Madame (Salacious Players' Club, #6)

by Sara Cate

I’m sorry, but you should leave. Just say those words, Eden. Just say, I think you should leave. Maybe it’s the innocence in her eyes or how afraid she looks at this moment. It must have taken some serious guts to make this appointment and walk in here. If I turn her away, that would be humiliating. Something she might never get over.

In the split second it takes me to stare at her lips, I imagine him kissing them. I think you should leave. “Why don’t you have a seat?” I say instead.

“No,” she replies, shaking her head. “And I don’t plan on telling him. I just want to understand.” “Understand what?” She leans forward. “Not once in the last five months has he asked for me to be…” She waves at me as if I am the embodiment of some internalized desire. “Dominant,” I answer for her. She nods. “Yes.” “I’m sorry to tell you this, but it’s possible he never will.”

How do I explain this to her? What Clay and I had wasn’t something that came naturally, at least not to him. Which means he’ll likely never ask for it from her. To him, I was a safe place to explore, safe from the judgment of others who had already imposed a sense of toxic masculinity into his psyche. With me, he didn’t have to feel embarrassed by how much he loved to submit.

“I thought you’d be more eager to help me.” “Why—” “Because I read your blog, and not just the kinky stuff. I went far enough back through your posts to see that you were once curious and naive like me. You know what it’s like to be a woman who wants to learn without real guidance. You know what it’s like to be terrified, afraid you’ll be taken advantage of.” “Yes, but I never did it to please a man.” My voice is so flat and cruel I almost don’t recognize myself.

“You think I wouldn’t like to be with a Domme?” A chuckle escapes my lips. “I didn’t say you wouldn’t like it. I said I’m not your type. There’s a difference.” “So you think I would like it?” he replies. I notice he’s a bit closer than he was before. I erase the distance between us, whispering only a few inches from his face, “Oh, I know you would.”

The closeness of our mouths doesn’t seem to affect him at all. “Prove it.” “That’ll cost you,” I say, finding his eyes with my own. We’re mere inches apart as he smiles. “That’s not a problem.” “You’ll have to do everything I tell you to,” I add, still staring into his eyes. “That’s not a problem,” he says again. “And I’m not promising sex.”

“Five fifty for one hour.” His disarming gaze drifts down to my lips, almost as if he didn’t even hear me tell him my rate. “You never told me your name,” he says, still staring at my mouth. My lips part and I reply with confidence, “Madame Kink.”

There’s not a moment of hesitation. With a shake of his head, he leans in again. “No, I mean your real name.” My real name. I don’t like to give my real name to strangers, but this man is staring into my eyes like he’s looking right past Madame Kink. And I don’t have a choice. Later, I’ll wonder why I didn’t tell him no or laugh it off. But I’ll never fully understand why I make the most fatal mistake of all. I let him see through the wall. “Eden,” I whisper.

“Your safe words are simple. They work like a traffic light. Green means go. Yellow means slow down or pause. Red means stop. Are we clear?” “Yeah,” I reply with a shrug. “Madame. Yes, Madame.” A snicker slips through my lips. “Yes, Madame.” “Is something funny?” she replies seriously, stepping closer. This is not the same woman I just flirted with at the bar. As soon as we walked into this space, everything changed. I can’t quite tell yet if I love it or hate it. “No, Madame,”

“Then why are you laughing?” she asks, looking disappointed. “That’s disrespectful. Are you being disrespectful?” “No, Madame,” I repeat, my smile fading. Her eyes narrow as she scrutinizes me. “Should I punish you?” Something flutters low in my groin at the idea of punishment. My eyes instantly track to the crop in her hand, and I imagine what it might feel like to have it slapped across my back. I could take it, but do I want to? My dick doesn’t seem to hate the idea. That’s new.

“You’re a good little puppy, aren’t you?” she asks, lifting her shiny black high-heeled shoe and pressing the toe against my chest. Without a word, I slink back to my heels, still staring up at her with a smirk on my face. “I’ll be your puppy,” I reply snarkily. “Tsk, tsk,” she says, touching the crop to my lips. “The only words that should come out of your mouth, aside from your safe words, are yes and Madame. Are we clear, pet?” I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling even more. “Yes, Madame.”

And sometimes, my head is like a prison, and I’m locked behind the bars of memory and regret. Sometimes it’s work. Sometimes it’s my mother. But lately, it’s her. Eden. My Madame.

I don’t say any of that because that’s against the rules. She said I could only utter two words: yes and Madame. Well, that and red, yellow, and green for the safe-word system if I need to stop anything, which I won’t. There’s nothing this goddess of a woman could do to me that could make me say red.

