Double-Crossed (27 page)

She walked past to prepare herself for the night out.

Peter couldn't believe how beautiful she looked. He knew he'd picked the right clothes, and Hazel had called to confirm that everything had gone according to plan. He had a talent for dressing women. He'd never gotten it wrong, and many of the women in the community had asked him to choose for them many times. Peter only liked to do it for his lovers, however. And from now on, that meant only one woman. He felt happy to relieve himself of the burden of being a catch. Peter had always been a one-woman man; it's just that for him, it had to be the right woman.

Now, at the end of the hearing, she could be enjoyed properly. He could feel free to have the full experience of falling in love. A frightening thought to be sure, but Peter prepared for that. This was how he'd always expected it would be. Once he recognized her, he knew to follow the plan he'd always had for creating their world and their relationship.

As he mused on this, wiping the lipstick from his mouth on a handkerchief, she walked out with her lipstick reapplied in perfect condition. She'd also fixed her hair. He thought she looked gorgeous as she stood there before him, meeting his gaze, but with a demure kind of smile as if she were a virgin sacrifice. She presented herself filled with knowledge and at the same time as innocent as possible. He tried to keep his composure, because most of all, he needed to be in control tonight.

“Good. You're beautiful. Let's show a little modesty and get a jacket on you. We're going to walk to my car, parked in the street below, and then I'm going to drive you the party tonight. Do you want to go to a party with me, Marianne?”

“Yes, Peter,” she said simply.

“Then get your coat, and we shall go.”

* * *

The adrenaline must have been in equal measure to blood in Marianne's veins driving through the Sydney streets; Marianne, alive in the promise of what that night might hold, glowed from the inside out. None of the events of the last few days could compare with the thrill this moment gave her.

During the car journey, Peter said little, but she could tell by the energy between them he was pleased with her. She knew she looked good and that this party would accept her dressed like this. In the afterglow of the POS with Bill and Jen, she felt reasonably calm about going to the party. She wanted to behave perfectly, and this weighed on her mind. This serious game insisted she be impressive on Peter's arm and not disgrace him in any way. The pressure inspired a desire to excel, as well as making her a little nervous.

Despite nervous anticipation, she stayed alert and watchful. She'd have to be careful to be sure that she knew what to do. Most of all, she understood that this game was about trust. She trusted Peter. Ominous as it might seem to an observer to trust a man so deeply so fast, Marianne took her chances and dove right in with Peter. Her intuition told her she would be safe to do so.

They arrived at a very domestic-looking street in Surry Hills. Terrace houses stood in lines on either side, just like any other street in the area. It had just turned seven at night, so there were still joggers out running and people wheeling babies and others arriving home from work.

Peter pulled into a tight parking space in the car-crowded street. He turned to look at her.

“This will be a big night, Marianne. I probably don't have to tell you that your behavior will be under scrutiny. We haven't discussed any rules, but I expect you to follow my lead and simply remember you represent me. I have a reputation to uphold, and you're a new woman to this game. For both of these reasons, people will be watching you.

“I won't be asking anything of you that you and I haven't already agreed to. If you want, just for tonight, you may approach me and ask if you'd like to do something, and I may or may not let you, depending completely on my mood and my judgment. Most of all, tonight is about you looking around and getting to understand this world. It's a fun night. Do you understand?”

Marianne felt scared and tickled. This would be amazing; that's for sure.

“Yes. I understand.”

“I don't want you to call me Master or anything like that. It is not a title that sits easy with me. I prefer that you call me Peter, but you must treat me with absolute respect and total discretion. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Peter. I understand.”

Then Peter smiled a warm, loving smile that emanated from his beautiful, dark blue eyes and poured out through the shape of his mouth.

“You must trust me completely and tell me if anything at all worries or frightens you.” He looked very serious for a moment, tender and warm. “I mean this, Marianne. You are more important to me than this game. I mean to play it with you, and I truly believe you are the kind of woman who wants to play it too, but most important of all is that you're comfortable. That's the best way to make sure we can move forward. If that's what you want.”

