Page 35

We follow the same path back to the hall, the music from inside telling me that what we are about to walk in on is not the innocent scene we left behind. I look at my watch. It has been less than half an hour since we left. But at Lady Chatman's parties, a lot can happen in that time.

“The toys have arrived,” I say to Sienna, her quizzical look morphing into shock as we walk through the open double doors.

As we enter the hall, we are met with a scene, halting Sienna dead in her tracks.

In the present pose, a row of men and women are lined up on the dance floor. Kneeling, knees slightly apart, hands facing up and restingon each thigh. All are wearing leather and BDSM-style garments.

Some I recognized from Lady Chatman’s previous parties.

Submissives. Here to do the dominatrix’s bidding. And right now, that means being someone else's sub for the evening.

“As it's my birthday, I’ll pick first!” Lady Chatman walks along the line, looking the toys up and down while they stare straight ahead. In her right hand is a leather whip, which she flicks lightly against the palm of her other hand.

Sienna doesn’t say a word as I pull her forward, moving us closer to the dance floor where other partygoers watch the scene, eagerly awaiting their turn.

Some are already pointing out the one they would like.

“Um, should we call the cops?” Sienna looks around nervously as she whispers to me, making me smile. The occurrence becoming more frequent the more I am in her company. Fuck, she is innocent.

“Why?”

She points to the row of subs, her head shaking slightly as if she cannot understand why I am not as upset.

“Do you remember I told you that Lady Chatman is a dominatrix?” Sienna looks at me and then nods.

“These are her submissives. They volunteered to be here. Probably even begged her for an invitation.”

“Begged her to be other people's toys for the evening? What exactly do people do as a sub?” Sienna sounds outraged. This would be shocking to someone experiencing this for the first time.

“You will see.”

I guide Sienna toward a chair facing the scene, then take a seat and pull her onto my lap, her back to me—the perfect view of the entire room.

She watches in fascination as Lady Chatman chooses a muscular, blond-haired man, twenty years her junior, wearing only a red leather thong and a black studded choker.

Two subs break their forward gaze, the jealousy on their faces amusing to me. Lady Chatman was one of the best Doms around. She gave them what they wanted in heaps and spades—or rather, whips and chains.

Shortly after, couples approach the remaining subs, each choosing one of their preference or a runner-up. There is no fighting over the sub.

The servers, all men, are trained bodyguards. Something every guest is aware of. Any sign of trouble and one dip from Lady Chatman’s head removes you from the party. A lifelong ban to any events in the future. Not something these guests want to sacrifice.

Not only did her parties cater to their specific needs, but being invited to an event was a status symbol. It was coveted by those not receiving one and brandished like a badge by those lucky enough to get the stamp of approval.

One such bodyguard approaches us, the tray he is carrying devoid of food or drink. Instead, an array of sex toys is presented to Sienna, her eyes going wide with shock.

I lean forward, my mouth by Sienna's ear.

“Pick something. Anything.” Goosebumps appear down her neck, and she shudders before leaning forward to peer at the objects on the tray. Without seeing her face, I know she is blushing bright red. The thing with Sienna was that when embarrassment and curiosity warred with one another, her curiosity always won—something I both admired and loathed. In the wrong situation, it could land her in trouble.

She gingerly picks up a purple rabbit vibrator, her thumb pullingthe ears down before they bounce back. Next is a butt plug, around three inches long and an inch wide. She looks at me quizzically before placing it carefully back in its original spot. After that come some nipple clamps, her thumb and index fingers opening the clips and then closing them.

“Will that be all?” the server asks when she doesn’t touch anything else.

“Excuse me?” she squeaks out, a smile tugging at my mouth. While I had hoped she would pick up the whip and handcuffs, we would have to make do with what she had selected.

“You take what you touch. That’s the rule.” The server laughs when Sienna chokes out a, “What!”

He hands her a small bag, which she reluctantly takes before picking up the items she had handled before, careful not to touch anything else.