The Windell s Warning ️

Walking into the club was the hardest thing Angel Jones had ever done in her life. She'd deliberately chosen Chained because it was a new club and it was in Virginia, much farther away from her home than the club she really wanted to join—Stronghold, in DC. There was slim chance of anyone from Stronghold being at Chained—among the regulars anyway. Basic psychology: once people become comfortable in a space they tend to stay in that space, even kinksters who like to push boundaries. Maybe especially kinksters, since they had to be able to trust the people they were with.

So it was doubtful regulars to Stronghold would search out a new club; they were comfortable in their space at Stronghold and trusted the people there. Why would they drive such a distance to check out a new place? Easy answer: they wouldn’t. This was the second time Angel had ever been to a BDSM club. The first time had been years ago, in New York City, when she was still in college. Since then she'd realized she was submissive, but she didn’t have any friends currently living in Maryland who were in the scene. Even worse, other than her best friend Leigh, she didn’t have any close friends who were female and just contemplating the idea of trying to convince one of her guy friends to come with her made her want to whimper, so she was making this difficult journey alone. Which was absolutely terrifying. Getting out of her car, Angel smoothed her hands over the long embroidered jacket she was wearing. She'd dressed very carefully tonight because she was going to be doing something wrong—she was going into a club as a Mistress rather than a submissive. It was dishonest, which rankled her, but all of her ‘experience’ was just research and reading; but she did know how dangerous it could be for a new submissive entering public scenic. Her friends who had taken her to her first club had drummed that into her head. She'd decided until she garnered experience in a public setting it would be safer to present herself as a Mistress. Of course, she couldn’t start as a Mistress at the club she planned on attending as a submissive, which is why she was at Chained tonight instead of Stronghold. She taught her students all the time that the first step to keeping themselves safe was to stay out of dangerous situations. To her, putting herself in a position to be tied up and at the mercy of a stranger was pretty much the textbook description of a dangerous situation. She had no one to watch her back and her only information about these clubs was secondhand. The one night she’d experienced in New York she had been entranced but did nothing more than watch. Once she was more comfortable in the club and felt more confident about knowing the scene and her ability to keep herself safe, without backup, she would go to Stronghold as a submissive. No harm done to anyone and she'd have a nice and easy introduction into the world she'd been fantasizing about ever since she first heard about it. Of course, she wished she had a friend she could do this with. She might have felt safer just jumping straight in as a submissive if she had a buddy by her side. Angel was an inherently honest person so the necessary deception irked her. Unfortunately, she didn’t have anyone she felt comfortable asking to go with her. Even though Leigh would probably have come if Angel had asked, because she was a really good friend, Leigh’s boyfriend, Michael, would never have approved of the outing. And Angel didn’t think she’d feel like a very good friend, asking Leigh to put herself in such an uncomfortable position. At twenty-five years old, Angel had only ever had two serious relationships; the second one had ended over a year ago and since then she hadn’t even dated anyone seriously. Neither of her previous boyfriends had been able to give her what she craved, neither had been able to make her feel the excitement she got just reading BDSM erotica stories. Sure, she’d had orgasms during sex, but it always felt like there was something missing, and eventually that had led to the end of each relationship. And it didn’t help when most of her closest friends were guys, which tended to cause some jealousy and misunderstandings with her boyfriends, but she figured someone confident enough to be a Dom would have to be secure and confident enough not to mind she had a lot of guy friends, right? She’d realized she wanted a man with the confidence, the self-assurance to be uncaring about her male friendships. Also, a man who was sexually controlling in the bedroom…at the very least she needed to try it out, to see firsthand whether or not this was a lifestyle for her. And if it was, then maybe she could find someone into the lifestyle she could have a real relationship with. Tonight she was dressed in thigh high leather boots with six inch heels, leather shorts, and a brocaded green skin tight top boned like a corset but had an Asian inspired mandarin collar and little capped sleeves. It covered her upper body completely except for a wide swath between the neck of the collar and her bust; a keyhole opening which showed a generous amount of cleavage. She'd straightened her hair and worn it loose, letting it flow over her