A Natural Born Submissive Read online

  She missed her mother's response as she headed into the bathroom, quickly stripping down and then turning on the shower. Before climbing in, Alice took in her reflection in the mirror. Even at forty-five, Alice still looked good. Her skin was still smooth, with a healthy glow. Her hair was thick and glossy. She climbed in the shower, knowing she could take her time. It was early, and most clubs never really got going until after 10 pm. There would be plenty of time to eat, watch a little TV, and maybe even take a nap.

  She gratefully enveloped herself in the warm shower spray and then laughed aloud at a crazy thought — that perhaps she could bring her mother to the club. Her mom was the most unflappable person she knew. Alice could always tell her mother anything without fear that she'd react with shock or anger. But she knew it would not only be unprofessional — but downright weird — to bring her mother to The Beaten Path.

  Alice ran her fingers down her body through the soapsuds. She had lost twenty-five pounds from the stress of the divorce, putting her back at her high school weight of 125. In fact, she thought her body was perhaps as good as it was back then. Her abdomen was pleasingly taut, even if her breasts were now heavier and hung lower than they had back then.

  After getting out of the shower and drying off, she critiqued herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on her closet door. A tall, slender woman looked back at her. She pulled the towel away and tried to look at herself through the eyes of a man. Could she do it? Could she get naked in front of a stranger? If she was even remotely ready for such a thing, she supposed she could. She was slender but far from fit, soft in places where she should be hard. All in all, her reflection wasn't too bad, but she made a mental note to renew her gym membership.

  After drying her hair, Alice began to search through her closet for her black separates. She pulled out her new skinny black jeans and a T-shirt. Nope, too casual. Then she remembered a dressy black top with long sleeves and black lace insets. She usually wore it with its matching skirt, but it might work when paired with the jeans. She pulled it on, wondering if its high collar was too modest. Some cleavage would definitely bring this outfit into the realm of club wear. She unbuttoned her first two buttons and then shrugged and unbuttoned two more. Oh yes. Much better. A pair of dangly earrings and high spiky heels and that was it. She was ready.

  Chapter Two

  When Alice finally came back downstairs, she found a note from her mother taped to the refrigerator. "Bingo!" it said, and Alice smiled, knowing her busy mother was not only telling her where she was but that she planned to win. Her mother's eternal optimism was another thing that Alice found so endearing.

  She fixed a light snack, not wanting to go to the club on an empty stomach, in case she decided to have a drink. At 9:30, she decided it was time to head back to the club.

  She grinned as she drove down the street, wondering if she should have left a note for her mom. What on earth would it say—'BDSM'? She could just hear her mother: What does BDSM stand for, dear? And her response: Bondage, discipline, and sadomasochism, Mom.

  It would be a crazy note to leave, but what she was doing was just as crazy. She reminded herself that this was for work and continued on.

  Her mind strayed to Victor. He was certainly attractive, and she wondered for a moment what it would be like to be in a relationship with someone like him. Not that she was ready for another relationship. Even if she was, a man who worked in a BDSM club probably had kinky women throwing themselves at him all the time. On the other hand, perhaps that's what she needed—just some no-strings-attached fun.

  The huge house that housed the club was at the end of Montgomery Drive. As she drove through the gates, she was struck by how imposing the Tudor-style mansion seemed at night. It was nearly 10 p.m. when she pulled into the parking lot. She decided to sit in her car for a while and observe the types of people who walked in.

  A couple exited a nearby car and walked towards the house, holding hands. The woman was voluptuous, the man older. They looked rather ordinary, not quite what she was expecting. But what was she expecting? She continued to watch as two men headed to the door, and then two women. There were no single women going into the club, or single guys that she could see. Alice began to get nervous. She didn't want to be the only single person. The idea of sticking out like a sore thumb at a place called The Beaten Path suddenly seemed like a bad idea. A litany of excuses she planned to offer Victor Priest ran through her head as she put the key back in the ignition.

