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My nipples brush against the edge of the table. Shit, this is turning me on. These two people I can barely stand in business, yet in private I can’t stop watching them make love, Kennedy Anderssen pushing her wife away so she can turn Lara around and spank her.

“Were you a bad kitten today and need to be punished?” Kennedy’s guttural growl fills even me with tingles. “Tell everyone what you did today.”

Lara looks like she’s humiliated, but the edge in her voice suggests that she’s getting off so hard on this. “I made a bad stock investment and lost us a few dollars…”

I wonder how much a “few” is.

“Yes, kitten, and now you have to look over the entire portfolio again, don’t you?”

She squirms in the lap she has mounted. “Please, darling, punish me.”

I’ve seen Lara grab and squeeze some of her own ass before. This is not that scenario. This is a Lara that makes even me wet. She’s obedient, she knows her place, and she knows that she deserves whatever her Domme gives her. She’s exactly the type of woman I would want if I were into hyper-femmes such as us.

A cracking spank echoes in the room. Kennedy laughs at the gasp on her wife’s face. “You want another one? I’ll spank you until you’re so wet my hand slips.”

She goes ahead, striking Lara’s pinking flesh until her eyes roll back and her face tells me that she’s living in ecstasy. By now, her skirt is hiked up over her hips, her tiny thong not covering her ass and barely covering her pussy. Yes, I can see those details from way up here. Yes, I’m looking.

“You need to know your place, kitten.” Such biting words. “Right here in front of these people. Now keep your mouth shut and take your punishment.”

Kennedy doesn’t let any of us down. I almost want a cigarette from watching her push Lara to the floor and striking her ass like there’s something to prove.

Hard.

Rough.

Lara is shrieking in agony and pleasure, probably embracing both the erotic moment (with an audience, no less) and diluting the shock her body experiences. That’s part of her punishment. Kennedy wants her to feel the stings of pain in a place that is supposed to accept nothing but pleasure.

It’s crude. It’s tough. And it’s so hot that I finish my drink without realizing it.

There’s something beautiful about it. The way Lara opens her eyes and looks up at Kennedy, mouth agape and face pleading for her to do it again. Again. Again. It’s the kind of look that only a tight-knit couple could accomplish. You don’t see it often. They’re so in tune that it makes me jealous. I’m turned on, but I also wish that I could feel something like that…

I catch myself in the middle of that thought. What am I thinking? Am I high?

“Fuck me!” Lara grips the edge of the stage, her ass rippling with every hard spank she receives. She’s slowing down, and I know we in the audience are hoping to see the sweat on Kennedy’s brow and the redness of her hand. We want to see her mark Lara’s ass with her punishment while showing the world that they share the same pain.

Lara cries out again, and the crowd is loving it.

I’m both intrigued and confused. If I didn’t know Lara so well, I would assume this was her natural place in their relationship. That Kennedy always takes control. Except I know them. For years they’ve been coming – and coming – here. I’ve seen Kennedy tied up on an ottoman while Lara whacks her crotch and calls her filth. I’ve seen her bring her spouse to the brink until Kennedy begs to come in front of God and country.

That’s where I get confused. I’m not a switch, so the idea of spanking one night and being spanked the next blows my mind – and not in a fun way. I don’t get it. How? How does a person flip a switch like that in their head? Being a Domme and being a sub are such different mindsets that I’m not sure I can ever understand what happens between a couple like this.

Obviously, two switches can make great partners. Just look at these two assholes.

Lara crumples on the stage, her spouse’s hand gently caressing her spine. I can’t hear what Kennedy’s saying. Nobody can, aside from Lara, who whimpers something in return.

It’s cute. It’s sweet. It’s what I always see between these long-term partners who are still so in love. A part of me is jealous. I want that with somebody. The coziness. The love. The feeling so comfortable that the idea of having sex in front of the whole room isn’t even an issue.

All around me are submissive women. I don’t see a single Domme in the VIP area. Either the women are hooked up with men I know from the scene, or they’re stag and searching for someone to make nice with them. It’s a common sight at Midnight. Only before now, I hadn’t really thought about these women and what goes through their minds.

Because that’s supposed to be me. I stood up that date with Ira because I’m too scared to know what happens in the mind of a submissive woman. Even when I’m having sex with them, I’m so lost in my head that I never stop to think about what it’s like for them.

Submissive men, though, are easy. They’re giving up the power that society already thrusts on them. Who am I kidding? They still have that power. Even when I’m calling them boys, outside of our bedroom the world will still treat them as above me. Submitting to someone, anyone… why would I want to give up even more power?

I’ve fought so long and so hard to make people take me seriously.

Yet I can’t help but imagine that being Ira and me, her hands laying claim as she takes me to a higher state of consciousness that I’ve never experienced before. I’ve never been in subspace. It looks so blissful, yet I’ve been too scared to try it for so long.

I don’t give up control. It’s too dangerous.