Backing down, p.1
Backing Down, page 1
Backing Down
A BDSM Novella
Gabbi Black
Master Dante
As the manager of Club Kink, Vancouver’s premier BDSM club, I have access to all the submissives I could desire. I never switch, but two years ago, a hot encounter with Mistress Kate blurred some of my boundaries, and left me rethinking my true desires. Now, Kate's back, and I don't think the heat between us is just competitiveness between two Doms. I have other ideas, and I'm willing to pull out all the stops to make them a reality.
Kate
Two years ago, I had the best night of my life. And the worst. I’ve recovered my self-esteem and my reputation, but I haven’t been able to forget Master Dante. Now we both have our sights set on the same submissive. May the best Dominant win, right? Well, I intend to come out on top this time—no matter the consequences.
Evan
I’ve been a happy submissive for five years. Lately, I’ve watched Master Dante and Mistress Kate around the club, and noticed how aware they are of each other. I admit it, I’m greedy. I want both. I want them together. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to have them—in the bedroom and in the dungeon. With Christmas just around the corner, and with me being a very good boy, maybe I’ll get what I want.
Copyright © 2023 Gabbi Black
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.
References to real people, events, organizations, establishments or locations are intended to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Edits by ELF.
Cover by Cate Ashwood Designs.
Dedication
Renae
Kaje
Contents
1. Prologue
2. Chapter One
3. Chapter Two
4. Chapter Three
5. Chapter Four
6. Chapter Five
7. Chapter Six
8. Chapter Seven
9. Chapter Eight
10. Chapter Nine
11. Chapter Ten
12. Chapter Eleven
13. Chapter Twelve
14. Epilogue
15. Interested in knowing more about Gabbi?
Prologue
Dante
The night Mistress Kate Slade and I decided to co-top Frank Terwilliger was both the best and the worst night of my life.
No, that’s not true.
The night was the best.
The morning after was the worst.
I’d spotted Kate around Club Kink several times. When I owned Vancouver’s premier BDSM club, things had gone a little sideways and I’d sold it to Smith MacLean. I’d planned to open Club Drag, but once all the public controversy and the interactions with law enforcement died down, Smith persuaded me to continue with Kink—all the fun without the massive responsibility of being in charge.
I still ran the club as I saw fit.
Smith was a very hands-off owner. Living in the suburbs with a beautiful, submissive wife and a growing family would do that to a guy. He and Alessandra would visit Kink for old time’s sake, but they were very busy. They weren’t nearly as hardcore as they used to be.
Oh well. Not something I ever had to worry about.
Mistress Kate strutting by brought me to full attention and pulled me away from my wayward thoughts. Her flaming-red hair was loose, and the delicious curls hung halfway down her back.
My fingers itched to touch. To twine my grip in those locks and tug hard.
Would she orgasm that way? Some women did. Like Pavlov’s dogs, they’d come on command.
Not that I was comparing women to dogs. Women were to be treasured, honored, and loved.
And not that I was saying a guy couldn’t come from having his hair pulled.
That happened as well.
I loved men and women equally, being pansexual in all the good ways. And I didn’t even really consider gender. I’d swung just about every way possible. No, the creature’s personality ultimately drew me in. I chose partners based on suitability.
And on how clearly they understood no commitments.
Kate’s ice-pick stilettos gave her a decent height. Not close to my six-one, but certainly higher than the five-four she hit without the added assistance.
In her black leather bustier; obscenely black, leather, short skirt; and sheer, black stockings with that sexy line up the back, she looked dressed to kill.
Or, at the very least, to knock a man right out of his senses.
I’d keep focus, of course, but I’d keep an eye on her. She’d played a few times over the past month, and although she appeared technically competent, I spotted several places where she needed to improve her technique.
As a Master in just about all things BDSM, I naturally wanted to help.
“Master Dante.”
Spike, one of our best tops in the club, nodded as I moved past him. He pulled my focus from Kate.
But just momentarily.
“You’re not playing, Spike? Your whip talents are always in such high demand.”
He wiped his sweaty brow with a bottle of water. “Taking a break. You missed my show earlier?”
I winced. “Sorry, was up in the office.”
The nudge he gave me was none too light.
He was one of the few in this place who dared be so familiar with me.
My reputation and station dictated I hold myself apart.
Unless I was in a scene. Then the veneer dropped, and I stepped into my dominant persona.
Spike followed my gaze. “Mistress Kate?”
“Yes.”
“She’s got good whip skills. I heard she trained with that guy over on the North Shore. The one who works for the movie studio.”
We often spoke in code.
“Yes, she mentioned that. And she mentored with Mistress Miranda, so I’ve no doubts about her other skills.”
