There’s something about the darkness, the way the shadows play across the sky and even across my skin. We’ve all been in darkened clubs, the kinds with pulsing energy and shimmering lights in the most ominous shades. We undulate as we move through the crowd of dancers, longing to find the perfect spot to unleash the pent up needs we’ve been experiencing. I’ve loved dancing in the darkness for years. I’ve been a professional ballet dancer and experimented with pole dancing. 
There isn’t anything better than the freeing feeling of dancing to the music, closing your eyes and enjoying the intense vibes. I’ve danced for hours to a heady beat, savoring the sinful way the music allows me to feel.
I think for all of us we have a favorite song that is particularly provocative or draws a heightened level of energy. I can’t live without music in my life or for my writing. I tend to write to particular types of music and in truth, I enjoy sex and passion the same way. The harder and faster at times I hunger for a taste of kink that few others might enjoy. I write that way, full of verve and an intense almost rage like feeling. But I can enjoy Kenny G and think about a sensual moment in a jazz club both in writing as well as in real life. You know the type of club – ebony grand piano, black and white tile floor, and a gothic singer dressed in red… Mmm… Does that sound like me or what?
I think when couples enter a club together, they embrace the music, the atmosphere and the way the crowd reacts not only around them but to the way they are as a couple. In other words we all feed off each other as well as the crowd around them.
Do you think there’s any difference in going to a kink club? Even for those who might be shy, have never been, the people watching alone has to be incredible. Can you imagine being a voyeur, completely allowed to see and in so many ways experience what the couple or group is doing? Can you truly envision the concept of a room filled with apparatuses meant only for discipline? Close your eyes and inhale. You have to be able to gather a strong whiff of the various colognes and perfumes, smell the sex building in the room and the sweet tinge of wood. Mmm… I think the combination is seductive and a powerful aphrodisiac.
Then there’s nothing more seductive that the draw of a powerful club. A kink club – many types anyway – are very similar. They are exclusive and cater to those interested in learning, participating or merely indulging in various activities of BDSM. You can find anything and everything your heart desires. Certainly people watching is allowed and you can find partners to share with – IF you all agree. What I think would be amazing to be in the way the Dom and the sub react together. The draw I can imagine would be intense. For our couple, they are intrigued as well as hungering to be a part of the “scene”. Is there a concept of too much? Perhaps, but this is the time wthat the Dom must take control, taking cues off his submissive. In talking with John Patrick – he loves the way I’m setting this up, savoring the fact they are so passionate with merely brushing touches and hand gestures. The action is going to alter, but just how much? By the way, John Patrick is very much this kind of Dom, giving and respectful and our submissive is learning there is nothing better than submitting to him.
“I’m going to ask you one time and I want an honest answer. Everything you say to me is important. The way you feel is vital.”
The way Damon’s hot breath cascaded across the base of her neck and breasts gave her a series of chills. “I know.” Camille moved the back of her hand across her mouth, realizing her hand was shaking. His eyes were imploring, the look on his face so reverent.
“Good. I hope you do.”
She took a step back and couldn’t take her eyes off the thick leather belt, the one she knew intimately. A moment of raw pride swept into her system, the kind of reminder few vanilla couples could understand. The first spanking, the one he’d given her out of the blue in a quiet establishment, had been amazing. Both she and Damon continued to fail to be able to put the single experience into coherent words, let alone would they ever be able to help those not in the lifestyle understand. The experience was life-changing, cathartic and so intrinsic to the way they were as a couple now. Still, how could you utter words about a harsh spanking, the need and desire, the empowerment and complete inhibitions, without drawing criticism at best? At worst? Well some people, those who could never look outside their known universe, might just call the police. Abuse. Yes, there was that ugly word but one uttered often around BDSM and D/s.
She bit her lower lip as the memory of the first amazing time fueled a combination of raw emotions, including a touch of indignation. Fuck those people who couldn’t understand.
Damon touched her arm, rubbing his fingers up and down in a methodical manner. He tilted his head, his eyes darting back and forth across hers. “What are you thinking?”
“About us. About…about sharing tonight together.” The connection and bonding that continued growing between them was all encompassing. He was her Dom. Of that she never challenged. She’d accepted the rules, the ones he created yet she tweaked, without reservation. They were merely a part of her life now. She’d embraced the fact she was a much stronger woman because of his tutelage, his temperance and his amazing patience with her. The discipline was only a small part of how he’d encouraged her as a woman, his lover and his submissive. He was also her caretaker, mentor and friend. They could talk about anything and everything with nothing held back. She never worried about what she told him, or about what his thoughts might be. Talking was a sheer joy.
“Good things?”
The comment was usually the same, a jesting between them. Heat rushed from the swell of her breasts to her neck and face. “Of course, silly.” Openly laughing, she scanned the perimeter of the room to see if anyone had caught what some hard core Masters might think were blasphemous words. Then she shook her head seeing his eyes flash. “I mean of course, sir.”
He grinned and leaned forward, kissing her check. “Feeling frisky tonight I see. Hhhmmm…”
“Always my sir. And all because of you.” She drank in his aftershave, suddenly longing to be very much alone with him.
“I’m glad.”
“Don’t you know?”
“A question with a question again,” Damon said as he raised a singled eyebrow.
Camille couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, sir.”
