Ahahaha. As if people don’t know what’s going on tonight.

Ian stands tall, unwavering on the stage as he yanks on my leash. I take the first step, feeling every eye in the room move in my direction. Some of them think I’m hot. Some of them think I’m crazy. All of them think this is the most exciting thing to happen all night.

My knees shake in my boots. I hope nobody can tell.

The only sounds I hear are the beating of my heart and the jingle of my leash and jewelry. The audience is reverently silent. Thankfully, the lights keep me from seeing any faces beyond those closest to us, and I don’t know who most of those people are.

“Kneel.” Ian pushes my shoulders, forcing me to my knees at the edge of the stage. My hands clasp the wood beneath me. Suddenly I feel very small, Not in a bad way, but…

Vulnerable. I’ve never been vulnerable in front of so many people before.

“Most of you know this woman.” Ian’s voice is loud, carrying throughout the club known for its fantastic acoustics if you’re standing on stage. No doubt that even the people sitting in the back of the second story can hear him with that booming voice. “She’s got quite the reputation in this club, doesn’t she?”

A few whistles and claps make their way to my ears. I remain still, staring at the floor. My ponytail hangs limply on my shoulder.

“Everyone here knows Kathryn Alison for being the biggest Domme around.” Ian removes his jacket. He’s worn one of my favorite shirts, the pink silk one that he leaves unbuttoned on top. As he rolls up his cuffs and looks down at me, I feel that wash of lust take me over. Why isn’t he kissing me? Why aren’t his hands all over me? Why, for the love that is good and pure, isn’t his cock fucking me?

Oh, right, we’re in public.

“Dommes get a hard break around here, don’t they ladies?”

More cheers.

“You lovely pioneers of ass-kicking have a lot weighing on your shoulders. You always have to be on. We men expect such weird things from you, no matter how many times you tell us you’re not interested.” My Dom strokes the top of my head, weaving his fingers into my hair. “So it’s only natural that we wonder what it’s like to dominate such beautiful women.”

He yanks my ponytail so hard that I’m instantly looking up into the lights, a cry of pain tearing through my body.

The room is absolutely silent.

“When Kathryn came to me, I knew what she wanted. What she needed.” Even though my scalp burns, Ian soothes me when his other hand cups beneath my chin. My head rests against his stiffening cock. “Of course I was flattered that she wanted to submit to me. We hooked up a few times before that, but you all know how it is… two personalities like ours clashing together isn’t always the smartest idea. So imagine my surprise when Kathryn Alison showed up at my door and said she would hang up her whip if it meant sexual salvation.”

Inside my chest, my heart beats furiously. I’m aching in lust for this man. I’m burning in apprehension for myself. Although I can’t see the reactions out in the crowd, I know they’re wondering how much truth there is to Ian’s tale. It’s not that far off, is it?

He needs to keep going, though. Don’t leave the story hanging where it makes me look desperate and noncommittal, Ian.

“I’ve been a Dom for many years,” Ian continues. He eases his grip and pinches my ear. “I’ve seen all sorts of reasons women turn to submitting. Some love the sexual thrill. Others want to explore a darker side to their sexuality. Then there are women like Kathryn.”

He squeezes my shoulders, both hands encircling my throat, gently, but the pressure is so great that I’m convinced I need to struggle to breathe.

“Kathryn came to me because she needed release.”

Ian does not elaborate. Yet his tender touch sends waves of understanding through my body. Yes, Ian. I came to you for the release I craved for so long but didn’t know how to pursue. I sank deeper into the comfort of dominating without even considering how liberating it could be on the other side. Not until you showed me how life-changing it could be did I really make a turn for the better.

It helps that I also love you so much.

“Don’t look at this woman and assume she’s confused or misunderstood. Don’t judge her for her previous actions and those of today. I am humbled and honored that she has chosen to serve me. It will be my life’s goal to make sure she is taken care of and properly treated as a sub should be, but don’t think this makes her a submissive woman. I’m afraid the next time you see her in the boardroom she’ll still be slamming her boot into your balls.”

I think I hear laughter.

“The woman you see before you debuts tonight as a sub… my sub. No other man will have her the way I do, but we can give you a taste of what it means to be us. A part of my Katie’s journey on the path to pure release is confessing everything that makes her… well…”

Ian steps away, leaving me alone at the front of the stage. When I feel him near me again, it’s to have my arms spread above my head and attached to two elastic binds hanging from the ceiling. The tension in my shoulders instantly brings me pleasure.

Or is it the sensation of not being able to escape?

“Tell them, Kathryn. Tell them why you’re here tonight.”

My words are lost. I know what words I want to say, but getting my mouth, my tongue, and my lips to cooperate is like trying to wake up when the rain falls outside and the man you love is wrapped tight around you. The kind of mornings I want to experience every day for the rest of my life.

“I’m here because I need to be freed.”

I don’t expect to cry. Yet one hot tear makes its way down my cheek, and I’m blinded by the lights shining above me. Ian pats my head and touches the top of my spine.

“And how does binding you like this free you, my darling? Seems like it would do the opposite.”

I’m too hung up on him calling me “darling” in front of these people. When his words finally sink in, I respond, “They keep me in place, so I don’t have to worry about going anywhere.”

“Why’s that?”

I know that this is therapy when we’re alone, but confessing my real feelings in front of an audience is otherworldly. It’s like I’m preaching to the choir for half of them, while the others are leaning in intently, waiting to hear my eternal truths.

“People always want something from me. They want me to drop everything I’m doing to come fix their problems. I don’t have a choice most of the time. What am I supposed to do? I can’t not go. But when I’m tied up, I don’t have to go anywhere. Because I can’t. All I need to do is sit still and finally rest.”

Something stiff touches my back. It’s a crop.

There are two layers of clothes between my skin and that crop, and even though I know Ian would never strike me there, I still tremble. Having that implement of therapy touch me is enough to make me moan. I don’t, however. Not in front of these people.

“You’re under a lot of stress, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Tell us.”

I take in a deep breath. “Under a lot of stress” is something nearly everyone in this building can say. We’re rich. We’re powerful. You may think that’s a ticket to happiness, and while it affords us many freedoms, it does not protect us from anxiety and stress. Last year a patriarch jumped from his fiftieth floor window because a deal fell through. It didn’t bankrupt him. Financially, he was still fine, but I knew his daughter, and she said that her father often felt unworthy because he wasn’t perfect. Perfectionism runs rampant with people I know. I don’t want to be like that when I get older.

“My parents wanted a boy…” Why I decided to start here with my confession, I have no idea. I suppose it’s the root of everything, isn’t it? “When they only got me, it was a blessing and a curse. I love being a woman, but even as I am, the disadvantages are too much. You can’t understand, sir. People don’t take me seriously. I’m only as good as my ability to dominate other men, both in and out of the bedroom. I will always be compared to men, and I will always lose.”