leather pants which laced up the side of each leg, a thick black leather belt, and a deep forest green dress shirt with his good vest over the top. The whole outfit was completed with the addition of the black motorcycle boots that we had all worked on that afternoon to shine to a mirror-like finish.

We loitered in the main social area for a short time before he gave us permission to check on the preparations in the main dungeon space. We found amy and Delilah hard at work, so the three of us jumped in and helped with getting the food ready to be served.

The meal went as smoothly as a fancy meal that was served in a dungeon could go. No one lost a limb, only a few things had been forgotten, and none of the plates were dropped. So, all in all, a success. The dominants chatted amongst themselves about local and national politics. It didn’t bother me at all to stay out of that discussion, and I exchanged occasional whispered comments and giggles with Debi. sage, on Debi’s other side next to Sir, was very quiet, and more serious than normal. I hoped she wasn’t feeling too uncomfortable, but it was hard to tell.

After the meal was finished, we joined the rest of the slaves in cleaning and resetting the dungeon. I had watched sage for signs that she was having trouble, but I couldn’t decide exactly what was going on with her. When I finally caught her eye, she smiled at me, and I relaxed a little. But she definitely wasn’t relaxed; as she moved around the room, her back straightened and her movements became crisp and more self-assured. She didn’t talk to anyone, but she cleared the table and helped re-arrange the dungeon equipment with an efficiency that was surprising, even for her. I suspected that she enjoyed the atmosphere of the high protocol dinner more than she had expected to. She surveyed the room with an air of ownership, as if it was her personal responsibility to make sure everything was perfect.

Once she seemed satisfied, we went to find Sir. All of the masters and dominants were sitting with cushions scattered about their feet waiting for their slaves to join them. Sir was in the same high-backed wooden chair he had used during Debi’s kinky inquisition scene not that long ago. As I went to fix him some coffee, I marveled at the way he made it look like a throne instead of a regular chair.