Spike eyed me, his dark eyes narrowing. “You’re thinking you might take her on? Mentor her as well? Refine, as it were.” He flexed his arm, making the coil of whips tattooed around his biceps ripple.
Likely, he did it unconsciously. Although, with Spike, one could never tell. The consummate showman, he drew plenty of crowds and assisted with Kink’s bottom line nicely.
He was also short, lithe, and had black hair that stuck out in spikes.
Hence the nickname.
I knew his real name, of course. Our membership records had true identities—under three layers of cybersecurity, and with one crackerjack security specialist handling things. Another person who lived in Mission City.
No, Spike and our other members were protected. Even guests had their ID checked at the door.
No one on the naughty list got past my security.
Kate approached Frank.
Spike chuckled under his breath.
“You think she can’t handle him?”
“The guy’s a royal pain in the ass—and a fucking good bottom. One of the best in the club.” He scratched his stubbled jaw. “But I’d keep an eye on them if they head for a private room.
“Your concern is duly noted. Thank you.” Said with genuine sincerity. I valued Spike’s opinion. He wasn’t always right. But he was always caring. He didn’t want a repeat of the incident that nearly destroyed the club.
None of us did.
I nodded to him and made my way to where Kate and Frank stood off to the side.
The tall, broad-shouldered, blond man’s hazel eyes appeared green in the low lighting of the club.
Rare were the times I stepped into negotiations, but something compelled me to do it this time. “Good evening. Mistress Kate. Frank.” I nodded to each in turn. I also observed Frank’s very noticeably erect cock.
Not all submissives chose to go naked at all times. Frank did. He removed his clothes upon entering the club and only put them back on at the end of the night. He also tended to stick around the entire night—to get as much pleasure and pain out of it as he was capable of withstanding. Two or three scenes might be the norm for him. But he’d also take one really good one and be content.
Frank’s face flashed annoyance at my interruption—which didn’t bode well for him—while Kate’s deep-blue eyes flashed interest.
Well. Noted.
“We were just negotiating a scene.” Kate’s left hand rested on her hip, and her high breasts appeared firm under the bustier.
My cock twitched.
Frank grunted. “We were doing just fine—”
I arched an eyebrow at him.
He desisted and dropped his gaze to the floor.
Good boy.
That showed promise. I’d played with him a few times before. He’d tried to be a power bottom—getting me to do what he wanted—but I’d quickly put him in his place. “What were you thinking?” I met and held Kate’s gaze.
“A full scene. Some flogging, whipping, paddling, as well as some physical interactions.”
“Ah, Frank does love his impact play.” And had a tendency to show off his bruises.
I had no doubt Kate was quite capable of inflicting tha t kind of damage. Even the slightest of women, given the right technique, could leave their mark.
“Perhaps we might”—I held her gaze—"co-top?”
Frank grunted.
I tapped my foot. Well within his line of vision.
He visibly backed down, hunching his shoulders.
“That would be—” Kate swallowed. “—lovely.”
She hadn’t mentioned penetrative sex.
That was certainly allowed in the private rooms, but our guests didn’t often avail themselves of that.
Kink’s focus was on BDSM. The infliction of pain by a Sadist upon a willing masochist. The power exchanges. The thrill of having someone submit completely.
My battles with Frank flashed in my mind. He wouldn’t submit to Kate easily. But with the two of us, we might be able to bring him to heel.
“Out here?” I gestured around the large space with the St. Andrew’s crosses, racks, hooks, torture chairs, spanking benches, and medical tables. As well as many places where people could do rope play.
Master Kinto was a particular favorite, and he was hard at work doing a suspension with a woman much heavier and larger than him.
He’d be fine.
Everyone appeared to be in good shape, and my Dungeon Monitors would ensure everything ran smoothly. I’d let them know where I was, but they’d understand to only interrupt me if a situation was completely out-of-hand. Jaycee and Oren were my very best.
Jaycee often trained and mentored new DMs.
“I’ve reserved a private room.” Kate nearly purred the words. “I think we could have a lot of fun.”
The temptation to tell her I planned to teach her a thing or two floated in my mind, but I held my tongue.
Tonight, she was running the show.
Well, or so she thought.
I eyed the spectator gallery above and finding it filled, my heart did a little dance.
Some of the observers came to be voyeurs, while others might eventually make their way down to the floor. Tonight. Tomorrow night. Maybe next month. Most who stepped through the doors found their curiosity overwhelming, and they made the leap from spectator to participant.
“Eyes up.”
Frank obeyed Kate’s command immediately.
“Are you agreed that Master Dante will join us? You always have the right to say no.”
Consent was critical. Informed consent. If he hesitated, I’d back off.
I caught the gleam in his eyes.
