“Take your pick. Or if you prefer I’ll just use my hand.”
“That one. If you please.” Eugenie pointed to a pretty little lemon-colored paddle made of flexible silicon. She honestly had no idea if she was making a good choice or not, but her limited experience had at least taught her that the difference would be made by the skill and intent of the Dom, not the implement used. If this man wanted to hurt her, he could and he would. If it was too much, she could stop him by using her safe word.
Sure enough, his next question addressed that issue. “What’s your preferred safe word for this, Miss…?”
“Eugenie. My name is Eugenie d’André. And my safe word is Maupassant.”
At his raised eyebrow, she felt moved to clarify. “He is one of my favorite authors. He was French.”
“Ah, right. Excellent choice. Very classical. You will address me as Sir.”
His tight smile was his only further response. He gestured for Eugenie to lean on the bench and lift the short skirt she was wearing. She did as instructed, quashing her natural modesty, which had no place here. Even so, she appreciated his choice of the cubicle as it did offer a degree of privacy.
“Would you like me to remove my thong also, Sir?”
“That’s up to you. It makes no difference to this.”
“Then I will leave it in place. Thank you, Sir.”
“Ten strokes okay?”
“Yes, Sir, ten will be fine.” Eugenie wriggled against the soft leather padding on the bench, making herself comfortable as her handsome playmate for the evening positioned himself behind her. Now that the initial embarrassment was behind her, she was glad that she’d taken the plunge, so to speak, and accepted his invitation to play.
“I’ll start when you tell me you’re ready.”
“I am ready, Sir—ooh!”
The first stroke fell immediately, sending a sharp burst of pain across her left buttock.
“No, Sir. That is perfect.”
He made no comment, just proceeded to deliver the remainder of the ten strokes, pausing for a few seconds between each. Eugenie presumed this was to allow her the opportunity to use her safe word if she wished, and she silently appreciated his care. There would be no safe wording, though. His technique was heavy but controlled, the slaps just painful enough to elicit a squeal or two by the time he reached eight and a definite scream at the tenth. Eugenie was impressed. By the time he offered her his hand to help her to stand upright once more, her bottom was smarting and her pussy moist. She began to wonder at the wisdom of retaining her thong, but it was done now.
“Thank you, Sir. I enjoyed that.” Eugenie was careful to assume a suitably submissive posture, her head bowed, hands clasped behind her. She liked this Dom, wanted to make a good impression. Perhaps he was a regular here. If so, she would certainly be returning frequently.
“My pleasure, Miss d’André—or do you prefer mademoiselle?”
“Either is quite all right, Sir. Just as you please.”
He gave a low chuckle, as though he knew exactly what was going on in her head. Perhaps he did—some Dom’s had that knack, she’d found. She had no idea how they did it, where they learned that peculiar brand of telepathy. Were they born with it? Or did they perfect it by going to classes or some such thing? Probably the latter. She was aware that good Doms would read about BDSM, fact as well as the fiction that she was so fond of. They would practice, they would finesse their art before laying a hand or anything else on a submissive. This man certainly had all the skills. She had felt safe with him.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, mademoiselle? Do you have further plans for this evening?”
“No, Sir, not plans as such. I just, I… This is the first time I have been here. I do not know the facilities well.” Please take the bait. Please.
“Miss d’André, is that your way of hinting that you’d like me to give you a tour?”
“Yes, Sir. If you are not too busy, and if you have no other—commitments.”
“I think I can make time for you. Are there any more items of equipment you might like to sample here, whilst we’re still in the dungeon?” He gestured beyond their cubicle to the public area where couples and groups milled about in various states of dress and undress. Prior to his offer of a spanking, she’d already checked out the St. Andrew’s Cross at the far end, the stocks set up in the centre, as well as the many and various straps and hooks affixed to the walls and ceiling. Shelving and racks held an assortment of paddles, whips, crops, canes, and Eugenie knew that electrical aides such as vibrators could be supplied on request.
“Yes, Sir. Anything. All of it.”
“My my, you are ambitious, to say this is only your first visit. For myself, I prefer to take things more slowly. I’m thinking one of the private rooms might be more suited to our requirements right now.”
Dom intuition again. Amazing. Eugenie gave a quick, grateful little nod.
“Follow me, please.” He turned on his heel and strode away from her across the dungeon. He never once looked back to see if his companion was behind him. He didn’t have to.