The Director: Lucy

On Friday night, the lights at the Eyrie were turned low. The Eyrie was an old warehouse, converted into a BDSM club. Some of the equipment was over twenty years old and showed the signs of wear from hundreds of floggings and spankings. Black and white bondage photos adorned the walls. A James Taylor song playing over the speaker was apparently a favorite of the proprietor but did little to set the mood.

Two women sat together at a table idly watching scenes of beatings and rope suspensions.

"I haven't seen you play for a while, Lucy," said Alice, a slim brunette.

Lucy Fischer shrugged. She was a blonde woman, and curvy. She had no shortage of offers, even though she'd long since quit dressing to entice at the club, settling for a medium length skirt and a sweater most of the time. After years of coming to the Eyrie she knew practically everyone. She'd played with half the men there, and a few of the women even though she didn't swing that way. Sometimes kink didn't have to be about sex. In fact, for Lucy, it usually wasn't, although she preferred to have both. But her standards for who she'd have sex with were different than who she'd take a beating from.

"I guess I've gotten picky," she said. "Just bending over and getting whacked isn't doing it for me. I mean, some of the guys are alright, and all. But the only ones who really seem to have what it takes are taken, and while they might give me a good scene, I want more than that."

"More, like a boyfriend?"

"No, not that so much. I mean, it'd be fine if I had a boyfriend, too, but I think I'd have one if that's really what I wanted." In vanilla life, Lucy was a psychotherapist. She spent her days asking probing questions, rather than answering them.

Alice's eyes widened. "Or like a Master?"

Lucy nodded. "More like that. Not necessarily that whole Master/slave thing, but maybe. I mean, that would be great, but some of those M/s types get so caught up in protocol that they seem to have forgotten what it means to have good sexy fun, and I wouldn't want that either. Not into getting spanked for folding the laundry wrong. But someone who I can submit to, who I can trust, who values what I have to offer beyond a willing butt to swat. You know?"

Alice smiled. "I'm sure there are lots of guys who are like that. But how are you going to find one without playing, Lucy? A spanking or a bit of rope is the kinkster equivalent of dinner and a movie. It's how we get to know each other"

Lucy shrugged. "Maybe. If a guy has potential, I'll give it a try. Again."

"There's all sorts of people here. Speaking of which, what do you think that guy's deal is? I've seen him around here a couple of times, and he never seems to do anything."

Lucy followed Alice's nod. She'd seen the man several times over the last few years. He was dressed in a suit, as usual. Designer stuff, not cheap. She wished more guys dressed up to go to the club -most of the women dressed to kill, and the men wore T-shirts and jeans on a good day and loose-fitting shorts on a bad one. On the other hand, the gas mask the man wore was decidedly not her thing. "Yeah, I've never seen him take the mask off. Maybe it's not even the same guy every time."

"How many different guys would come wearing a suit and a gas mask to the Eyre? It's gotta be the same guy."

Lucy nodded. "You're probably right. But you can't tell for sure, can you?"

"Ever talk to him?" asked Alice.

"Nope."

Alice giggled. "Maybe he's Mister Right, and you just don't know it."

Lucy snorted. "I doubt it. Besides, I'm not entirely looking for Mister Right. Maybe I'm looking for Mister Wrong. Or some combination of both."

"I think he's got a better chance of being Mister Wrong."

The man in the mask had turned towards them, as if he knew he was being talked about. Maybe. It was impossible to tell where his eyes were looking through the goggles of the mask. Still, Lucy stared back.

Maybe it was her imagination, but the man seemed to incline his head as if to indicate the empty seat next to him.

"He's got to be a sub, right? Who else would wear a mask like that? Or dress up? His Mistress must have ordered him to wear a suit," said Alice.

"Maybe. Or maybe he needs to protect his identity because he's some government dude or something."

Alice shrugged.

Lucy got up suddenly. "To hell with it. I'm going to go find out."

Alice raised her eyebrows. "Want me to come with you?"

Lucy shook her head. "Nah, I think I can handle it on my own. I don't want to spook him." She felt safe at the Eyrie. Despite her discontent, the people here were her tribe, and they'd have her back if anyone tried something she didn't consent to.

