Chapter Text
Is this really worth it? you asked yourself as you walked into the club. The night was just beginning and already the strap on your heels was chafing your ankles. Nerves flooded your stomach as you looked around the club. Dark, warm, intimate. You had never been in a place like this before. What did one say to find a Domme? How did one socialize in a place like this? You nearly turned and walked right back out.
You glanced around, the dim lights making it harder to see. On velvet couches, women sat in men's laps, whispering in ears, tongues sneaking out in teasing flicks. In another corner, two men were wrapped in an intimate embrace, lips furiously attacking the other's while a third watched, a predatory glint in his eyes. You weren't sure what you had been expecting when a friend mentioned a club to meet fellow kinksters, but you knew you weren't expecting something so banal. Where were the chains? Where were the St. Andrew's crosses? Where were the walls of instruments for whipping and flogging? Disappointment and more nerves settled in the pit of your stomach.
You sat at the bar, unsuccessfully tugging at the hem of your too-short and too-tight dress. You ordered a glass of red and looked around again. You were too socially awkward for this, too out of practice. It had been years since you had a Domme, and now you couldn't even remember how you had agreed to begin that relationship anyway. You hung your head low, letting your hair fall over your eyes a bit. Anything to hide your embarrassment at thinking you could do this in a new city knowing next to no one.
As you sipped on your wine you thought to the changes upcoming for you. New city, new job, new apartment. You had moved from LA to DC because the market for fixers was larger. Damn near every politician in this city needed a fixer. You idly wondered why they didn't just behave, but then again, if they did, you'd be out of a job. Well-behaved people had no need of a fixer. You had contemplated moving back to Hollywood, but then you remembered why you had left in the first place. Hollywood's problems seemed to revolve around two things: drugs and sex. It was tiresome, played out.
You had grown tired of the vapid women always stabbing each other in the back. You were sick of the sex-crazed men looking for their next fix. You had left LA not realizing that everyone's problems were the same in DC, they were just far more underhanded about everything. Politicians had a slippery way about them. Something sinister seemed to brew just beneath the surface of this city.
After a few months of fixing in DC, you decided it wasn't for you anymore. It had been a whirlwind chain of events, but after a rigorous interview process and training program, you had been hired as the Behavior Analysis Unit's media liaison. The unit chief believed your experience as a fixer was going to revolutionize how they spun cases in the media. He also mentioned having a quick judge of character on the team would be invaluable; your time as a fixer had allowed you to develop a sixth sense for when someone was lying to you.
You were anxious to get started, to meet the team, but the FBI wouldn't let you start until you got your marksmanship up to par. Ruefully, you grimaced thinking how you had sworn to yourself that you would never own a gun. And now here you were, training for weeks on how to shoot a gun so you could have the job.
You swirled the wine in your glass, thinking it a direct mirror of how your thoughts felt in your head. Again you wondered, is this really worth it?
"I haven't seen you around here," a smooth voice interrupted the maelstrom in your head.
Turning your head slightly, already forgetting your purpose here, your breath caught in your throat. You took in the sharp jaw line, the strong, angled nose, and the raven hair so silky you thought surely it had been spun from the gods. Desperate to play it cool, you begged your voice to stay even. "I just moved here a few months ago," you responded. Deep, espresso eyes framed by impossibly long lashes bored into yours. Something shifted inside you, and warmth spread through your stomach.
"Who brought you?" the woman asked, referencing the club's requirement to be escorted by an established member.
You wondered if you should lie. While the friend who had told you about this place was a member, she wasn't here with you tonight. "I came with Ellie," you said offhandedly.
"Ahh," she said in false understanding, turning back to face the bartender. "I won't keep you from her." You watched as she turned on a stiletto heel, her obviously expensive, tailored suit doing her ass major favors.
"No," you quickly corrected, drawing her back. "I came with her, but I'm not with her." You looked into her eyes, willing her to understand that you were here seeking something that wasn't Ellie. Ellie was a good friend, but that's all she'd ever be. "I'm actually here to find…" you trailed off, embarrassed.
She quirked a brow, the expression so sexy you thought you might pass out. "To find…?" she prompted as she slid back onto the barstool next to you.
You. "Um," you stammered, "Just to find community in a new city," you lied.
She stared at you a beat longer, as if she also had a sixth sense to know when people were lying to her. But luckily, she didn't call you on it. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"Okay." You swallowed the last bit of your wine and asked for another. You hoped you had been coy enough to capture her attention. You weren't sure what the woman was doing here. Hope bloomed in your chest that she may be looking for something similar; she was alone, after all.
"I didn't catch your name," you said sticking your hand out to her formally. "I'm Y/N."
"Natalia," she crooned, slipping her impossibly soft hand into yours.
"Have you been a member here long?" you asked, hoping to get more information about her interests.
"A few years," she responded casually. "What about you? Did you go to clubs like this where you used to live?"
"No," you answered honestly. "I haven't got a clue what to do here." She looked at you with interest. "That's not to say I'm not part of the community," you amended. Warmth blazed across your cheeks. "I've just, uh," your fingers twisted your wine glass, anxious to channel some of this nervous energy. "I've just never sought out a club like this before."
Maddeningly, she didn't say anything. She just continued to scrutinize you, those hypnotizing eyes refusing to break your gaze. "And what do you think so far?" Her voice was low, gravelly. Sexy.
"It's not quite what I expected," you admitted.
Flashing large, perfect, white teeth, she chuckled knowingly. "Dungeons with chains and whips everywhere?" You flushed under her amusement, feeling naive. "Were you expecting to see couples playing out in the open?"
