She would have asked Amanda if she could bring Damon with her to the party, since they already knew one another professionally, but he had an evening stakeout, and anyway it was probably better if she did her first work event on her own, without having to worry what Damon might think of her as a Domme.

  The doorbell had rung several times, and the guests would be appearing at any moment. They were expecting about thirty people, some of them clients of Serpent’s Den, some friends of Amanda’s.

  Amanda stopped in front of Rowan and looked her slowly up and down. “Honey, you look good enough to eat. The boys will be falling all over themselves to serve you, Mistress Marlena. Some of the girls, too.”

  Rowan smiled nervously, praying she could handle whatever was in store. Domming guys alone in a room was one thing, but tonight she was expected to engage in, or at least supervise, actual dungeon scenes with others, her new boss looking over her shoulder. She wished Damon could have been there, in case she needed advice or support.

  “I think I’ll have you run the auction,” Amanda continued. “It’s a good way for everyone to meet you. The slaves have already signed up, and the auction cards are waiting on the podium, right, Ben?”

  Ben nodded. “And the bidding chips, collars and leashes are by the entrance.”

  “Excellent. Donna and Marian, you hand out the chip envelopes and the collars and leashes for those who have signed up for the auction.” She turned back to Rowan. “At nine o’clock, we’ll make our way up to the stage. Once I introduce you, you can read the auction card details aloud for the audience and handle the bidding.”

  It didn’t sound too terribly complicated, though the thought of standing up on the stage in front of everyone was nerve-racking. Rowan had never been comfortable with public speaking, and all eyes would be on her.

  She opened her mouth to suggest maybe someone more experienced might want to run the auction, but Amanda continued without pause, “You can handle that, right? I’m sure you had similar duties at your club in California?”

  Rowan’s mouth snapped shut, the lie catching up with her. She’d pretended to experience she didn’t have, but did that necessarily include slave auctions? Maybe it did—Amanda certainly seemed to be acting as if it did. Trying to tamp down her jitters, she nodded. After all, look how far she’d come in only a week. “I can do that. No problem.”

  “Excellent.”

  A chime sounded through the speakers that were set up high around the perimeter of the room.

  “Eight thirty,” Amanda said. “The guests should have changed into their play clothes by now.” There was the rumble of footsteps pounding down the concrete basement stairs. “Here they come. Places, everyone.” She clapped her hands as if they were in a play and the curtains were about to go up. Ben walked quickly to a switch on the wall and adjusted the wall sconces from bright light to a candle flicker, casting the room with an eerie glow, though the light above the stage remained bright.

  People began pouring into the room, men and women dressed in everything from full leather gear to next to nothing. One topless woman in her forties had barbell piercings through her large, dark nipples. Two men wore nothing but cock cages, black collars and leashes around their necks. One of them was led in by a woman, the other by a man.

  Folks greeted each other, everyone apparently acquainted. Some of the people headed for the snacks and sodas, while others gravitated toward the various scene stations. Misha, a tall, burly, bare-chested bear of a man, stopped beside Ben and dropped to his knees with surprising grace for a man of such bulk. Ben stroked his curly head with obvious affection.

  Rowan saw and greeted two of her clients—Tommy and Billy. She scanned the faces for a glimpse of Hank and was relieved not to see him. She saw another client—Jared, the guy who had complained about her to Ben, but she didn’t seek him out. Hopefully, she’d manage to avoid him for the duration of the party.

  The doorbell rang a few more times, and Misha dashed away to let them in. Rowan retreated to the drinks table and grabbed a bottle of water, preferring to stand back a while and just take it all in.

  When the speaker chimed again, Amanda made her way toward the stage. Her heart kicking into gear, Rowan quickly followed, ascending the stairs nearest the podium as Amanda walked up on the other side.

  Amanda moved to the center of the stage and clapped her hands in that imperious way she had. The room quieted, all eyes moving to her. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, Masters, Mistresses, slaves, perverts all.” There was laughter as Amanda continued, “I’m so glad you could come this evening.”

