Should we call this club 'The Blue Room'? Lol
"How the hell did you talk me into this?" Quinn asked her best friend, not for the first time that night.
Brittany turned around and smiled up at her. If Quinn hadn't known her friend better, she might have believed the sweet, innocent little look in Brittany's eyes. As it was, Quinn merely turned her attention heavenward and wished she wasn't such a soft touch when someone approached her for a favor. Specially Brittany.
"This is for us," Brittany reminded her; absentmindedly, already turning away.
The fact that her humiliation was going to raise money for a good cause failed to make Quinn feel the least bit better about the world. It also failed to make the minuscule thong and bra that Brittany had cajoled her into, any bigger.
Quinn shuffled her bare feet against the bare floorboards as she glanced along the increasingly short line of men between her and the gap in the curtains leading to the back of the makeshift stage.
"How big a donation would I need to make right now if I wanted to get out of this?" Quinn asked. She was pretty sure she'd happily bankrupt herself to be able to run away and scramble back into the clothes she usually wore when she worked at the club.
"It'll be fine." Brittany soothed vaguely, patting Quinn's arm as she stood on tiptoe in an effort to get a better view.
"Britt—" she began again.
"We need the money to finally get out of this Quinn." Brittany cut in. She actually fluttered her eyelashes up at Quinn as she said it. "It's time to buy an awesome apartment together and start working on something else, and stuff."
"Yeah, well, there must be other ways to—"
A cheer went up on the other side of the curtain. Quinn's mouth went dry. She promptly forgot how to speak.
Behind her back, Quinn's hands tightened into fists and tugged at the cuffs Brittany had somehow managed to convince her would be the perfect addition to her near non-existent outfit.
All Quinn's squirming succeeded in doing, was to pull at the thick leather belt around her waist. Dropping her gaze to the floor in front of her, she tried to take a deep breath to settle her nerves, but her eyes went straight to that silly little thong.
This has been her job for months after all.
"Brittany—"
"Brittany S Pearce!" Someone called from the stage.
With one last grin over her shoulder, Brittany disappeared through the gap in the curtains. Quinn watched, growing paler by the second, as Brittany's light footsteps carried her forward to stand next to the auctioneer for the evening.
She was sure that this wasn't legal at all, but money was money.
The crowd whooped with delight at the sight of her. Quinn couldn't bring herself to be surprised. She was pretty sure Brittany was exactly what every dominant men fantasized about every time they danced on the stage.
Big blue eyes, floppy blond hair and a cute smile—when a flirting talent was thrown into the mix, it was only natural that she should be one of the most popular woman in the club.
Brittany bowed to her delighted audience. The leather harness and cuffs she was wearing only made her skin look paler and the light lines of muscle that graced her limbs more elegant.
Someone shouted something from the crowd. Brittany cheerfully changed her bow to a low, theatrical curtsey and pretended to fan herself as she smiled coyly over the top of the imaginary prop.
Watching her performance through the gap in the curtains, Quinn did her best not to hyperventilate. It wasn't as easy as it should have been. By the time Brittany practically leapt off the stage into the arms of her winning bidder, Quinn's lungs had completely given up on their assigned task. Her head was spinning from lack of oxygen.
There was no way in hell she was going out there. Quinn shook her head at the very possibility.
"Quinn Fabray!"
Someone behind Quinn elbowed her in the back, as if they thought there really was some possibility she hadn't heard her name being called. "Hey! you're up."
Actually, she wasn't. Her feet remained rooted to the spot.
"Quinn Fabray?" The auctioneer called again.
The elbow-er standing behind Quinn gave her a push toward the gap in the curtains. She stumbled forward. Her shoulders brushed against the rich red velvet. The spotlight blinded her. She tried to lift her hands to shield her eyes, but the cuffs stopped her short. Instinct led her to the auctioneer's side, but even after her eyes adjusted to the stage lighting, she found it impossible to make out any detail of the men in the crowd past it.
That was something to be grateful for. But she couldn't tell if Ms. Lopez, the owner of the club, was out there either. If that were the case, then this would be ten times worse.
Thousand of times worse.
From somewhere far, far away, Quinn heard the auctioneer read out her stats, but her mind easily converted the numbers into the reality they represented.
The men in the crowd started to shout, but Quinn knew that most of the others would be thinking the same thing.
A moment later another cat-call emerged from the crowd, ready to prove all of Quinn's fears true. Swallowing rapidly, she tried not to blush and completely failed.
Keeping her gaze lowered, all she could do was stand very still and pray for it to be over.
"Goddammit she's hot!" Someone shouted.
"I want her in my bed." An old guy said.
It took Quinn more than a few seconds to realize the tone of the comments had changed. She thought that maybe the men might have lost interest in her. To Quinn's side, the auctioneer opened the bidding. The values weren't as high as those being offered up for Quinn's time, but there were numbers—and they were going up rather than down.
