Chapter Text
If Vaggi hadn't been so tired of Angel Dust's relentless pestering, she would have turned around and walked back to the dive bar three blocks ago. But he had been persistent, waving the invite and swearing up and down that she looked like she was "two steps away from a mental breakdown."
So, here she was, standing in a nondescript alleyway in front of a door that was plain and unremarkable. The sign above was small, just a flicker of violet neon that spelled out Ecstasy. Vaggi hated it already.
But she needed it even more.
Life lately had been like... well, absolutely fucking shit. Her ex was still haunting her, apparently convinced that taking her eye and traumatizing her wasn't quite enough. And ever since she left the band, Vaggi hadn't been able to find another job, which was almost a year ago.
Going to a sex club to blow off some steam didn't even seem like that big of a deal anymore.
Though she's not exactly inexperienced in BDSM, much thanks to her ex-girlfriend, this was the first time she'd ever done it with a stranger.
She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the mask. It was matte black leather, sturdy and simple, designed to wrap around her head and cover the upper half of her face.
Vaggi pushed the door open.
She was immediately hit by a heavy, expensive scent of sandalwood. The lighting was dim, probably designed to make everyone feel like they have some sort of privacy here.
She walked past the velvet curtain at the foyer and made her way to the front desk. The receptionist took her invite card with gloved fingers, sliding it through a reader. No names were exchanged. Vaggi appreciated that.
"Invitation confirmed," a voice murmured from behind a silver-lace mask. "Everything seems to be in order."
Vaggi shifted her weight.
"You're registered as Dom for the night," the receptionist continued, tapping the screen. "And it looks like your preferences for a... partner, have already been filled out."
Vaggi froze. "My preferences?"
"The 'Sub' profile," the person explained, indifferent. "Female, submissive, responsive, needs firm direction, and so on. It's all in the system."
Vaggi's jaw tightened. Angel.
"Is there a problem?" the receptionist asked.
"No," Vaggi muttered, grabbing the card back. "No problem."
"Excellent," the receptionist said, handing her a black wristband. "Before you head in, a brief reminder of our protocols. No cameras, no real names, and absolutely no unconsented contact in the common areas. Safewords follow the traffic light system. If your Sub says 'Red,' the scene ends instantly. If you violate that, our security will handle it. Permanently."
"I know how consent works," Vaggi said, snapping the band onto her wrist.
"Good. Then you'll be pleased to know your match has already arrived. She requested a premium degree of privacy, so she's waiting in the back." The receptionist pointed a finger toward a dimly lit corridor to the left. "Take the hallway past the main bar. She's in Alcove Seven. The curtain is drawn.
"Enjoy your evening."
Vaggi swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, and started walking into the dark.
-
Charlie was ninety-five percent sure she was having a heart attack.
She sat on the edge of a plush, deep-purple velvet sofa inside Alcove Seven, her fingers gripping the fabric of her suit so tightly her knuckles were white, face hidden behind a golden mask, but it did absolutely nothing to cool down the flush burning on her cheeks.
On the low table in the corner of the room lay an assortment of items that made her throat go completely dry. There were leather cuffs, leather crops, coils of dark silk rope, and things she did not even recognize.
The thought that a complete stranger was about to walk through that curtain and use those things on her made her stomach flip.
And, God help her, it was incredibly hot.
This was wrong. She was Charlotte Morningstar. She was supposed to be reviewing quarterly financial reports and preparing for next week's global board meeting, not expecting a stranger to fuck her stupid in a BDSM sex club.
But that was exactly the problem. Between the endless press conferences, the crushing weight of her family's corporate empire, and the constant, suffocating need to be the perfect, smiling heiress, she was about to snap. Her entire life was a script she hadn't written. She was so tired of making decisions. She was tired of being the one in charge.
When a notoriously wild friend from her elite social circle had offhandedly joked about a secret club where "overachievers go to completely surrender control," Charlie had laughed, but she also had secretly memorized the name, and anonymously bought an invitation through an encrypted browser.
She didn't want any gentle romance tonight. She just wanted someone to force her brain to shut up.
A muffled thud echoed from down the corridor, someone had come in and closed the heavy acoustic door.
Charlie stopped breathing.
A figure stepped through the curtain and into the dim, violet-tinged gloom of the room.
