Rack and Ruin #1




Lena





“They’re all watching us, you know.” Josh’s casual tone sent a shiver down my spine, and I flicked my gaze over to the spectators’ area of the play space without raising my head. I couldn’t see too well through my peripheral vision, but I got the sense that they were all there; every single person who was present the night we were introduced.

My mind spun further into a submissive haze, and I closed my eyes to try to ease it. Not that it helped. I was kneeling in front of him in my underwear—even if we’d been alone, that would’ve been enough.

“We’ve drawn this game out for too long for them not to be curious. And word travels in this scene. By now, even the dungeon masters want to know what I’m gonna do to you. I’ll bet they wouldn’t even step in if I was to fuck you in front of everyone here…”

I forgot how to breathe; humiliation and longing combined to prickle over my skin. “You wouldn’t,” I said, but I wasn’t sure whether it was a declaration of bravado or a question.

“You sure about that?” Josh crouched beside me and stroked a hand over my tense, trembling body; down my abdomen, over the waistband of my panties and down between my spread thighs. I bit back a whimper as his fingers trailed over my cunt for the first time, rubbing lightly over the scrap of damp fabric, then just a little harder.

Or maybe I was pressing myself into his hand. I didn’t know any more.

“Looked at you,” he growled in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Desperate for me to get you off with my fingers, and we haven’t even kissed yet. You little slut.”

There was just the right amount of feigned disgust in his voice to turn me on still further. If I could remember how to speak, I’d be pleading for his kiss, his touch, his anything…

He got to his feet and paced around to my other side. “I’m betting you won’t even last a five minute scene before you’re begging for me to fuck you. Maybe I should just skip the formalities and get right to it, here in the middle of the dungeon.”

My exhibitionism fetish wasn’t usually this extreme, but another surge of heat rushed through me at his words, and I was almost sobbing with frustration now. “Please… Sir…”

“You’re begging me to take you in full view of everyone here?” Josh adopted a mildly shocked tone, and I thanked god the spectators’ area was far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to hear him over the music. “Sorry, little tease. Not really my style. While you’re mine, only I get to watch you come…”

I scrambled for the last shred of my defiance, the only part that hadn’t been frayed by time and imagination, his voice and his gaze. But there was nothing left. I was tired of resisting. I wanted him, and to be his. Completely his.

“Give me your orders, Sir.”





* * * *





Eight months earlier…





The opening night of a new fetish club was always an interesting event. Pretty much everyone you’d ever met on the kink scene was likely to be there, plus some out-of-towners, plus a few people coaxed there by curiosity or pulled back into the scene after a hiatus.

I wasn’t expecting to play that night. My intention was to soak up the ambience and check out the new people and surroundings; to dance and socialise and generally have fun.

I let my eyes wander around the designated social space of Rack and Ruin, from the dance floor to the collection of tables and couches, and from there to the archway that led to the dungeon. Watching people play was a big kink of mine, and I resolved to head over there in a little while.

As Tamara began recounting a weird scene story I’d heard before, I turned my attention to the rest of the group we were with. There were twelve or so of us, and we’d managed to commandeer three comfortable couches, which were set at right-angles to each other in one corner. The atmosphere was great—relaxed and friendly, with no expectations.

Three people approached our corner, and were greeted with smiles, hugs and backslaps by my friends. I vaguely recognised one woman from a rope workshop I’d been at the previous year, but her two companions were strangers to me.

The younger guy was blonde and stocky, and obviously the woman’s submissive. The other guy, though…

He was tall, and I guessed in his early- to mid-forties. His salt-and-pepper hair was enough to make me melt, and he was simply clad in a black shirt and pants. Something about him was fascinating, although all I could see right then was the back of his head. Maybe it was the way he held himself—alert, a little aloof, maybe.

Then he turned to be introduced to Izzy and Ben, and—

Wow. He’s really, really hot. I mean, not centrefold material… more like… striking.

I swallowed the urge to laugh at the significance of the adjective, feeling the kind of submissive pang that I hadn’t in a while. If he wanted to strike me… well, I could live with that.

Nudging my friend Mel, I whispered, “Who’s that?”

She followed my gaze, an eyebrow rising in speculation. “That would be Josh. And yeah, he’s Dom…”