Eternal Ever After by A.C. James

was thankful for at the moment. I knew a dominatrix when I saw one.
    In the dominatrix’s hand she twirled a black and red leather cat o’ nine tails. She wore a wicked smile that broadcast the nature of her intentions and seared unexpected heat throughout my body. A tattoo of a Roman numeral VII graced her right breast. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she descended the stairs without speaking a word. Applause broke out and it appeared no introduction was necessary.
    I felt heat rise up my neck. Then I noticed Arie watching me. It seemed like he sensed my embarrassment conflicting with my arousal, and that maybe it turned him on too. I couldn’t be sure. But when he continued to look at me the way every woman wants to be looked at, my doubts flew out the window, right along with every sensible objection to the current situation. And he seemed to be gauging my reaction to whatever we were about to witness. I could already feel dampness lining my underwear as my mind flew to the fantasy that was walking down the stairs in the shape of form-fitting leather, just like in the books I read.
    I returned my attention to the bottom of the stairs where two dommes, female dominants, helped strap a man to a chevalet. This drew my attention to the exposed flesh of his back. I shuddered involuntarily. The woman who descended the stairs nodded her approval before smiling toward the crowd. I held my breath, along with the rest of the audience, in anticipation.
    She began to flog him.
    Small round welts began to rise on his back like tiny angel kisses. The crowd cheered in approval as she continued her ruthless administrations. She paused to hand the cat o’ nine tails to one of the assistant dommes and snapped her fingers.
    “My god, she’s hurting him.” But the way she hurt him was sexy as hell.
    “No more than he wants her to,” Arie said.
    Again, he looked at me like he imagined bending me over in a similar position to spank my ass or flog the living daylights out of me. My nipples hardened just thinking about his hand on my ass or the bite of leather strands on my skin. I could feel my pulse quicken. Was it my imagination or was he breathing just a little bit faster too?
    A domme disappeared, only to return with a black-handled rattan cane, which she handed over. The woman twirled the cane, brandishing it before the crowd, mounting the suspense. When she released the cane with a resounding smack across the back of the man’s thighs, just above his knees, he let out a yowl. A cheer rose throughout the audience. The second lash came crashing down on his upper thighs just under his buttocks. The third stroke landed in the middle, and the fourth and final blow landed across all three.
    Arie reached for my wrist and his thumb caressed my pulse point. Just that simple back and forth motion with his thumb over the thin skin of my wrist had my heart beating in time to the electronic drumming downstairs. He watched the woman. I wasn’t sure if he was aware that he had grabbed my wrist or not. I didn’t pull away.
    She threw back her head with a laugh; the crowd responded with open applause and a few wolf whistles. Both dommes unstrapped the man, one on each side taking him under the arm, and brought him before the dominatrix. She lifted an index finger before pointing down at the floor. At once the man knelt at her feet. She pointed again at her feet—the man bowed his head, kissing the tip of her gauntlet boot. Then she bent down to grasp his chin, yanking him to his feet. Letting go of his chin, she paused before slapping him so hard across the cheek that his head was thrown to the side. I flinched even though I wasn’t the one being smacked around.
    Arie seemed to notice then that he’d been stroking my wrist and released me. I felt keyed up, ready to go, and didn’t want him to stop. He shifted, and I noticed the distinct bulge in the crotch of his jeans. When he caught me eyeing his hard-on, he smirked at me. I felt