Over the Moon

The black leather couch envelops me as I flop down and prop my feet on the coffee table. I just arrived in Portland from the Lewiston site, work boots and all.

“Do you have to come into my club looking like that?” Luke says as he enters his office. Luke Thorne, ever the dapper man, is wearing a bespoke black three-piece suit with a crisp white dress shirt, open at the collar, with a splash of color in the form of a gold pocket square. Luke’s deep umber skin contrasts with his dress shirt and makes for a striking look. I am not attracted to men, but I can honestly say Luke is fucking handsome.

“What? You don’t like my blue-collar look? I think it would look good in a scene, don’t you?” I smile, knowing exactly what he is going to say.

“Nate, get your shit together. I have something I need to discuss with you.” He unbuttons his jacket and sits at his desk on the other side of the room. This piques my interest, so I move to sit in the chair opposite him.

He leans back and strokes along his sharp jawline, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. I’ve known Luke since he opened the club years ago and took me under his wing, teaching me most of what I know about being a dom and connecting me with the big players in this world. He even introduced me to Wolf, my boss, and best friend. Over the years, I have learned to read Luke like an open book. And right now, it’s telling me he’s about to drop something big. Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulls out a gold folder. This is getting interesting.

Here at Top to Bottom, the Arcane takes place every Wednesday night. This gives those wishing to keep their identity private the chance to partake in all the club’s offerings. The gold folders are for those club members who only take part in the Arcane. With six years of membership under my belt, I have offered my services to guests and new members wishing to experience submission under an experienced dom. Seeing this folder on his desk, I can assume why Luke asked for me to come to the club tonight, on a Wednesday.

“I have a new member for you tonight. This is someone special to me and even though I trust all of my members, I trust you the most to be her dom tonight.” He passes me the folder and leans back in his chair, cuts the tip off a cigar he pulled from his desk drawer, and lights it.

The folder contains a list of rules, limits, expectations, and a name, Lilla. According to the file, she is an experienced submissive who prefers flogging scenes. This suits me well. “Lilla is a shy woman and has asked me to conduct this pairing without her. I’ve already provided her details about you, and she has signed the consent form.”

“I’ve never dominated someone I haven’t met yet. She doesn’t want to meet before the scene? At all?” Intriguing.

“She trusts me to make the right decision for her needs and safety, but she has agreed to a five-minute pre-session discussion on the floor. She has been a submissive for years, but new to the club. I don’t need you to train her, but there is one last thing to discuss. Many of the subs you work with are seeking gratification, but Lilla is not. The goal is to calm her body and mind, not to rile her up.”

Almost all the subs I scene with are seeking some kind of sexual relief, though there are a few who are not. Lilla, being the latter, speaks to me. Scenes can get messy if emotions and attachments get in the way of the task. “That works for me, Luke. I’ll review her expectations and figure out a plan for tonight. What time is she arriving?” He looks at his computer to confirm the time and where we are booked on the floor for the session.

“She will be here at eleven-thirty. You will have the cross for an hour.”

“Okay. I’m going to get something to eat and be back in a few hours,” I tell him as I stand up and tuck the folder under my arm.

“Nate.” Luke stands and comes around the side of his desk. “Lilla is important. Remember to be respectful unless she asks you not to be.” I put my hand out, and he grasps it in a friendly handshake.

“Certainly, Luke. You can count on me.”

1. You don’t use your real name once you come through the main floor doors. The membership application and file have your personal information. However, you are to use a moniker while on the floor. For the last six years, they have known me as Hawk. This is to ensure rule number two isn’t easily broken.

2. You are not to seek a member after you leave the club. No stalking, no showing up at their work or home. You are welcome to arrange scenes or sessions through the booking agent at the club, Poppy.

Having Poppy arrange everything takes the awkwardness out of the scenario for many of the members. You can request to work with someone without having to approach them directly. This works in reverse as well; you can request not to work with someone for whatever reason. She calls them the consent and no-consent lists.

3. The last and final rule is there is no sex on the floor. I know it sounds odd considering this is a sex club, but Luke explained his reasoning to me years ago. The scenes can become very erotic; senses are heightened, and nipples and cocks get erect. It is easy to succumb to the basic instincts to touch, kiss, lick, and fuck who you are with. With the rule in place, this ensures there are no hasty decisions made to satisfy carnal needs at the moment. Touching, kissing, and even bringing someone to orgasm are allowed, but no penetration in any form.

Poppy arranges not only scenes, but she is also the gatekeeper to the private rooms. These rooms are unrestricted; therefore, any sexual acts are permitted. The kicker is you have to book a private room in advance. You can’t leave a passionate scene and book a room to fuck your submissive. The booking has to be planned and consensual as she requires signatures from both parties.

I arrive back at the club just before eleven o’clock. The doors open at nine, though more explicit scenes occur closer to midnight. Passing a few regulars, I make my way to the men’s dressing room. The room is lined with shiny black lockers and polished wooden benches on one side. On the other side are changing booths, sinks, and a short hall that leads to the showers.