She walked over to him. Some guys liked to look, but they turned their heads the moment they were caught. Not this guy. He looked straight at her. He nudged the chair he'd indicated before when she got there.

"Hi," said Lucy, taking the seat offered.

"Hello." The voice was deep, and the mask muffled it. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm Lucy. What's your name?"

"Some call me the Director. You can call me Kent if you prefer," he said. "I've watched you play. You're looking for something more."

"Yeah, I guess so." Had he read her mind? Mind reading would be an awesome trait in a Dominant, but she was pretty sure it was also a mythical trait. She decided to change the subject. "I've seen you here a fair amount, and I've never seen you play. What are you into?"

"I am into control," he said. "For the right person. For someone who craves it."

"Being controlled?"

"No. I prefer the dominant role. And I sense you prefer more than the simple bottoming you usually do."

She shook her head. It was true, but he couldn't possibly 'sense' it. Maybe he was one of those jerks who thought all women were just waiting to submit to a guy. "More? Like what do you mean?"

"To submit to someone worthy."

Lucy snorted. "Do you pick up many girls wearing a gas mask?"

"No."

"Why do you wear it? Fetish?"

"No."

"Then why?"

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Maybe you'd get more action if you took it off. I don't know what you look like under that, but I do know that I've never seen you play, and you're around a lot."

"I'd rather not play at all then play without power exchange. I'll take the mask off when the time is right. Tell me, Lucy, do you truly wish to submit? To let your will be bent and shaped by another person, who in turn takes it upon themselves to seek your best self? Or do you just want the illusion of it?

"Who seeks my best self? That's a good line."

"It's more than a line. We both need control. You seek the control of another. I am controlled by my principles. There is no other kind of submission I'm interested in, than that which benefits the submissive as well as myself."

She paused for a moment. The mask turned her off, but it also stopped her from fearing his reactions. It was a little like being on the internet. She'd revealed stuff about herself anonymously online that she never could admit to a friend like Alice. She felt she could speak more forthrightly because she was cut off from what he was feeling.

"Okay," she said. "Yes. I want to submit to someone who will take care of me. Flog me - and do all the other things - but also in the end take care of me. Someone who possesses without being possessive, because I have people I play with sometimes and I'm not ditching them, but someone who makes me feel they own me nonetheless. But it isn't going to be someone wearing a mask, so you can forget that right now."

"Is that truly what you want, Lucy?"

Close up, she could see the man's eyes through the goggles. They were steel gray, and intense. She felt for a moment like he could see through her to her soul.

"Yes. That's truly what I want."

He reached behind his head and pulled off his mask. She breathed in and felt light-headed. It was as if breathing the same air as him was intoxicating, but that was ridiculous.

She'd expected perhaps someone scarred, if he wasn't protecting his identity. And he wasn't devilishly handsome. There was nothing remarkable about him except for those intense eyes. He had brown hair and average features.

He leaned close. "Tell me again. Is it truly what you want, Lucy? And be totally honest."

"Yes."

He lifted his hands above the table. He was wearing gloves. "I warn you that play with me can be highly addictive, so it's important to know for sure."

Yeah, right, a part of her wanted to say. But part of her almost believed him. "Uh-huh," she said.

He took the left glove off and offered his hand to her. "Shall we play, then?"

She hesitated, and the put her hand in his. What cost in playing with one more person at the Eyrie? This one would at least create some gossip. The man in the mask, finally revealed. "Wait," she said. She'd forgotten one of her basic rules. Negotiate, negotiate, negotiate. "What kind of play?"

"We will start with a spanking. And we will move on from there. I shall ask you for consent each step of the way, and nothing will happen that you don't agree to."

Don't negotiate in mid scene was one of the rules of the kink-scene, sometimes ignored but almost universally agreed to. But here he was negotiating ahead of time to do exactly that. She supposed that was above board enough.

He continued. "What I am proposing, Lucy, is a seduction. I will try to get you to do more, but you are free to decide to do less. I am being honest when I say that I doubt very much you will choose the latter, but it will be up to you."

Seduction. That was missing from carefully negotiated scenes. The assumption was that a submissive couldn't stand up for herself once she was under a dominant's spell. But Lucy was experienced, and she knew herself pretty well. She could say no at any time. And he was being open and up front about it, unlike the vanilla dates she'd been on where the guy reached his arm around her and the next thing she knew he was copping a feel. She nodded. "You can try to seduce me. I don't promise to go along."

