“Unlike you, filthy kitty, I didn’t pack half my underwear drawer for a night out, you know.” You shake your head as you button up your jeans.

I crawl out of the cage and straighten onto my knees, gripping the bars for balance. Then I hold a hand up to you expectantly. You take it without comment and pull me to my feet.

“Maybe it’s time to start that habit now. Especially when you intend to wind me up like that. And you never know what else might happen tonight. This club is notoriously plumbing-emergency-prone.”

You chuckle, remembering the story I told you about the broken pipe that once interrupted a scene. You reach for your phone and scroll through the pictures—I assume. “I’ll send you these later.”

“I don’t think I want to see that last one. You can keep that for your wank bank.”

You laugh again. “Look, it’s not bad at all.”

You shove the photo in my face. I take a quick look. Depraved? Absolutely.

Hot? Actually, kinda. The kitten ears look great in the dim neon glow. It would be a cute shot if we disregarded the cum-on-tongue situation.

It feels good to stretch my limbs after being cramped up in the bloody cage. “God, that was the most uncomfortable blow job of my life. Never again.”

“Aww, and here I was thinking it was great and contemplating getting a similar one for home.”

It’s my turn to chuckle. I love these moments when we joke around, pretending we’re normal people. Well, we are. I serve it straightback. “It would block your wardrobe.”

You put on your thinking face, scratching your chin for effect. “What makes you think I’d put it in the bedroom? It would go in the kitchen. Next to the fridge.”

“I assume only because you don’t have a basement.”

“Precisely. And who are you to judge? You keep your cats in the laundry room.”

“They aren’t caged, though. And it’s practically a palace in there, with custom shelves and free access to the garden.”

“You can have free access to my garden.”

“Now you are not being funny.” You keep threatening that the next step in our petplay dynamic is locking me out in the garden—naked, minus my kitten gear. I know your garden is secluded. You made sure of that. But I’m still not doing it.

“Come on, Daddy, I’ll show you the playrooms upstairs.” I don’t bother strapping my heels back on. There’s an awful lot of stairs to climb, and I move faster barefoot. A couple of flights later, we reach the playrooms.

“This one you can lock, and on some nights you have to book it because it gets so busy.”

“The room next door is open. If you play there, there will be an audience. Of course, if anyone gets creepy, you can have them kicked out. I’ve seen it happen plenty of times.”

I catch you eyeing up the swing in the corner. “That looks interesting.”

“Yeah, it’s meant to be a great idea, but I tried it with Theo and it just doesn’t work.”

“How so?”

“Well, we haven’t really tried-tried. More like just fooled around with it. I think it was my first time, and I sat there in the middle.” I point to the intertwined straps. “But he couldn’t reach me... even though he isn’t small in the equipment department.” I giggle. You haven’t met him yet, but you’ve heard plenty of stories. “So that didn’t work.”

“Hold on, you said you weren’t trying-trying.” You attempt to catch me out. You love doing that. Always looking for an excuse to spank me later. Not this time, Daddy.

“Well, it was obvious that it wouldn’t work. So I sat on the front strap, but then my legs were in the way.”

“Sounds like a logistical nightmare.” Then, with a playful smirk, you add, “Would you like to try again, with me?”

Truthfully? Abso-fucking-lutely. But we both know that you just came in my mouth minutes ago, and I know from experience that would give us a very long second round. And there are only so many times one should be removed from these premises at closing time before it becomes embarrassing. I’m pretty sure I passed that point a while ago. And as much as I’m dying for it, we aren’t here for that.

The original plan was just to dip your toe into the scene. And look at us—we went waist-deep in the murky river, fought a riptide and crocodiles, and someone has stolen our clothes.

“I would love that, Daddy, but maybe a bit later. I wanted to drink a bit, dance, see if any of my friends are here.”

“Sure, little one, as you wish. Lead the way.” Sometimes I don’t know whether I like your cruel dom side more or this considerate gentleman.

I put my heels back on, enjoying my reclaimed height. Level with you again, I step closer and give you a kiss.

As long as this rickety banister doesn’t come off the wall, descending these stairs is much easier than going up. Mind you, going up is usually more fun because Theo can never resist touching my bum, which is obviously both hot and slightly scandalous.

Once, another guy was coming down the other side as Theo was feeling me up. He stopped, looked at us and asked if he could do the same. And hell, he was hot, so obviously I said yes. Which is how I ended up halfway up the stairs, being groped by two fit guys while everyone tried to squeeze past us. Eventually someone shouted, “Oi, oi, guys, get a room.”

So we did.

We edge our way around the dance floor heading to the bar. You get me my usual vodka lemonade and a vodka coke for yourself.

On our way to the smoking area, I spot a few familiar faces. A couple Theo and me briefly played with a few weeks ago, and a black guy who apparently knows the owners and just about everyone else, including me. I don’t remember him from any of our upstairs adventures, though. Some people only come here to socialise. Maybe he’s one of them.

I lead you through to the bigger, open smoking area. Most of the picnic benches are pushed to the sides, with ashtrays dotted around the middle. I claim the nearest free bench and lean back against the table, getting my vape out.

I don’t really smoke or vape anywhere else. Just here, because this is where everyone tends to gather.

“Hey, Kat!”

My favourite ever piece of club furniture, Lily, waves at me from her usual spot under the alcove. She always seems to camp there with her husband, although she doesn’t even bother with the pretend-vaping. Sometimes they have another girl with them — I think that’s their usual setup — but tonight it’s just the two of them.

