She said the word aloud, enunciating clearly, afraid it would be lost in the surrounding noise.
“Red” Joseph’s voice repeated. “Okay. From here on the moment you say that word everything stops.”
She nodded her understanding, wavering a little on her heels.
Joseph steered her, by leash and by word, through a small crowd of bodies. Mary felt her hips and shoulders bumping into people. She felt leather, latex, and lace brush against her skin. He was leading her into the club.
Despite the mask, or perhaps because of it, the music laid siege to her ears. The fetish ball was apparently well under way. From experience Mary knew there would be a thousand or more people in attendance. A thousand people. Looking at her, bound and trussed for the sole purpose of display.
She let herself be led, her chest the prow of a blind ship, through the thick, close crowd. More shoulders, arms, elbows and hips collided with her, but no hands. People kept their hands to themselves at a fetish club. It was a matter of showing respect in order to earn the same. Still, Mary felt exposed. Vulnerable.
Eventually they stopped. They’d walked a fair distance and turned often. Mary had no idea where they were in the club, but there had always been bodies around her, bumping into her, wherever they’d gone. Joseph had likely doubled back several times, deliberately confusing her.
Without warning Joseph unhooked Mary’s leash and stepped away. She stopped and stood where she was, utterly alone. Her legs shook. Adjusting her stance a bit she felt the tail feathers swing against her thigh.
The air was thick with smoke, undermined with scents of leather, latex, rubber and sweat. It was the smell of fetish. Mary imagined she could feel the heat of nearby bodies, an occasional Doppler breeze as someone walked past, but no-one touched her. The bass beat washed over her and thrummed through her bones. A white noise of rhythm, a universe of cadence.
Mary’s lips parted as her breath began to quicken. Fear clutched at her chest. Exhilarating fear.
Her universe shrunk. The world was the mask around her face, the smoke in her lungs, and the beating of her heart matched to the rhythm of the music shuddering through her. She could smell the sweat of hundreds of people nearby but she could feel none of them.
A hand rested on her hip, briefly, and was gone. The touch was so fleeting she wondered if she’d imagined it. Instinctively she turned toward it.
“Don’t move.” Joseph’s voice commanded, thundering through the music like a god. She quivered to a halt, instinctively ducking her head in a submissive pose. The tip of the tail swung once, from calf to calf, and was still.
She’d always loved his voice. It had seduced her long before she’d even seen him. She clung to it now, her only reassurance.
Another hand lay on her other hip, pausing this time. It rubbed her skin gently through her skirt, squeezed once, briefly, and was gone.
She waited. Time stretched and compressed. She had no idea how long she’d been blind and deaf. Even though she reasoned it must only have been minutes, it felt like it could have been hours.
A hand boldly caressed her thigh, brushing up along its length and beneath the ineffectual skirt. It lingered a moment before following along the curve of her ass, which it cupped firmly … and was gone.