Oh god, Charlie thought, her heart hammering against her ribs. She's actually here.
She couldn't make out many specific details due to the dim lightning, but she could tell it was a woman with short hair, and she was wearing a mask as well. While she wasn't particularly tall, she looked incredibly fit.
Suddenly, Charlie realized she had absolutely no idea how people actually started these things. Did they shake hands? Introduce themselves with fake names? The silence stretched for a beat too long, making her brain completely short-circuit.
"Um... hi?" Charlie managed, her voice a little higher than she intended.
The stranger paused for a second, then took a slow step closer. Up close, Charlie could see the black leather of her mask, but not her eyes.
"Hi," the woman replied. Her voice was low, a bit raspy, and much calmer than Charlie's.
She looked down at the low table, taking in the sex toys, before her gaze drifted back up to Charlie, who was still sitting stiffly on the edge of the sofa.
"I'm guessing you're the one who requested 'firm direction'?" the stranger asked, tilting her head slightly.
Charlie swallowed, her hands tightening in her lap. Hearing it out loud made her face burn all over again, but the woman's voice did something dangerous to her chest. "Yeah. That's... yeah. That's me."
The woman took another step forward, closing the distance between them until she was standing right in front of Charlie. She reached up, slid her jacket off and tossed it onto a nearby chair, leaving her in a simple tank top.
"Good," the stranger said, looking down at her. "Then the first thing you can do is stand up."
Charlie immediately stood up, smoothing down her suit pants just to give her hands something to do. Being on her feet made her feel even more exposed, especially since the woman was standing close enough for Charlie to catch a faint scent of mint and detergent.
"Any hard limits?" The woman asked, "Anything you absolutely don't want tonight?"
Charlie bit her lip, her mind going completely blank. She'd read the terminology online, but being asked directly by a woman in a leather mask made all her preparation go in vein.
"Um... I don't know," Charlie admitted, her voice dropping to a nervous mumble. "Honestly, I've never actually done this before. I don't really know what my limits are."
She braced herself, half-expecting the woman to laugh or get annoyed by her lack of experience. But she just nodded slowly.
"Hey, it's fine," She said, voice reassuring. "There's a first time for everything. We don't have to jump into the deep end."
"If anything feels uncomfortable, or if you just want to take a break, tell me immediately," The woman continued, looking into Charlie's gold mask. "Do you know the safewords?"
"The receptionist mentioned a traffic light system?" Charlie remembered.
"Right. Green means you're good to continue. Yellow means slow down, or change what we're doing. Red means everything stops immediately. No questions asked, no hard feelings. Clear?"
Charlie swallowed, but for the first time since walking into the club, she felt genuinely relieved. The woman was authoritative, but she felt safe.
"Clear," Charlie said, nodding. "Red means stop."
"Good," the woman said, nodding. "Now, how do you want to address me?"
Charlie hesitated, "Um... Is Mistress okay?"
"Then that's what I am," she said, her voice now commanding and firm again. "From now on, you will obey me. You do exactly what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. Understood?"
Charlie felt a thrill shoot straight down her spine. "Yes, Mistress."
"Good," Her mistress said, taking a slow step backward to look Charlie up and down. "First command. Strip. Down to your underwear."
Charlie's breath hitched. With trembling fingers, she reached for the buttons of her blazer and slipped it off her shoulders, her shirt following shortly after. Next came her slacks, leaving her standing in the dim light in just a set of lace underwear.
Charlie felt completely exposed, her skin prickling. She kept her eyes locked on the woman's boots, her heart thumping so hard she was sure the stranger could hear it.
The woman walked over to the corner table, she bypassed the heavy leather cuffs and reached for the coil of dark silk rope.
"Hands behind your back," she commanded, turning around.
Charlie instinctively turned her back to the stranger and brought her wrists together.
The silk was cool against her skin, but the grip that held her wrists in place was warm. The woman worked quickly, wrapping the rope in a practiced knot that left Charlie's arms pinned firmly behind her waist. When she let go, Charlie gave a small tug. Nothing budged.
The woman walked past her and sat down on the edge of a bed. She spread her knees slightly, leaning back and looking up at Charlie through her black mask.
"Come here," she said, tapping her thigh. "Face down across my lap."