“Here’s the deal, pet. You do as I say, and I’ll reward you. Maybe I’ll wrap my lips around your cock. Maybe I’ll let you bury your face between my legs. Either way, you get what you want by pleasing me.” Her riding crop touches my chin as she guides my face upward. “And you want to please me, don’t you?” Her voice is gentle and seductive. “Yes, Madame,” I stutter.

“Kiss my shoes.” I don’t move. What is the point of this? When she leans down, pressing her mouth closer to my ear, I feel a wave of excitement from her proximity. Then she whispers, “I want you to worship me, pet. It’s so simple, but you can’t do it, can you? And I thought you were such a good boy.”

“Come closer,” she says, and I step up to her so my cock is pointing right at her chest. “You’re perfect,” she mumbles, looking up at me. “Why are you nervous?” “I…I don’t know.” Reaching out, she wraps her hand around my length, and I shudder. “Is this all for me?” Her words nearly steal the breath from my chest as I gaze down at her. “Yes, Madame,” I reply, a bolt of electric arousal shooting down my spine.

“You really are perfect. I want to make you do so many things, pet. Would you like that?” “Yes, Madame.” My voice is strained as I try to focus on the pleasure of her touch. “Would you like to come?” A whimper escapes my lips, and it’s humiliating. “Yes, Madame,” I reply.

As my balls tighten and my body seizes in anticipation of the climax, she tugs down on my sack and releases her hand. I let out a gasp and stare down at her in disbelief. “Do not come,” she commands in a cool, ruthless tone. What the fuck? She leans back and stares at me without pity. I’m out of breath and in shock as I wait for her to speak. Then she whispers, “Good boy,” and something inside me changes. “I like the way you obey me, pet.” And just like that, I want something far more than an orgasm.

“Well, aren’t you going to clean this up?” I look around the room, wondering what I’m supposed to use, and when my eyes cast downward to her face, I know.

Something makes me hesitate—shame or embarrassment. But then I remember it’s just her and me. And she doesn’t judge me here. She’s literally telling me to do it. From that moment, I realize how free I am in this room. Slowly I drop to my knees and gaze up at the spots on her chest. Then I do something I’ve never done before. I draw my tongue along the surface of her chest, licking up the salty mess I left behind.

When I look up into her eyes, she’s wearing an expression resembling pride. Then she winds her fingers in my hair and smiles. “Good boy.” And just like that, those two words become my undoing.

In a fit of frustration, I type up a new message. I always trusted you, and I always obeyed. So now, tell me to stay gone, and I will. I don’t even read it back before hitting Send.

“I think it’s the former,” I reply, trying to maintain some composure. “I think you found security in the Domme/sub practices, and you need⁠—” “Oh bullshit, Eden!” he barks into the phone. “Why do you have to do that? Why do you have to make everything sound so cold and emotionless? Why can’t you admit that what we had wasn’t just part of your job? What we had was fucking amazing.”

“Tell me to stay gone, Eden. One last command that I promise to obey. I always was good at obeying, wasn’t I?” The stinging in my throat is excruciating now. “Please say it, Eden. I’m fucking begging you to. I just need to hear you say it so I can move on.” When I blink, a tear slips over my cheek, taking me by surprise. I stand up in a rush and wipe it away. “I have to go,” I mutter. Before I can speak another word, I hit the red button, and the line goes dead.

“Whenever I see you at the club, you’re drinking alcohol. If you’re going to be mine, then I want you to stay hydrated. Understand?” “Yours, Madame?” I walk over and touch his chin, tipping his head back. “You want to be mine, don’t you?” His breath hitches as his piercing green gaze bores into mine. “Yes, Madame.” “Good. Then I expect you to take care of what’s mine. Hydrate. Eat well. Exercise. Understood?”

On his next exhale, something calm and at ease washes over his expression. And in that moment, I start to truly understand Clay. He loves to know what is expected of him. He loves easy tasks explained to him, and he loves praise.

“Be a good boy and lie down so I can ride your face until I come.” My voice is raspy and deeper than normal as I mumble the words against his ear. He immediately freezes, his hand stopping on my thigh, and I swear I can feel his dick twitch against my leg. Then he lifts up and stares into my eyes. “Jesus Christ, Jade. That was so fucking hot.”

“I want to go back to work with the taste of your pussy on my lips,”

“Don’t stop,” I whisper. When I close my eyes, I think about something sexy to get me there. The sounds of his ravenous moans and my heavy breathing are the backdrop for whatever I can conjure in my head to get me off.

