Madame (Salacious Players' Club, #6)

by Sara Cate

I can do that. Just today, I expressed what I wanted with Clay, but it was hard for me, wasn’t it? I was nervous that I was asking too much by wanting him to go down on me and make me come without receiving anything in return. But how much have I offered to do that for him? Do I really put him first more than myself?

“Me? In there?” “Eventually,” she replies confidently. “Do you go in there?” I ask as we reach the main room, heading toward the bar. She responds with a sexy sort of chuckle. “Yes. All the time. I find it empowering.”

Now that I’ve spent a few days with Jade, I can see why Clay likes her so much. She’s confident but not cocky. Cute, but also sexy. Smart, yet curious and naive. She’s a walking, talking paradox, and I don’t think I would ever get bored unraveling all of her personality’s complicated bits. All this to say, I like her.

“Do you prefer ropes or cuffs?” she asks while she works. “It depends. Rope bondage requires patience from both the rigger and the bunny. Not everyone enjoys that.” “Do you?” she asks, glancing up at me. “Sometimes. Rope bondage allows for control over your submissive. Rather than just binding their wrists or ankles, they surrender control over their entire body.”

“All forms of bondage take a great deal of trust,” I say. “The more of their body they surrender to you, the more they trust you. Having that level of power over someone else is…” “An honor,” she says,

“Can you call him?” he asks in a desperate whine. “No, buddy. I can’t call him.” I wish he would drop the whole Clay thing, but he’s literally been bringing him up almost daily for two weeks. He met him once and for literally five minutes. Once he realized Clay and I knew each other from work, he became obsessed with seeing him again. “Well, can we just go to the movies and maybe⁠—” “Jack, drop it!” I snap.

I watch him playing from the bench while tears well in my eyes, hidden behind my sunglasses. My son is lonely. The thought echoes in my mind like a spell, hurting more and more each time it runs through it. What if I’m not enough? Am I a monster? He wants a friend, and I keep denying him that.

His walk turns into a bounce as he grins excitedly up at me. “Really?” “Yes.” His arms latch around my waist as he hugs me so tight I feel the tears threaten to sting again. “You’re the best mama in the whole world.”

Leaning down, I brush his curls back and kiss his forehead. Then I take his hand in mine as we continue our walk. Deep down, I hope Clay shows up tonight, for Jack’s sake. Deep down, I hope he doesn’t, for mine.

I love Jade. I want to give her everything, and I meant what I said last week. She makes me so fucking happy. And yet, here I am typing my response.

“I want you to watch me…while I watch you.” My smile fades, and I blink at her. “Oh, God. You hate it,” she cries, noticing my less-than-enthusiastic reaction. “No, it’s fine. It sounds…hot as fuck, baby.” “Then why did you look like I just suggested we paint each other’s fingernails?” I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. How can I tell her that I reacted that way because just a few moments ago, I remembered that very same scenario with Eden?

“I want to watch you masturbate right on my desk so every day I can picture it while I work.” I drop into my office chair and lean back, unbuttoning and unzipping my pants as I stare at her. Jade is biting her bottom lip with a mischievous smile. “Touch yourself, baby. Let me see you.”

“Well, now I’m nervous,” she replies, looking to the side. I roll the chair so I’m sitting between her legs. Then I clench my jaw, remembering that night with someone else. I reach into my unbuttoned pants and pull out my cock. Jade’s eyes dilate at the sight, and she watches as I stroke myself. It’s like déjà vu.

But something is different this time. It has nothing to do with this being a different person and everything to do with this dynamic between us. Jade needs my encouragement and my support. She needs me. I’m not doing this to impress her or please her. I’m doing this because I want to be the person she trusts. The person to take care of her.

I was Eden’s. Jade is mine.

“Let me see you come on my desk, baby. My dirty, filthy girl. Show me how fucking nasty you can be.” Talking her through it does the trick. Her mouth hangs open, and a desperate-sounding moan escapes her lips.

It takes my slow brain a while to comprehend who Jack is. Her son. Eden is texting me about her son. I literally thought she wanted to see me, and I was ready to do what? Fuck her if that’s what she wanted. No. I wouldn’t have done that. Would I? I’m not that guy. Or am I?