“Yes, of course I know. Now my question for you.” Easing back he nodded toward the pillows. “Are you certain you want to do this?”
“Yes. Yes, sir I do.” There was no hesitation. Granted, she’d asked herself the same question that morning after he’d finally mentioned where they were going. Of course she’d known he has a surprise for her. He was rarely able to hide anything from her, but this time she’d been taken aback. Now, she wanted nothing more than to allow him the opportunity to have something she knew he’d been wanting for a few months. Her desire, while secondary, was just as strong. “I’m excited.” The words rang true. Excitement. How could anyone be this excited about a public spanking, a taste of humiliation? Well, she was.
Damon inhaled and moved a damp strand of hair from her ruby stained lips. He studied her, his breath sounds ragged. “All right. I believe you. Twenty strikes here.” He motioned to the pillows. “More when we return home.”
As she gave him a smile and turned toward the bank of pillows, knowing there would be little comfort in the soft fluff, something caught her eye. There wasn’t supposed to be comfort though. Right? A sixth sense said they were being watched. She darted quick glances at the other couples and groups in the room. No one was paying attention, not really at least. “Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.”
As she knelt down and crawled onto the pillows she couldn’t help but feel nervous. VERY nervous. Goose bumps popped along her naked skin as she adjusted a pillow under her stomach, just the way she knew Damon would prefer. The tower of softness was like a sea of comfort, an oasis before, during and after a harsh discipline. Okay, now she was shaking. She caught a single look, one from another Master, and became completely embarrassed. He was studying her, not Damon, not her Sir. The mystery man was intrigued. She shuddered and looked toward the wall.
Damon inched down on his haunches. “Don’t worry about anyone else in the room. No man is going to touch you. As I told you many times, I don’t share well.” Chuckling, he patted her ass then pushed her legs open. “Twenty.”
She bit back a grin. He always seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. How in the world did he do that? Sighing, she concentrated on the music pumping from unknown speakers in an effort to calm her nerves. The haunting strains were gothic and sensuous, the Spanish acoustic guitar so provocative, revealing of the artist’s intimacy. Before Camille realized, her entire body was wiggling in time to the music. Pressing her face into the velvet pillow she waited – not as patiently as her sir was trying to teach her – but enough so that her heart was racing. Still, she didn’t need to turn and look to know what Damon was doing. He was careful in his methods, his personal preparations, or as he called the required moments of planning, were a part of him she’d come to adore. Damon did nothing without purpose.
Crack!
Exhaling, Damon grunted the same time Camille did. “You’re going to learn that I don’t appreciate nor will I tolerate mouthing off. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, her hands clenching the pillows. The angle allowed the strike to be harder, freaking damn harder. She sucked in her breath as a jolt of white-hot heat jutted through her. He did loathe her mouthing off, cussing out whatever.
Whoosh! Strike!
“And you’re going to learn that when I say enough, I mean enough. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Pop! Crack! Crack!
The pain was incredible, so intense, and she did all she could not to move, not to shift her hands back to cover her ass. He hated when she attempted to push away his punishment.
Slap! Slap!
“You’re an amazing woman.”
Damon’s voice never wavered, never showed any crack in the strong man she’d come to know as well as devote herself to. He was so authoritative in this type of connection, just like everything else. He made her feel safe and loved, cared for and special. “Sir. Thank you.” At this point she wasn’t certain her words were audible.
Damon lowered down and rubbed down from her neck and spine to her ass cheeks. “You’re going to bruise.”
“Yes, sir.” Her words clipped, Camille felt the presence of the Master. He’d moved closer, now taking a bird’s eye view of their playtime. She tried not to pay attention to the man who so obviously wanted acknowledgement, but she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t stop from turning her head and gazing at him.
“Ten more.”
The man was greying at the temples, his eyes dark and almost foreboding. In his hand he held a drink, yet he remained still, as if this moment was vital for him to see. She swallowed hard and shifted, arching her back. For some reason she could swear a smile crossed the stranger’s face.
Crack! Pop!
“My beautiful submissive,” Damon breathed.
In the course of the next few minutes she lost count, her body tingling and her ass on fire. This wasn’t a playtime spanking. Her Dom was punishing her for a bad habit, one she couldn’t seem to break. Tears sprung to her eyes and she gulped back a single sob. Why was she crying? She never cried when he spanked her, no matter how severe? Her reaction created an interesting one in the voyeur. He smiled, as if her pain was far too delicious to resist.
“Twenty. We’re done. You did very well,” Damon growled as he moved down to the pillows beside her. Gathering her into his arms and lap, he wrapped his arm around her protectively.
For some reason this was more emotional than she could have imagined. Clinging to him, she allowed tears to slip from her eyes. “My good girl.”
She heard the man approach, could tell by the way Damon breathed in. Nuzzling into his neck she sighed as a peaceful moment of contentment filled her.
“You have an amazing submissive,” the man stated.
Camilla wasn’t surprised at Damon’s hesitation. Of course she knew him well enough. Her Dom was calculating his words. There was a quiet moment shared between them and no need for words. As she placed her hand on his chest, her fingers just above his heart, she enjoyed the tender satisfaction.
“And she’s all mine.”
Oh, can you imagine those very words said to you? I like Damon in how he cares for her. What do you think? Kisses and spanks…
Cassandre
Passion with a Dark and Dangerous Twist 