tagBDSMOver the Rainbow Ch. 01

Over the Rainbow Ch. 01

byTara_Neale©

"What did you expect?" Tara whispered to herself as she looked around the club. Other than the huge St. Andrews Cross that stood in the center of the room and the spanking bench that was just to its left, it could be any night club, any place in the world. Of course, the walls were painted a dark red with black accents but the lamps scattered about provided a warm glow without being too bright. There were couches and benches arranged in the corners of the room with a couple dozen people already arrayed upon them, chatting away as if it were any Saturday night, in any club, any place. A song that she recognized as one of her favorite 80's hits played softly in the background. There was even a disco ball suspended from the ceiling although it was not turned on.

What truly set this room apart from any other club that Tara had been in before were the people. She had never seen such a diverse and eclectic group. In one corner sat a group of women, some in short leather skirts, but most in full flowing gowns with sequins and feathers. The women chatted amongst themselves as two young men, naked except for the studded leather collars about their necks, knelt at their feet. In another corner, an older man in a diaper was in deep conversation with a woman, who was quietly tapping a crop against the couch as if warming up for her turn at bat. A tall woman that was obviously a man in drag sat next to them. In the corner nearest her, a half dozen people in leather pants and corsets were talking. She caught snippets of the conversation and was surprised to realize that it had nothing to do with the kink that brought her to Rainbows. The topics as mundane as work and family.

"What do you think so far?" the deep voice from behind drew her attention. She turned towards the sound to discover the leather clad gentleman that had been at the reception desk when she checked in. He was not the young or studly Doms that filled the pages of the erotic romances she had been reading for years, but there was something about him that commanded respect. Something markedly different than the couple of fakers that she had met through the social networking sites. There was no doubt; this man was a real Dom. And even though she was not sexually attracted to him, he did something funny to her tummy.

Tara shook her head, "I don't know. I don't know what I expected really," she whispered nervously.

He laughed and the sound washed over her like cool waves against hot sand. "We're just normal people," his mouth turned up just enough at the corners to relax the tightness in her stomach. "With a couple of kinks. I'm Peter by the way," he said as he held out his hand. "I am one of Dungeon Monitors here. So if you have any questions or need anything, just find me."

Tara shook his hand, wondering if he could tell how nervous she was. "I'm Tara. I suppose you can tell I'm sort of new," she stammered as the woman with the crop stood and held out her hand to man in the diaper. "To all of this."

That chuckle once more sang in her ear like a comfortable chorus, "New? No way," he teased as another couple moved past them. The woman dressed in a pink chiffon dress that reminded Tara of Shirley Temple, complete with white knee socks and black patent leather Mary Janes. "So what is your fetish?"

It was the question that Tara had been asking herself for almost two years since her divorce. And she still did not have the answer, but admitting that to this stranger seemed too intimate somehow. "I'm a sub, I think," the answer as close to the truth as she had come.

"You think? You either are or you are not," he replied with a confidence that had Tara's head spinning like a naughty girl called to the principal's office.

"It's just that I have not done much really," she knew that she sounded like that little girl making excuses, but her brain did not seem to be working at the moment.

"A virgin," he smiled. It had been over a quarter of a century since Tara had given her virginity to the boy that would become her husband. The experience had been almost laughably typical: the back seat of his car after Homecoming nonetheless. But she had to admit that she was as nervous this night as she had been that one. The enormity of it all crashed into her then. What was she doing here?

As if reading her mind, or perhaps just experienced enough at his job to recognize the signs of newbie panic, the man firmly gripped her elbow and led her to the one empty corner in the room. "Breath deeply," he commanded and there was no doubt from the authority in his tone that it was a command. "In through your nose and out through your mouth. In, one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three, four." The count seemed to go on and on for several minutes, the room blurring about her as people came and went.

She could hear something now, a loud cracking sounds that seemed in perfect time with his count. She looked up to see the woman with the crop. The man was chained to the St. Andrews Cross, the diaper about his ankles now and nasty red welts were beginning to rise on his hairy bottom. "I should go," she stammered as she tried to pull from the man's grasp.

"No," there was that tone again, the one that had her dropping her eyes and automatically nodding her head. "You want to know if you truly are submissive. You need to know if you belong here. You have come this far, now is not the time to run, my wounded dove." He pressed a bottle of cold water into her hand, "Drink this and I will show you around properly."

Tara watched the woman with the crop as she drank. She had the man dancing almost. Each blow caused him to jump and yelp. But after each blow, he counted and politely said, "Thank you, Mistress."

He saw where her eyes had landed, "That is Rachel, Mistress Havisham. She is an award winning Domme. Not that I have much respect for that lot, but as female doms go, she's the best. If you are curious about your pain thresholds, think you might be masochistic, then I can introduce you." He paused for a long moment and just watched her watching the other woman. "She is the other Dungeon Monitor here, so also a safe refuge if you get into trouble." He chuckled a moment, "Trouble! That's what I am going to call you."