“Don’t you think you deserved it?” I hesitate for a moment. “No. I didn’t do anything.” “You obeyed me. You’ve done as I told you to for weeks. Does it make you uncomfortable for me to watch you rewarding yourself?” “Yes,” I reply. “You’re not kind enough to yourself, pet. I notice the way you don’t like to receive rewards. You think you don’t deserve it or that you’re not good enough. I can tell. But you’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Madame,” I say, forcing my voice not to crack. “That’s not how I want you to treat what’s mine. You should pleasure what’s mine. You should value what’s mine. Never think or talk bad about what’s mine. Understand?”

Clay pauses near me for a moment. Our eyes meet in a heated, tense glance as I cross my arms in front of myself. “Thanks for doing this,” I whisper. With a cold expression, he says, “I’m not doing it for you.” I glance toward my son again and swallow down my guilt. “He’s a cool kid. Only wish I knew about him sooner.” I shift my gaze back to his face. “Clay⁠—”

A few minutes later, I return to the table with a soda cup for Jack and a pitcher of beer for me and Clay. The two of them are sorting through the candy Jack won, and when I catch him trying to hide the already-emptied wrappers, I glare at Clay. “Normally, we eat dinner before we have candy.” “Oops,” Clay replies with a mouthful of chocolate, which makes Jack giggle like crazy.

“You’re on a baseball team?” Clay asks. Jack nods, with his lips around the straw of his soda. “Yep! I play first base.” “No way!” Clay replies enthusiastically. “I used to play first base!” “Really?” “Yes.” “Do you want to come to my game? Mama, when is my next game?” Jack asks, tugging on my shirt. “Clay’s probably busy, buddy,” I reply. “I’m not busy,” he argues, winking at Jack. With a sigh, I glare at the man across from me. “His game is next Saturday at one.”

I can’t keep my child to myself forever. I’ve been a constant in Jack’s life since he was born, but someday, I won’t be his number one. And while it’ll probably be a long time before that happens, it still hurts to think about it. I’m Madame. And I’m Mama. Who am I without those two things?

“I know you do, Eden,” he says carefully as he backs away. On a second thought, he turns back toward me. “I’m with Jade now. I won’t betray her trust. Not even for you.” It feels like a knife in my chest as I swallow down the bitterness building there. Jade has Clay and Clay has Jade. I’m supposed to respect that. I’m supposed to be happy for them.

“It’s not about whether or not I love it. It’s an integral part of the process,” I reply. We’re sitting on the bed. His back is to the headboard with his legs splayed out before him. I can’t take my eyes off his face, watching how he locks up his emotions behind a cynical laugh or sarcastic joke. “I let you treat me like a footstool, and then I got to wear your thighs like earmuffs. I don’t understand why I need water after that.”

“Everyone needs water to survive, Clay. I’m just taking care of what’s mine. Remember?” When his eyes meet mine, there’s a warm familiarity there. He’s comfortable with me after only one month. “And I thought there would be more whips and paddles,” he says.

“We’ll get to that eventually,” I reply, reclining beside him on the bed. “You haven’t required punishment…yet.” “You assume I’m coming back,” he says, which makes me laugh because it’s turned into a running joke. I say, ‘See you next time,’ and he says, ‘If I ever come back.’ Which he inevitably does every night.

“How did you get started with this lifestyle?” he asks innocently as if he doesn’t see how invasive that is. Our eyes meet momentarily, and I feel something I’ve never felt with a client. It’s intimate and disarming.

“Umm…” I stammer, sitting up. “I got out of a bad relationship and needed to feel empowered and regain some control. It helped me discover a part of myself I had kept hidden my entire life.” “Wow,” he whispers, those stunning green eyes still focused on my face. “How long ago was that?” “Six years,” I whisper. “Did it help?” “Immensely,” I reply, staring into his eyes again.

“What do you like about being a Domme?” I ask, folding my arms on the table. She tilts her head to the side and deliberates before answering. “To be honest, I used to be like you—a people pleaser. I didn’t know how to take what I wanted, which landed me in a mess of trouble. So, after I clawed my way out, I decided I didn’t want to live like that anymore. I wanted to be a better version of myself.”

“Wow,” I mutter. Then she leans forward and looks into my eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with being submissive or selfless, but you have to know your own boundaries before you can expect anyone else to respect them.” I lean toward her, mirroring her position so we’re only inches apart, hovering over our drinks. “What if you don’t know what you want? Or who you are? Or what your boundaries are? What if…you love someone and you want to give them everything they need?”

