Chapter 5 Noelle
NOELLE
It’s hard to get into the spirt of things, but I try. Really, I do.
Being at Club Wyld is usually where I feel my best. I’ve known that I’ve had a tendency for submission and rough sex since I first started messing around with guys.
I would always go cold when they expected me to take charge, or when they treated me like I was something delicate, to be handled gently at all times.
And nothing ever turned me on so much as the very few who got a little rough, a little demanding.
Of course, those options were few and far between with insecure, inexperienced teenage boys and I was always left wanting and unsatisfied.
Which is why I started to seek out slightly older men as soon as I turned eighteen.
That was the year I dated a college senior and I finally realized what all the fuss was about when it came to sex.
Apparently, I needed to be tied up and spanked in order to have a decent orgasm, who knew?
So it was a no brainier to apply here when my old colleague suggested it, and Club Wyld has become my happy place.
I’m not feeling very happy right now, though. I thought I was finally making progress with Roman. He was actually talking to me, opening up about his life. I can’t believe he was a Green Beret, and out of the same group as my dad. It made me feel even more connected to him than I already did.
And he’d tried the eggnog, just to make me happy. The memory of his horrified face would probably always make me laugh.
But he’d let me go off to play this game without him. To be chosen by some other Dom like a present under the Christmas tree.
He must not feel as strongly as I do, I think glumly. I would lose my shit if I saw him go behind the steel door with another sub—clearly, he couldn’t say the same.
But that night in the private booths…I force myself not to go there.
It had been the single most amazing, satisfying sexual experience of my life—and no one else had even touched me.
It had been so good, in fact, that I was starting to think I’d imagined the whole thing. Is orgasm-induced delirium a thing?
There had been other sessions in the private booths when I suspected Roman was my audience, but last week was the first time he ever made it clear to me.
Not just in hinting that he’d like to see me when we were still out at the bar, but during the actual scene as well.
He’d talked to me. Let me hear his voice. Told me exactly how to get myself off.
If it had been that good with a glass wall between us, I can’t even imagine what it would feel like to be dominated by him with no barriers. To actually feel his touch, and not just hear his voice. It scares me how much I want that.
I force my attention back to the game. Logan Harte, one of the three owners of the club, is acting as our Santa.
He looks the part, though he’s chosen to only wear the red pants and jacket, which he left open to show off his obscenely sculpted bare chest. He calls everyone up by number so the subs can choose a box from under the tree.
Everyone laughs when the first girl opens a striped red box to reveal a shiny green butt plug, the end of which is shaped like a Christmas tree. “That’s what I call a stocking stuffer,” Logan Harte says, winking at the blushing sub.
It goes on like that. The boxes are filled with pretty much every dirty toy you can imagine.
Handcuffs, vibrating panties, cock rings.
Most of them are Christmas themed—like the nipple clamps with little red Santa hats on them, or the paddle with Christmas tree shaped cut-outs.
That one will leave some interesting marks.
When Logan calls a Dom’s number, they make their way around the circle, examining both the subs and the toys they were gifted.
I’m relieved every time my number doesn’t get called. I really can’t imagine playing with any of these toys with any Dom except for Roman.
Brittney, who opened a terrifying-looking needle roller on her turn, ends up getting picked by an intimidating Domme named Jane, which she’s clearly nervous about—but also excited, since she’s happy with both men and women.
Everyone knows the main reason Jane picked her is because of the needle roller—it’s one of the harsher implements I’ve seen at Wyld and Jane is all about the punishments. Britt has a rough night ahead of her.
Then my number gets called and I have to fight the urge to drop out of the game.
A few moments later, I’m back at my seat with a festively wrapped box.
I force myself not to look for Roman before I open it.
I don’t know if it would be worse to see him watching me or worse to know he’d left me here alone.
I can’t help but laugh when I get the present unwrapped. My gift is a red and white stripped candy cane-shaped dildo. “I really can’t imagine anything less sexy,” I tell Britt. “But it definitely fits the holiday spirit.”
She looks around the circle with no small amount of glee. “There are so many Doms looking at you right now, clearly imagining using that thing on you. I guess they don’t think it’s unsexy.”
