The Tourney - Prologue

The Tourney

Prologue - A court of three jesters

"... was watching you the whole time," Ren is telling her, leaning up against the bar table and swirling her mocktail in her hand. "I've never seen a noob take a paddling with that much gusto. You had this... this glow on your face after each strike."

"What can I say?" Liz grins, leaning forward and letting her own glass rest in her lap. The cool condensation on the glass might leave an embarrassing puddle on her skirt, but she mischievously wonders if anyone might mistake it for something more exciting, "... I live to please."

Ren laughs, throwing down another large gulp. Despite it being alcohol-free, standard for the event, the habit of drinking leaves her with a placebo buzz. After her third ultra-sugary mocktail, Ren looks just as tipsy as though they were real.

Liz adjusts her posture on the bar stool, trying to stick her ass out a little more. Just because Ren was with her now didn't mean she had to ignore any offers, and Liz is eager to receive them.

Ren's cute. A short, swooping wave of black-and-red hair pulls back onto a round face with shaved sides. She has a boyish charm, with twinkling dark brown eyes and a flat nose that hangs just above a sweet mouth that always wears a partial smirk, skin smooth, pale, and a little shiny. She wears a leather jacket with the sleeves cuffed just below the elbow, accenting her toned arms and strong hands. She sits with her arm propped up on the table and a boot hooked onto a rung of Liz's stool, other foot dangling nonchalantly. Liz doubts Ren is even capable of sitting normally in a chair.

"So..." Ren moves closer, her boot on Liz's stool pulling her a little nearer as well. "Tell me about your bands."

Liz looks down at her wrist, adorned with a small handful of colorful, stretchy rubber bands. It was the standard code for the Marion Street Brigade, and Liz is proud to finally be allowed to wear them in the club.

"First band," Liz says, tucking a finger around the band closest to her palm. It's a thick band with three colors, red and blue with a thinner stripe of purple through the middle. "Bisexual," she explains.

"Experienced?" Ren asks, an eyebrow arching tentatively.

Liz nods. She'd only ever been with one girl before, but it at least counted for something. She suspects Ren probably's done considerably more than her, but with one act of pussy eating and one act of fingering under her belt, Liz is happy to move solidly out of the category of "bi-curious."

"Lesbian," Ren answers back, dangling her own top band.

"You don't need a band for that one," Liz giggles. "Not with that haircut."

Ren's face splits with a wide grin. "That's for flagging outside the club." She lifts her dangling foot up onto the stool, resting her elbow on her knee and leaning in close enough to whisper. "That attitude will earn you extra strokes if you stick with me."

Liz blushes, taking a sip of her drink to fawn hiding it. Her cheeks pucker slightly at the sour lemon syrup and fake cherry liquor, teeth slightly resenting the sugar crushing through. Ren's easy to provoke, and Liz notes it happily.

"Second band," Liz raises her hand again, twirling the stretchy material. She doubts she has to explain this one, the flag's colors are hard to mistake for anything else. If Ren didn't notice it after sitting for twenty minutes, that was on her. "Trans."

"Cis," Ren answers back. She has no band to signal it; the absence of the blue-pink-white-pink-blue was the default.

"Experienced...?" Liz asks timidly. This was the question she'd learned to be slightly careful about. "Or... trying something new?"

"Noob," Ren replies happily, taking another gulp of her drink. She wipes away the dribble of liquid that doesn't make it into her mouth, collecting just above her chin. "But not a weirdo about it. Girls are girls."

Liz lets out the breath she'd been holding in. She'd learned the sweet spot was a fine line between the two - if a partner had been with one or two trans girls before, it was experience. If it was any more than that... the pattern didn't tend to lead towards Liz finishing with any self respect remaining.

"Final band," Liz moves on, flicking the thin orange band at the lowest spot. It's deliberately thinner than the rest, signaling it's not a confident announcement. "Open to trying most things... not necessarily anything."

"Define most things." Ren's brow lowers, trying to read her pause.

"Everything covered in basic classes - ropes, restraints, impact, chastity, role play, and temperature," Liz explains, feeling a little warmth build inside at stating it all out loud. Sure, no one in this room would dare judge her for any of it, but she's still getting used to being so open about it. "Other things aren't a 'no,' I just haven't necessarily tried them and reserve the right to hate them."

Ren nods, face washing with a cute flash of excitement. "Any hard limits?"