“Bring it on.”
His tone irritated a little, but Kate didn’t bat an eyelash. Maybe she didn’t mind the bratty, wilful ones.
I didn’t either—if I had the chance to put them in their place.
Holding out my arm, I waited to see how Kate would react.
She offered a dazzling smile as she placed her hand on my forearm.
We walked together toward the private rooms.
Frank followed a step behind.
As I’d anticipated, Kate had the room the way she wanted.
Her implements were laid with care on the table. The low lighting from the strategically placed lamps provided shadows thrown across the room. The room could be perceived as daunting or welcoming—depending on one’s perspective.
“Kneel, Frank.”
Obeying Kate’s command, he moved to the mat by the wall and knelt.
She placed a hand on his head and fingered his short hair. “How do you wish to be addressed?”
I could’ve told her, but I wanted to hear Frank answer for himself.
He didn’t hesitate. “Frankie, Mistress. Oh, may I call you Mistress?”
She chuckled—a low and throaty sound that again resonated in my balls.
“I insist on it. You’re a good boy, Frankie. Do you like when I call you a good boy?”
He bobbed his head.
“Answer me, Frankie. I always expect a verbal answer. The first time we play, anyway.”
“Oh yes, Mistress. I love it when I’m called a good boy.”
As Kate pivoted away from him, he shot me a quick, covert glance. “And I like being called a bad boy as well.”
“Naughty, I dare say.” I glared at him.
He cast his eyes downward again.
Kate pivoted.
Call him out or let it ride?
Ride…for now.
“What did you have in mind for this evening?” Kate fingered her deerskin flogger. “As a warm up?”
I smiled. “Quite effective. So are your delicate hands.” And vicious fingernails.
She released the flogger.
“I think you’re right, Master Dante, a bit of impact play to start.” She advanced toward her prey. “Frankie, do you need to be bound?”
“No, Mistress.”
Not surprising. He liked to dance around—trying to avoid the strikes. All part of his game.
I wouldn’t have given him a choice. I’d have restrained him. But then, we’d done this before, and I knew his limits.
Truthfully, he had few. He’d be able to take whatever Kate dished out.
And come begging back for more.
“Rise.”
In one graceful move, he was up without even touching the floor.
“Turn.”
He obeyed.
Kate gave me a questioning look.
I nodded my approval.
Frankie laid his hands on the stone wall and pressed his forehead against the cold concrete.
Kate whacked him on the ass.
The sound reverberated in the room.
Frankie didn’t move.
Kate again looked my way.
“He can take a lot more than that.”
I could’ve sworn Frankie uttered something under his breath, but Kate chose to ignore it as she hit him again. And again. And again. The woman’s strength awed me as she laid into him.
Soon, bruises appeared.
Also, Frankie started dancing a bit—trying to evade the blows.
All for show—he ate up shit like this.
Kate stopped suddenly, placed herself behind him, and gripped his naked ass with her claws.
Frankie yelped.
She flashed me a wicked smile.
My cock plumped.
“Can you take more?”
“What do you think?”
She swatted his ass for his impudence.
He sighed.
Then, without warning, she hit him on the back, just below his shoulder blade.
Hard.
He grunted.
With her fist, she hit him repeatedly. Never in the same spot. She moved around his back, her fist making solid contact every time.
I knew what I was capable of, but I wasn’t certain how long she could sustain this.
Apparently longer than I gave her credit for. I wasn’t marking the time in terms of any clock—more like keeping count of the hits.
And she delivered blow after blow.
Eventually, bruises formed.
“Marks?” I asked casually.
“Negotiated,” she replied, not taking her eyes off him. “Under clothes.”
Ah. So as long as a T-shirt and jeans covered the bruises and whip marks, Frankie didn’t care. I’d known this, but having it confirmed helped.
She raked her claws down his back.
He shifted.
She offered me a cheeky grin as she moved to the table. Again, she fingered the flogger.
“You might consider the whip first. Then flogging over the nicks.”
Frankie sucked in a breath.
Oh yeah, that’d get to him. He preferred thud over sting. He’d enjoy the flogger thoroughly and likely hope Kate might not get to the whip.
Or, masochist he was, he might want it all.
She grasped the whip.
I read indecision in her eyes. Hmm, I’d never seen her wield it before.
“Let me show you.”
Her blue eyes flashed. Whether in relief or annoyance, I couldn’t be certain, as she shut down the emotion so quickly I barely had time to register it.
At that moment, I acknowledged I didn’t know her as well as I’d thought. Observing from afar was one thing—being up close and personal like this was something entirely different.
I indicated Frankie.
She nodded.
I moved to him and pressed my front against him. Fitted my cock against his crack.
