I lead her out of the room, my hand along her back and it’s only then that I realize she’s not collared. I can’t allow that. I want everyone to know she’s mine.
“To the right, treasure,” I say and pull her slightly, my fingers slipping around her waist, my thumb brushing easily along her hip and bringing her closer to me as we enter the Club X store, Sex and Submission.
“You need a collar.” She smiles slightly and looks up at me as the words hit her. That touch of shyness comes over her as she brushes her hair behind her ear. I love that about her. That sweet bashfulness that she has.
I should have already bought her a collar. From the moment she set foot through those doors, she should have been labeled as mine. I’ll have to get her a necklace, too. I always want a symbol of my possession around her neck.
The shop’s walls are made of glass and arranged in a way that makes it look as though it’s all purposefully arranged decoration. Just like the rest of the club, it shines with luxury.
Dahlia’s eyes lock onto the collars on black velvet display stands the moment we enter. There are a variety, but none of them are good enough. She should be draped in gold. Just as she was when I first saw her. I’ll get her something temporary for now, but as soon as we’re home, I’m buying her one that’s deserving of her beauty.
Dahlia walks toward the collars of her own accord and then freezes, looking back at me with frightened eyes. I merely nod and stay by the register.
She gently touches a few collars, but doesn’t pick any of them up although she goes back to one three times before she finally settles on it.
It’s a simple flat silver band with a single loop at the front, and a lock and key closure.
Knowing she won't be able to take it off once I put it on her sends a thrill I can only partially understand shooting through me.
I’m more than happy she chose one with this type of closure, and I make a mental note to make sure her next collar has the same. I glance at the price tag on the underside before making my way to the register. $15,000. Dahlia seems somewhat uncomfortable behind me, a question on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn’t ask it.
“Member ID?” the woman behind the counter asks softly as I pass her the collar.
“Mister 646D,” I answer. I could use my name, but I still prefer the anonymity.
“And would you like it now, or shall I box it for you?”
“I’ll have it now.” I quickly take it, along with the lock and turn to my treasure. She lifts her thick locks up and shivers as I slip the metal collar around her neck. I’m tempted to put the lock in the front, so everyone can see, but I place it on her as it’s meant to go and run my hands down her shoulders and kiss her hair before slipping the lock into my pocket.
“All set?” I ask the attendant. They charge my tab rather than requiring cards to be used. It's more convenient this way.
“Yes, sir. I hope you two have a delightful evening.”
I can’t help but glance at the collar around my treasure’s neck as we leave. Her fingers gently touch the silver band.
“Do you like it?” she asks me as we walk through the hallway and to the restaurant for dinner.
“I love it, because it shows them all that you belong to me.” Her lips part with a lust-filled gasp, and she reaches for my hand. Before she can pull it away, like she’s done so many times before, I snatch it and give her a gentle squeeze before bringing her hand to my lips and kissing the underside of her wrist.
The hallway is empty, and the faint sounds from the playroom diminish the closer we get to the dining hall. Dahlia looks back twice at the sounds of a whip and then again at the sounds of a loud moan.
Her innocence pulls a smirk to my lips.
I nod at Isaac, the first person I see as we walk through the grand entrance and make my way over to him, proudly leading Dahlia toward him. I watch as he takes her in. She’s not dressed as she should be. But she wasn’t prepared, and I have no intention of taking her to the playroom now. Just dinner, and then home. We’ll come back for a show and she can get a taste of what the club has to offer. But only once I know how to help her better. I need to make sure every action aids in her recovery.
Isaac tips his beer at me as we take a seat in his booth. It’s in the back of the hall and facing the stage with a good view of everyone else. Working security, he’s always chosen seats with ample viewing and easy access to an exit. Some things never change.
Dahlia’s quiet as we take our seats and she’s so tense, it seems she’s not even breathing. “Relax, treasure,” I whisper into her ear and gently kiss her cheek.
“How are you enjoying Lucian’s company, Dahlia?” Isaac asks, and her eyes widen for a split second, wondering how he knew her name. I have no intention of telling her, so she can continue to wonder.
“I’m...“ she pauses, considering her words. “It’s better than I ever hoped it would be.” There’s clear sincerity in her voice, and it fills my chest with a warmth I haven’t felt in quite some time. Pride runs through me.
“She’s a natural,” I say as I gently brush her hair, watching a soft blush rise to her cheeks.
“You got lucky,” Isaac says, tipping his beer at me.
“Where’s-” Dahlia starts to ask, but then closes her mouth and stares down at the table.
“Where’s?” he asks her with a raised brow. She’s slow to reach his gaze, and I place my hand on her back.
“You were engaged in conversation, treasure. You can speak your mind.”
Isaac’s brow furrows as he says, “He’s been keeping you sheltered.” He takes another swig and then leans across the table, closer to Dahlia. “He’s been selfish not to bring you around.” A small huff of a laugh leaves Dahlia’s lips, and she smiles slightly.
My shoulders tense slightly at the accusation, not because I’m jealous of Isaac, not because the humor is lost on me, but because it’s true.
I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to have to wear a mask. I don’t want to hide, and at the same time, I don’t want to be watched. I don’t trust people. I haven’t in years. Most notably because of Tricia.
We came here weekly when we were married. We were known to be a pair. And when our marriage crumbled, I’m ashamed to admit, I was embarrassed to come back.
It took time, and I finally gave it another chance. But it’s not the same. I don’t feel… welcomed. It’s as though they’re watching and sizing me up. Wondering why my Submissive left me. Wondering how I failed.
My own insecurities have kept me from bringing my sweet treasure here. But I’m willing to offer her this. I think it will help her. Not only to learn how a true Submissive and Dominant interact, but also to watch various erotic encounters. She needs the experience. I know it will help her.
“Where’s your Submissive?” Dahlia asks Isaac as a waitress brings the menus and sets them in front of each of us. The easiness from the other night is finally starting to creep back into Dahlia’s demeanor. Dahlia doesn’t move to take hers. Good girl. I want to pick for her. I want something divine for her tonight.
“Could I get you anything to drink, sirs?” the waitress asks.