an evening, she’d feel that heartbeat slow, and a yearning would settle into her, to find what others found within her walls. She knew her needs were more complex than most Mistresses. She wanted someone to belong to her, to be her slave exclusively, his heart, soul and mind willingly surrendered. However, there was an additional, vital component to her need as well, one that seemed beyond her power to describe. When it at last stood before her, in whatever manifestation met her deepest desires, she knew she would understand it.
That night, her intuition and her yearning clasped hands and gave her that miracle. A gift and curse at once, as Fate often was.
She drifted along the eastern wing of the club, with its wide platform view of the bar, the dance area and one of the public play areas that was crafted like a metal undersea world. Cages were designed as a coral reef, submissives bound there with restraints like seaweed. The St. Andrew’s crosses were weathered driftwood and embedded in the side of a partial shipwreck. More slaves were bound upon them. Gold pieces of treasure were scattered over the sandy ground and caught the flickering torchlight. Over the darker area of the shipwreck, a shadow lamp made it look as if schools of colorful fish, sharks and manta rays were passing over the mostly naked bodies restrained there.
The center feature of that public play area was a large water tank. A staff submissive was on display, her long hair floating free, her upper body bare except for ropes that created a shibari-style harness. It bound her wrists beneath her breasts. Her lower body was wrapped with tight latex to form a jeweled and slick mermaid’s tail. A waterproof vibrator was inside her, and the control was on the outside of the tank, where guests could adjust the speeds, and watch her flounder and writhe like a graceful fish at the stimulation in the tank’s confined space.
Since she of course didn’t have the gills of a mermaid, she had a close-fitting, discreet oxygen mouthpiece beneath the jeweled mask she wore, the tank disguised behind the water ferns. In addition to that precaution, a Dom in a dark wet suit watched over her. He’d “caught” her and bound her in the harness, an intricate underwater rope performance, and now added to the torment the patrons were administering by touching her as he pleased, occasionally bringing her up to his mouth and giving her air in place of the mask.
It was a complex scene, but both were well trained. They also were husband and wife. The team of John and Tori had become a favorite attraction.
She moved onward, past the dance floor, and then to the mezzanine, where she could get a different view of the floor and the bar. While many BDSM clubs didn’t permit alcohol, she knew it helped relax and stimulate. Plus, she had a large clientele who came to dance and be entertained merely as voyeurs. Those going to the underground level for rougher play knew that they would be required to take a Breathalyzer test. They had to prove they were sober enough for safe play in private. Knowing that, the patrons regulated themselves. And in the public areas, she had more well-trained staff that blended and kept things in line.
Her snug skirt hugged her hips, her stilettos placed precisely as she moved along the mezzanine. She was aware of the way her body moved, from the quiver of her breasts to the swing of her hips, the brush of her thighs as she tightened those muscles to walk sure and upright on the heels. James, her head of security, followed. They usually did these rounds together, because she gave him insight on who might need extra attention from his people. Being very good at what he did, he usually identified those trouble spots at the same time. But exactly because he was good, he wanted the additional set of eyes, the viewpoint of what he might miss.
So far, tonight’s crowd was a good one. Of course, Atlantis didn’t allow just anyone in their doors. Even a guest pass required thirty minutes with a staff person, discussing the rules of Atlantis. Anyone who gave off warning signals, or appeared to be paying lip service to those rules, didn’t make it past the lobby. The vetting for the underground level was even more stringent.
She paused at the rail, scanning. Even as she assessed, she enjoyed as