Embarrassed, you simply drank your wine, refusing to answer. She continued her teasing, "And still you came." You looked into her eyes, curious at the change in her voice. "Believing you'd see something so lewd, still you came."
Her eyes penetrated yours, digging for some insight you refused to give her verbally. "But you're a good girl," she guessed. "You wouldn't participate in something so public." You stayed silent, in awe that she could nail you down so quickly. The way she was looking at you, as if she were looking through you, coiled something inside you.
"It scares you," she surmised. It wasn't a question; she seemingly had figured you out and needed no confirmation from you. Still you declined to affirm for her that she was reading you so well. "But you're curious anyway. And so you thought you'd come to Ellie's favorite club?"
Surprise washed over you that she knew Ellie well enough to know this place was her favorite. "You know her?"
"I know everyone here." Jackpot you thought. Natalia was well-connected here. She would be able to tell you who was involved and who was looking for a sub. You hoped DC had a bigger LGBT community. Maybe Natalia could at least point you to the direction of a different club if that wasn't here.
Buck up buttercup, you chided yourself. It was time to make something happen.
"Look," you said matter-of-factly, "Can I be completely honest?"
"Of course," she said, interest piqued.
"I don't typically do casual sex. What I'm really interested in is finding a Domme."
Natalia smirked as if she already knew that was what you were here for. Her thumb rubbed up and down the side of her rocks glass arrogantly. Caressing sensuously, your eyes tracked the lines of her hands up and down. "I bet I can help you with that…" You shivered at the tone of her voice, something in it changing, dropping. You wondered if she had a sub. You hoped she'd be able to at least introduce you to someone. "Would you like to go to a private booth to discuss this?"
You shivered again at the way she was looking at you. Electricity buzzed just beneath your skin. "Discuss what?" you asked a bit breathlessly.
She stepped off her barstool, holding her hand out for you to take. Without hesitation, you took her hand and let her tug you to her. "To see if you're suited for my needs." You nearly moaned, her confidence exactly what you needed.
Natalia dragged you to a room you didn't know existed near the back of the building. It was lined with private booths, more enclosed for better privacy and lined with soft fabric to create that intimacy you noticed as soon as you walked in this club. She found an empty one and pulled you to sit closer to her. Feeling bold, hoping to entice Natalia, you draped your legs over hers, increasing the intimacy of the moment.
Her hand immediately gripped your calf, her fingers tracing patterns into your skin. Goosebumps raised over your skin at the touch. "Shall we start easy?" she asked. "Do you have a safeword?"
"I use the stoplight system. Is that okay?" you asked nervously.
Her eyes softened and she murmured a simple, "Of course. No others?"
"Just green, yellow, red."
Natalia was a pro at this. She was skilled at easing your nerves and getting you to openly communicate about your limits and preferences. You had been worried that since it had been so long since having a conversation like this that it might have been awkward. And maybe with anyone else it would have been. But not with her.
"Any pet names I should avoid? Or ones you prefer?" she asked, her hand continuing to stroke your leg. As the conversation progressed, she grew bolder and inched higher up your leg.
"None to avoid. I'm really fine with any of them. Same question for you: which honorifics do you prefer?"
"Ma'am, or Mommy." Your pupils dilated a bit at the thought, the reality of what you were doing sinking in. As she stared down at you, desire coursed through you. You tamped it down, understanding the need to discuss boundaries before starting anything.
And as if Natalia had a checklist memorized, she one-by-one recited common kinks, asking which you were okay with. And again you noticed that with anyone else it would feel clinical. But with her, it was exciting. With her, you couldn't wait to start playing.
"Any concerns for you?" she asked, wrapping up her interrogation on hard limits.
You leaned closer, hoping soon she'd kiss you. "Just one thing," you stated.
"Go on then," she prompted.
"This is just a trial run tonight? No hard feelings if it doesn't work out?" Though you hoped fervently it would work out. Natalia was the sexiest woman you'd ever seen, and you couldn't wait to uncover how she was in the bedroom. She nodded in response to your question. "I'd just like to know now if you aren't open to something more long-term."
"I haven't had a sub in a while," she admitted, eyes cast down. "It isn't that I don't want one – I do," she insisted. One finger tentatively moved under the hemline of your dress, teasing. "But I work a lot. And every time I've had a sub, they get tired of me not being around."
You couldn't believe your luck. Being a fixer required long, strange hours. You never knew when a client would find themselves in a sticky situation. You often received calls in the middle of the night requesting your services with promises of large checks. And when you finally got your clearance at the BAU, your hours would probably be just as unreliable. "Even better," you affirmed. "That shouldn't be a problem."
"Come here, angel," she commanded, her other hand tilting your chin up. The air shifted between you, the electricity sparking back to life. The hand on your thigh slid over your hip and squeezed as her lips descended on yours. You lost yourself in her kiss, smoky from her whiskey. Fire swelled in the pit of your stomach as her hands continued to massage your hips and ass.
You deepened the kiss, moaning into her mouth as her tongue caressed yours. You shifted to straddle her. And with practiced hands, as if you had been doing this dance for years, Natalia's hands pulled you, settling you on her lap. As your legs straddled her thighs, you wished there was something to rub against, the ache between your legs building. You bucked into nothing, desperation increasing as Natalia sucked the spot behind your ear.
"Fuck," you whispered, gripping her shoulders tightly.
She licked back up your neck, nuzzling underneath your jaw, her hands roaming your thighs freely. You only wished she'd slip her fingers underneath your thong and take whatever she wanted. "Come home with me," she ordered. You didn't need to be told twice.