chapter 7- the darkest dungeon part ii

Catherine

“Well hello, darlings,” I purr to Scarlett and Emi. Scarlett is dressed in a black shirt and jeans. She’s not an official domme at the club yet, still playing at which roles she fits in. It’s still unclear to me what that will be. I can see her making a good domme one day, but honestly part of me would love to see her submit to one of the veterans.

Emi on the other hand radiates submission. Her cerulean eyes are wide and innocent. She’s definitely nervous, unable to hide anything.

On her way over, she had been looking all over the place with fear and dare I say a little interest. Then once they fell on me, they never looked away. She wears a white camisole and skinny jeans with rips in them. Her tennis shoes are terribly ratty for a high fashion club like this, but I don’t care if they are the same ones she uses at the gym.

Her innocent, beautiful face drills into my mind's eye and want nothing more than to take her—my feelings stutter. What do I want to do with her? I don’t want spank her. I don’t want to whip her. I want to cook her a nice meal, buy her dress, and…

Who the hell are you, Catherine, I think to myself. You really are getting old.

“Can I buy you a drink, Emi?” I ask her smoothly, ignoring my own rush of feelings. She blushes.

“Um yeah, will you be okay, Scarlett?” she asks her friend.

“Oh, of course. Would you buy me a drink, Mistress Nicole? Pretty please?” Scarlett asks and I want to slap the plump girl, but Nicole always did like the bratty ones.

Rolling my eyes, I place my hand on Emi’s stiffened back to lead her away. I wonder what she’d look like with a few curves like her friend. I swirl a finger against the pale skin under the white shirt. She’d look like a little rubenesque angel I’m sure of it.

I realize with a start that I want to spoil the shy, quiet girl, especially if she will submit to me. I’ve never been the type to spoil. In fact, I’m known for spanking, long teasing sessions, and humiliation.

I lean against the bar languidly and I can tell how uncomfortable she is.

“You’re safe, Emi. With me,” I assure. Her eyes dart around to the different exhibits. “What are you really doing here?” Her eyes flick back to me. Her cheeks flush and warmth pools into my loins.

“You,” she has to project her voice over the loud music.

“That’s awful…sweet of you,” I say and swirl my finger on her bare arm. “What can I get you to drink?”

Her eyes grow large as she looks at the massive cocktail bar behind us. They make their own designer drinks and she looks so lost. I lean forward and whisper:

“Do you like chocolate and vodka? They have a divine mixture that may even be sweeter than you,” I whisper. Her hands drift to her flat stomach. She’s just starting to develop slight abs these days, something that doesn’t seem quite right for her. Her spirit is so soft and sweet. My finger trails up to her wavy blonde hair.

“I really shouldn’t…” she says. “I have a figure to keep.” I chuckle deeply, leaning my lips close to her ear to whisper sultry.

“You’re skin and bones, my dear. I insist—let me spoil you rotten, princess.” I lift my hand to attract the bartender, but she straightens up and her stiff body now radiating anger.

“Spoil me? Princess?” She wrinkles her nose disgusted. “I’m not a little girl,” she snaps.

“Woah, woah woah,” I say lifting my hands, not expecting this abrupt turn of events. Have I screwed up everything with this potentially angelic submissive.