to write up the rules you think you need to be living under while you’re micromanaged. I’ll give you forty-eight hours to work on them. I have an idea of what I want to implement, but I’d like to see your version of it before I decide for certain.”
I looked at the floor. “If you come inside me before work, I’ll need to be cleaned out again before I go.”
I couldn’t bear to say the next part out loud, so I said it telepathically. Just a small, quick rinse with water, to make sure I don’t leak.
He froze, as if this wasn’t something he’d considered before. Did he really not know I’d had to do that, when he came inside me thirty minutes before I had to leave for work?
I looked back up, needing to see the expression on his face, but he swiped his hand over it again, erasing whatever look he’d had. “It appears I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. I’ll pull out and come on your back today. Easy enough to take care of that with a baby wipe, right?”
I nodded. “Most of my customers are human, and the ones who aren’t know they can’t expect me not to smell of other men. Sir.”
Kitty
Freckles was in the driveway in a club SUV when I came out of the house. Squatch had fucked my ass and left. He was scheduled to help Khan oversee the club submissives that evening. They could sit in a room and watch the feeds from all three rooms. When two women were working, it could be Khan alone, but when all three rooms were booked, they were supposed to have two people watching, so if one needed to leave to handle a problem in one room, someone was still watching the other two.
He hadn’t shared much of anything with me until he’d given me the vest, but now, he answered most of my questions. Something about his brothers voting me in allowed him to tell me, but he was clear that if I talked, it would be the same as if he talked, and it would mean they’d chain him up and beat him to within an inch of his life.
And when I asked if he’d done that to others in the club, he’d looked down and hadn’t answered. He had, and it tore him up, but it didn’t matter. They lived by a code, and they’d follow it, no matter what. I wouldn’t have understood before I’d hung out with them. Loyalty and honor are big with them, which means a breach in either couldn’t be accepted. It meant the consequences for harming the club or a member, or even putting someone at risk, were brutal.
And it meant if something happened to me when Freckles was supposed to be watching me, he was probably in a world of hurt. So I smiled and didn’t argue when he opened my door and then closed it for me. I also sat in my seat when we arrived, let him open my door before I got out, and then walked inside with him. I wanted to argue that it’d be safe to drive to the door, let me out, and watch me go in.
But no one was on the door yet, and he was supposed to hand me to someone in a cut. So I didn’t argue. I didn’t even make a smart-assed remark asking if Bobcat had to sign something to say I’d been received in working order.
Cutting up with the other women in the dressing room was a relief. It didn’t hurt that my first center stage dance was one of my favorites, either. I start out looking like a dominatrix, whip and all, and end up looking like the perfect submissive, kneeling and crawling. I start in a lot of black leather, including a rip-away fake corset, and thigh-high boots that tear away to just high-heeled black shoes. I end in just the heels and a black thong, with black fabric around my wrists and ankles to simulate cuffs. I left the thong on, but put everything else away in the dressing room before I moved to the side stages. I went out in sparkly heels, and rubbed glitter lotion on my boobs.
When I came down from the stages, I spent most of the next two hours in the back room — lapdance after lapdance. Three men asked about going next door, and I turned the first two down. The first