Elation took her over. Her pussy tightened and grew damp when he looked at her like that. She couldn't believe that she had an entire future relationship with this man. That this glorious, unpredictable week had only been their first!

“I am sure it'll be what I want.”

Peter turned his head past her to look up the steps into a modest terrace in front of them, a building like any other in the street.

“Well, here it is, and here we go, darling.” He smiled at her again, and stepped out into the street.

Marianne watched him walk behind the car, then open the door to the passenger seat. Remembering what he liked, she swiveled so that her legs lengthened themselves out of the car first, then she stretched onto the sidewalk and stood up, bracing herself on the roof of the car. A tricky way to get out for sure, but she knew that it showed off her legs to their best advantage.

Peter looked down with an admiring grin on his face.

Marianne reached out her hand; Peter took her hand and guided her up the stairs to the terrace. When they got to the front door, Peter buzzed at the intercom.

A woman's voice called from inside the intercom. “Who is it?”

“Peter,” he said.

A shriek of women's voices came from the intercom, and suddenly the door buzzed and softly lifted itself off its own latch. Marianne jumped at the sound and began to feel a little nervous. She hoped to make some friends tonight, and the way those women were swooning over Peter, she felt it unlikely she would.

Inside the door, the house looked normal enough. They stood in an old-fashioned entry hall. The wood-paneled walls sank into synchronistic design with the plush Persian rug on the wooden floorboards. The hall, completely in rosewood, had a reddish tinge about it. A large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a dark wood lamp stand with a red-fringed shade sat in the corner. Marianne almost felt as though she were in an old saloon.

“Welcome to Salon Kitties, my dear,” said Peter. “The very best BDSM whorehouse in Sydney.”

Marianne gasped in surprise.

“Each year, they hold a special charity evening when they raise funds for their favorite charity. It's one of the biggest events of the Sydney BDSM calendar.”

A young woman in tiny red PVC shorts and a black corset stepped into the hall from another room. Her black fishnets trailed down into black, knee-high boots. She'd applied heavy makeup impeccably, and her short, black hair sat perfectly in a 1920s-style bob. Her black bangs, kiss curl sideburns, and ripples through the hair accented the black beauty spot above the right side of her lip.

Her face lit up when she saw Peter. Demurely she nodded and lowered her eyes, lifting them toward Marianne's face. She made immediate eye contact with Marianne and grinned again. “Please, may I take your coats?”

Peter took Marianne's coat and handed it to the girl, who promptly disappeared with them through the same door. He smiled and led Marianne by the hand, toward the end of the small corridor.

Walking through a door at the end door, Marianne had the sense of being Alice heading through the looking glass. Somehow she knew things were never going to be the same again.

Through the door, a human mannequin similar to those she'd seen through the window at Gallery Serpentine stayed stock-still. But this woman outshone the models at Gallery Serpentine. She dressed in an all-over, pale pink body stocking. She had a leather corset that styled more like a biker's jacket, and she had a biker's cap on her head. She wore short shorts, also in leather, and very tight, very tall leather boots. Her makeup application stayed impeccable. She wasn't moving. If it were not for the fact that one could see her breathing, it would be impossible to tell if she were alive or dead.

“Hi, Kimberly,” said Peter as they walked past her. She didn't move or respond in any way. “She'll be there in exactly that position when we leave,” Peter whispered in Marianne's ear.

Turning hard right, Marianne followed Peter into a large, plushly furnished room styled similarly to the entry hall. People dressed in various different BDSM costumes stood around talking. Many of the men were in black like Peter, but some of them wore general's uniforms, or biker's leathers.

Submissive males were hard to find at first, although as Marianne learned later, they outnumbered the dominant males. Marianne found out that there were many preconceived stereotypes in BDSM. One was that it's violent against women. Another was that males are usually dominant, and women are usually submissive. Throughout the night, Marianne saw with her own eyes the way men submitted themselves, in an alternate world, to men and to women.