I give her a wan smile. I really think I’m going to have to drop out. There’s just no way I can go to the back with any of these guys.
Suddenly a hulking mountain of a man is standing in front of me. I lift my gaze to see Roman, glaring down at me, looking angrier than I’ve ever seen him. “My turn,” he grits out. “Let’s go.”
“Excuse me.” Another Dom is standing behind him, a man named Matthew who I’ve done a few scenes with. He likes to put subs on his St. Andrew’s Cross and drip hot wax over their skin. I’ve never consented to doing anything more with him, though he has asked to do a full penetration scene.
Roman doesn’t bother turning around, his fiery gaze locked on me. “What?” he snaps to Matthew.
“It’s actually my turn,” the other Dom says, bemused. “Harte just called my number.”
“You misheard.”
“I didn’t—” Roman finally spins away from me, glaring down at Matthew with so much pure rage in his expression that the shorter man takes a step back.
“You get the next turn.”
“But I wanted to choose Noelle.”
“Oh, Matthew,” Britt murmurs to me. “Not very intelligent, is he?”
I watch in horror as Roman takes a menacing step towards the other Dom, his fist coming up in a clear threat. “Noelle is not available. She’s already been chosen.”
Matthew throws his hands up. “We’re allowed to steal an already-opened gift on our turn instead of choosing a new one,” he says, exasperated. “Haven’t you ever played Secret Santa before?”
“Then I’m stealing her.”
“But it’s not your—”
Before Matthew can say another word, Roman is turning back to me. “What are you—” I begin, but he bends down, grabs me by the hips, and pulls me up into his arms, tossing me over his shoulder like I don’t weigh anything at all.
“You’re out of the game,” he growls, already striding away from the group. “Deal with it.”
“Roman,” I gasp, disoriented with my head hanging upside down. He ignores me. There’s a lot of laughter coming from the crowd around the Christmas tree, as well as a few wolf whistles and a smattering of applause. I think I hear Brittney shout, “about time!”
Then he’s striding through the steel door and all the noise behind us fades to nothing.
From my position over his shoulder, I have no idea where he’s taking me.
The only thing I can see is the broad expanse of his back in front of my face.
It feels like we’re heading in the same direction as the private booths, and I feel a swell of frustration at the idea he might put a panel of glass between us now.
So I’m surprised when we enter a door into a much larger room than the booths. Before I can even look around—not that I’d see much from upside down—Roman tosses me onto a plush mattress. I scramble to sit up, to readjust my dress that has climbed all the way up my thighs.
“What the hell was that?”
His face is a mask of cold anger, but something flickers on his mouth as he looks down at me. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear, Angel.”
“I’m not feeling very angel like,” I mutter, tugging on the hem of my dress. “I can’t believe you carried me out of there!”
He shrugged. “That guy is an asshole.”
“Matthew? He’s not an asshole. We’ve scened together before, he’s fine—” I gasp when Roman is suddenly in my face, his hands bracketing me on the mattress, his eyes wild with anger.
“He is not fine. I heard him, Noelle. I heard him talking about you.”
“What are you—”
“Before the game even started,” he snaps. “He was talking to his friends, telling them how he hoped he had a chance with you tonight. Said he saw you drinking the spiked eggnog so maybe you wouldn’t be such a prude and let him actually touch your pussy.”
I gasp. “He said that?”
“Yes,” Roman growled. “He said that. If you think there’s any way I’m going to let some asshole like that get his hands on you, you’re fucking insane.”
“But I’m not actually drunk,” I tell him. “I would have just told him no and—”
He swears, loudly, and brings his face even closer to mine. There’s a vein throbbing in his temple, and I’m sure I’ve never seen him so close to losing control.
I think I like it.
“I don’t give a shit. He doesn’t get to touch you.”
It suddenly sinks in what’s just happened. Roman stopped me from being picked by another Dom. He said he chose me. He claimed me, in front of everyone.
Oh my god, I think to myself, suddenly breathless with excitement. This is actually happening.
Finally.