  “That’s the plan,” someone called out with a guffaw.

  “Down, boy,” Amanda replied good-naturedly. “This is a BDSM play party, not an orgy.” Turning her attention back to the room at large, she continued, “You can party until midnight. You’ll hear a warning bell at eleven forty-five to let you know to start to wrap up your scene, and a final bell at midnight. Now, it’s time for a Serpent’s Den favorite, the slave auction. Six subs have signed up to be auctioned off for your use and amusement. Our auctioneer tonight is the lovely Mistress Marlena.”

  Amidst whoops and applause, Amanda turned toward Rowan, who had taken refuge behind the podium. “Come out, dear, so our guests can see you.”

  Hoping the heat in her face wasn’t manifesting as a blush, Rowan stepped to the center of the stage to stand beside Amanda. “A few of you have had the pleasure of being dommed by this young but formidable Mistress,” Amanda continued smoothly. “She still has slots available, if you wish to be considered for her stable.”

  “You can whip my ass any day of the week, babe. Our session was hot. I’ll definitely be coming back for more,” a client she recognized as Larry shouted out enthusiastically. The heat in Rowan’s face moved up to the tips of her ears, but she was pleased by his praise.

  “That’s Mistress Babe to you, boy,” Amanda corrected with a laugh. “Now, just to review the auction rules, if you win someone and they are owned, you’ll need to negotiate the scene with their owners. If they’re free agents, you can negotiate directly with the slave in question. Remember, house rules and the laws of New York City still apply—no exchange of bodily fluids. The house safeword is serpent.”

  Amanda touched her ostentatious snake tattoo, as if to reiterate the word. Then she clapped her hands together once more. “Slaves who signed up for bidding, please report to the side of the stage. You will go up when Mistress Marlena calls your name, and you will stand at attention during your introduction. Bidders, you have twenty chips in your envelope, so that’s obviously as high as the bidding can go. Chips are not transferable. In the event of a tie, the first bidder wins.”

  She flashed a grin at Rowan. “Please open the bidding, Mistress Marlena.” Turning back to the audience, she added in a theatrical tone, “Let the games begin!”

  The room quieted as Rowan returned to the podium and picked up the first index card. There was an actual gavel beside the small stack of cards. She was glad no one could see her legs, as she was pretty sure her knees were shaking. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the first card and read, “Slave Sadie is a free agent,” in a quavery voice.

  Damn it. You’re Mistress Marlena, she reminded herself. She cleared her throat and waited as Sadie, a tall, buxom woman with blazing red hair made her way up the stairs on Barbie-doll stilettos. She was dressed in a tight latex mini dress that barely contained her buxom curves. She wore one of the black dog collars Donna and Marian had handed out at the door, its short leather leash hanging from it between her breasts.

  As Sub Sadie lifted her hands behind her head and spread her legs shoulder-width apart, Rowan said, “Sub Sadie is available to a male or female Dom for flogging, caning, bondage and needle play.” Phew, no quaver. She could totally do this. “She is obedient and has a very high pain threshold. Marking acceptable, proper thanks offered after the party.”

  There was some laughter and light applause at this statement, which Rowan could only assume was an offer of sex afterward with whoever might purchase her for the evening. Recalling the Storage Wars show on TV, Rowan’s sole experience in running an auction, she said, “Bidding starts at one chip. Do I have one chip for Sub Sadie?”

  “One chip,” barked a short, dark man in black leather chaps and a cowboy hat.

  “Two chips,” called out a woman dressed in black leather pants and a matching bustier. A man was kneeling beside her, his leash in her hand.

  “Three chips,” the dark man countered.

  The bidding continued for about three more minutes, with several more people chiming in.

  “Twenty,” the small man finally yelled, and no one bothered to counter, since he’d opened the bid.

  “Sold,” Rowan called out, banging the gavel.

