Many men see their subs like that.

I’m back to thinking about Ian. I imagine that’s us down there, me barely clad in his lap while I say “Yes, sir,” and pour everyone enough drinks to get them fucking plastered. He’d grab my ass in front of everyone, call me a pet name, and cop a feel on my breasts. He’d want everyone in the club to know that I belonged to him.

I shiver. It’s not in pleasure.

Still, it’s interesting to watch a woman who is so comfortable in her skin, in her role that she makes it look completely natural. From a feminist perspective, I find it interesting. Monica Graham was meant for a life of servitude, sexual or otherwise. In the hands of a good Dom, she’s the happiest woman in the world. She’s also incredibly vulnerable, and I don’t like that kind of vulnerability.

Vulnerable women are easy to manipulate. To use. To hurt.

Monica is the perfect example of that as well. We’ve all heard her story around here. Not everyone gets the kind of happy ending Henry Warren provides.

I look away as he pulls her close and whispers something in her ear, making her giggle. Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for their happiness, but I feel so uncomfortable right now that I can’t help but turn toward anyone else in the room.

Like the Andrews, hanging on each other as they enter the club and say hello to everyone they know – which is everyone.

Lana Andrews isn’t like Monica at all. She’s a switch, like her husband, and that’s almost rarer than a Domme around here.

I don’t know what they’re celebrating – probably The Grand – but they’re buying a round of drinks for a table. Lana is in Ken’s lap, draping herself like an ornament for everyone to admire. There’s a couple who likes swinging and being watched. I told you, they’re weird.

Everyone loves them because they’re always a guaranteed good time when sex is involved.

It doesn’t take long in this club for things to heat up. After only a couple of drinks, Lana has her mouth all over Ken, the two of them acting like teenagers as people cheer them on and incite them to be bawdier in their display. We all know what’s going to happen the minute the stage opens up.

Sure enough, once the pro show is over, Ken hauls his wife to the stage and announces that his flushed sub of the night is going to take one for the whole team. Glasses are in the air to toast their antics. I’m sitting here stewing in the reminder of what happened with The Grand.

I’m also too intrigued for my own good.

Another drink is on my table before I realize I’ve ordered it. Nothing hard. Just enough to relax me as I shift my concentration from “those people” to “those people.”

This isn’t the Andrews who turned my life upside down with Ian these past two weeks. These are the Andrews who forget themselves once in a while and let everyone around them partake in their sexual escapades.

The club is quiet, aside from the music playing all around us. Another hostess comes by and asks if I need anything. I shoo her away and tell her I want to be left alone until the show is over. Time for Kathryn the voyeur to go into full throttle.

Like Ken, who spanks his wife’s ass and watches her shake in his grasp. Shit, that’s hot.

They’re both hot, when I allow myself to take a good look at them through the eyes of a sexual being. A handsome couple, the Andrews have always been known for their impeccable styles and flaunting what they have to their advantage. Even though Lana’s self-satisfied laugh annoys me, I can’t deny that the way her voice trills when her husband caresses her skin and whispers into her ear is erotic. Probably because she’s not meaning to be self-satisfied right now. She’s purely at Ken’s devotion and mercy.

He slowly disrobes until his open shirt is on display for the likes of me to see. He’s not as cut as Ian, but as far as Lana’s concerned, he is a fucking Adonis. When she gets down on her knees and lets him stroke her face, I know she’s so smitten that she’ll let him do whatever he wants in front of these people. And Ken Andrews wants what a vast majority of men want at any given moment.

He wants her to blow him.

I’ve seen a ton of cocks in my day, mostly here in this club. Ken’s is nothing special – not small by any means, but not special – and yet Lana is kneeling before him, sucking him off as if the sun rises and sets on everything he possesses. She’s lost in his eyes as he gazes upon her, hair in his hands and her skirt riding up her bare ass.

I’m sure they’ve done a performance like this a ton of times. It’s not uncommon for exhibitionists to perform once a month for the thrill of it. Most of the time we get bored after seeing the same tits and cocks do the same ol’ thing. The Andrews are different, because they feed off each other’s obsessions so well. I don’t doubt that they enjoy a very healthy sex life at home and see The Dark Hour as an extension, not a cure.

Briefly I wonder if they switch equally… or if Lana is usually the submissive wife in the bedroom, begging her husband to fuck every orifice and to make her come again and again.

My nipples brush against the edge of the table. Shit, this is turning me on. These two people I can barely stand in business, and yet in private I can’t stop watching them make love, Ken Andrews pushing his wife off his cock so he can bend her over and spank her.

“Were you a bad kitten today and need to be punished?” Ken’s guttural growl fills even me with tingles. “Tell everyone what you did today.”

Lana looks like she’s humiliated, but the edge in her voice suggests that she’s getting off so hard on this. “I made a bad stock investment and lost us a few dollars…”

Wonder how much that is.

“Yes, kitten, and now you have to look over the entire portfolio again, don’t you?”

She squirms in his lap. “Please, sir, punish me.”

I’ve seen Lana grab some balls and squeeze them before. This is not that scenario. This is a Lana that makes even me wet. She’s obedient, she knows her place, and she knows that she deserves whatever her Dom gives her. If I swung that way, she’s exactly the type of woman I would want.

A cracking spank echoes in the room. Ken laughs at the gasp on his wife’s face. “You want another one? I’ll spank you until you’re so wet my hand slips.”

He goes ahead, striking her pinking flesh over and over until her eyes roll back and her face tells me that she’s living in ecstasy. By now her skirt is hiked up over her hips, her tiny thong not covering her ass and barely covering her hairless pussy. Yes, I can see those details from way up here. Yes, I’m looking.

“You need to know your place, kitten.” Such biting words. “Right here in front of these people. Now keep your mouth shut and take your punishment.”

Ken doesn’t let any of us down. I almost want a cigarette from watching him pin his wife to the floor and fuck her from behind.

Hard.

Rough.

Lana is shrieking in pain and pleasure, probably not yet wet enough to take her husband’s cock. That’s part of her punishment. He wants her to feel the stings of pain in a place that is supposed to be nothing but pleasure.

It’s crude. It’s tough. And it’s so fucking hot that I finish my drink without realizing it.

There’s something beautiful about it. The way Lana opens her eyes and looks up at him, mouth agape and face pleading for him to do it faster. It’s the kind of look that only a tight knit couple could accomplish. You don’t see it often. A woman begging for release with her demeanor like that… and to have the man realize. They’re so in tune that it fills me with bitter jealousy. I’m turned on, but I’m also wishing that I could feel something like that…

I catch myself in the middle of that thought. What am I thinking? Am I high?