Chapter Twenty-Six
Sutton
The White Rabbit lingerie store is open late, something I never knew before but now realize is intentional, so that clients of The Rabbit Hole can come and go as they please.
As I stride through the store now, my eyes catch on a rack of delicate lace underwear.
With time to spare, I take a few minutes to browse, picking out a black pair and pulling them off the rack to look at the price tag—
There isn’t one.
“Market value,” I whisper, chuckling at my own silly joke.
If there’s not a price, or the food menu says Market Value, it usually means I’m way outside of the targeted audience.
Los Angeles is a mecca for fine dining, but that life just isn’t for me—and, I’m guessing, neither is any of the lingerie in this shop.
Hanging them back up, I trail my fingertips over the delicate lace of a matching corset hanging nearby.
“Would you like me to start a dressing room for you, ma’am?” the young store clerk asks as she approaches me.
“Oh, no, I’m okay, thank you. I’m just looking.”
She smiles and pulls the corset off the rack, holding it up to my chest. “You know members get discounts, right?”
My gaze flicks to the discreet door at the back of the store that leads down to the club. It’s covered in faux ivy and little playing cards like the rest of the wall, so anyone not ‘in the know’ might overlook it. “How did you know?”
“I was here the night you joined. I’m Everleigh.
” She grins. “I handle intakes and contract renewals downstairs, membership dues, planning welcome events…” She shrugs.
“I’m kind of the jack of all trades down there.
But our normal girl called out sick today so I’m handling things up here for the night. ”
Nodding, I decide to tell her the truth. “Even with a discount, I doubt I can afford any of this. Thank you, though.” Looking around at the items closest to us, I add, “It’s all very lovely.”
“I understand. Well, enjoy your night. I assume you’re headed downstairs?”
I nod, then take a deep breath.
“Are you nervous?”
Another nod as a laugh escapes.
“Your sponsor should be walking you through everything…”
“Oh,” I say quickly, “he is. Everything’s fine. I’m just…” I exhale through my lips, blowing a raspberry. “This is all just very new to me.”
“Understood. If you have any questions or concerns, let me know, okay?”
“Will do. Thank you, Everleigh.”
The phone rings and she gives me a little wave as she hurries off to answer it, leaving me alone to ponder my next move. All that stands between me and another amazing night with Dominus is a decision, a few yards, and an ivy-covered door.
Taking a deep breath, I nod curtly and head to the hidden entrance, typing the code into the keypad beside the door, waiting for the click of the lock disengaging, then I step inside and pause at the top of the steps.
The door closes behind me with another soft click, and I gaze down the black and white checkered stairwell.
Everything here is decadent and Alice in Wonderland themed, from the staircase to the flocked velvet wallpapered walls.
Lots of black and white with shades of red and purple surround me as I descend, dragging my fingertips over the flocked velvet wallpaper as I go.
Above, the ceiling is painted to mimic a cloud-dotted bright blue sky, and upside-down parasols hang from the ceiling.
It’s a sultry, whimsical take on the beloved story, which makes for an interesting dichotomy when paired with all the leather and latex—and dirty, taboo things taking place within its walls.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, Dominus has arrived to meet me.
My breath catches in my throat. The butterflies in my stomach wake up to meet the man who has given them life again.
He extends a hand without a word, and I slip my hand into his, then allow him to lead me deeper into the club.
My pulse beats a steady rhythm against my ribs. My palms sweat, something he no doubt can feel as he grips my hand and leads me deeper into the mesmerizing atmosphere of this place. The music is low and sultry, but with a vibration that settles deep into my body.
With Dominus at my side, I’m less on edge than I was the first time I found myself here. I stare boldly this time as we proceed through the club, checking out the main communal spaces and looking into each window or open door we pass.
When we reach a room I’m unfamiliar with, Dominus pulls me against his body and wraps his arm around my shoulders as he leads me inside.
There’s a large bed on a platform in the center of the room, and as my eyes adjust to lighting that is even lower than that of the club itself, I see that there are chairs and couches set up in a circular formation around the bed, mostly hidden in the shadows. At quick glance, we appear to be alone.
Dominus leads me to the bed, stopping at the base of the platform.
Still behind me, he pulls my body firmly against his.