He smiled. "Of course." He led her to the spanking bench with the sureness of a man who didn't fear rejection - either because he knew he could handle it, or because he didn't imagine it would happen. His confidence was sexy. She followed him.

"Bend over. I believe you are familiar with the position this particular apparatus is made for."

She nodded and started to mount it.

"First, however, remove the skirt."

She stopped. He'd waited until she'd started to get on the bench to say he wanted her skirt off, but she'd taken spankings with less on in the Eyrie before. He'd probably seen some of them. She slipped her skirt off, revealing black lace panties. "Sufficient?" she asked.

"For the moment. If you feel inclined to remove more, you are allowed to do so."

Allowed. Allowed by him. "Good of you. I'll let you know."

He nodded at the bench, and she got on. There were padded spots for her knees, and her hands. Her ass was exposed and available.

"It is good of me," he said. "Are you always a brat?"

"Pretty much."

"Is that what you want to be, deep down, or is it just a shield to protect yourself from feeling vulnerable."

Damn him. She turned it around. "Maybe I'm waiting for a man who can conquer the brat."

"Maybe? Are you?"

"Yeah."

"And with that man, you'll let go of your need to talk back, and truly submit?"

"God, I hope so."

"Let's see if we can spank that out of you, then."

She laughed derisively. "Good luck with that." Others had tried.

He put one hand on her back. It wasn't so firm as to hold her down, but she got the impression it could become so at any moment. He leaned over her. "Thank you," he said. "I'll take all the luck I can get."

Did he not realize she was being sarcastic? He had to be, but he refused to acknowledge it. His hand came down on her backside, making her forget her next retort before she had a chance to speak it.

He spanked her ass, building up the intensity with a mixture of deep thuddy whacks of his hand that made her shake on the bench, and fast stingy swats that used the tips of his fingers like little whips. He knew what he was doing, and he knew how to keep her off balance.

"Turn your head toward me," he said. She turned her head to the side he was on. His face was close to his.

"You don't need to talk back, now."

She stared at him. It wasn't a question; it was a statement. So she didn't have to answer.

"You are feeling, in fact, very calm, and very aroused."

His voice had a hypnotic quality to it. He was right. She was calm. Her arousal had snuck up on her, unexpected, but her panties were definitely wet.

He kept speaking. "You're that way because you want it, and you told me so. Because you want a man who can make you let go and submit."

Still a statement. She kept staring.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" he asked. "Answer me, and tell me the truth."

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I want to see your body, Lucy. I think you've been spanked enough. Get off the bench, so you can give me what I want."

What did he want? Oh, to see her body. She moved and stood in front of him, looking at him. She pulled her sweater off over her head, showing off her matching bra.

He looked her up and down, and then just waited.

"I'm nervous." She'd taken all her clothes off at the club before. But she always knew what was happening next. She was about to be spanked, or about to be tied up. The activity, and not her naked body, would be the focus. It was nudity because it was practical, not simply because someone wanted to see her naked, or at least so she told herself. This was different.

"Would a kiss help?"

She blinked. She didn't usually kiss the people she played with. Strange, to get naked with people she wasn't willing to kiss. But as Alice said, play was the equivalent of dinner and a movie, and one didn't usually kiss on the first date. Or at least, not until the end of it.

But his lips looked so kissable.

"If I kiss you, it will make it easier for you to obey my directions. But harder to disobey. Is that what you want?"

She did want that, although she didn't believe him. She leaned forward. He kissed her, lightly at first, then sliding his tongue between her lips. She kissed him back hungrily.

He broke it off before she was done. She wanted more. It reminded her of the moment he took of his mask, and she again had the sensation that his breath, his tongue, were like drugs. And his voice. He was saying something. "Now. Focus only on me. What I see is more important than whatever anyone else sees. I don't care what they are doing, or what they think, and neither should you. I want to see you, all of you."

"You want me naked."

"Yes."

