Another Five Star Review for Sure Thing
Read the rest of Jacque’s review on the Jeep Diva. Meanwhile, here’s a sneak peep. Tom has taken Ashley to experience the delights of a BDSM club…
The Hermitage is a large detached house set in heavily wooded grounds. At Tom’s direction I slow down to drive through a large double gate and cruise slowly up the block-paved drive to a forecourt in front of a large Georgian-style house. It’s very grand, very imposing. There are maybe a dozen cars already parked out front, and lights seem to be blazing in every window. All the curtains and blinds are open, even though it’s now past eleven o’clock at night and pitch black outside. I peer through the windscreen and can see figures moving inside the building, shadowy silhouettes. And some of them—mainly female—look to be nude.
I glance at Tom, wide-eyed. He just grins and gets out of the car, walks round to open my driver’s door. I reach behind me for my light raincoat, intending to cover myself up, at least at first.
He stops me, his hand on my wrist. “No coat.” His words are simple, but he intends me to obey.
I chew my lip again, a habit I’ve indulged in rather a lot today.
My inhibitions around nudity with Tom are now faded to a distant memory, but this is not going to be just the two of us. I’m naturally a shy person, modest. Or at least I like to think so. There are men in there as well as women. And I’m as good as naked. I look up at him from my hiding place in the driver’s seat, pleading wordlessly.
He shakes his head. “You won’t feel out of place. All the women in there will be dressed like you, apart from those who are totally naked, depends on what their Dom’s have instructed. The house subs will definitely be naked. Come on. When we’re inside, walk behind me. And don’t talk to anyone unless they address you first, and then only with my permission.”
I’m incredulous, outraged really, and can’t help expressing it. “What? That’s ridiculous. It’s like something out of the Dark Ages.”
He smiles, inclines his head to suggest he might agree with my assessment, but doesn’t offer any further comment. Instead he holds out his hand, clearly intending me to get out of the car. Now. I’m distinctly uneasy but after the last few weeks I’ve become accustomed to obeying Tom when he’s in Dom mode, so I take his hand and climb out to stand alongside him, shivering in the distinctly chilly late February evening. Neither of us are dressed for the weather—we must be mad. He puts his arm around my shoulders, hugs me briefly before stepping away, expecting me to follow. His words are tossed back over his retreating shoulder at me. I have to scramble to keep up, to hear his instructions.
“At Greystones we make our own rules, but here the strict Dom/sub protocols apply. You’ll feel more comfortable going along with it. If you don’t, I’ll be expected to punish you for insubordination. And neither of us really wants that, do we?” He glances back at me, my silence apparently no longer acceptable. He wants an answer. He wants my agreement to this bizarre arrangement.
“Do we?” His voice has hardened the thread of implacable steel unmistakable.
“Call me Sir, without fail, while we’re here. Please try to remember that, Ashley, because if you don’t that’ll earn you a spanking. A public spanking. Do you understand?”
“What? You wouldn’t really do that. Would you?” I’m seriously considering turning on my heel and marching back to my car. I never anticipated tonight’s little outing might entail public humiliation for me, though I suppose the clues were there when I saw my costume for the evening. Frozen to the spot—both literally and figuratively—I stand shivering in the driveway, my arms crossed protectively in front of me in a vain attempt to keep warm and cover my breasts. Tom realises I’m not at his heels, stops, turns, then comes back to stand before me. He has his stern Dom face on, but there’s a tenderness, an understanding in his eyes I find heartening.
“I can see how much that would upset you, and I’ve no wish to do anything to you that you don’t agree to willingly. Please, Ashley, this is awkward. I can see I should have explained the rules to you in more detail, but we are where we are. Just for this evening, please, don’t put me in a position where my authority as your Dom has to be tested.”
I appreciate his concession, he’s now requesting rather than demanding my compliance, but I’m still not at all sure I can accept this. Feeling distinctly cheated that he didn’t make the “rules” more clear before I agreed to come here, I nod and follow him grumpily across the forecourt, up the three stone steps to the large double doors which open even before we get to them. A tall man in evening dress bows his head to Tom and totally ignores me despite what I consider my extremely attention-seeking appearance.
“May I see your membership card please, sir?” he enquires politely.
Tom pulls out his wallet and flashes a credit card sized pass in front of the doorman, who nods politely.
“Welcome back to The Hermitage, Mr Shore. Will you and your guest be playing tonight?” His first acknowledgment of my presence.
“Possibly, thank you. We haven’t decided. My guest is new to our lifestyle, she needs to explore, discover her nature somewhat. Is the dungeon busy this evening?”
“Yes, sir. Several of our guests are already enjoying the facilities.”
By now we’re inside the large lobby, and Tom has returned his wallet to the back pocket of his jeans. Despite the chilly evening he’s only wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt. I glance around, and this seems to be pretty standard dress for the few Doms in evidence around the place. As Tom told me they would be, the submissives are as exposed as I am, and no one is turning a hair.
“Is your companion aware of the rules and protocols of the house, sir?” The doorman is perfectly polite but clearly not about to let us proceed any further until he’s satisfied I know how to behave, apparently.
I move to reply but Tom silences me with a gesture. He answers for me.
“She is, Michael. She’s played with me several times and understands how to use her safe words. She’s familiar with many of our activities already but feels she’d like a little more—variety.”
The tall guardian of—whatever—turns to me, addresses me directly for the first time. “I hope you will find our facilities to your liking. My name is Michael and I am in charge here this evening. Myself and my staff will be on hand in all the public rooms if you require any help or guidance. What are your safe words, please?”
“I—Smithy’s Forge…” I mutter, glancing up at Tom for approval.
He nods briefly.
Michael, the apparent guardian of public safety, continues, his eyes commendably fixed on my face throughout our bizarre exchange. “I see, and is that your signal to stop all activity immediately?”
“Yes, it is,” I respond, my voice quiet but gaining in confidence. Somehow, my skimpy dress and downright illicit intentions for this evening no longer seem so outlandish. I tip my chin up, meet Tom’s amused eyes, before looking around the hallway.