“Sub euphoria, baby,” she purred. A rat scurried around the black trash bags piled up on the street. Ophelia plucked a corner of bread from her sandwich and tossed it at the creature, who sat on his hunches, took it in his little paws, and started munching.
“I always wanted a sister,” I blurted out, feeling stupidly sentimental.
A grin stretched across Ophelia’s mouth. “Ihavesisters,” she said. “Too many of them. They steal your clothes and beat you up for touching their food.” She slung her arm around my shoulders. When she pulled me close, I got a strong whiff of her floral perfume. “This,” she said. “Is so much better. Welcome home, baby.”
Home.That’s what it felt like. The club. Ophelia. This pastrami sandwich. The rat on the corner. It all felt likehome.
4
BIG DUMB DOGS
Dove.Then.
I went back the next Friday. And the next. And every Friday after that.
I was hooked.
I woke up with bruises on my skin that made me feel deliciously alive. I spent my weekdays painting like a mad woman. I’d started a series of paintings based on my nights at the club—a painting of a woman with rope for hair that knotted and tangled all around her. A painting of a man with the head of a dog and paws for hands. A painting of a couple whose limbs were fused together, whose lips melted when they kissed. I’d even gotten bold enough to enter a few into competitions and my boldness was rewarded with a couple local showings.
Every week, I counted the days until Friday.
Ophelia taught me everything I needed to know. Lessons like…
Rule #1: Doms are like really dumb dogs, for the mostpart. Give them what they want and you’ll have them wrapped around your finger. They think they’re in control, but they’re not, because…
Rule #2: As the submissive, you control the scene. Always. You say when it stops. You say how far it goes. Safe words are your friend.
Rule #3: It’s not about sex, but sometimes, it’sfucking hot. And most doms (remember: big, dumb dogs) still won’t know how to find your clit. If you want to come, find the oldest looking leather mommy. She’ll make your legs shake. I’m talkingmultipleorgasms, baby.
Rule #4: And if youwantto have sex, go to the top floor for that action. Don’t let them take you home. The Club is a sanctuary, a safe space. Once you leave that safe space, guys think they can get away with anything. Don’t let them. What happens at the Club, stays in the Club.
Rule #5: Have fun. Seriously. That’s the most important part. The second a dom hurts you because he’s angry or humiliates you in a way that makes you feelactuallybad about yourself—that’s a huge red flag. Play should be fun. Sohave fun.
We went through doms like rented outfits. Try this one on for size, and then the other. I went through the alphabet of kinky dominants:
A is for Angel who took selfies after spankings.
B is for Bella who wanted me to bark like a dog.
C is for Chris who tied me up and then mansplained the plot ofAliento me.
D is for Devil who forgot to mention his wife at home.
I tried it all. Sadistic tops. Leather mommies. Pleasure doms. Except…the masochist in me was always drawn to the people that hurt me.
Really,reallyhurt me.
Which is how I met Shawn.
Shawn was a burly guy with curly red hair. I met him on the first floor—the “lounge”—where he was mingling with some of the other doms. I noticed his laugh first. It was a big, booming sound. I was attracted to his laugh, the strong way he carried his body, and the hair on his arms.
I said, “I’m Dove.”
He said, “Shawn.”
I said, “That’s some creative scene name.”
He said, “It’s just my fucking name. I don’t play games.”