Tossing my backpack into the locker, I grab my towel and head toward the showers. Today was grueling, running back and forth between the office and the job site. Being an engineer for Lawson Building Company, I am in my office a lot but still love getting my hands dirty with my crew when they are on a build.

As I wait for the water to warm up, I peel off my clothes and toss them on the bench next to my towel. Stepping under the hot spray, my muscles relax as the water cleanses my skin. Shit. I forgot my shampoo. I barely need any product anyway since my hair is so short. Nothing a little Irish Spring can’t handle. I lather up and get to work. Green-hued suds slide down my body as I watch the tattoos on my right side become visible again. The name Amelia, my first tattoo, appearing first.

Shutting off the water, I towel off and dress in my standard black linen pants. They are loose enough that I can move freely for any action I need to perform, but sturdy enough that if I have an erection, you can’t easily tell. I rarely have a hard-on during a scene, but the last thing I want to do is make a submissive uncomfortable if arousal wasn’t part of the agreed plan.

The clock above the sink tells me I have to meet Lilla in fifteen minutes, so I stow the rest of my things in my locker and make my way to the bar.

The heavy double doors open slowly to the main floor, and my senses overload instantly. A deep sexy rhythmic bass pumps from the speakers, vibrating through my body. Underneath the music, the sounds of active scenes in full swing are present: moans, grunts, slaps, and screams. I take long strides toward the bar, which is easy for me being six foot two, where I find Luke on high alert, scanning the floor. There is security on staff, but Luke is always here to make sure everything runs smoothly.

“Hawk.” He nods without looking at me.

Luke prefers to be called by his last name while on the floor to maintain his status of club owner above the members. I follow his gaze as he scans the room. During the day when the club is empty, it is a bright cheery space with tons of natural light.

The club is on the top floor of a converted six-story factory deep in the industrial district of Portland. Luke owns the building and rents only to businesses and tenants that prescribe to his philosophies on life and love. The first three floors are commercial rentals, and floors four and five house four apartment rentals each, all rented to staff members of the club.

At night, the blinds are closed, and they dim the lights to create an intimate environment. The floor is separated into sections where you can observe public scenes in the center or you can watch more discrete sessions around the edges of the room. Black matte walls and soft fawn-colored leather seating add to the allure along with gold accents. The same gold as Luke’s pocket square. To the left of the main floor is a hallway leading to the private rooms and the aftercare lounge. I have never used the private rooms but always use the aftercare space here.

“It’s time. Come with me, Hawk.”

Luke pushes away from the bar, taking the two steps down to the recessed level of the main floor, not once turning to see if I’m following. Walking not far behind him, I can see the polished wood of the St. Andrew’s cross glinting from the lighting above. In front of the small stage where the cross is set up, a young woman waits with her back to me. An intricate braid holds the thick strands of dark brown hair away from her face, which is concealed with a half black mask that ties with a ribbon at the back of her head.

“Lilla,” Luke says as we come around the leather sofa and stand in front of her. “This is Hawk. He will work with you this evening.” She stands and holy shit. She is short, five-two if she is lucky, and curvy. Her black halter top dress has an open back that dips low enough for me to see the dimples above her shapely ass. Below the hem of her mid-thigh length dress are smooth bare legs and only a cute pair of black flats. No high heels? Most women and some men wear heels here. I am barefoot, so to each their own, I guess.

She greets me with a smile that reaches her eyes. Golden eyes shine through the darkness in the room. My heart skips a beat. Calm down. I take a deep breath and greet my submissive for the evening. “Hello, Lilla, I’m Hawk. You can call me Sir.”

“Sir.” She dips her head low in response, and my cock twitches at the sound of her voice. A low but feminine timbre. Not now.

“You are in expert hands, Lilla. Please come see me after your session. Hawk,” Luke turns to me, “remember what I said.” I nod and he returns to his post at the bar.

Bringing my attention to Lilla, I find her still looking down at the floor. Unlike many doms, I like to see the eyes of my submissives. You can read a lot from just their gaze, and I use it as a communication tool throughout the scene. But I am not here to train her to be mine. Tonight is about her and what she needs.

“Please sit, Lilla.” She does so without a word. Sitting next to her, I make sure there is space between us, respecting her boundaries, for now.

“I’ve read your hard limits and your expectations for tonight’s scene. Is there anything else you would like to discuss before we start?” I say, taking the moment to read her body language. She gently folds her hands on her lap, keeping her back straight and her eyes drawn to the floor. She is skilled and controlled, but there is an excited energy rolling off her.

“No, Sir. I completed the forms thoroughly and with care.”

I stand and put my hand out for her to take. “Shall we begin?” She raises her head, careful not to make eye contact, and places her hand in mine. Her warm hand is so tiny compared to mine. With her smaller frame and delicious curves, I will have to take care of my strokes. Placing a finger under her chin, I raise her head.

“Look at me,” I say firmly.

She glances up, and her eyes flit back and forth, like she is unsure what eye to look at. Uncertainty and nervousness overrides her excitement. Shit, I’m pushing her out of her comfort zone. I drop my finger and allow her head to naturally fall forward. Taking her by the hand, I lead her up the step to the stage and stand her in front of the cross.