shoulders to swing halfway down her back—almost two inches longer than when she let her naturally curly hair fly free. Black lace gloves and the embroidered jacket completed her look, although she'd take her jacket off when she got inside. It was a damn sexy outfit and she was pretty sure it fairly screamed 'in charge.' Because that’s exactly how she wanted to appear tonight. How she’d been practicing to appear. Tilting her chin up haughtily, she strode towards the door of the club. It was a plain wooden door with a discreet sign above it said “Chained.” There were no lights or anything else to draw attention to itself. She liked that. When she signed in at the front desk (pseudonyms were allowed, although when she'd filled out her form for the guest pass she'd had to give her real name and the pseudonym she planned on using) she put her name down as Mistress Angela before handing her coat over to the girl behind the desk, a sexy blonde wearing a naughty secretary outfit. The irony wasn't lost on Angel and she gave the girl an approving smile, which made the receptionist flush happily as she took Angel's coat. "Welcome to Chained, Mistress Angela," she said. "Thank you, dear," said Angel, sliding into the role she'd assigned herself. She'd never wanted to pursue theater as a career (monetary pressure took all the fun out of it) but that hadn't stopped her from pursuing it as a hobby in her free time. Even though she'd only started auditioning in the area a few months ago, she'd already been cast in a show at a community theater. Tonight was going to be the performance of her life because she wasn't onstage. Acting was so much easier with cues and lines. Still, she could feel her nerves humming the way they did when she was standing in the wings, waiting for the curtain to go up. And that's exactly where she was right now; this lobby was the wings and as soon as she stepped past the hulking (and kind of hunky) bouncer through the door to the club then she'd be center stage. Well, not quite. She'd be surrounded by the other players, but she assumed many of them would be very good at reading body language. At least that was always how it seemed in the books she read. Hopefully her acting training would be enough to cover up her nerves, inexperience, guilt at the deception, and the little voice inside of her insisting she’d never pass as a Domme. The lobby was tastefully decorated in dark reds and grays with hardwood floors, giving it the feeling of a boudoir. When she walked into the main area of the club she was surprised she found it rather overwhelming, almost tacky, in comparison to the lobby. The space was bigger than she'd expected, with a dance floor to her left, a bar straight ahead of her, and a wall lined with little alcoves for scenic on the right. Chandeliers flickering with multi-hued lights hung from the ceiling, red velvet curtains were tied back at the edges of the alcoves—obviously they could be used to create a more private area if desired—and the dance floor had neon lights blazing over it, creating interesting patterns on the floor. Everywhere she looked, the walls were covered with either bondage equipment or artwork (and there didn't seem to be a theme to the photographs and paintings, or any attempt at arranging them in a way that would be pleasing to the eye). The bar in front of her was decorated to look almost like a tiki bar, clashing sharply with the rest of the decor. Seriously? It was as if whoever owned the place couldn't decide what they really wanted the space to look like and so just threw together a bunch of ideas from different walks of life. Yeah, this place was obviously new. There were people walking around, some of them involved in scenes, some on the dance floor, and some at the bar, wearing all sorts of interesting and revealing clothing. Angel found herself examining a small group of men at one of the bar tables, four of them, all extremely attractive and wearing various amounts of leather. Dominants, definitely. She could feel the wash of heat straight through her body as she saw their self-assured movements, their predatory gazes flicking around the room. But she didn't show any of her reaction to them on her face, keeping her expression carefully blank. All four of them were attractive, but it was the blond one—who looked half-Viking, half-pirate, with facial hair making a neat frame around a sensuous mouth— that caught her attention. Or, rather, he caught her gaze in his and she found herself struggling not to lower her eyes immediately from the sheer force of his presence That's what a submissive would do, she reminded herself. Lowering her gaze was what she instinctively wanted to do, but that’s not what she was tonight. Struggling to maintain her expression, Angel gave him a careful nod, very slight and without taking her eyes away from him, acknowledging him as an equal. He gave her a nod back and smiled. The hard look in his eyes made her want to melt. Or get down on her knees and beg him to tie her up, spank her and fuck her. Instead she straightened her spine and curved her lips in a small smile back. Remember, you’re a Domme tonight and keep it together!

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