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“We do. Some of our members have physical challenges, and our club is all-inclusive. Discrimination of any sort is not allowed.”

Our club theme was the perfect mixture of industrial and chic.

Black iron staircases with matching walls, where Plexi hadn’t been installed, and the overhead trusses had been painted black as well as the structural beams. We took the stairs down, Sonnet’s head bounced from side to side, taking everything in.

“The basement rooms are mixed-use dungeons.” We paused in front of the one that was visible from our table above.

“The others with the closed doors that you can’t see into are for private sessions, so we won’t be able to peek inside.

” Though as the club owner I was technically allowed in at any time, I preferred not to take that modicum of privacy away from those utilizing the rooms unless I’d been alerted of a potential issue or asked to assist with a scene.

Our security team manned the cameras and listed for the use of any safewords.

If the Dom/Domme didn’t immediately stop, security would engage.

“This room is the one our table sat above though the players and scene have changed.” Her eyes widened as she watched the Dom spread the restrained sub's legs wide. Their back freshly reddened by the flogger he’d used.

The Dom thrust a large, ribbed dildo inside them, fucking them in earnest before giving the command to come.

The sub moaned and cried out, going limp before the Dom removed the toy, loosed the restraints, and then carried the sub over to the couch.

“Aftercare is of the utmost importance when a scene comes to an end. Water and a sugary treat to refresh them while the Dom cradles them. Many a sub has shared that aftercare was what they most desired.” The feeling of being cared for while in another’s arms was a heady emotion.

“I can see that.”

“Is flogging or being restrained an element you wish to explore?”

Sonnet paused, still watching the Dom and sub inside. “I-I’m not sure.”

I’d chalk that up to a conversation to be had at a later time. “Over here are the wet rooms.”

“Wet rooms?”

“While our club doesn’t allow scat or blood play,” don’t even get me started on the rules and regulated requirements around those fetishes. “We do allow watersports, or urophilia, if you will.” Her face remained blank, so I chose a less appealing term to explain. “Urine play.”

“Oh my.”

Based upon her reaction, I’d say that one was crossed off the list. A non-issue for me as well.

“Members also like to act out bathroom or locker room scenes. The rooms are frequently utilized for such play.” I nodded to the security guard as we passed him by.

The safety within our club was another non-negotiable that we spared no expense on. “In this area is our pet playroom.”

“Pet play? Like, dogs and cats?”

I smiled. “Not in the traditional sense.” We stepped inside to the sounds of barks, mewls, and every attempted animal sound bouncing off the concrete walls.

“Pet Play is another aspect of BDSM. One where they dress as their preferred animal and let go, leave their worries at the door, and play until they’ve worn themselves out.

Those over there are their handlers, or in some cases, Mommies and Daddies.

” I waved to the group off to the side in the new area we’d added that gave them the perfect view of their pets while they played on the vast state-of-the-art equipment we’d installed for them.

Tunnels, climbing walls and cat trees. There was even an obstacle course that ran the gamut of the vast space.

“That’s really interesting. Is that why you call me Kitten? Do you see me as a pet?” Was she analyzing my analyzing?

“Great question. To be honest, I hadn’t thought of it at the time though I can’t deny the thought of you in a leather cat suit doesn’t arouse me.” Too much too fast? The heat reflected in her eyes said no.

“Hmm, add that one to the list.”

Touché, my feisty feline, touch?.

“Let’s head up to the second floor which was where we entered from.

There’s much to see there.” Walking past these rooms rarely did anything for me other than appease my inner voyeur, but with Sonnet by my side, imagining us in some of the positions we were about to witness while inside the privacy of my bedroom upstairs made it nearly impossible to move.

“I had no idea.”

I stood behind her, my hands itching to touch every inch of her flesh. “May I?”

No questions asked, she simply replied, “Please.”

I trailed my fingers along her sides, over her dress.

Goddess, no lingerie just merely a very thin G-string…

Sonnet leaned back into me, I swept her hair aside and pressed my lips to her neck.

“How do you feel about being watched?” My hands skated across her abdomen, drawing more of those delicious shivers as I reached her bikini line.

“I-I, I don’t know.”

“But you like watching?”

“Yes.” The weight of her whispered word hit me right between the thighs. If we didn’t move away from these rooms and fast, I’d take her against the wall for all to see, bring her to the first of many orgasms I longed to give her tonight.

“We’re almost done. Let me show you the littles room.” That would definitely cool me off. I loved littles though it wasn’t my desired kink.

“Littles?” Hmm, another new kink for her to research. This was a night full of firsts for my sweet Kitten.

We entered to giggles and cheers and a silly song they sang along with while the video played on the TV.

The energy was hard to miss, as was the happiness upon their faces.

“Littles are much like pet play. Another way to let go and know that your Mommy or Daddy will be there to take care of everything.” Coloring, blocks, dolls, arts and crafts—you name it, and we likely had it for them.

“This is interesting. Like reliving your childhood.”

“Or for some, reliving all they missed. Either way, it’s very therapeutic, and when inside their little or middle headspace, they’re able to let go and relax.

” The positive aspects the BDSM lifestyle brought were missed by many.

It wasn’t as they perceived it, yet they were too fool headed to learn something new.

We weren’t asking them to join us, only asking they not shame us.

Sonnet’s questions were few and far between as we toured, much to my surprise. Was the experience fodder she stored away only to be presented in the form of her art? Possibly, though I’d love to know what she was thinking.

“What’s on the third floor?” She asked as we returned to our table.

“Our private residences. Would you like to see?”

“Yes, please.”