“Ties or no ties, Lilla?”

“Ties please, Sir.”

“Good girl.” I step toward her, causing her to move back toward the cross. Her back is now against the smooth wood. I reach down to grasp her left hand and raise it to secure it to the cross. I repeat this motion on her right side, securing the ties around her wrists.

“Feet?” I ask, and she shakes her head. You can do better than that. “Lilla, look at me. You will use your voice to communicate with me. If I ask you a question, you will respond so I can hear you. Am I clear?” I ask. The rumble of my deep voice carries through my chest.

“Yes, Sir. No ties for my feet, please.” She says, shifting slightly against the cross.

“Good girl,” I say as a smile crosses her face. My cock twitches again. Calm down, I said.

Bending down, I hover next to her ear. My hot breath touches her skin and sends a shiver down her body. I can’t help but like the way I affect her. “Do you remember your safeword?”

“Tell me what it is.”

“Nei.” Unique. Most people choose red.

“Good. Let’s begin.”

To the right of the cross is a small rack displaying an array of impact tools. Based on her file, I choose a light brown leather flogger with long, soft strips. I twist the strips between my fingertips as I come to stand in front of her, noticing a slight tremble.

“Take a deep breath, little one.”

She closes her eyes briefly and the trembling ceases. My once-roomy linen pants are getting a little tight in the crotch. As a dom, a submissive obeying a command is not new, but there is something about her I can’t put my finger on.

Moving quickly, the first stroke tickles the underside of her left arm. Small pink lines appear on her pale skin. I didn’t strike her hard; this will be a slow progression. Over the years, I have perfected my swing and where the leather meets flesh. I can tickle, and I can sting, but I never break the skin. There are points on your body that can trigger the release of endorphins leading to ease anxiety, and based on her file and what Luke has said, I believe that is what we are dealing with here.

Another stroke tickles the right arm. She takes another calming breath while her eyes lock on the floor in front of my feet. The leather crosses the bottom of her dress and the mid-point of her thigh. The thick, squeeze-worthy flesh jiggles from the impact. My cock is now at half-mast.

I use a counting method to distract myself from ripping a hole in my pants; the fabric is only so giving. Taking a few steps toward her, her head raises slightly, and she looks to the left, still not wanting to make eye contact with me. I wish she would.

She gasps as my hand caresses the side of her knee and slides up to grab the hem of her dress, bringing it up around her waist and tucking the bulk of it between her and the wood behind her back. Her thighs are now fully on display, her black lace boy shorts exposed. Placing my foot between her feet, I urge her to widen her stance. She complies. Before I step back, I lean in again.

“I can’t get to your thighs the way I want to. If this is a hard limit, tell me now.”

She looks around the room. There are many scenes taking place but people have gathered around, watching us. She shakes her head, and I raise my eyebrows in response.

“This is okay, Sir. No hard limit,” she quickly responds.

Stepping back, I bring the flogger back down on her body, slowly making my way to her thighs. The leather licks the outside of her right thigh; I make a matching stripe on the left. I’d like to lick the inside of her thigh. I internally sigh at my stupid, unsolicited thoughts.

A quick change in tactics has me bringing the leather across her chest. Her eyes dart to mine, making a connection she refused only minutes ago; a fire burning behind them. Her lips curl up into a sexy grin, and I know I opened the door to something neither of us was expecting.

Picking up speed, the licks from my flogger touch every bit of bare skin I can safely caress. Lilla takes a few shallow breaths followed by a deep cleansing one; her skin is a rosy pink. The surrounding crowd is growing as I hear murmurs from the onlookers. Comments about Lilla, her body, and her ability to take what I am doling out are all being discussed, and it is filling me with pride.

Distracted by my thoughts, I don’t realize the change in her breathing at first. Each stroke elicits a sound of satisfaction rather than pain. Stepping closer, I continue to drag the flogger across her body, my breaths coming out harder than they should. Flogging takes a toll on both the submissive and the dominant. The restraint I have to keep in check, to not go too far, makes my body tremble. The raging hard-on I have isn’t helping matters. The beauty before me, taking everything I’m giving her, is a sight to behold. Until today, at this moment, I have never felt the urge to fuck a submissive.

One last lick on the inside of her thigh brings a scream from her lips, and her knees buckle. The crowd cheers as she trembles against the cross. Breathing heavily, I drop the flogger to the ground and pad over to her.

“Did that do the trick?” She takes a moment to come back to me.

“I’m going to untie you now. Wrap your arms around me, and I will carry you. Understood?”

Untying her quickly, I coax her arms to drape around me. Before I lift her into my arms, I fix her dress so she is no longer exposed. The scene is done, and the crowd doesn’t get to see any more of her. As I brush the skirt down, there is a distinct dampness on her thigh.

Lifting her into my arms, her body resting against my firm cock, we begin the short walk to the aftercare lounge. I have never had a scene this intense, this hot. I can usually shake off any arousal, but not today. Not with Lilla.