Then suddenly, I’m picturing her. Which is unexpected. Madame in black leather, long black hair, and breasts spilling from the top of her bra. I can practically hear her voice, sultry and commanding. She’s talking me through it. Telling me how good I’m doing. Telling me how hot I look. Telling me how dirty I am. Then, in my mind, she tells me to come. And I do.

“You make me so happy, Jade. I hope you know that.” The corner of my mouth lifts in a gentle smile. “You make me happy too.” He buries his hand in my hair at the nape of my neck and pulls me in for another kiss. “I’m serious,” he says as he pulls away. I wrap my arms around his chest with a smile. “You didn’t even get to come.” He laughs. “I don’t need to. Making you come is more than enough for me.”

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Clay Bradley, would it?” I freeze, one hand in my makeup bag. “No. Why would it?” I ask nonchalantly. “Because things with you were almost never complicated—until he came along.” I swallow, forcing my face to stay even. “He was just a client, but he’s stopped coming.”

“I honestly have no clue what I can teach this girl.” She turns toward me, wearing an expression of surprise. “Are you kidding me? You’re Madame fucking Kink. She’s literally learning from the best.” I roll my eyes with a laugh. “Just think about it this way,” she adds. “Teach her everything you wanted to know when you were learning. The rest will come naturally because you’re not a pretentious bitch.”

“Damn, Mia,” I say, raking my eyes over her body. “You look fucking hot. They’re going to go nuts.” She blushes and gives me a sweet smile. “Thanks. Garrett picked it out.” “He still sends you secret gifts, then?” “No. Player428 does,” she replies, smiling to herself. “Which is Garrett.” She laughs. “Yes. But you know…we’re married now. We have to keep that spark going for the rest of our lives.”

I think about what Mia has with Garrett and what Charlotte has with Emerson, Isabel with Hunter and Drake, and Maggie with Beau. It’s hard not to feel a hint of resentment toward them. I never wanted what they have.

I had my chance at love fifteen years ago. I picked the wrong guy, jumped headfirst into marriage, and paid the price. One very bad man ruined the entire idea of love for me.

I let her ramble for a few minutes. Mostly to grasp a better understanding of how much she understands, but also because…I like to watch her talk. She’s so animated and enthusiastic. Jade doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who embarrasses easily, and I find that endearing but also…sexy.

There’s so much a person could do with a woman like Jade. She’s curious and eager, without fear or shame or judgment. As much as she wants to be dominant, I have a feeling she’d also be a beautiful submissive.

“It sounds like you’ve done your research. You understand the what, but do you understand the why?” Her brows pinch in...

I lean back in my chair. “Dominance is about so much more than control. It’s about connection and trust. It’s about pleasure and knowing what you want. Does the idea of having control of someone else turn you on?” She seems to think about this for a moment before she bites ...

“The first thing you need to do is completely unlearn everything you know about sexuality and shame. You grew up in a world that conditioned you to believe that men are more sex-driven than women and that any woman who enjoys and values sex is a whore, slut, et cetera. So, our first lesson is going to show you what an empowered, sexual woman looks like.”

“The first step in understanding dominance is harnessing the confidence to demand what you want and knowing it’s your right to take it. Yes, it sounds selfish. It’s supposed to be.” “Okay,” I stammer as I catch up.

“People just watch…” I mumble. I never finish my question because a moment later, we’re standing among a crowd gathered around one particular window. Then I’m struck speechless.

Immediately, I feel the warmth of arousal percolating in my belly. There’s just something about the way she’s moving and how people are watching her with rapt attention.

There are a few men back here too, but they’re all with partners, except for one who is leaning against the back wall, watching her with a playful smirk on his face.

“There is no shame in expressing yourself sexually here. Which means women pleasure themselves without judgment.” “Here? Just out in the open?”

Then I feel Eden’s breath on my cheek again. “If you’re going to be a people pleaser, then the first person you need to please is yourself.” “I can’t,” I whisper.

“You can please yourself if you want to.” Her voice is so quiet next to my ear that it’s like she’s inside my head. “I can’t,” I reply. I feel every breath and pound of my heart like my body is louder than it normally is. “Why not?” My head shakes slowly in response. “I don’t know.” “Don’t you want to?” she asks. “Don’t you have an aching need between your legs right now?” It’s suddenly hard to breathe. Slowly, I nod. “Does she look embarrassed?” she asks, nodding toward the girl who looks ready to come at any moment.

“No.” “Because she takes what she wants and is not ashamed of it. It’s what she deserves. Before you can ask for what you want in the bedroom, you have to learn how to put yourself first.”