Charlie's face flamed. She took small, hesitant steps forward until her knees were brushing against the woman's leg. With a quiet intake of breath, she leaned forward, letting her torso rest across the stranger's thighs.
Up close, Charlie could smell the clean scent of the woman's skin. Before she could overthink the position, a heavy, calloused palm flattened against the small of her back, pinning her securely against her lap.
"Good girl," the woman praised.
Then, without any warning, she brought her hand down in a solid slap right across Charlie's lace underwear.
The loud crack echoed in the room. Charlie gasped, her toes curling as heat spread across her skin. It stung, but she found herself craving for more.
Another slap landed, hitting the other side of her bottom. Charlie let out a sharp cry, her hips twitching instinctively against the woman's thighs.
"Don't move," the stranger commanded, her hand resting heavily on the small of Charlie's back, anchoring her down. "Did I tell you that you could move?"
"No," Charlie mumbled.
"No, what?"
"No, Mistress!"
"Good. Keep still."
The palm came down again. Her Mistress delivered three heavy slaps in a row, making Charlie gasp loudly, her fingers curling helplessly behind her back.
Charlie's eyes tightly shut behind her mask. Her usually chaotic mind now completely went blank. She found herself leaning into the pressure, her breathing turning shallow and ragged. She was entirely at this stranger's mercy now.
The striking stopped. The woman left her hand resting on Charlie's lower back, her thumb stroking lightly over the burning skin.
"You're taking it remarkably well for a beginner," the woman murmured above her.
Charlie could feel her butt throbbing, heat blooming across her skin as the woman's fingers trailed slowly downward, tracing the sensitive, burning curve until they hooked slightly under the edge of her underwear.
The calloused fingers scraped gently against Charlie's bare skin, making her shiver.
"Can I go under?" the woman asked, her voice steady but leaning in close to Charlie's ear.
She didn't have the breath to form a proper word, so she just nodded quickly against the woman's thigh.
"I need to hear it," The hand paused.
"Yes," Charlie whispered, swallowing hard. "Yes, Mistress. Please."
Slowly, the woman slid the lace down Charlie's thighs, exposing her completely to the cool air.
The stranger's hand returned, fingers gently brushing against her inner thigh before tracing upward. When her fingertips lightly grazed Charlie's wet lower lips, she paused.
"Already?" she hummed, her thumb doing a slow, teasing swipe over the slick skin.
Charlie whined, burying her burning face deeper into the woman's lap. The shame of being caught so turned on by just a few spankings made her want to disappear, yet her hips unconsciously nudged into the touch.
The hand pulled back, resting heavily on her waist again.
"I'm going to strike you harder now. You can scream or make as much noise as you want. But you will count every single one for me. Understood?"
Charlie swallowed the lump in her throat, her bound wrists twitching behind her back. "Yes, Mistress."
The palm came down with a heavy, smack directly against her bare skin. The sting was sharp enough to make Charlie's entire body jump. She let out a sharp cry, her toes curling tightly.
"Count," the woman ordered.
"O-one," Charlie gasped out, her voice trembling as she braced for the next one.
Another heavy slap.
"Two," Charlie managed to chok out, tears blurring the edges of her eyes.
Smack.
"Th-three!"
She was completely lost in it. She did not dare to imagine what her ass look like right now. But somehow, it was the most relieved she had felt in a long time.
Then, without a beat of warning, the woman's hand swung lower, driving straight between Charlie's thighs and landing a heavy slap directly against her exposed pussy.
Charlie shrieked, her voice cracking as her entire body convulsed. Her hips jerked violently off the woman's lap, her bound wrists twisting frantically behind her back as a completely different kind of shockwave tore through her core.
"Ah! Fuck- Mistress!" Charlie cried out, her legs shaking so hard they couldn't hold their own weight.
"I didn't hear a number," the woman only said, voice flat. She didn't give Charlie time to recover, bringing her hand down again against the swollen flesh.
Charlie sobbed loudly, her hips twitching uncontrollably. "F-four! Four!"
The woman slid her palm smoothly over the burning skin of Charlie's thigh, soothing the ache for a brief second before her fingers slipped between her legs.
Charlie let out a whine as those rough fingers began to stroke her. Her hips arch instinctively, begging for the touch.