I sink into his embrace, smiling as he practically has to curl over me to speak into my left ear.
His size swallows me up, and I feel smaller than ever while wrapped up in his arms, but also safer than ever.
“This room is set up for those among us who want to perform their scenes in front of a crowd.” His left hand trails up my arm, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his fingertips.
“What is different about this room than, say, the windowed observation rooms we passed, is that the viewing area is within the same space rather than removed from it. Nothing separates the viewers from the scenes, save for the rule that audience members must remain seated for the entirety of the show.” He pauses as I take it all in, then adds, “Every moan, every slap of skin against skin is louder in here, amplified by the carefully designed acoustics.”
I shiver in response to the picture he paints.
While his left hand continues tickling up and down the length of my left arm, his right hand reaches up to circle my throat.
He doesn’t place pressure there, just holds me, his thumb trailing back and forth over my pulse point.
“This makes for a more intimate experience, both for those on the stage and those in the audience.”
I swallow hard as I consider his words, imagining a couple on the bed in front of me, what they might do, or say, or sound like…
“Sutton,” he says, snapping me out of my thoughts. His thumb stills on my pulse. His fingers flex around my throat. “Tell me how you feel about watching someone in a room like this. Would that be of interest to you?”
I nod, but his hand tightens around my throat.
“Yes, Sir,” I say, the words breathy.
“And if I asked you to climb up onto that bed, would you obey?”
To my left, movement catches my eye as someone enters the room. I try to turn my head, but Dominus keeps his grip firm, holding my head where he wants it.
“Ignore them and answer your Dom.”
“Yes, Sir,” I say, “if…” I swallow hard. “If that is what you want.”
He hums and the sound travels through his mask like tires over gravel. “I’m here to discover what you want, pet.”
I consider his words, but more movement happens just beyond my eyeline and I tense at the idea of people watching this moment between us.
“Perhaps you’d prefer to be on the other side of this scenario. Perhaps you’d like to be hidden in the shadows, on your knees, tucked safely between your Dominant’s legs while you watch the scene unfold, hm?”
My shoulders shake as a shiver of lust rolls through me.
“You marked voyeurism as a three, pet; I think we’ll have to explore that a little more. Do you agree?” He tilts my head back, fingers digging gently into the sides of my throat.
“Yes, Sir.”
“As you wish.” Keeping his hand on my neck and my head tilted upward to the black ceiling above, he looks past me, scanning the room for something or someone, then he jerks his head and someone approaches.
With the way he has my head tilted upward, I can’t see them; only the sound of their shoes clicking on the cement beneath our feet alerts me to their approach, then the sound of those same heeled-feet retreating follows.
He slides his hand down the column of my throat, over my chest, then settles it into the crook of my shoulder and leads me to a dark corner of the room.
There’s a private viewing area over here, with a single cushioned chair, one ottoman, and one satin floor pillow, but nothing else.
We enter the room and he closes the door behind us.
“The glass is darkened so that we can see out, but no one can see in.” He slides his hand around the back of my head and tugs my hair until I tilt back to look up at him. “Are you bare beneath that skirt, Sutton?”
I nod, swallowing hard, both motions difficult with the way he holds my head backward. “Yes,” I finally say. “Yes, Sir, I’m bare for you.”
His fingers flex against my scalp. “Show me.”
With that single, sexy command, he releases me, then lowers into the chair, spreading his legs apart widely.
My breathing is shallow, my pulse racing as I take a second to look at him.
He’s in an open dress shirt today, the white collar a stark contrast to the tan of his skin and the black leather mask.
I drink him in, memorizing his body, from the broad expanse of his shoulders, down through that patch of dark hair dusting his chest muscles to the ridges of his abdomen—
“Are you going to misbehave tonight, brat?”
I startle, then chew on the inside of my cheek and shake my head. “N-no, Sir.”
But the way my body responds would beg to differ. I want to misbehave for this man. I want to see how he’ll react when I do.
But, god, how weird is that? Maybe I should focus on something real instead of whatever this is. Find a nice guy, settle down—
“That’s a shame,” Dominus says, and as he watches me, my stomach twists itself into knots. After a long stretch of uncomfortable silence, he tilts his head. “You seem unsure.”
Because I am.