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They were all here to see Monique. They knew who she was, after all.
If she were the type to have stage fright, that would have done her in. But she never had stage fright in her life. Not even when she was giving controversial speech topics in front of her entire high school did she falter. Besides, this may be her biggest audience yet, but it wasn’t her first time performing in front of a crowd. Let alone a discerning one.
In fact, one could say that Monique was a bit of an exhibitionist anyway. If there were no pressures to make a ton of money… if she could simply enjoy the moment… well, she would be very much looking forward to this.
The rabble died when a speaker came on. Monique couldn’t hear her. She was too busy feeling the heavy silver collar wrap around her neck, her wrists bound behind her, and the leash pull against her body. The room opened up. People parted to get out of her way.
She was in front. Walking slowly, but leading her Mistress through the crowd, head held high and shoulders back. Monique may have been the submissive, but the spotlight washers.
Some subs would still want to be led out by their Mistresses. That was fine, but Monique was a wolf queen. Nobody led her anywhere.
This apparently worked, for the announcer quipped that the first donations had already started rolling in. People were eager to spend their money on her. She only needed to earn it.
That was dangerous.
These people would want to see her limits, her boundaries violated for their amusement.
They wanted to hear her choke on her safe word.
They wanted to watch Helen ruin her.
So be it.She already knew this. Helen already knew. They went over what the real limits were, and what was for show. They weren’t stupid. This wasn’t their bedroom.
This was their freedom.
Monique stood on the stage while the announcer finished up her spiel, reminding the audience of the rules and how to keep spending money.They’ll remember. Monique stood upright, her bindings chafing, the collar catching everyone’s attention.
All they could see her wearing, aside from her smooth skin and wavy hair, was a tailored black jacket hugging her arms and chest. It was buttoned in front, although the discerning eye could see the white beneath. Whatever they thought of her outfit, nobody remarked.
No, this wasn’t the type of audience to scream their demands at her. That happened at lesser establishments. These refined people wanted her to read their minds.
She had spent years learning to gauge a person’s desires with one look. She enforced those talents at her Manoir every weekend. Now was the time to see how good she truly was.
The announcer left. They could start anytime.
There was a plan in place, but Monique expected Helen to go off-script. Except she didn’t expect it right away. Like when Helen yanked on her collar and nearly brought Monique to her knees from the force.
She gasped. The room remained silent.
Hundreds of eyes were on her. Helen rubbed her skin as if she could wipe those irises away, but within seconds, she recognized that her precious princess was too tough to give in to a delicate touch.
When she stood, her leash still coiled around Helen’s hand, she saw that half of the audience was intrigued. The other half considered her too defiant.
That changed when Helen snaked her hand down Monique’s bodice, slipping beneath her jacket and caressing her breast. Monique couldn’t help but shiver against Helen’s touch, her teeth biting her bottom lip as her eyes fluttered shut.
The relationship between a Domme and sub was something most people in that room understood. Of course, such a relationship differed between people, but at its heart, they all knew what it meant to be a sub who yearned to serve or a Domme who wanted to pleasure. Tonight, Helen and Monique were an extension of every desire manifesting between the men and women in the audience. They represented pain, pleasure, love, desire… they were current relationships, both new and old. They were old relationships of the past, gone but not forgotten. When Helen wrapped her tongue around Monique’sear, sending waves of need through her chest, the women in the audience swooned. When she pressed her hand against Monique’s abdomen, threatening to touch her between the legs in front of so many people, the men smiled and willed it to continue.
Everything they could want or need was there on stage. A table full of toys and other equipment. Rings hanging from the ceiling. Silk, leather, and metal handcuffs and spreaders. Everyone in the audience had a preference. The job was to appeal to as many as possible.
And remain authentic?Bring it on.
As much as Monique tried to remain focused, she quickly succumbed to what Helen did to her. That was good… and dangerous. She had to remain levelheaded if she was going to put on the best performance, but it would mean nothing if she couldn’t lose herself to what her Domme did to her. Right now, Helen appealed to that possessive nature so many Dommes had. She reached beneath Monique’s jacket and freed her breasts from the corset she wore. The jacket opened enough to show every man and woman what Monique Grant kept beneath her clothes.
“See what I have? See what I get to play with? Isn’t my sub a beautiful woman? I bet you’d like to play with her. Do you want to fuck her? You don’t get to. Only I do.”
Monique felt those words in the first pinch to her nipple.
The most pitiful moan in the world escaped her lips. People shifted in their seats. Half of them were already enthralled.