"The gross ones," Liz chokes out.

Ren rolls her eyes, not quite impatient or upset but mildly annoyed. "I doubt everyone in this room would know which ones are the 'gross ones', babe."

Liz sighs, disappointed she'd have to spell it out. Ren was right, she of all people shouldn't shame like that. "If you'd do it in a porta-potty I don't want it involved."

"You should hear what Damien has done in a porta-potty," Ren smirks, flicking her head towards a lanky man across the room. "I get what you mean, though." She pulls at the other band on her wrist, a thick gray one. "Bondage, primarily."

Liz is about to crack a joke, but Ren speaks faster. She leans back, opening her legs wide and nonchalantly snapping and unsnapping one of the many clasp buttons that decorate her tight pants. "Girls are girls... and girls deserve to be tied up."

Liz flushes, unable to redirect her gaze from Ren's flexing forearms. Liz isn't particularly weak, she'd run cross country most of her time in high school and college, but she doubts she could really contest Ren's strength. Ensuring Ren sees it, she bites her lip quietly, hoping the woman could see the ideas flashing through her head.

"Oh, I'd absolutely do that to you," Ren boasts, head cocked slightly as she reads Liz's submissive and hungry smile. Her clit fights against her careful tuck, hidden by her skirt, but she doubts Ren needs to see a bulge to imagine the effect. "Whatever idea just crossed your mind, I'd do that until you begged me to stop."

Ren runs a palm back through her short hair, ensuring the back of her strong hand is fully on display. Liz especially notices the soft impression of the veins on her arm pop as she moves, hardly noticing her own body leaning forward to be closer.

"So whaddya' say?" Ren grins again. "Night's almost done. You going to be leavin' with me?" She winks, a gesture that would've looked ridiculous on anyone who didn't have her casual, boyish charisma.

Liz nods excitedly. She hadn't doubted Ren would offer, but it's still a delightful crush of ego-boost to hear the request out loud. With every dominant that proposes to her, Liz feels like her self-esteem jumps aboard a rocket.

A light chime sounds out over the speaker, interrupting the soft music that had previously filled the club. Liz laughed earlier that they were just playing a "Greatest R&B hits of the 00's," and when the chime interrupts the second playthrough of Rihanna's "Umbrella," she's sure her observation is correct.

"Good timing," Ren chirps. She throws back her drink, tapping her knuckles on the bar counter and lightly cupping Liz's chin between her thumb and index finger, flicking it lightly. "See you out there, hon."

"See you," Liz calls back as the woman strides away. She restrains a smirk, in disbelief that her plan was going so smoothly. Liz was so sure it wouldn't work, that someone would've suspected something was up, but Ren's confidence answered that concern. She leaves her unfinished drink on the counter, deciding the sugar isn't worth it, and takes her place in a row of folding chairs propped up on the tiny club stage.

Tonight was a tradition for the Marion Street Brigade club. They ran a series of classes simply titled "BDSM for Lovely Subbies," an introductory course to the basics of everything a newcomer might need to keep themselves safe. There was a counterpart course for dominants, but it was far more intense and carefully measured. While five or six subs would graduate in a given class, only one or two doms would. A passing grade in the course was required to cuff up in the club.

Liz was delighted to be a part of the graduating group of submissives. Moreover, she was equally thrilled to be dubbed this class', 'Diamond.' According to the club owner, a bombastic former drag star everyone just called "Queen Mama," Liz was the best catch of the bunch; "Top of her class and cute as a button." She'd only succeeded over four others, the fifth had to drop out because of a job offer out of state he couldn't refuse, but it still felt good.

The Diamond tradition was hardly a tradition; Liz was only the second sub to win the title. Apparently, watching Bridgerton was a spiritual experience for Queen Mama, and she fancied herself to already be as much of a queen as the one from the series. She'd even had the club decorated tonight to use Bridgerton as a theme, with the dark and slightly dingy black walls of the club being adored with golden streamers, fake flower bouquets, and a tower of cheap champagne glasses as the centerpiece.

Liz takes it all in from the stage as colorful spotlights shine down behind her, leaving the stage and dance floor brightly illuminated against the low light of the rest of the club. More chairs have been lined up on the dance floor as the rest of the patrons head over to the space just in front of the stage, around fifty people or so. Most of them were club regulars, a scattered crowd that came from all walks of life with their own pairings and established relationships. Beyond them, there were fifteen or so prospective doms, excited to snap up the graduating submissives.

