"You can be submissive to Kelsey in your relationship with her and still take charge elsewhere," she continued, leaning in. "By the way, did you feel any jealousy or miss her at any point during the foursome?" I shook my head.
"We talked about everything beforehand. It all felt natural," I explained. "She’s constantly encouraging me to explore and discover new things."
"Are there any conditions?"
"Only that I don't get involved in other BDSM relationships or act submissively toward anyone else." Charlie crossed her arms, sinking back into her chair with a thoughtful hum.
"And did you feel the urge to be submissive at any point yesterday?" I reflected for a moment, hand on my chin.
"Vanessa told me to go down on her... and I did."
"Not every act in 'traditional' sex is BDSM, Megan. We’ve covered this. BDSM requires clear conversation, a predefined script, and a lot of conversation."
"You said 'conversation' twice," I noted.
"To emphasize it. Communication is the foundation of any relationship, and when it involves controlling someone else’s pleasure, it’s vital. You need to know exactly where the boundaries are—what makes them comfortable and what is off-limits. It’s not just about putting on a collar and wagging your tail." She laughed at the analogy, and I couldn't help but join in.
"So... even though I took her orders, it wasn't a BDSM dynamic."
"Exactly, Meg. Do you see the difference now?"
"I think so. It’s just... since I haven’t seen Kels again yet, it’s hard to wrap my head around it all."
"That’s part of it too—mental domination. It’s when your body and mind accept that a specific kind of pleasure belongs only to a specific person. Come with me, I want to show you something." She stood up, drink in hand. "Would you mind observing a spanking session?"
I feigned indifference, though I had my reservations. I followed her, sipping my drink, as we stopped in front of a heavy door. She asked me to lock my phone in the safe. I complied, and we stepped inside.
"Now what?" I asked as she opened a second door leading to a dark room with a large glass pane. "Can they see us?"
"No. It’s one-way. Sit here." She pointed to the armchair beside her. I took my seat, though I could tell my stiff posture was betraying my nerves.
Inside the room, a man was kneeling on the floor, blindfolded. A woman stood behind him, meticulously arranging an assortment of whips and floggers in an impeccable line.
"Before they even stepped foot in that room, the entire script was written," Charlie whispered. "Look." She pulled her phone out, accessing the logs for this specific room. I stared at the screen; everything was documented—even the specific order of the whips they would use.
"And what happens if they deviate from the script? Is there a punishment for that?" I asked, my eyes glued to the glass.
"Not from the club's side," Charlie explained. "But when the surrender is absolute, bodies can enter a sort of trance. If both the dominant and the submissive lose the discipline to follow the script, someone gets hurt—either physically or psychologically."
"Does that happen often?" I questioned, watching as the man positioned himself against a wrought-iron St. Andrew's Cross, the dominatrix securing his limbs with practiced gentleness.
"More than I’d like. But these rules are the lifeblood of this place; they know the stakes. Kelsey, for instance, is an expert in control. Her only real struggle is her sincerity."
"She’s blunt. I’ve noticed that," I remarked.
"Exactly. She’d rather someone be pissed off at her than have them lose their cool. It’s happened here before—a submissive became obsessed with being hers. The girl was so determined she flew in from L.A. just for a session." I raised an eyebrow. "That’s crossing the entire country for a scene."
"That’s a lot of effort just to make a point," I noted.
"It was. And Kelsey only goes to places she trusts or with people she trusts, so she agreed. But then the woman pushed for more. Kelsey refused. She refused so firmly that the woman actually slapped her across the face. I’ve never seen Kelsey so livid."
"Did she hit her back?" I asked. I tried to play it cool, but my curiosity was winning.
"Never. She told the woman she was spoiled and childish, and that she would never touch her again. It caused a massive headache because the woman was a famous actress; she tried to defame the club. Kels stepped in and, somehow, neutralized the situation. Now, watch, it's starting."
Inside the room, the first strike landed. The man’s breathing hitched, becoming shallow and uneven. The dominatrix immediately paused, telling him to find his center. Only when his chest began to rise and fall normally did she strike him twice more. Almost instantly, he came, a raw, involuntary release.
"See?" Charlie whispered. "He wanted more than he was prepared for. He’d never been exposed or blindfolded before. Bit by bit, we learn where the limits lie."