  The sound of a knock on her window caused her to suddenly startle, and she looked up to see Victor staring into the car. His eyes were stern, and her stomach flipped nervously.

  Get a grip! He was expecting you! Her inner scold was practically yelling when she finally forced herself to exit the car.

  "Is everything all right, Miss Chappelle?" His deep voice was edged with concern.

  "Yes, I—I—I …" What was it about this man that was causing her to develop a stammer like a nervous schoolgirl? "I was about to make a phone call." Yeah, yeah, that sounded good, "but it can wait."

  Alice squared her shoulders and looked at Victor. In the moonlight, he looked even more surreally handsome than he had in the club that afternoon. He leaned forward and once again kissed her on each cheek. This time she knew what was coming and accepted the courtly greeting gracefully.

  "Where I come from, this is how we also say hello."

  Alice smiled delightedly. He had made a joke. She turned and resolutely started towards the entrance, too shy to look back at Victor. When she felt a tug, she stopped and turned back, surprised.

  "That's the performers' entrance, Alice," he said. "Please come around to the front."

  Performers' entrance? The couple and the young people were performers? No wonder she'd not been greeted when she'd wandered into the club that afternoon; she had come in through the back entrance. As he led her towards the front of the building, she looked back over her shoulder. Now an extremely tall, extremely slender young black gentleman was walking towards the performers entrance. Were her eyes playing tricks on her or was he wearing high heels? Before she could look back, Victor had guided her around the corner and into the front of the establishment.

  The inside of The Beaten Path was reminiscent of an English gentleman's club. The ceilings were high, and the walls were dark green, with mahogany wainscoting. Heavy red velvet drapes adorned the leaded windows. Victor led her to a small table, where he graciously pulled out a chair so she could sit. A black-clad young waiter appeared and placed a drink in front of her.

  "What is this?" April asked, eyeing the blood-red concoction in the martini glass.

  "A Vampire's Kiss," Victor replied. Alice looked at him and flushed. Was he kidding? He didn't appear to be. But it looked intriguing, so she sipped it carefully.

  The drink was sweet and slid down her throat easily—perhaps too easily. Before she knew it, the glass was empty, but another quickly took its place. Alice rarely had more than one drink when she went out, but this one didn't taste strongly of alcohol, so she didn't see the harm in indulging. As she sipped her beverage, she watched Victor carefully as he greeted various arrivals. He was wearing all black now—leather pants and a long-sleeved black shirt. She noticed that he didn't kiss any of the people he was greeting as he had done with her. Soon he was again standing beside her.

  "Mr. Priest," she started.

  "Victor," he corrected her. The club was still a little quiet.

  "When does the action really start around here, Victor?"

  "Very soon, my dear. Where is Miss Templeton? I thought she'd be accompanying you this evening."

  "She's in L.A. for Pride and couldn't make it."

  "Ahhhh," he said, nodding. "It was very brave of you to come alone."

  It seemed an odd thing to say, but Alice didn't have a chance to get him to elaborate. Just as she was about to ask Victor Priest to explain himself, a muscular man in a brown leather vest walked over.

  "Master V, you are
needed upstairs."

  Master V, Alice wondered.

  Alice turned to observe the crowd, realizing as she did that the drinks she'd consumed had been deceptively strong. She was beginning to feel languid as her eyes scanned the crowd. There was a curious assortment of people—gay couples, straight couples, and a large group of young women chatting and giggling in a corner. Alice figured it was probably a bachelorette party. She was surprised at how low-key and reserved the crowd was. Perhaps her expectations of a club like The Beaten Path had been all wrong.

  A disembodied voice got her attention as the lights in the room dimmed and a red light flooded the stage. The tallest drag queen Alice had ever seen sashayed onto the stage as the announcer introduced her as the evening's MC, Bellissima. Alice smiled, recognizing the performer as the young man she'd seen walking towards the performers' entrance.