Tara wanted to argue, to deny the man's words. But after two years of reading trashy romance novels about BDSM and fantasizing about something that was obviously way more than it seemed, she had the distinct feeling that trouble was exactly what she was in for.

He looked at the almost empty bottle and reached out, taking it from her hand. "Follow me. I'll introduce you around."

Tara fell into step easily behind the man as they passed through the main hall. "This is the kitchen. Lady Bella puts on nice spread. Partly that is because it is important to eat and especially drink while you are playing. It helps to minimize sub-drop. You have heard of sub-drop, right?" He studied her with the firm gaze of a high school guidance counselor.

She nodded, "Yeah, I have read about it."

"Read about it, humph," he poo-poed. "Virgins never are as much fun as you think they would be."

She slunk back against the wall a bit at his harsh appraisal. His laughter rang out breaking the tensions a bit. "Yeah, you're sub. And trouble. Anyway, the other thing about Bell's buffet is that it provides a nice gathering place. At some point during the night, everyone is going to come through here at least once. So if you want to meet people, in a non-threatening way, it is a good place to hang out."

Tara nodded her head and smiled. As a chef she above all people could appreciate the unifying effects of food. But she was not ready to share her secrets with this man. Yet.

He took her through a door and down a dank set of stairs. "This is the other good place to meet people. The smoking area. Do you smoke?" He did not wait for her answer as they approached another older man and the woman in the Shirley Temple dress.

"Hey, Bob, you got a light. This is Tara. She's a new sub, probably read about all this in that stupid book and wants to give it a try. Tara, this is Master Watts. The little is Beth. Beth, Tara. Tara, Beth."

Tara extended her hand first to the young woman. "Tut-tut. Such bad manners. You do need training," replied Peter. She dropped her hand to her side and dropped her eyes to the dirty cement floor.

The other man laughed, "Give the poor woman a break, Peter. You will scare her off. It's not like there is an excess of female subs around here. Hell, these Dommes and their boy toys are practically taking over. Not all of us are lucky bastards like you with a slave and a service sub." The man held out his hand. "Don't worry about the old man. He can be too full of himself sometimes. Welcome to Rainbows."

Tara smiled and took the man's hand. "Thank you," she mumbled uncertain what to say or make of any of it.

"Bob's specialty is electrical play, which is why he's called Master Watts. He usually has the only Violet Wand in the house...if you are curious to try that."

Tara shivered as she remembered the particularly nasty description of the thing in one of her books. It had been used to torture a young woman beyond her limits. The very idea of the thing caused shivers to run up her spine.

The other man noticed and chuckled, "Trust me, little lady, one taste of my pleasure/pain and you would be lining up just like all the rest. Isn't that right, kitten?" The man softly caressed the cheek of the woman child standing next to him. She nodded and simply replied, "Yes, Daddy."

Tara could not stop the quick intake of breath at the word. She felt a firm grip on her elbow and looked up. Peter had a grave face on; the one that reminded her once more of a guidance counselor. Without knowing exactly what, she knew that she had made a big mistake.

"Well, see you two back inside," he said as he stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette and guided her by the elbow back down the corridor the way they had come. He stopped in the corner of the kitchen, just on the other side of the door.

"Listen, Trouble, you are going to see and hear a lot of things here that those stupid books have not prepared you for. But this is a safe and NON-JUDGMENTAL place for all," his emphasis upon that word made her drop her eyes to the floor once more.

The word rang in her mind like church bells. The church bells that had called her to service every Sunday for a life time. The preacher's daughter in her little white dress and gloves, sitting upon the front pew, in black patent leather shoes almost exactly the same as the ones the woman/child wore. The preacher's wife towing the line. Until she walked in on her righteous husband balls deep in a young Sunday school teacher. What did she know about non-judgmental?

She pulled away from him, "This isn't the right place for me. I should be going," she mumbled as she tried in vain to hold back the tears and pain of a lifetime.

He gripped her elbow tighter, "No, I pride myself on knowing people, understanding them. Twenty-five years as a history teacher in inner city schools will do that for you."

Tara burst out laughing before the man could finish his statement. "What's so funny about me being a teacher? Most of us have quite normal jobs like teacher or police man or secretary. Like I said earlier, we are just normal people...with a few kinks."

She shook her head and tried to compose herself. "No, nothing funny. It is just me. I had been thinking of you as a High School guidance counselor since we met," she tried explaining through bouts of girlish giggles.

Peter chuckled. It softened his stern appearance for a moment. He looked almost boyish as he joined her in laughter. "Assistant principal to be exact. For the last five years of my career." The softening of the crinkles about his eyes made him appear almost 'human' for the moment...even in the harsher fluorescent lighting in the kitchen.