  The winner made his way to the stage, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. He handed his chip packet to Rowan and flashed a wolfish grin as he gave the woman’s leash a tug. They made an odd pair as they walked off the stage, she easily a foot taller than he in her high heels.

  Rowan picked up the second card. “Slave Mikie is owned by Mistress Colleen.”

  “That’s me,” a small, plump woman with highly teased blond hair called out.

  A middle-aged guy with thinning hair climbed up the stairs and walked to center stage. He was quite tall and thin, with ropy muscles in his arms and legs. He wore only a leather loincloth, in addition to the collar and leash.

  “Slave Mikie is a very naughty boy in need of a very hard spanking by an exacting Mistress. Bruising not only accepted, but hoped for.” There was some laughter at this.

  Rowan looked out at the audience. “I’ll open the bidding at one chip.”

  “Let’s see his ass,” a woman with a deep voice called out. Rowan glanced toward Mistress Colleen, who gave a curt nod.

  “Turn around for the guests,” Rowan, channeling Mistress Marlena, commanded.

  Mikie did as he was told, turning so his rather bony backside was to the audience.

  “Five chips,” said the woman who had asked to see his ass, and apparently found it satisfactory.

  As he was turning back around, another woman called out, “What about his package? I want to see what the boy’s packing under that loincloth.”

  Rowan willed herself not to blush. She looked again to Mistress Colleen for approval and received another quick nod. “Slave Mikie,” she directed, but he had already lifted the flap of leather covering his privates, revealing his shaved cock and balls. His shaft was pierced with several gold rings. Mikie didn’t seem in the least embarrassed. He grinned broadly out at the crowd, his penis rising as if someone had attached at bicycle pump to it.

  The bidding moved rapidly after that, quickly getting to twenty chips. The woman who won him appeared to be in her sixties, with iron gray hair pulled back from a no-nonsense face. She was large, with broad shoulders and a mean look in her eye, and Rowan was pretty sure Mikie would get that hard spanking he craved.

  It took another twenty minutes or so to auction off the rest of the slaves, and Rowan was more than ready to get off that stage when it was over.

  Amanda hadn’t given her a specific scene station to monitor, so she mingled with the crowd, talking first to the clients she recognized. Several men she hadn’t yet met clustered around her, asking about her weekly schedule. Ben had been right. If nothing else, this party was turning out to be a great way to pick up new clients.

  Scenes were taking place around the room, whips snapping, subs yelping, onlookers gawking. Some people had already disappeared to the private rooms just off the main dungeon.

  Rowan headed over to the drinks table to get a bottle of water. She had just taken a sip when Amanda appeared, Jared just behind her. He was probably in his early thirties, with dark blond hair and even, regular features. He was dressed in biker’s shorts, his chest and feet bare. He had the bulky, pumped muscles of someone who worked out regularly in a gym. He would have been handsome, but for the perpetual sneer on his face.

  “You did a nice job with the auction, Mistress Marlena,” Amanda said with an approving smile.

  “Thank you,” Rowan replied. “It was fun,” she added, surprised to realize it actually had been kind of fun, once she got her nerves under control.

  “You remember Jared?” Amanda continued, gesturing to him, her smile falling away. “He says he had a session with you last week.”

  Rowan swallowed hard, her stomach sinking. Was this where she would be called out for not being a real Domme? Had the bastard taken his complaint up the ladder to Amanda? She pressed her lips hard together to keep from saying something she might regret. If Jared had bad-mouthed her to Amanda, she’d try to do what damage control she could.

  But, to her relieved surprise, Amanda said, “This naughty boy wanted to apologize for his behavior the other day. Sub Jared would like to make amends. He has requested a caning scene with you, Mistress Marlena. I do believe there’s a whipping post available now.” It wasn’t a request.