The women's dress varied, though in terms of elegance, they were consistent. Most women wore corsetry or themed outfits. There were a couple of nurses who wore red crosses over very short latex white uniforms and revealing white lace suspender belts with white thongs underneath. There were quite a few schoolgirls, some nuns, and a few librarian-looking women. There were large women designed to fit into corsetry that made their breasts tumble over the top of the boned structure. Their long, flowing skirts covered up their ample thighs, or they would wear short shorts with round, fleshy fishnet-clad thighs peeping out from underneath.

Most of the people were chatting, eating, and drinking. Breathtaking men and women, in suspenders and stockings and nothing else, served drinks and nibbles. Marianne, amazed, stared around her, gob-smacked.

“Let's take a wider look around,” Peter whispered in her ear.

Marianne nodded and walked behind Peter toward the door at the back of the first room. People were looking at them, and she noticed Peter acknowledge a few as they moved through the crowd. Overall, people left them to themselves. Marianne assumed that folks must have been leaving them alone to allow her to get comfortable with the party.

The door led to a long corridor decorated in the same fashion as the entry hall, but with a strong smell of burning sandalwood incense; the musky-smelling smoke emanated from three tall stands positioned down the hall. The same carpet-covered wood floor gave the room a rosy glow.

The first door on their right sat open. Marianne peeked in to see a few people standing against a black wall, staring at something in the center of the room. Giving her hand a fast squeeze, Peter led her into the room. Darkness cloaked them as soon as they walked in. Large, seven-branched candlesticks stood in each corner, the only light. The spectators, or voyeurs, stood against their wall in a small huddle, eyes fixed on the action in the center. Marianne's eyes became accustomed to the half-light she could see more. She also noticed the heavy silence as they watched and waited.

A large wooden wheel straight out of the Middle Ages stood in the center of the room. Carved in a rough, chunky style, it looked menacing and commanding. The wheel braced against a complicated wooden stand that creaked as it moved. A complex latticework filled the interior of the wheel, serving to make it doubly strong. Thick, uncompromising pegs stood out from the circle, at multiple intervals.

At first, Marianne only noticed the wheel. Imposingly large, and with its base reaching almost all the way to the ceiling, it dwarfed everything around it. The pale faces of the people watching flickered in the candlelight, creating an eerie scene. For Marianne, intrigue and excitement revealed themselves.

Peter led her to the edge of the crowd and turned her to face the center of the room. He stood behind her, pressing in against her back. At this moment, Marianne really noticed the participants.

A tall, blonde Domme walked around the wheel, holding a long, nasty whip. A cross between Cat Woman and Barbarella, her magnificent platinum hair flowed in a long ponytail down her back, starting high from the middle of her head. She wore a full cat suit, from its elevated neck through to spiky heels, which almost looked to be part of the actual suit. She stood tall, proud, and strong, focusing and working straps on the wheel with great skill and powerful grace, ready for something. That thing was a man.

His groans first brought attention to him. He crouched naked in a corner moaning softly to himself, sporting an enormous erection. His overall demeanor indicated distress, but the erection told a different story.

“You want more, dog?” The woman stood over him and pierced the silence with her command.

“Yes, Mistress. Oh, yes, please, Mistress.”

Reaching down, the woman grabbed the man by the only thing he wore, a collar about his neck. Dragging him to his feet, she pushed him toward the wheel. He fell on it, caressing it, kissing it, and loving it as if it were a living thing pleasuring him. She walked up behind him, reached around, and took a hand, bracing it against one of the pegs protruding from the wheel. She moved his other hand in the same manner.

Working her role to perfection, she strutted to a table and picked up a set of wrist restraints. Resolutely she walked back and got into the business of attaching them to his wrists. Large D rings made it possible for her to tie him securely to the pegs.

The Domme squatted behind him, her face level with his bobbing ass. He must have felt her breath there. She fastened ankle restraints around the bottom of his legs and attached them to pegs, with his legs spread apart very widely. Marianne couldn't help think how exciting it would be to have attention like that paid to her. She wondered what it would be like to lay against a wheel, with Peter behind her, commanding, fulfilling both their expectations. As she thought this, Peter's arm snaked its way around her waist. He didn't need to say anything; she knew he had similar thoughts.