"I'll buy her right now!"
Santana Lopez heard the man sitting next to her at the bar say the words, but she'd be damned if she was just going to sit back and watch this guy's prediction come true.
Catching the auctioneer's eye, Santana nodded once and raised the bidding a little further. Keeping her bids subtle enough that she didn't attract any extra interest in paying for Quinn's time, Santana quietly raised the stakes until each and every men who'd considered using Quinn as her new toy fell by the wayside.
It was only when the gavel fell, that Santana turned her gaze away from the auctioneer and back to Quinn. The submissive woman stood near the edge of the stage, peering out into the crowd, but she obviously had no idea who'd won the bidding war on her. Neither did any of the other men—not until Santana left her barstool and made her way up to the edge of the stage to collect her prize.
A few whispers started up as she reached the bottom of the little flight of stairs that led up to Quinn. Santana had a fair idea what they would be saying. She might have been happy for the auction to take place in her club and raise money, but she has never gone so far as to support it by actually placing a bid on any of the girls who put themselves under the hammer.
The bouncer blinked down at her, as if he still didn't understand what was going on.
She took a step forward, then another, another, until she stood at Quinn's side.
"Follow me." Santana commanded.
Turning her back on Quinn, she lead her back through the crowd, not to where she'd been sitting by the bar, but to the private booth that she'd taken to using as a makeshift office during club hours.
Holding the door open, she stood back and let Quinn walk in first, knowing there was no way Quinn would be able to close the door behind them while her hands were bound as they were. Damn, but she looked as good in bondage as Santana had always thought she would.
It wasn't a completely private location, and it wasn't exactly silent either. The noise of the club seeped through the rich wooden panelling. But as they faced each other somehow, the rest of the world became increasingly irrelevant.
Santana ran her eyes over Quinn, from her hair, well-defined muscle, and all the way down to her bare feet. For a completely stunning woman, she seemed incredibly nervous about showing off her fantastic body.
She finally took pity on the girl and nodded toward the bench on the left hand side of the table. "Sit down, Quinn."
Quinn did as she was told. Even while sitting down, she seemed to be consciously trying to make herself appear smaller and take up as little room as possible. Or maybe she just wanted to hide as much of herself as she could behind the dark oak table.
Santana lowered herself into the seat opposite her. "You've never struck me as the kind of girl who likes being the center of attention." Quinn met her eyes for a moment. "I'm guessing Brittany talked you into this?"
Quinn nodded.
Santana considered her next move very carefully. She'd always known there was a fantastic body hidden behind the thick coat Quinn wore when she worked on the bar but having it displayed for her appreciation was something very different, and more than a little distracting.
"What was the final bid in the auction?" Quinn asked.
"Does it matter?"
Quinn cleared her throat. She seemed to have difficulty forcing the words out. "I probably can't pay you back straight away, but, maybe I could do it a bit at a time." Santana raised an eyebrow at her. "It's not that I'm ungrateful that you stepped in and rescued me, but I…" Quinn's words trailed off as their eyes met.
She was right, of course. It was rescuing Quinn that had been uppermost in her mind when she offered her first bid. Save her from horny and violent men and send her on her way without actually making her go through with the rest of the stupid auction game. That had been the plan.
But, as the heat rushed to Quinn's cheeks, there was no way in hell Santana could bring the appropriate words to her lips.
"You agreed to play the game." She reminded Quinn instead. Quinn squirmed slight in her seat. "You offered the bidders four hours of your submission."
"Yeah but maybe—"
"There are no maybes." Santana cut in, briskly. "You don't owe me any money, Quinn. You owe me four hours." Quinn turned her head and looked everywhere but at Santana while Santana gazed over those parts of Quinn's body that were visible past the table. She could think of so many wonderful things to do with those four hours. "State your limits." She added.
Quinn blinked at her, as if she had no idea what she was talking about. "I… I can be handcuffed all night. I don't mind."
"I asked what you won't do," Santana reminded her. "Not what you will do. Do you have a boyfriend?" She pushed, asking what she had wanted to know since months now, hoping like hell she was right in thinking she already knew the answer to that question too.
Quinn swallowed rapidly and shook her head. "No."
Santana smiled.
"In that case, I'm still waiting to hear your limits." Quinn opened and closed her mouth, but no words came out. Santana's eyes narrowed. "Have you ever negotiated something like this?"
"Like I said, I can pay you back—" Quinn fell silent as Santana lifted a hand.
"That's not what I want Quinn. But you'll have the choice, for the first time to choose what you want and do not want." Quinn stared at Santana as if she'd lost her mind. "You're scheduled to be working all night next Friday, right?" Quinn nodded. "Well change of plans. You can start your shift early and end your shift early. You'll belong to me for four hours, starting at ten o'clock."