"Look how wet you are," the stranger whispered, her fingers sliding deeper inside Charlie, parting her lips easily. "You liked that, didn't you?"
Charlie couldn't answer. She could only whimper against the woman's leg.
The fingers slipped out. "Up," the woman said, sliding her thighs out from under Charlie's torso, forcing her to find her feet.
Charlie stumbled, her knees nearly buckling the second her bare feet hit the floor. Her thighs were shaking uncontrollably, and the air hitting her exposed, swollen backside and pussy sent a sting straight up her spine.
Her Mistress stood up too. The woman reached behind Charlie's waist, untying the rope that bound her wrists before her hands moved to the back of Charlie's lace bra, unhooking it without a word. She slid the straps down Charlie's arms, letting the fabric pool on the floor.
She was entirely naked now, while the woman stood before her fully dressed. Charlie felt her face burn hotter under her mask.
"Look at me,"
Charlie lifted her chin, her eyes locking onto the mask before her.
"Good girl."
Before Charlie could even think about resting her aching arms, the stranger grabbed both of her wrists and pulled them up, straight over her head.
"Keep them there,"
She reached for another set of silk cords hanging from a black iron fixture built into the ceiling of the alcove and lashed Charlie's wrists together, securing them to the overhead mount, forcing Charlie to stand on her tiptoes. Her breasts were thrust forward, lower half was fully presented.
The woman stepped closer, her fingers rising to cup Charlie's cheek. The warmth against her skin was somehow intoxicating. Charlie instinctively leaned her head into the touch, nuzzling her face against the rough palm like she was starved for it.
She heard an amused chuckle from behind the black mask.
"You're so obedient," the stranger teased, her thumb tracing the edge of Charlie's jaw. "And cute. Just like a little puppy."
The word hit Charlie harder than she thought. It tear a broken groan from her lips before she could stop it.
"Oh?" The woman tilted her head, "Looks like you really like being called that, don't you, puppy?"
Charlie swallowed hard, her tiptoes straining against the floor as she looked into the dark eyeholes of the mask. The last shred of her dignity had vanished. "Yes... Yes, Mistress."
"Good puppy."
The hand slid down her throat, trailing over her collarbone before wrapping firmly around one of her breasts. Charlie gasped as the woman squeezed, her thumb and forefinger catching Charlie's nipple and giving it a sharp twist.
Charlie whined, her back arching as her nipple hardened instantly under the pressure. Her Mistress didn't stop, moving to the other side and did the same until both nubs were tight, swollen, and fully erect.
"Let's add a little weight."
She reached into the tray on the side table, and in her fingers returning were two metal clamps lined with protective rubber. Charlie's breath hitched as she felt the cool metal hover right against her sensitive nubs.
The woman attached the first clamp to her left nipple. Charlie cried out, her fingers clenching into tight fists above her head as pain shot through her chest. Before she could recover, the second one snapped onto the right, making her legs shake.
The heavy little weights dangled, pulling at her flesh with every breath she took.
The woman stepped back just enough to look at her, her eyes running over Charlie's shivering body. "Safeword check, puppy. Your color?"
Charlie panted, the throbbing in her chest syncing with the deep ache between her thighs. "G-green," she gasped out, "It's green, Mistress."
"Good. Spread your legs then."
Charlie forced her shaking thighs apart, her toes straining against the floor as she fully opened herself up. Her swollen pussy was glistening, still dripping from the slaps earlier.
The stranger stepped into the space between Charlie's knees. In one hand, she held a vibrator she'd picked up from the table while her other hand remained bare, her fingers immediately sliding back into Charlie's soaking pussy.
"Ah... Mistress!" Charlie cried out, her head rolling back against her outstretched arms as those fingers began to move inside her, stretching her open.
Then, the woman switched on the toy. The second the vibrating silicone pressed directly against Charlie's throbbing clit, her brain completely shut down. She shrieked, hips jerking violently against the restraints, her cunt clamping down tight around the fingers inside her. It dragged her toward the edge within seconds.
"M-Mistress!" Charlie begged, her tears finally spilling over the edge of her gold mask.
Right as she was about to push over the brink, the vibrator was brutally pulled away.
