Kitten's Tale

  kitten’s tale

  Sarah, aka kitten, has a wonderful BDSM play relationship with Ray and Oot. She knows they aren’t looking for anything other than play and friendship, and she loves being a submissive and sex toy to them. But when Ray enlists a good friend to help out with play at the club one night, she soon sees another side to Ray and discovers what a lucky kitten she is.

  Ray and Oot love playing with kitten at the club and in their bed, but neither are they planning on adding her as a permanent third. Then a night at the club changes Ray’s perspective when he realizes they’re not the only one with their eyes on kitten. Now he’s about to find out that when you have a kitten by the tail, she just might steal your heart.

  Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre

  Length: 12,909 words

  KITTEN’S TALE

  A Siren App Exclusive

  Tymber Dalton

  MENAGE EVERLASTING

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

  KITTEN’S TALE

  Copyright © 2012 by Tymber Dalton

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62241-487-1

  First E-book Publication: December 2012

  Cover design by Les Byerley

  All art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  DEDICATION

  For Daddy.

  KITTEN’S TALE

  TYMBER DALTON

  Copyright © 2012

  Chapter One

  Sarah pulled up in front of the warehouse building but didn’t shut the engine off. The building was one of three in a nondescript industrial complex in central Pinellas County. Ten bays to a building, with some businesses taking up more than one bay. Nothing remarkable about it, except that it was nine o’clock on a Friday night, and there were at least thirty cars clustered around one particular bay while the rest of the complex lay desolate and dark. A sign over the door simply read Axis.

  I can do this. I can do this.

  She still didn’t shut the engine off, the AC blowing cool air into her face. She knew when she stepped out that muggy July Florida night air would assault her and wilt every attempt she’d made to straighten her hair.

  Why am I doing this?

  She sat there, engine running.

  Another car pulled up, parked, and the male driver shut it off. The man and a woman passenger got out. He wore jeans and a button-up shirt, the color of which she couldn’t accurately tell because of the orange tint from the sodium vapor security lights. They looked…

  Normal.

  The woman wore a plain black sundress. The man went to the trunk of the car, took out a small, black rolling suitcase, and they went inside.

  She took a deep breath. They didn’t look like ax murderers. Not that she knew what an ax murderer looked like, but they probably didn’t go around toting black, rolling suitcases that weren’t large enough to conceal an ax.

  Well, it could hold a hatchet.

  “Argh! Listen to yourself! You fucking pussy.” That started her giggling.

  She took another deep breath to suck up her courage. Then she shut off the car and got out. Ray Fisher said he would be here by nine, and that if he wasn’t here yet to wait in the lobby for him so she could get in.

  She had no idea what to expect when she opened the door and stepped into the club’s lobby. Even though they had pictures on their website, it still didn’t feel real. Her? In a BDSM club?

  Beats the hell out of meeting some grungy asshole in private, at least.

  That was the one thing that forced her feet forward and carried her to the front desk where two women sat. She’d done that private meeting thing three times already, and that was more than enough. Sarah caught sight of the man and woman who’d just entered before her disappearing through another door into what she assumed was the club proper.

  One of the women behind the front desk wore a black corset over jeans and had bright copper-red hair. She smiled at Sarah. “Hi! Can we help you?”

  Sarah swallowed hard. “I’m supposed to meet Ray Fisher here tonight. Is he here yet?”

  The other woman, who wore a nose ring and heavy black eyeliner along with her lacy black shirt, shook her head. “Not yet. He should be here any minute though.” She glanced at a clock on the wall. “He’s usually here by now. Never been here before, have you?”

  “No, I’m new here. Can I sit here and wait for him?”

  “Sure.” She slid a clipboard with a form on it across the counter. “Just fill this out for us, please. And we’ll need to see legal ID. You’ll have to fill this out regardless, so it’ll save you time when he gets here.”

  Sarah took the clipboard and proffered pen and walked over to a folding chair out of the way.

  Although the club had the form on their website, she still read through it to make sure it didn’t say anything different, or that she was doing something like signing away her life, or volunteering to donate an organ or something. No, it was still the same. Acknowledgement of the rules—no alcohol, no drugs, and no penetration being the top three—street-legal clothing beyond the dungeon, no touching anyone or anything without permission, and “no” meant “no” absolutely. Also, a privacy agreement not to reveal what she saw in the club without everyone’s permissions in the matter. Also, what appeared to be a standard insurance waiver.

  She filled it out and returned it to the women at the desk, along with her Florida driver’s license. They made a copy of her license before returning it, entered her information into the computer, and then all Sarah could do was sit there and nervously wait and think about possibly bolting out of there.

  Inside, she heard music, muffled by the walls. Walls which held merchandise for sale like paddles, collars, and things she’d never seen before but assumed they were used to inflict sadistic attention on a person.

