BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

Beth shifted her weight to her left hand, lifted her right off the wood floor and flexed her wrist. A crop struck her thigh.
“Be good, girlie.”
Dropping her hand back to the floor, Beth resumed her position on hands and knees, serving as a footrest for her owner.
Madame Cat lifted her legs a fraction of an inch off Beth’s lower back, switching which ankle was crossed on top.
The floor of the library was one of the least comfortable places to be kneeling for long periods of time, but that was where
Madame Cat had decided to have her dinner. Almost everyone else in the library was also eating, and Beth’s stomach growled in
reaction to the delicious food smells. People went quiet and Beth lifted her head just enough to look around. Master Xavier,
recognizable from the mask he wore, was leading a lovely red-haired sub through the room.
They must have been paired up as part of the checklist game. Beth had played with Master Xavier once, over a year ago. He’d
complimented her on her ability to obey and her responsiveness to pain, but Beth had been able to tell that he’d never ask for
her again.
That was the story of her life. She was good, but forgettable...as forgettable as a piece of furniture, which she was now serving
as.
Beth bit the inside of her lip, reminding herself that anything was better than nothing. Being collared by Madame Cat was an
honor and a gift.
She watched out of the corner of her eye as the lovely red-headed sub was draped backward over a wine barrel and then
pleasured by nearly everyone in the room. Beth was transfixed by the sight—though the sub had been ordered not to come,
she’d clearly had orgasm after orgasm from mouths and hands dancing over her body.
Beth had been kneeling here, completely naked, for what felt like days, and the only physical contact she’d had were her owner’s
feet on her back and the occasional strike of the crop when she moved too much.
“I need her.” Master Xavier’s voice only a few feet away shocked Beth, but she held still.
“Of course.” Madame Cat took her feet off Beth. “Go with Master Xavier.”
Beth’s heart was in her throat as she pushed herself up into a kneeling position. Keeping her head down, she waited for her
orders, hoping, praying that it would be something dirty and sexy. Clearly Master Xavier remembered her from their one session.
Maybe she wasn’t as forgettable as she felt.

“Stand up. Come with me.”
Ten minutes later Beth was positioned behind the barrel. Xavier had raised his sub’s head and shoulders so they were no longer
lower than her heart. Beth was serving as a support—the other woman’s shoulders against her breasts, her bound arms looped
around Beth’s neck.
It seemed that her destiny was to be either furniture or a prop. Biting hard on the inside of her lip, she was able to hold in the
murky feelings bubbling inside her. With nothing better to do, she analyzed, finally deciding that the predominant emotion she
had at the moment was frustration, followed shortly by boredom.
Being part of the scene, even tangentially, was certainly better than being a footrest. She now had a perfect view of the woman’s
spread legs and the Dom who was currently licking her. Beth’s own body throbbed in response. For one insane moment she
considered running her hand over the smooth white skin bound and displayed before her.
But she knew better. That wasn’t why Master Xavier had asked for her. Turning her gaze away to avoid temptation and stupid
fantasies, her gaze landed on Master James.
Beth sucked in air. Master James looked like a movie star—not a grungy action star, but a classic clean-cut hero. Though he was
wearing slacks and a simple button down shirt, he looked as elegant as other men looked in three-piece suits.
Master James was on the top of her wish list of play partners. She’d seen him sitting with subs on his lap, his style of domination
a kind of causal yet intimate mastery—as if he had no doubt that he was in control and felt no need to make a show of it. She’d
watched him kiss and pet his subs while in the common spaces, touches that seemed more like those of a lover than a Master.
And oh, she wanted that.
He smiled slightly and Beth blinked, then checked behind her, but there was no one there. Was he smiling at her?
His gaze dropped to her neck and the padlocked collar she wore. Golden-brown brows drew together and Master James looked
away.
Beth lowered her gaze, her face warm—embarrassment the main cause, but there was another feeling in the mix, which she
identified as shame. Luckily a moment later Master Xavier freed his sub’s legs and helped her off the barrel. Beth waited to see if
she was still needed. When everyone turned away, focusing on other things now that Master Xavier’s scene was done, Beth
dropped to her hands and knees and crawled back to her owner, wincing as Madame Cat plopped her feet into place.

Only five feet from where Beth knelt, a pretty blonde submissive was urged up onto a low ottoman. The girl had an open-style
gag in her mouth, drool making her lower lip glisten. The Dom, who Beth recognized but whose name she couldn’t remember,
had her lie on her side. Smooth black rope was wound around the sub’s limbs, creating wide cuffs that bound each wrist to the
corresponding ankle, and knees to elbows. With her legs tucked up against her chest her ass and pussy were fully exposed. The
Dom knelt beside the ottoman and ran his hands over the girl’s back, adding the occasional spank as he whispered to her, the
words low enough that Beth couldn’t make them out, but she could guess that they were gentle from the tone of his voice.
The Dom pulled a small, jeweled plug from his pocket, slipping it into the sub’s mouth through the open gag. When it was coated
in saliva he spread the cheeks of the girl’s ass with one hand then teased her anus with the blunt tip of the plug. Beth watched,
unable to turn away—not that she wanted to—as little by little the Master coaxed, teased, and tormented the woman, using the
plug to relax and loosen the muscles of her anus, until each time he pulled away the sub frantically twisted, trying to lift her hips,
seemingly desperate for the penetration.
Beth understood the feeling. She’d been wet since watching the scene with Master Xavier and his sub, and her current view
wasn’t doing anything to lessen the low burn of arousal. Her nipples were tight, making her aware of each breath she took.
When the plug was finally inserted, Beth had to bite back a moan that echoed the blonde’s, her own anus clenching in reaction to
what she was seeing. Next a large silver egg was forced into the sub’s pussy. With the woman’s squeals of pleasure ringing in
Beth’s ears, she shifted her weight, trying to relive the throb in her own pussy. Madame Cat rewarded her fidgeting with a sharp
blow from the crop. Pleasure darted through Beth, and for one exciting moment she thought she might find release too, but then
her Domme went back to her conversation.
The blonde’s Master had risen and taken a seat, propping his ankles on the sub’s hip. Another submissive footstool. He held a
small control box, a wire leading from it to the egg buried deep in the sub’s wet, pink pussy. He murmured something, then the
girl started gasping and twitching, her toes curling, fingers grasping nothing but air.
Beth watched as the Dom leaned back in his seat, drink in hand, appearing relaxed and at ease, yet his eyes never left the sub,
his fingers poised over the control box, adjusting it according to the sub’s reactions.
It was painfully simple to make comparisons between the blonde’s situation and her own. Beth wanted what the other girl had,
but even as the sounds of female orgasm rose to impossible-to-ignore levels, Madame Cat was more focused on her
conversation than on Beth. As Beth’s Mistress, that was her right, to use Beth in whatever way pleased her.

Rather than continue to watch, Beth closed her eyes and tried to ignore the sounds, hoping her arousal would fade. Eventually, it
did.
Maybe it was time to give up this life. She’d thought BDSM would help her, but instead it just reinforced the fact that Beth would
never be like other women. No one wanted to play with her, no one cared about her pleasure. She was as alone here as she was
in the outside world.
Madame Cat had dropped hints that she might be leaving the club, or possibly moving out of LA. When she did, Beth would
resign her membership. Though it would effectively mean giving up most human contact, alone might be better than feeling like
this.
Bottling up her feelings, Beth settled in to the boredom of serving as a footstool and started working through calculus problems in
her head.