Ren flicks a nod towards Liz as she takes a seat in the second row, confident she had successfully courted the Diamond. As much as being the Diamond was a badge of honor for Liz, it was also a status symbol for Ren as well, and the handsome girl is eager to win it.

"Welcome, darlings!" Queen Mama exclaims, strutting out onto stage in a surprisingly similar costuming as the show. Her gorgeous red robes leave behind a few feet of poofy fabric to trail along the floor, and above her dramatic and over-accented makeup she sports a wig that's nearly a foot tall, tight silver curls towering together. She carries a microphone wrapped in glitter and gold paint, and in the small club it's hardly necessary.

The sound of remixed pop-violins cascades through the room, followed by a trill of trumpets to herald Queen Mama taking the stage. She opens her arms wide, announcing, "I believe it's proper to bowwww before your Queen."

The audience laughs, some whooping excitedly, and after a few seconds everyone in the room is kneeling before her.

"Excellent!" Queen Mama smirks, clicking her heels and snapping her fingers. "Let's cuff some subs, bitches."

The crowd cheers again, more unified this time, and return to their seats. The lights across the house seats dim even further as the stage lights flash a variety of colors briefly. Liz smirks to herself, imagining the single amateur tech person at the controls working her hardest to give the show some production value.

"Ladies, Gentleman, and those who can't be bothered with any of all that," Queen Mama continues, striding back and forth across the stage in five-inch heels, "May I present our first eligible submissive. He can sing, he can dance, he's wearing tight little pants... it's the lovely Lord Landon!"

The young man in the farthest seat to the right stands happily, tucking his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans and grinning, a little nervously. He waves to the crowd, body glitter flashing through a neon green fishnet top.

"Who would dare suggest they're worthy of such a fine Lord?" Queen Mama challenges, snapping again and opening a palm towards the crowd. "Speak now, and forever hold his peace!"

"I dare!" A burly man jumps up happily. He's got a big belly and a warm smile, and Landon blushes excitedly when he trots up to the stage, jogging through the crowd. "Queen Mama," the man kneels at her feet, loving the spectacle of it all, "I ask for your blessing."

"How proper," Queen Mama clicks her tongue, turning to Landon. "Is he worthy, Lord Landon?"

"He is," Landon squeaks, throwing his hands behind his back and twisting his chest back and forth.

"Blessing granted," The queen agrees. Landon extends his hand to the man, who slips a cheap leather cuff onto his wrist, interlocking his fingers and pulling Landon back towards his seat.

"May you live naughtily ever after," Queen Mama grins. She moves across the stage to the farthest left chair. "Up next, she's got curves for days, she's got smiles for weeks, and she's a laugh that I'll remember for years... it's the devastatingly beautiful Lady Tanya!"

Tanya bounces up, giggling delightedly. She's just as curvy as Queen Mama promotes, and Liz half wonders how lovely it'd be to see her in ropes. She'd seen little bits of it during classes, but she knows whoever Tanya picked as a dom is in for a treat.

Before Queen Mama can even continue, a beaming man from the far side of the room is already charging up to the stage, sliding down to his knees and extending his fists, clasped around a leather armband, to a grinning Tanya. She snatches it quickly, throwing it around her wrist and letting out a belt of laughter.

"I guess we've already got the answer to that question," Queen Mama announces. "Blessing given, now get out of here you mischievous eager-beavers!"

Tanya and the man disappear into the crowd as well, and Queen Mama turns her attention to the chair next to Liz, where a timid body taps their fingers anxiously.

"We gotta be quieter for this one," Queen Mama declares, lowering her voice and squatting. "Our next sub's a real treat, shy, smart, and so so dearly ready to be spanked... only a true hero can snap up this sweet cookie. I present for your necessary consideration... my liege Winter."

Winter rises slowly, legs shaking ever so slightly. They're short and keep their head bowed low, but Liz knows they're insanely chatty once they're comfortable. Winter was known for being the most talkative and knowledgeable in the class, asking questions that even the instructors had to look up answers to. It had been tough competition to beat them for the spot of Diamond, and Liz is convinced Winter had deliberately gotten a lower score on the final just to avoid the extra attention.

"Anyone who's up to the task of matching our genuine genius," Queen Mama whispers to the crowd, "Make your way forward."