  Bella greeted everyone, promising a very entertaining show. She made a few jokes about some crazy happenings that had been in the news recently and the police department's handling of each incident. She chuckled appreciatively.

  Bella introduced the first act of the evening--a woman twirling a fiery baton. Alice watched, mesmerized, as the beautiful young woman brought the flaming ends of the baton dangerously close to her body.

  The next act was a bit more scintillating. A tall, muscular woman in full dominatrix dress walked out, leading a slight, beautiful young man by a leash attached to a collar around his neck. Aside from the collar, his only other clothing was a pair of black Speedos.

  After parading the young man around stage, the dominatrix led him to a wooden St. Andrew's cross, where he stood obediently as she bound him. The crowd began to cheer as the woman made a show of seductively edging the Speedos down the to the middle of the young man's muscular thighs. Alice looked away, flushed, and then made herself resume watching. The dominatrix had lifted a flogger from the belt on her waist. Its braided leather handle ended in about twenty leather strands, which she now used to lightly whip the slave boy. Alice could not tear her eyes away, and sat transfixed by both the sight of the lad's taut, reddening bottom and his moans, which sounded more pleasured than pained.

  After a few minutes of being whipped, the slave boy was released. He bent to kiss his mistresses' shoes before hobbling off the stage after her, his legs bound by his still-lowered underwear.

  Next came a couple engaged in pony play. A tall man led a diminutive blonde woman who teetered on high heel boots fashioned to resemble horse's hooves. A flowing horse's tail affixed behind her nearly brushed the floor. The woman had a bit between her teeth, and her arms were bent around a metal bar across her back, which made her naked breasts protrude. Weights hung from her pierced nipples. Alice could not help but shudder at the sight.

  The pony girl had clearly been very well trained. Her handler took her through her paces—prancing, trotting, and a couple of gallops around the stage. She ended in a canter as she pranced in a circle for a few more minutes, lifting her knees high, her breasts bobbing with each step. Her handler stopped her with a "Whoa!" pulling back on her lead and turning her so that her back was to the crowd.

  The crowd applauded approvingly when he had her bend over and shake her tail, but Alice flushed to realize that there was nothing holding the tail in place, except … except … Her eyes grew wide as she stared. The tail was attached to a plug firmly seated in the girl's anus.

  Alice dropped her eyes from the sight. When she looked up again, the girl had turned and was now eating a sugar cube from her handler's palm.

  Alice realized then she was holding her breath. She also realized with a bit of shame that, in addition to being shocked and uncomfortable, she was also very, very wet. As the handler led the pony off stage, the MC came out to announce an intermission, and the house lights went up.

  Alice looked around wildly for the exit; she very much needed a breath of fresh air. Between the drinks and what had passed for entertainment, her head was beginning to spin. She shakily stood, but before she could head for the door she felt a hand on her elbow. She turned to see that Victor had reappeared.

  "Are you all right, Alice?" He looked concerned.

  "Please, I need …" She looked up at him helplessly, breaking out into a cold sweat, not sure of exactly what it was she needed. Victor helped her to a seat placed under the air-conditioning vent and motioned for the waiter to bring her water, which she gulped down gratefully. Between the cool water and the blast of air coming from overhead, she started to feel better.

  "I hope you didn't find our show to be unduly disturbing. Or perhaps the word I'm looking for is, 'unsettling'?" Victor asked, leaning over her.

  Alice pulled herself together and sat up straight, struggling to slip back into her professional persona.

  "Mr. Priest … Victor … I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. It must have been the alcohol; I so rarely imbibe. What was in that drink, by the way?"

  "Just marshmallow-flavored vodka and a bit of strawberry sauce. I presume you are not allergic?"

  "No, not at all," she assured him.

  At this, Victor smiled and visibly relaxed.

  "Actually, I usually never have a problem with vodka," she added.

  "I am so glad," he said. "I would have felt terrible if you'd come to any harm in my humble establishment."