Santana smiled slightly, the instinct to want to rescue Quinn wasn't exactly new, but now it was stronger than ever.
And honestly, she was just messing around because if Quinn didn't want to, she wouldn't do anything to her.
"Alright." Quinn said, with perfect and apparently completely instinctive obedience and Santana nodded in approval.
"She probably changed her mind by now." Quinn kicked her feet against the pavement outside the club as she glanced to where her friend was sitting on the wall to the left of the door during her break. "She's probably forgotten about it all."
"Please, Santana is not the forgetful sort, and she's not the indecisive sort either." Brittany swung her legs back and forth, tapping out a rhythm on the brick work as she hummed a song under her breath. "If your four hours go half as well as mine went, you're going to be grinning all the way into the New Year."
Quinn looked both ways along the snow covered street, as if some sort of escape route might open up for her at any moment. She'd never had any doubt that Brittany's time with the guy who offered his winning bid would be fantastic.
"Santana sent me here actually. She said you need to report to room seven straight away."
Quinn glared over her shoulder at her, but, as much as part of her wished she had time to throttle her friend Brittany for getting her into this mess in the first place; what's done is done. So Quinn quickly made her way through the club.
Room seven.
For all the time she'd spent on the door and in the public areas of the club, the playrooms were far less familiar territory for Quinn. She desperately tried to remember which set up was in which room.
Room seven.
She was still none the wiser when she found herself standing outside the door with a big iron seven bolted onto the woodwork. Her mind might have been spiralling out of control in a dozen different directions, but her body was running on automatic pilot and didn't wait for any orders to be issued by her brain before lifting her hand and knocking politely on the door.
"Enter."
Quinn's body still didn't wait for her mind to catch up. She turned the handle and pushed open the door.
Santana stood on the far side of the room. Quinn had never actually seen the woman wearing anything that wasn't leather, but as she laid eyes on Santana she became acutely aware that, for the first time, she was looking at Santana in other type of clothes rather than her work clothes.
The sexy leather jacket Santana usually wore was functional, practical and good quality, but Quinn stalled in the doorway as she ran her eyes over what Santana was wearing right then. Those jeans and tight shirt were like a second skin. It wasn't the kind of leather jacket a woman wore when she was going to be doing paperwork in the back room or play referee to a bunch of bratty doms who couldn't remember the rules of her club.
It looked far more like what a woman wore when she was actually interested in someone. It was what a woman wore when she wanted to screw the hell out of someone, make someone beg for anything and everything in the world, and generally give a submissive the best night of her life.
"Close the door."
Quinn closed the door. Santana then gave her back to her and Quinn's hand were hurting with want. She was watching Santana's body, a body that Quinn had longed to touch since the first moment she set eyes on the other woman, a few months ago, when she'd interviewed her for the job.
Unsure what she should do, Quinn shuffled her feet and remained just inside the door, waiting for an order. Finally, Santana turned away from the rack of toys on the other side of the room that she was so interested in, and looked in Quinn's direction.
As she leaned back against the edge of the bondage bench next to the toy rack, the overhead lights illuminated every curve of her body.
It wasn't in Quinn to keep her eyes on the other woman's face then. Her attention dropped straight to Santana's crotch. She could see the outline of her apparently big shaft through the jeans.
This was like a dream to Quinn, that's why she couldn't understand why she was so nervous. Maybe because of the power and authority Santana possessed?
"So, you're going to belong to me for the next four hours. If you don't say what you want and what not, I'll do whatever I want with you. Do you understand that?"
"Yes." Santana didn't look as if she believed her. Suddenly well aware that she was making a complete idiot out of herself, Quinn did her best to pull herself together. "I understand the way it works."
Santana appeared neither relieved nor impressed by her reassurance. Straightening up, she stepped away from the bondage bench. "Come here then." Quinn slowly made her way forward. "Give me your coat. You'll get it back when I'm finished with you."
Automatically undoing her coat Quinn shrugged it off her shoulders and handed it to Santana.
Setting the garment to one side, Santana quickly turned her attention back to Quinn and watched her in just her sexy underwear.
Wasting time wasn't going to make her look any more like the kind of submissive woman that Santana liked to own. She wouldn't turn into someone like Brittany when the clock struck midnight. She had far more chance of turning into a pumpkin than something else.
She'd never thought she'd miss that ridiculous tiny coat so much.
As Santana slowly walked around her, Quinn clenched and unclenched her fists, but she had no idea how to stand, how to hold herself as she was assessed. Santana was behind her, out of her line of sight, when Quinn felt fingers brush against her forearm. She jumped, but Santana's hand didn't release the gentle hold it had taken around her wrist.
Santana said nothing as she guided Quinn's hand up to the back of her head. Another second passed and Santana guided Quinn's other hand to join the first on her head and link her fingers neatly together.