Liz already knows who it'd be before she stands up. Just about everyone in the class and club knew that Winter and Serena had hit it off instantly. Serena taught a few sessions, mostly the stuff around impact control and basic safety skills, and Winter found her captivating.

Serena strides forward, kneeling before Queen Mama and offering up her leather cuff for inspection. "I would like to ask for your blessing, your most radiant majesty."

"Points for flattery, Miss Serena," Queen Mama chuckles. Holding the microphone back, she places each hand on the shoulders of Winter and Serena respectively, pulling them close and asking Winter, "Is she worthy?"

"Very," Winter grins, wrist extending for Serena's attention.

"Then I bless this union," the queen approves. "Go have fun, kids."

Winter places a quick kiss on Serena's cheek, whose face flashes a precious shade of pink in return. Liz can't hide her smile, the two were adorable to be in class with, and she'd been rooting for it from the beginning. Everyone was.

"Which brings us to our final subby," Queen Mama stands again, strutting to hover at Liz's side. "Please rise."

Liz rises, feeling all eyes on the club land on her. The stage tech in the back of the room lowers the lights like they're on "Do you want to be a millionaire," dousing the room in low blue light. A spotlight shines down on Liz and Queen Mama in the center.

"She's cute as a button, she's got a hunger you can't deny, and a pain tolerance you will want to try out," Queen Mama waxes poetic in her tone, thriving in her performance. "She's the first trans girl to receive our grand title of honor..."

Liz smirks. She's only the second Diamond ever, it isn't like she's joining congress or going to space.

"She's top of her class, and best on her ass," Queen Mama waves a hand down to swat Liz's bottom affectionately, causing her to let out a surprised yelp. "And if that noise is any taste of what's to come," Queen Mama giggles, "you're in for a treat. To the assembled nobility before me... I present for your desperate consideration... this season's Dia-mondddd!"

Liz feels her heart beat loudly in her chest, briefly making eye-contact with Ren in the second row and smiling. Ren winks, sitting on the edge of the chair and preparing to leap up, cuff in hand.

"Have you shopped around the room?" Queen Mama asks her.

"I have, Queen Mama," Liz confirms, feeling a little excited flutter of naughty guilt flash through her chest. Her plan was working, and she couldn't wait to see the look on their faces...

"And have you received an offer?"

"I have, Queen Mama," Liz hides her mischievous grin, feigning deference to the queen instead.

"Then if you've made an offer to our lovely Diamond," Queen Mama turns to the crowd, opening her arms wide and throwing back her head, "Shout to the heavens!"

Ren leaps out of her seat, pounding her arms against her chest and letting out a guttural and victorious cry of delight... only to freeze midway to hear her voice joined by two others.

"Oh, interesting..." Queen Mama mewls. "Three?"

"What!?" Ren exclaims, turning to stare down the other two who stood up.

Liz feels a little ashamed. She hadn't been planning it for very long, but once she was announced as the Diamond it felt like everyone wanted a piece of her... so she didn't tell anyone 'no.'

Ren is joined to her right by a tall and lanky man wearing a thin romper with a deep v-neck to show off his manicured chest. He's got short, curly hair and a wickedly charming grin that's accented by dashing laugh lines. His soft blue eyes have a way of making a person feel simultaneously protected and completely naked, and Liz found it arousing to be a deer in his headlights. His name is Quentin and she thinks he's delightful.

To Ren's left was Celeste, a shorter woman with bright green hair, plenty of piercings, and an array of floral tattoos. Her cropped bangs fell down just above a pierced eyebrow, matching a septum piercing on her slightly-hooked nose. Her cheeks were accented by dimple piercings, and she was the kind of person that it was hard to imagine had natural color lips - the black lipstick simply had to be genetic, destined to match with her witchy long sleeve blouse, fishnets, and Doc Martens.

If Celeste or Quentin had suspected anything was amiss, their faces don't show it. Liz had talked with both earlier in the evening and they walked away confident they'd won her over, proudly smirking as they saw each other try to make a move, knowing she'd already accepted their offers.

In reality, Liz hadn't said 'yes' to any of them. She'd simply grinned and nodded, letting her silence answer instead and having their enthusiasm for her fill in the gaps. She'd just loved the attention. After years and years of pouring work into her transition, finally feeling comfortable enough to actually step into an environment like this, Liz was reveling in the novelty of being really, really wanted.