  He would be asking for the very thing Rowan was least confident with. After her lessons with Damon, she’d tried the cane, sparingly, at one or two sessions, but wasn’t especially comfortable with it. Jared had already proved he wasn’t easy to please, and they didn’t have a good rapport. Damn it, she didn’t want to do a scene with him.

  She looked uneasily at him. He was smirking at her, as if to say, “I dare you to cane me. I know you’re going to totally fuck it up, and then I’ll really raise hell.”

  Amanda lifted an eyebrow, her lips pulling down in a frown. “Is there a problem, Mistress Marlena? This sub boy would like a caning. He has chosen you.”

  “No problem at all,” Rowan managed. Channeling full Mistress Marlena mode, she lifted her chin toward Jared. He’d complained she wasn’t Domme enough for him. She’d just have to prove him wrong. “Let’s go, boy. I’m going to cane your ass good, and you’re going to thank me for it.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” Jared replied in a sulky tone, still smirking.

  As Amanda nodded her approval, Rowan grabbed Jared by the ear and pulled him along to the whipping post, praying she was playing this right. Thankfully, Amanda didn’t follow them.

  Using cuffs she found in a basket filled with wrist restraints, shrink-wrapped ball gags and a tube of arnica by the umbrella stand, she secured Jared to the whipping post. She was angry at him for putting her in this situation, but also angry at herself for not having properly dommed him in the first place. Anger had no place in a BDSM scene, so she closed her eyes and breathed slowly, willing herself to calm down.

  She selected a thicker cane from the stand and took a few practice swings in the air, pleased when Jared flinched at the whistling sound. He twisted back to regard her, the sneer still painted on his blandly handsome face. “I’m onto you, Mistress. You may have the rest of them fooled, but not me. You’re no Domme.”

  “And you’re no sub,” she snapped, pissed off now. “Face the post and keep your mouth shut, boy, or I’ll gag you.”

  He laughed, the sound ugly, but he did as she said. “Pull down my shorts,” he directed, his back now to her. “You can’t gauge what you’re doing through the spandex. I want welts.”

  “You’ll get what I give you,” Rowan retorted. “Stop topping from the bottom.”

  He sniggered again, but he was right—she needed to see what she was doing, and how his skin reacted to the cane. Setting it aside for a moment, she yanked down his shorts, revealing his small, muscular bottom, white compared to his tan skin.

  “If you do me right,” he said, again twisting his head back and trying to angle his nearly naked body toward her, “I’ll let you suck my dick.”

  Suddenly she understood, and she almost laughed. He was nothing but a little boy who liked to push the envelope as far as he could before he got a swat on his behind. He was thirtysomething going on six. It was a big game to him, and she was just a game piece to move around for his amusement.

  “I do you right,” she replied, keeping her tone calm and even, “and you’ll get on your knees and lick my boot in thanks, boy.” She put her hands on her hips. “Now, what did I tell you? Face the post and shut your mouth. I don’t have time for brats.” She whipped the cane in the air near his head, pleased when he flinched again.

  He turned to the post and lewdly ground his crotch against it. Ignoring his taunting behavior, she assumed her position and adjusted her arm as Damon had taught her. The first stroke was hard enough to leave a line that darkened quickly to pink against his pale skin.

  “Ouch,” he said, though there was still laughter in his tone.

  Though she would have liked to whack the crap out of the jerk, she willed herself to slow down. Anger had zero place in a scene. And however much of an ass this guy was, Damon had taught her always to warm the skin and ready the nerve endings. A sub could take a lot more if you brought them to it slowly.

  She eased off, using a light but steady tap of the cane over his ass.

  “Are you tickling me or caning me?” he sassed with another snigger.

  “That’s it.” Rowan snapped. “I warned you.” Setting down the cane, she reached for one of the ball gags. She pulled away the sterile wrapping and moved to stand in front of Jared. “Open wide, sub boy.”

  Jared stared at the gag, his eyebrows lifting. “What about my safeword, Mistress? I’m so scared of you.”

 

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