“I’m going to say hi,” I tell you. “Do you want to come?”

“No, I’m good, kitty. You go and be your fluttery butterfly self. Me and the drinks will wait here.”

“Okay, Daddy, thank you. I’ll be a minute.”

“No rush.” And, just to demonstrate how completely unfazed you are by this strange new world, you settle back on the bench.

I fly over to Lily, probably throwing in a few pirouettes on the way, and greet her with a theatrical let’s mush our tits together hug and a brief kiss. At least, that’s what I think we’re doing. Instead, she grabs my collar and purrs into my ear. “Looking very subby tonight, babe.”

Then, as if my collar means I’m suddenly fair game for anyone who takes a fancy, she pulls me into her. It starts like a first kiss in a queer indie film: soft, gentle, exploring. Then, still gripping my collar, she goes feral—biting my lips, fucking my mouth with her tongue. I push her back against the picnic table and return the favour.

She lets go and leans back as if nothing happened, idly twirling one of the neon-bright strands woven through with tiny flowers.

I spot her husband in the background and give him a polite smile and wave. I don’t know much about him. Not even his name. All I know is that he’s her husband and he doesn’t like her playing with other men. Theo was deeply disappointed by this particular policy, and it has thrown a spanner into a few scenes. He seems to like me, though.

“So who is he?” Lily asks, nodding towards you. The nosy little smile on her angelic face is pure Lily.

I hold a finger to my lips, then lean in and whisper, “He’s my Daddy.”

I glance over at you on the bench, making absolutely no attempt to hide the fact that we’re talking about you, and add with a smirk, “Apparently it’s not his scene, so he’s a bit grumpy.”

“Should we give him a show to change his mind?”

Out of all the people I cannot say no to, Lily is the one I can’t say no to the most. So whatever is brewing in that kinky little mind of hers, I already know I’m not going to stop her.

She pulls me in for another feral kiss, hikes up my skirt and gives my butt a big slap. Play in the public areas is, let’s say, frowned upon, so naturally half the fucking smoking area is now looking at us.

I turn to look at you just in time to catch you mouthing Naughty at Lily. Hey, you two, get a room, I laugh to myself. Although the husband probably wouldn’t be too happy about that.

“I have an even more wicked idea.” The fireworks in her eyes tell me everything I need to know: whatever it is, I’m going to have a seriously messed-up love-hate relationship with it.

“Don’t move.” She disappears around the bench to retrieve her handbag from behind her husband. When she comes back brandishing a red lip liner, I’m already shaking my head and face-palming.

“I only sub to him. Not just anyone,” I tell her.

“Oh, so I’m just anyone?” She leans closer. “Be a good girl, and you get to play with my tits later.”

Oh, the lil bitch knows exactly which buttons to press. She bends me over the bench, hikes up my skirt and starts writing something on my arse.

Three words on my left cheek. The first one possibly starts with a W. Then two more on the right. R... O... something. It’s like a kinky game of Wheel of Fortune. “Can I have a consonant?” I joke.

She punctuates her masterpiece with one mighty bare-handed slap across both cheeks.

“Now, go and show my message to your Daddy, naughty girl. I’m sure that’ll lighten him up.”

There are no pirouettes on the way back. This is considerably more of a walk of shame, with half the smoking area watching me. Still, I’m a good girl. I’m game. I’m fun. This is fine. Everything is fine. So I keep walking, bend over and present Lily’s handiwork for inspection.

“What the hell did she write?” I demand, spinning around.

“I’m not going to tell you.” Instead, with a disturbingly delighted grin, you turn to Lily and make a silly heart-shape with your hands.

“Jeez, you two need to get a room.” I fold my arms. “I’d love to watch,” I add with a dreamy sigh.

“That would be proper hot.”

“Indeed. Unfortunately, the husband is a bit funny. He never lets her play with Theo.”

“Maybe he’s threatened by Theo’s giant cock.” You laugh.

“Well, yours isn’t exactly small. It felt just as fucking sizeable down my throat a minute ago.”

“Are you trying to turn me on again?”

“Oh, God, heavens, no. In fact, I’m going to the toilet before you get any ideas.”

Under normal circumstances, I’d drag Lily with me, but she seems occupied with their circle of friends. And I don’t actually need to pee; I just want to check what the little bitch wrote on my arse.

Of course, the bathroom has those stupid high-set mirrors over the sinks. I twist, turn and attempt some ridiculous backward hopping, but apparently seeing my own arse is beyond the capabilities of adult club bathroom design.

I spot a cute little trans girl I recognise from the dance floor bouncing past and flag her down. “Can you do me a favour? Would you read what my devilish girlfriend wrote on my arse?”

She laughs. “Sure. I’ve heard some weird requests in my life, but this would probably make the top ten.”

She takes a few seconds to figure it out.

“Welcome to... hold on, this bit is quite messy... oh... to the Rouge Rooms.”

“Oh, cheers. I was expecting something much worse.”

“Nah, nah, girl, it’s rather sweet. Would make a great promo photo. You should show it to Jerry.”

“Who the fuck is Jerry?” I chuckle.

“The bloke behind the bar, babe. He’s the owner.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“You need to come here more often.”

“Oh, I come here plenty. I’m Kat.” I hold out my hand to her.

“Jeannie.”

“See you on the dance floor in a bit, Jeannie."

—⋆<^^>⋆—

***Just a little game for the end: Anyone who can decipher the river metaphor gets a one-month pass to my private gallery.