“Have you ever loved someone like that?” I ask with desperation. To my surprise, she nods. “Yes, I did and I do.” Then her hand lands softly on mine. “But what you want and who you are matters, Jade. No amount of love for someone else can change that.”

“Have you met any couples with mismatched kinks before?” I ask after I’ve taken my sip. “Oh, tons,” she replies. “My best friend and his wife, actually. She loves impact play, and he doesn’t like bringing her pain, no matter how much she wants him to.” “So what do they do?” I ask. This makes her smile. “They bring in reinforcements.” By the wicked smirk she’s wearing, I assume she is the reinforcement.

Then the app literally says: You are good at making decisions. Agree or disagree. “Well, that’s just rude,” I mumble to myself. Disagree. I’m terrible at making decisions. They’re easy if the decision is decided for me by someone else…but that’s not really a decision, is it?

Do you like to be dominated in the bedroom? Sometimes. Would you be open to multiple partners in the bedroom? Maybe. How do you feel about being watched by others while masturbating or having sex? Neutral. Okay, I suck at this.

All of my answers feel so boring and indecisive. Am I broken? So I like the idea of being in control and also the idea of being controlled. Doesn’t everyone? I suck at making decisions, but I love the idea of knowing exactly what my partner needs and giving that to them. Where is that question?

By the time I reach the end, I’ve lost complete faith in myself and this quiz. While the results generate, I suck down what’s left of my drink. When the results page says the word Switch, I first assume that means I’m supposed to switch answers or life choices. But then, I click on the link provided and read up on what these results mean.

Switches prefer to change roles in the bedroom depending on their mood, partner(s), or situation. They enjoy both dominant and submissive roles and often pair well with other switches. Well, great, I huff. Even my sex life is unable to make a decision.

To my right, a man is spanking another man over his lap. His ass is marked red as he howls with each slap. I find myself watching them for a few moments, putting myself in each of their shoes. If I’m truly a switch, then I’d enjoy both of those roles, right?

I picture myself as the man in the chair, rubbing the raw, cherry-red flesh of someone’s ass before inflicting more pain just to hear them scream. I don’t consider myself much of a masochist, but the idea of inflicting pain and holding that control does arouse me in a unique and exciting way. I feel the warmth pooling between my legs as proof.

Then I picture myself as the man in his lap. By the way he’s rutting, he’s clearly getting off on the scene. The idea of being in trouble and punished is oddly ar...

When I turn around to see the next room, my feet freeze on the floor. I stare in shock as I take in the sight. It’s a woman tied like a starfish to a large black platform bed. There’s a man sitting in a chair near the corner, half-naked and watching as the woman on the bed is practically tortured—with pain or pleasure, I can’t tell.

It’s the person doing the torturing that has my mouth dry as sandpaper and my heart thumping rapidly in my chest—Eden.

Or rather, this is truly Madame Kink. She’s in black leather, her long black hair pulled into a tight ponytail at the back of her head. She’s leaning over the woman strapped to the bed,...

I watch as Eden leans closer to her, petting her body with her soft hands as her mouth forms the words, good girl. My stomach turns, and the arousal I felt a moment ago feels more like sick regret. I have no idea why I’m reacting this way. I’ve always wanted to watch Eden work, but now…it feels wrong. It feels like…a betrayal, like being cheated on.

It’s not like I can be jealous for not getting something I didn’t ask for. Duh, Jade. And yet, watching her give this woman such precise care and focused attention makes me so…irritable. What is wrong with me?

Eden is so captivating in her actions. She’s like an artist at work, and although the attention she gives this other woman drives me crazy, it’s also endearing in a way. Eden cares for her work, which means she cares for every single person who comes to see her. Something about that makes my heart swell. Especially when I momentarily close my eyes, picturing myself on the platform.

Is this what she does for other couples? Like what she said she does for her friend and his wife? Like some hired tool used to spice up their love life?

Why does that annoy me? It’s clearly her choice and her job, but the thought of Eden being used like a pawn for other people’s relationships has me fuming and wanting to burst into that room and drag her out. Who’s spicing up her relationships? Who’s whispering encouraging words in her ear? Who’s checking up on her? Why does she settle for this?

First, I got off thinking about Eden while I was having sex with Clay. Then I literally started masturbating while watching her pleasure another woman. What on earth is going on with me? What is my obsession with this woman?