Free Velvet Submission by Violet Summers

smile.
    "Only DJ Wicked tonight, koishii."
    Janie cleared her throat, and Megan looked up in surprise. The usually relentlessly cheerful bartender was looking less than cheerful and friendly at the moment.
    "Can I get you something, DJ?" Janie's voice was cool, clipped, and more businesslike than Megan had ever heard it.
    Hmmm. What was up with that ?
    "You know what I like, aikouka," he replied, turning that naughty smile on the fuming bartender.
    "We don't serve chai or chamomile," she snapped back.
    Curiouser and curiouser , Megan mused.
    "That is a tragedy," Wicked murmured, leaning against the bar with an almost boneless grace. "Then I'll have to settle for mango nectar and soda."
    "Ice?" Megan thought that if the man wanted ice, there was enough of it in Janie's tone to supply the whole darn bar.
    "Of course, aikouka," he agreed.
    Janie put his drink together quickly, and visibly deflated when he left the bar to flow back to the DJ booth.
    "My goodness, darlin'. What was that?" Megan leaned in, thrilled to let someone else's drama take front and center.
    "That was a man who doesn't know when to quit," Janie muttered, and then moved down the bar to focus on other customers.
    Deprived of company, Megan recommenced checking out the options wandering the third floor tonight. She quickly passed over Trey. He'd been fine for a single night of play, but he lacked the intensity Megan was craving tonight. Besides, she made it a practice not to give her subs any repeats.
    She'd almost given up when she saw him. The perfect distraction. He was tall, though not quite as tall as Gregori, and shared the Russian's dark hair and pale golden complexion. His eyes, from a distance, looked dark. Maybe the thick, studded dog-collar he wore was a trifle overdone, but the man was nasty enough looking to carry it off.
    Without moving, Megan caught his eye, pointed, then beckoned. He lifted a brow, but moved obediently to stand before her.
    "Is that how you greet a Mistress?" Megan let the magnolia slip into her voice, while keeping her tone cool. She knew the contrast made most men wild to either heat her up or cool her down.
    The big bruiser lowered his eyes immediately, but his voice was insolent. "It's how I greet a woman who's made a move on me."
    Megan's eyes narrowed.
    "Oh, really?" The poor fool didn't know her, or he'd have recognized the doom in her voice.
    "Yeah," he said. "Really."
    His last word ended in a squeak, as Megan caught his balls in a grip that would turn coal to diamonds.
    "You need to learn some manners, darlin'." He made a garbled sound, his eyes nearly crossing in pain. "Would you like for me to be the one to teach them to you?" She relaxed her grip enough that he could answer.
    "If it pleases you, Mistress."
    Megan smiled to herself. Now that answer was all she could have hoped for.
    "Over there," she flipped her hand to indicate what looked like a sinuous bit of sculpture, but was actually a device with shallow indentations for the submissives knees that rose into a gently rounded chest support.
    Mr. Attitude moved quickly to the device and dropped into a kneeling position. At Megan's nod, one of the club employees fastened him down, efficiently attaching Velcro cuffs to his wrists, ankles and neck so he was pressed tightly along every inch of the sculpture.
    Then she sat back and watched him. For five minutes. Ten. He began to squirm, and Megan waited for the rush. For the sense of power and control.
    It didn't come.
    Finally, with a sigh, she finished her wine and wandered over to her mouthy submissive.
    "Whatever shall I do about you?" she murmured. She walked slowly around him, trailing a nail over the bare length of his spine. He was well built, but he lacked Gregori's thick slabs of muscles. And it pissed her off beyond all words that she noticed.
    "Whatever pleases you, Mistress," he hurried to reply.
    "What's your name?" Megan turned to the club employee who was standing at the ready with a tray that held a