  "Victor," she started again, determined to finish what she'd been trying to say, "I think that your club is amazing. I'm glad such a place exists for those who are trying to connect with—how did you put it—their true selves? Katt Templeton would be just the person to showcase your club. We'll have her bring a camera crew next Friday night and film for about a half-hour and have those who would not mind appearing on camera sign waivers. I'd like to show the young woman with the flaming batons on stage in the background, but the other acts are a bit too extreme. Do you have more tone-down acts, something perhaps more PG-rated? Also, would you be willing to be interviewed on camera?"

  "I'm sure that can all be arranged, Alice. What time on Friday?"

  "Does 10 pm sound doable? You may want to make an announcement tonight that we will be here next week, in case anyone in the audience would like to show up—or stay away—for the filming. The show will air the following night."

  "Will you be here again?" Victor asked.

  Did she detect a hopeful tone in his voice? Alice studied him carefully. He was really a handsome man … no, not just handsome … striking was the word she was looking for. He seemed like an ethereal being, with his dark lips, pale complexion, and unusual eyes. Was he … she squinted into his eyes … was he wearing eye makeup? She wondered what he'd look like out in the bright light of day.

  "Yes, I'll be there," she assured him. She got up to leave, but he urged her to stay for the rest of the show. She declined. "I'm afraid I'm not up to that much excitement," she said, her eyes twinkling. He walked her out to her car.

  "Are you certain you are all right to drive?" he asked. Alice thought about it. She felt fine now.

  "Perfectly all right," she assured him. He continued to stand there watching as she pulled out of the parking lot and drove away.

  As Alice drove home, she sought to clear her head of what she'd seen by turning her thoughts to her daughters. She was looking forward to her weekly Sunday morning call to them. She missed them so much, and it comforted her to know that they were both going to the same college—UNLV—where they could at least keep an eye on one another.

  Having them leave on the heels of a painful divorce was a big adjustment, but she knew things could be worse. She had a good job, and in spite of how annoying her mother could sometimes be, she'd really come through for Alice. Moving back home to share expenses with her mother allowed Alice to help her daughters pay for student housing, books and other things not covered by their scholarships.

  Knowing she was making the right choices for her daughters dulled some of the sting of moving back home, but it was a better option than staying with Ray. Once she'd found out
he'd been cheating, she knew she could not live with him a moment longer. When she later found out that the affair she'd caught him in was just one in a long string of infidelities, she knew she'd made the right decision, regardless of what it cost her.

  As she pulled in to her childhood neighborhood, she thought about how much simpler life had been when she was living here as a child. They'd moved there when she was five years old, and her father, a scientist, had been transferred from Seattle to work at the nuclear testing site. The house was in the northwest part of town. Back then the development had been new, built for the scientists and their families and located on the very outskirts of town. Now, forty years later, it was practically in the center of town—so much of the city had sprung up around it.

  She cut the engine after parking in the carport. The light in the kitchen was on; her mother's evening was obviously over, although she doubted the bingo hall was as interesting as The Beaten Path. But as she walked in, she could see from her mother's expression that she'd had at least as much fun.

  "Guess who won a thousand dollars?" her mother asked as she entered, flashing a wad of bills.

  Alice laughed. "Let me think … You?

  They celebrated over pie.

  Chapter Three

  Friday night arrived quickly for Alice, who could not deny the feeling of excitement that grew at the idea of returning to The Beaten Path. This time when she entered the club, she was more at ease. Having already visited, it felt familiar. Plus she had the added confidence of having Katt by her side.

  "I always wondered what this place was," Katt said, looking around. "It's nice."

  "Whoa. Check this out." Katt was heading towards the wall that held the BDSM implements, surveying them with interest as the crew unloaded their film equipment.

  There was no uneasiness in Katt's demeanor as she examined the paddles, floggers, and canes. Alice found herself admiring her friend. Katt was not only beautiful, with her ebony skin, waist-length hair, and killer legs, but she was tough as nails.