She nodded. As long as she stared into his eyes, she could do it. His eyes were mesmerizing. If she focused on him, the rest of the world could be shut out. She unsnapped her bra, and then removed it, letting her heavy breasts free. She was self-conscious, because she knew she wasn't svelte, but she saw only approval and lust in his eyes. She slid her hands underneath the waistband of her panties, and slipped them off as well.

"A natural blonde," he said. "Lovely. But next time you'll be bare, won't you?"

She didn't dare answer. If she did, she would have said yes, and surely it was way too soon to be promising a next time, much less promising to be shaved for it.

He pulled her naked body to him, kissing her deeply again. She wanted it. She wanted more. She would kiss him until three in the morning if she could.

He broke it off, clearly aware of her hunger.

"You want to please me, don't you?"

"Yes."

He picked up her clothes and tossed them against the wall. Then he led her naked toward the private rooms. She didn't just pick guys up and have sex with them, but that was what the rooms were for. Well, the Eyrie had been the site of many of her firsts - first flogging, first electrical play, first rope suspension. This would be another.

There was a bed inside the one he entered, and little other furniture. When they had started, she had taken comfort from knowing that so many people she knew were watching. It minimized the risk. If he got out of line, they could interfere. Now she moved to close the door.

"Leave it open," he said.

"Why?"

"Because when people do things in public, it reminds them that they are proud to be doing what they are doing."

She wasn't not proud. But was embarrassed to do something intimate where a stranger might see, or worse, a friend.

"Get on your knees, on the bed."

She did as she was told. He guided her so that she was sideways to the open door, and at a slight angle, so she could not see who might pass by. They, however, would be able to view her in near-profile.

"You want to please, don't you?"

"Yes," she said. She really did. She didn't know why she did, but she loved feeling this way. She always wanted to please, she supposed, but she kept that feeling locked away, like a favorite but dangerous toy, and he'd unlocked it.

"Show me."

She reached out and unzipped his pants. She lifted his cock out. It was hard, and big - among the biggest she'd seen, and she'd seen a lot of them in the club. Sometimes guys with big cocks thought that just whipping it out would be enough to get the girls running to them. She slid her mouth around its thick girth and started using all the tricks she knew.

Anyone walking by could see her. Some might even stop to watch for a while. She wouldn't know who they were, as long as she focused on the cock in front of her. They would be able to see her mouth sliding up and down on him.

She made love to his cock. She worshipped his cock. The more she sucked on it, the more right it felt. She tasted his pre-cum and fell into almost a trance state.

"When I cum, you will swallow it all. When I cum, I will be your Master, Lucy."

She couldn't believe she was giving him a blowjob on the first date. And It was definitely way too soon to be talking of being her Master. But she craved it. She wanted at least the fantasy of it, for now. She could sort out things later.

"You know why I wear a mask now, don't you, Lucy? To even breathe my breath weakens the will. To kiss me creates a yearning more powerful than any drug. I needed to know you truly wanted it."

She worked on his cock, unselfishly, increasingly with no desire other than to help him attain the ultimate satisfaction. She felt him swell and knew that he was close. Though she knew she could get him over the edge faster if she used her hands, she put her hands behind her back. She wanted to show him her skill.

"To swallow my seed means complete surrender, Lucy. Is that what you want?"

She nodded. His voice was hypnotic, and somehow she believed very word. She felt tingly all over. It was better than anything she'd ever felt before. She was so turned on. Complete surrender. No more searching. She wanted that so badly.

"You feel my pleasure, don't you? My pleasure feels pleasurable to you. My pleasure is the best pleasure you could feel, better than getting your own pleasure directly."

She nodded again. She wanted nothing more than to please him. She took him deep in her throat, farther than she had taken any man before. She was amazed she didn't gag.

The she tasted the first spurt of hot, salty liquid on her tongue.

"Cum," he said, and she did, shaking with pleasure as she gulped his seed down hungrily, wanting more, wanting more pleasure for him and for her. With each jet of hot semen she felt like she came again, and when he was finished she collapsed backward on the bed, exhausted.

He zipped up his pants and sat down beside her. "This is what belong to me feels like."

Things were going so fast. She didn't orgasm because someone told her to, or because someone came in her mouth. She orgasmed because someone spent a lot of time working on her clit just the right way. If one of her patients had described to her what she was feeling right now, she would have asked, gently, "But you don't really know him, do you?"