"Preacher's daughter and former preacher's wife," she found herself confiding almost against her will.

He laughed again and shook his finger at her, "Whatever will god think about this? You are in big trouble now, young lady."

She frowned for a moment. Why did those words...young lady and Daddy...illicit such strong emotions in her? It was a question that she was not yet ready to face. All of this was enough to tackle for the moment.

As if reading her mind, like some trick at a Halloween carnival, Peter continued their earlier conversation. "This world has a lot of things that people out there...in the 'real' world," his tone said more about that word than anything, "will never understand. Hell, just ask a feminist why a woman would want to kneel and hand control over to a man, any man. But those same women would have no problem using and abusing a male submissive. It is all about personal perspective."

He smiled, but it did not seem to reach his eyes, those wrinkles about them were once more set into firm hard lines. "We all wear our masks out there. But in here we try to provide a safe place for people to be themselves. To explore those dark secrets and fantasies that they have been ostracized for. To be the person that they have been denying and hiding for a lifetime."

His words sang like a comfortable old hymn in Tara's battered heart. "I hope you will stick around. I do think, feel, you belong here." That firm face which must have sent even the toughest gang member scouring was back in place, "But if you stay, you are going to have to open up that mind of yours. Leave the judging to your god, if he exists, because no one knows what is in the heart and mind of another."

He paused and looked her up and down for a very long moment as if taking her measure. When he was finished, his look gave her no clue as to his 'judgment.' Was she worthy? Or had he found her lacking? He would not be the first man to do so, that was for certain.

"Most of us do not even know our own." He let her elbow go and held out his hand. His face seemed to age, heavier somehow. "I do hope you stay, Tara. But only you can decide if this is the right place for you. The right time. Whatever you decide I wish you the best. Good luck finding the answers you seek. If you need me, just shout. But I need to get back to the reception desk. I was on my way here to get my slave something to eat when I ran into you. She's diabetic and I need to see to her."

Tara nodded. She wanted to thank the man for his words of wisdom. But her throat was much too tight for words at the moment. Here was what she had come looking for...a Master who put his slave first.

As he turned his back to her and began chatting with the cute young woman behind the table, giving her instructions on what needed to be refilled and what should be cleared away, Tara was left feeling the one thing that she had most of her life...lost and alone.

She was just about to walk away...out the door. Another dream extinguished. Another rainbow followed to the end without finding the proverbial pot of gold.

"Excuse me," a voice said from just behind her.

She turned to see the young man whom she had noticed when she came with the woman-child, with Beth. She could tell from his tight smile that he was just about as uncomfortable in this place as she was at the moment. Though he was probably several years older than her daughters, something about him brought out the mother in her. She wanted to wrap him in her arms, comfort him, and tell him everything would be all right.

She smiled, "Am I in your way?" she asked as she realized that where she was standing probably blocked the line for the buffet table.

Like the little boy that he reminded her of, he shook his head apologetically. "No, you're fine. It's not that," he stammered. "It's just that I am new here. I just brought a friend. I've never been to a place like this before and I don't know exactly what I'm doing here."

He chuckled and drew in a deep breath, "Master Smooth, I'm not, I guess you can tell. What I was trying to say was...you seem a bit lost like me. Would you care to get some food and a drink? Perhaps sit down and chat a bit?"

Tara smiled at the young man. "That sounds really nice."

***

The rest of the night flew by remarkably fast. She and the young man, whom she learned was Josh, ate and talked. She discovered that he had been in the lifestyle for several years, but that he had never been one for the clubs. His fiancée had left him several months back and he was just beginning to get out again, explore, and date.

Tara could sympathize. It was certainly where she found herself after a quarter of century of marriage. The good little preacher's wife in the den of iniquity. They had talked and talked as they watched others play around them.

He seemed really nice and if nothing else she had made a new friend she thought as she turned off the lamp next to her bed. Rainbows might not have been anything like what she had imagined after reading all those books about dungeons, but it had been an experience. She had seen and learned new things. Things she was still processing as she slipped her vibrator from beneath her pillow and turned it on.

Her mind played back over all that she had seen this night. She sought a fantasy, something new and different to get her off. She frowned...it was not that none of it appealed to her. More that none of it seemed real to her...anything within her grasp. Fun games that other people played.

Instead she went back to her favorite fantasy, the one that she had been using for months. Her mystery Dom. His hands moving over her. His voice commanding her. Him using her as He saw fit. Between the fantasy and her rabbit the happy O came quickly. She laughed at the double entendre as she turned off the vibrator and slipped it back under her pillow for the morning.

Sweet dreams of Oz...somewhere over the Rainbow filled her mind that night.

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