  Part of her grew even more nervous, but she knew her panties were slightly damp as well.

  Dammit, I want this.

  She’d been messaging back and forth with Ray Fisher for over two weeks through FetLife.com. She’d missed meeting him in person at a monthly munch in Tampa because she didn’t sign up for an account at the site until a couple of days after the event.

  He seemed nice. Didn’t appear to be a predator. In fact, he’d encouraged her to ask around to other people in the local area to check him out. Which she did after she joined a few local groups on the site and contacted their leaders. No one had anything bad to say about him. He was well-known in the local community as a teacher and group leader.

  That, more than anything, bolstered her confidence. The three assholes she’d met through CollarMe didn’t want her to talk to anyone else, and after just a few dates with each it was obvious they were looking for a fuckable doormat and not a submissive.

  She was nobody’s doormat. Especially to some douchetard who slapped the label “Dominant” on themselves as an excuse to be an abusive asshole.

  She didn’t even want a relationship so much as she wanted…

  Relief.

  Her itch scratched.

  She could get herself off as much as she wanted with her vibrator or her handheld showerhead, but it was pretty frakking hard to spank herself.

  * * * *

&nbs
p; She nervously jumped when she heard the outer door open. “Oh, there he is,” the redhead said. “Ray, this lady is waiting for you.”

  Sarah stood and turned to face him. He smiled, the expression reaching the depths of his hazel eyes. “Hi. Sarah?”

  She nodded, but before she could respond, another man tried to step in around him. “Hey, dude, move it.”

  Ray didn’t even look back. “Hold your horses, Oot.” Ray held out a hand to her. She realized that the other man was his partner. Ray had told her about him in their exchanges.

  She shook with Ray. “Nice to meet you,” she said, then stepped out of the way so Ray could move.

  Oot carried two bags. His black hair was obviously dyed, but looked good with his light blue eyes. He smiled at her. “Hiya! You must be Sarah.” He set one bag down so he could shake with her. “Nice to meet you. Master’s told me about you.”

  “Thank you. Nice to meet you both.”

  Oot picked the bag up again. “Let me go dump this stuff inside, and get the rest of our stuff. I’ll be right back.” He headed through the inner door, the music briefly sounding louder, then muffled again as the door swung shut behind him.

  Ray walked over to the desk. “Did you take care of your paperwork yet?” he asked Sarah.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Did you already pay?”

  She shook her head.

  The redhead said to Ray, “You get one comped entrance fee tonight for bringing in a newbie.”

  He nodded and pulled out his wallet. “Then I’ll take care of her entrance tonight.” He handed over a couple of bills.

  “Oh, that’s okay,” Sarah said. “I don’t mind paying for myself.” She rather preferred it. She didn’t want to feel indebted to him.

  Ray shook his head. “We invited you here tonight. Had you not come, I still would have been paying for two. Consider yours the freebie.”

  Oot returned and headed for the outer door. “One more load and I’ll be ready, Master.”

  “Good. I’ll take Sarah inside and show her around.” He held out his hand toward the inner door. “Since I’m your sponsor into the club tonight, I’m responsible for you. If you have any questions about anything, feel free to ask me.”

  She nodded. “Right now, just one. Where’s the bathroom?”

  He smiled. “Right this way.”

  Chapter Two

  She followed him inside. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting, punctuated by strands of colored lights strung all over the place in a haphazard manner. One half of the converted space was filled with round café tables and chairs where people sat and stood, talking. Candles on each table gave the area a nice, intimate feeling.

  The other half of the space was, from what she could tell, the dungeon proper. Various pieces of equipment sat along the wall and the middle of the space was dominated by a huge, wooden A-frame, similar to what might support a large swing.

  “The bathroom’s over there,” Ray said, pointing. He led her around what she knew from the website was called the social area to the far corner. She tried not to look over at the play equipment, where several people were playing. People in the social area were dressed in everything from formal fetish wear to jeans.

  “Thanks!” She locked herself in and looked in the mirror.

  What am I doing? Fear warred with excitement. Ray had assured her in their messages back and forth that she was under no obligation to do anything but watch and ask questions if she wanted. Or if she wanted to try something, he could accommodate her there, too. Excitement, and eagerness, she realized, were winning the upper hand in her mental war.

  Ray and Oot were both waiting outside for her when she emerged. Ray and Oot spent half an hour discussing the dungeon rules and protocols with her, showing her around, explaining equipment and the scenes she was watching. It was a lot to take in, and both confirmed and debunked a lot of BDSM fiction she’d read in the past year.

  “And there’s no worry of anyone just grabbing me and playing with me?” she nervously asked.