Charlie gasped, a broken sound escaping her throat as her body hung suspended in frustration. Before she could even process the sudden emptiness, the woman's open palm came down in a smack directly against her pussy.
"Agh!" Charlie screamed, her legs bucking. The burning pain collided violently with the unfinished orgasm, sending a chaotic jolt straight up her spine.
"I didn't tell you that you could come," the stranger said coldly, her fingers inside again, unbothered by Charlie's desperate twitching.
She pressed the vibrating back down, turning the setting higher. The intense buzzing hit Charlie's freshly slapped, burning flesh, and she instantly started to unravel all over again. Her hips rolled helplessly, chasing the friction, the sound she could make was incoherent whines.
Just as Charlie's voice pitched higher, her inner muscles convulsing around the fingers, her mistress pulled back again.
"Hold it," A thumb grinded hard against the swollen nub just to tease her. "Good little puppy. Keep it right there."
Charlie crumbled. Tears streamed down the edges of her gold mask, tracing her flushed cheeks.
"Please," she sobbed, her voice cracking, "Please, Mistress... I can't... Please let me."
The woman watched her for a beat, before leaning in close, her breath warm against Charlie's ear.
"Then do it," she murmured. "Come for me, puppy."
She pressed the vibrator back against Charlie's clit on its highest setting, while her fingers roughly moving in and out.
Charlie sobbed openly, her head hanging between her arms, her entire body shaking as the pleasure overloaded her over-stressed nerves, washing away months of suffocating pressure in a matter of seconds.
The woman kept her fingers inside to let Charlie ride out her orgasm, before slowly, gently withdrawing. She switched off the humming device and set it aside.
Charlie hung there, panting heavily, saliva wetting her lips. The throbbing in her chest from the clamps and the fire between her thighs were still there, but her brain was now blank.
"Mistress..." Charlie whispered, her voice incredibly small. She lifted her head weakly, her eyes pleading through the mask. "I... I don't think I can take any more tonight. "
"Of course," Her mistress answered immediately, her voice dropping back into that reassuring tone. "It's okay. We're done tonight."
Without wasting a second, she took off the clamps and reached up to deftly untie the silk cords. The moment her hands were free, Charlie's knees gave out completely. But before she could hit the floor, the woman caught her easily, helping her sit on the bed nearby before reaching over to gather their discarded clothes.
"Since it was your first time, I hope I managed the pressure alright. I didn't go too far, did I?" Said the woman. Though Charlie could not see her eyes, she could still feel her caring gaze.
Charlie held her clothes against her bare chest. She could still feel her skin throbbing, but the suffocating anxiety and stress in her head was completely gone.
"No," Charlie answered honestly, her face burning hotter than her skin. "Not at all. I... I actually really enjoyed it."
A small, genuine huff of laughter escaped from behind the black mask. "Good. I'm glad."
The stranger paused for a moment, her gaze lingering on Charlie for a beat longer before she took a step back toward the chair where her own jacket was draped and slid it on.
"I'll head out first, then," the woman said quietly. "Take your time. Rest for a bit before you get dressed."
Charlie nodded, understanding the unspoken rule. It was standard protocol at Ecstasy, to protect the absolute anonymity of the guests, partners arrived and departed separately, ensuring their paths would never cross outside.
"Okay," Charlie said, "Thank you, M—" She cut herself off instantly, biting her lip before the word could leave her mouth. "Thank you. Have a good night."
The woman walked over to the curtain. Just as her hand reached out to slide the fabric aside, Charlie found herself leaning forward on the bed.
"Will I see you again?" Charlie asked, the question escaping her before she could overthink it. "I mean... here?"
The stranger paused. She turned her head, looking back at Charlie through her mask. For a long second, the only sound in the room was the distant, muffled bass of the club.
"Maybe," the woman said softly.
Then, she pulled the curtain aside and stepped out into the corridor, letting the curtain fall shut behind her.
Charlie sank back into the cushions. Her body was still humming with the lingering aftershocks of the orgasm. For the first time in months, the crushing weight of her name, her family, and her endless responsibilities felt light years away. Her mind was perfectly, wonderfully quiet.
She stared at the empty space where the stranger had just been standing, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
Maybe.
Charlie closed her eyes, took a deep breath of the sandalwood-scented air.
She would count on that.