Chapter Thirty-Three
CHAPTER THIRTY-THRE E
MARK
This is a terrible idea. Seriously, how did I even get roped into this?
Because Claire’s sweet little pout made me crack after the third time she asked me to take her here , I remind myself.
"Are you sure you’re ready for this?" I ask her. "We can always come back another weekend."
"I’m ready," she answers, as if she didn’t just lose her virginity a couple weeks ago and that going into a BDSM club isn’t a big deal. She has a good poker face, I’ll give her that much.
The issue is, I’m not sure if I’m ready. I’ve never been nervous about walking into Club Caliber—it’s my happy place full of kinky fuckery, after all—but with Claire on my arm, my mind won’t stop spinning. What if she freaks out? What if she sees all this, hates it, and thinks I’m some sort of degenerate freak for indulging in it ?
Realistically, I don’t participate much in the public aspects of the club; I enjoy meeting like-minded people here, having a couple drinks, and occasionally watching a demo. Usually if I hang around long enough I’ll run into one of my play partners, and we’ll both have some no-strings-attached fun until we happen to run into each other again.
Tonight’s different. As I watch Claire fill out the paperwork required for entry, looking sexy as hell in a little black dress that flares out at the waist, I wipe my clammy palms on my pants and will my heart to stop racing. I don’t even understand why it’s such a big deal to me—she and I are having fun, and I’m teaching her everything she wants to know about sex. That’s what we had agreed on in the first place, after all.
So why the fuck am I so nervous that she’ll hate this?
After Claire finishes her paperwork and the woman at the front desk gives her spiel, we walk through the second doorway into the club. Her arm is wrapped around mine, her small hand gripping on my bicep. I spot an empty couch on the far side of the room and lead her in that direction, eager to sit somewhere where she can take things in at her own pace. It can be overwhelming at first, even just here in the front lounge area. Out here, people still have to stay somewhat clothed and aren’t allowed to participate in anything more than you’d be allowed to at a normal club. However, things get a lot more intense in the back.
I sit on the couch, pulling Claire to the side so she falls onto my lap instead of on the seat beside me. The need to touch her, to claim her in front of all the eyes glancing in our direction, is overpowering. I want everyone to know she’s mine, and I’m not sharing.
My hand rests on Claire’s exposed thigh as she settles on my lap, and her eyes meet mine. There’s no trace of disgust on her face like I had worried there’d be, only nervous excitement.
"While we’re here, ask me anything," I murmur in her ear. Goosebumps rise on her skin as I place a gentle kiss on her neck following my words. "I’ll tell you anything you want to know, and I don’t want you to be embarrassed about any of it, okay?"
She nods, her gaze slowly taking in the room around us. It’s still early in the night, so things are fairly tame for now. Claire’s attention catches on a couple in the corner—they’re regulars that I recognize from my many nights spent here, though I’ve only spoken to them a couple times.
"What’s that guy wearing on his face?" Claire asks in a hushed tone. "And why is he on the floor?"
How the fuck do I explain pet play to someone who only learned about sex in the past few months ?
"It’s a leather mask made to look like a dog," I tell her. "You know how we talked about what a Dom/sub dynamic is?"
"Yes."
"Well, these two do something similar, except she’s the one in charge, and there’s an added element of him being… pet-like."
Claire’s head tilts with curiosity as she tries not to stare. "I don’t get it." She says it without judgment, which I appreciate. So many people are quick to judge what they don’t understand.
"When they’re in a scene—which just means the times they’re both participating in the dynamic—he’s like her dog and she’s his owner. In their particular case, he stays on all fours, isn’t allowed to speak, and follows her commands. In return, she takes care of him and is in charge for all intents and purposes. I’m sure there’s more to their dynamic that I’m not aware of, though."
"Hmmm, interesting." And just like that, Claire moves on, her gaze shifting around the room again.
Well, that was an easier conversation than I expected. I really thought I’d have to give her the lecture about not judging others’ kinks even if they’re very different from our own, but apparently I was wrong. She’s taking this all in stride way better than I anticipated.
After close to thirty minutes of simply sitting and observing, we decide to grab a drink from the bar. Claire has been mostly quiet as we’ve sat, and I’d give anything to know what’s going on inside her head.
The bartender delivers our drinks, and I turn to Claire.
"So, what do you think?"
"It’s not what I expected," she admits. "But I’m wondering if the back area is going to be more like how I imagined this place."
"It probably will be, but this space is more for people to socialize and get into the right mindset. Back there—" I gesture to the black door on the far wall "—is where things get more intense."
"That makes sense." She sips her wine. "It’s amazing that people can feel so free and unashamed about their desires," she says in a softer, more contemplative tone.
I study her expression and realize that this must be an incredibly eye-opening experience for her. She spent most of her life so repressed, completely surrounded by judgment disguised as morality, and the life she knew before is entirely opposite from where she is now. This is one of the few places I’ve found where people are free to express themselves without fear of being judged, while Claire spent a good portion of her life in a place where everyone was judged to the harshest degree.
It’s ironic, really, that a sex club encompasses the sentiments that so many churches preach but don’t follow: accepting people for who they are, caring about others’ well-being.
Hell, there are even quite a few people on their knees here…
Okay, definitely not going to make that joke out loud. If God is up there, hopefully he has a sense of humor. I’d almost feel guilty for that thought if not for the look of pure awe in Claire’s eyes right now.
"Any more questions for me?" I ask her as I finish my drink.
Her wine is almost gone, and she absentmindedly swishes around the remaining liquid in the bottom of her glass. She looks up at me, pauses, then looks away again. "Umm, how involved are you with all of this stuff? I know you said before that you were a Dom, but from what I’ve learned, there are a lot of different variations of that."
My lips lift with something between a smile and a smirk. I’ve been taking it easy on her, easing her into sex and all the fun that comes with it, but I’ve been dying to show her just how intense it can get.
"I’m a pleasure Dom," I tell her. I had mentioned it when we were in Hawaii, but she probably forgot about the terminology since she didn’t know about any of this then. "I get off on giving my partner pleasure."
"Well, you do a good job of that," she giggles.
I grin. "Oh, baby girl, you haven’t seen anything yet."
"What do you mean?"
"We’ve only had sex a few times, so I wanted to ease you into everything," I explain. "But I’ve been dying to give you so many orgasms in one session that you can’t think about or feel anything other than me or the pleasure I’m giving you."
Her eyes are wide. "Did you not already do that a few nights ago? You gave me three and I thought I might pass out!"
"And I intend on finding out just where that limit is." I grin at her shocked expression.
"Tonight?" She takes her last sip of wine and sets the glass on the counter behind her.
"If you’re up for it, I would love nothing more."
She thinks for a moment, then answers, "Okay. Let’s try."
My mind immediately conjures up an image of me pushing her to her limits, making her come so hard that she falls apart entirely. It was a beautiful sight the other night when she lost all sense of modesty and insecurity and fully let go.
My cock jumps in my pants, and I take a deep breath, willing myself to keep a handle on my erection at least until we go to the back rooms.
Before I can say anything else, Claire speaks again. "So, if you’re a pleasure Dom, does that mean you don’t do the painful stuff?" When I look at her in surprise, she adds, "Audrey said something about pain being involved when we were at brunch."
"No, I don’t care much for anything that causes pain. However, I do like experimenting with sensation in other ways."
"What does that mean?" Her brow furrows in confusion.
I flash her a sly smile. "Do you trust me?"
She nods.
"Then you’ll have to wait to find out."