  The men looked at each other and laughed. “Not quite,” Ray said. “Not unless they want to be kicked out and banned from the club, or brought up on assault charges. Everything you see here tonight is consensual. You might see stuff that looks like it’s spur of the moment, or a bunch of people piling on, but it’s all been prenegotiated at some point.”

  That relaxed her. “Okay.”

  After talking for a while longer, the men started introducing her around to their friends in the social area. As they did, Sarah noticed a man standing under the A-frame with a woman who wore nothing but a thong.

  “What’s he doing?” she asked.

  Ray looked. “Ah. That’s Teufel. He’s a rigger.”

  “A what?”

  He smiled. “Just watch.”

  Teufel had used a rope to secure a large brass ring to the center of the A-frame’s upper brace. Then he proceeded to use rope to tie an intricate harness across the woman’s torso. After finishing that, which took nearly twenty minutes, he then used more ropes strung through the brass ring to help hoist her in the air.

  The woman had closed her eyes upon being suspended, and her face bore what Sarah thought was one of the most blissful expressions of peace she’d ever seen in her life. Teufel used yet more rope to contort her body into the desired position. Then he pushed her and stood back.

  Something in Sarah’s soul cried out to trade places with her.

  The woman slowly spun in a lazy circle, looking something akin to a floating imp. Her smile never faded.

  “Wow,” Sarah whispered.

  Oot grinned. “Teufel’s flown me before. I love it.”

  “You know how you told me to ask if I wanted to try something,” she said to Ray.

  “Yeah?”

  “That. I want to try that.”

  * * * *

  After Teufel finished with the woman and had unwound the ropes from her, Ray led Sarah over to him and introduced them.

  Not the tallest of men, Teufel stood about her height, with piercing brown almond-shaped eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses. He wore jeans and black motorcycle boots, but he’d taken his shirt off in the middle of the scene, exposing two tribal tattoos on his upper biceps. He had a trim, lithely muscled dancer’s body.

  “She’s a noob, Teufel,” Ray said. “This is her first time in a dungeon. Go easy on her.”

  Teufel didn’t smile, but he nodded. She suddenly thought about one of her college profs, who’d had a nearly identical way about him. Happy or irritated, he always appeared to be sizing you and the situation up.

  “I’d be happy to suspend you.” He asked her a series of questions about her health and any physical injuries she had before asking permission to touch her. He then efficiently prodded her arms, sides, and hips before having her push down on his arms to judge her upper-body strength.

  “Is your bra underwire?” he asked.

  She thought it was an odd question, but she shook her head.

  “Any problems taking your dress off, or do you have a T-shirt or something you want to wear over your underwear?”

  “Oh. No, I don’t mind.” She smiled nervously. “Sort of like a bathing suit.”

  He nodded. “Okay. I’m ready if you are.”

  She set her purse down and kicked off her shoes. With more than a twinge of nervous anxiety, she peeled her sundress off over her head and neatly folded it, laying it on top of her purse. She didn’t miss how Ray and Oot stayed close, talking with her and Teufel the entire time as the rigger constructed a rope harness around her torso. Teufel explained every step of the process to her, joked with her, and set her mind at ease.

  She also noticed that while he did occasionally brush against her breasts in the course of tying the harness, he never tried to cop a feel.

  By the time he was ready to suspend her, she felt her pulse spike. The feel of the rope against her skin was like nothing she had words to describe. Teufel
looped a rope through the ring, then through the harness, and scooped her into his arms.

  “Grab the ring,” he said.

  She did, and he took his hands off her for a moment to do something before supporting her again. “Okay, relax.”

  She felt him guide her back into a reclining position as the rope took up the slack. He made a few adjustments, then gave her a gentle push that sent her swaying back and forth.

  Eyes closed, she spread her arms and…

  I’m flying.

  That was what it felt like, the rope comfortably confining as she felt him reach out and push her again so she began floating in a lazy arc.

  She barely registered Ray’s voice at first. “How does it feel?”

  She let out a deep breath. “Wonderful!”

  All three men laughed. “You just created another rope slut, Teufel,” Oot said.

  “Yeah, that’s me. Inspiring rope-gasms all over the place.”

  She forced one eye open and noticed the rigger wore a slight smile. She suspected that was his happy face.

  By the time she’d been returned to terra firma and untied, puddles of rope lay around her feet. In awe, she ran her fingers over the ligature marks left on her skin. Ray and Oot both looked amused as Teufel began quickly and skillfully coiling his ropes.

  “Have fun?” Ray asked as he handed her dress to her.

  She nodded as she took the dress, but she didn’t put it back on. “What next?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Can we try something else?”

  “Like what?”

  I’ve come this far, so I guess I’m not going to get murdered. “I don’t know,” she softly said. “What would you suggest?”