A gentle tap of Santana's foot to the inside of Quinn's ankle was enough to convince her to shuffle her feet width apart. Quinn closed her eyes. While it was nice to know exactly how Santana wanted her to stand, being presented like that for her inspection soon had the heat rushing to her cheeks.
Then Santana was standing directly in front of her.
Reaching out to her, Santana ran her fingers along Quinn's right arm. She didn't seem particularly impressed, she didn't seem particularly anything. It was almost as if Santana didn't see anything the least bit strange in the woman she was dominating.
Her touch moved to Quinn's chest. Her hand stroked its way across her breasts until her fingertips found a nipple. She caught the little nub of nerve endings between the digits and squeezed hard over her tiny bra.
Quinn's whole body jerked. A shocked little noise escaped from the back of her throat. Santana smiled and calmly went back to caressing her muscles. Her touch was light, demanding and gentle and it was everything that Quinn didn't expect.
It was better, a lot better.
Santana's hand was making its way down her abs and it was impossible for Quinn not to feel that the other woman had any destination in mind other than her crotch.
But then as soon as it began, Santana lifted her hand from where it had lingered on Quinn's stomach and instead, she stroked her knuckles down Quinn's cheek.
"You really need a person to look after you, Quinn. You deserve it."
Swallowing rapidly, Quinn didn't even attempt to find any words to make a reply. All she could do was hold Santana's gaze, and pray that Santana could see whatever she needed to know reflected in her eyes.
Santana smiled slightly. She nodded as if she understood everything in the whole world and right then, Quinn had no doubt that Santana could be that person if she only wanted.
"Kneel." Santana commanded.
Submissives like Brittany could lower themselves to their knees with so much easy grace that it barely seemed like there were joints operating behind the movement. Quinn had seen them do it a million times. But, as Quinn slowly descended, first to one knee and then the other, she'd never felt more clumsy in her life.
Santana's knuckle came to rest under her chin and she tilted Quinn's head back until she had little choice but to look up at her and meet her gaze.
And suddenly, own on her knees, she'd never felt smaller before another woman, and she'd never loved that rare, perfect feeling as much as she did right then either.
Santana ran her hand over Quinn's head.
"I can't even count how many times I've imagined you like this." Santana seemed to be talking more to herself rather than Quinn, but that didn't stop her from relishing Santana's words.
Quinn didn't know what to say, she didn't have a single syllable in her head.
"You... really?" Quinn whispered.
Santana stroked her fingers casually across Quinn's face until they brushed across her lips. "Imagined you with me?"
Quinn parted her lips, but no words emerged.
Santana didn't complain about her silence. She simply slipped two of her fingers into Quinn's mouth and made them quickly at home there, easily encouraging Quinn to lick the digits and suck around them.
There was no way she could answer unless Santana chose to remove her fabulous fingers. She was effectively gagged and had never been more grateful for permission to stay silent.
"Imagined you as I kiss you, so gently you'd beg for a real kiss?" Santana went on. She slid her fingers deeper into Quinn's mouth, making her murmur with pleasure. "There are lots of things I've imagined doing with you, actually."
Santana took her fingers out of her mouth then. Quinn licked her lips, suddenly desperate to feel the other woman's cock slide between her lips and fill the emptiness left behind after Santana's digits retreated.
She stroked her thumb down Quinn's chin, gently parting her lips once more. Her touch was so gentle, as if she somehow thought Quinn was the most delicate, fragile thing she'd ever laid hands on in her life, yet there was no humor in her eyes, she didn't look like she was laughing at Quinn's expense.
"But the truth is, that you can leave if you want to."
Quinn pulled away as Santana's words hit the air. She quickly removed her hands from the back of her head, all her worse fears confirmed in one swift blow.
So, she wasn't enough.
Was her own fault for falling for an unattainable fantasy? Why the hell would a dominant and successful woman like Santana be interested in someone like her anyway?
"Although, that doesn't mean I want you to leave." Santana added. She was watching Quinn very carefully. Santana offered her hand and Quinn took it after hesitate, she brought them back to an equal height. "Game players may like the idea of ordering a woman around all night knowing she'll do whatever they say just because they've paid for the pleasure. But I'm not like that."
Quinn held her gaze before pulling away her hand from the warmth and softness of Santana's hand, but she didn't say a single word in response.
"This isn't a game to me." Santana waved a hand toward the sexual toys that surrounded them. "Neither are you."
"But you have a girlfriend." Quinn dared to interrupt her.
It was like everyone knew anyway. If she wasn't like those men like she said, who paid for a girl to have sex. Then what was she doing here?
Was Santana willing to cheat on her girlfriend with her?
"Not anymore." Santana answered calmly.
The answer gave Quinn the tranquility she was craving. And it was strange how that, managed to put a small smile on her face.
"Honestly what I want to do now, is to take you upstairs, out of this club and into my apartment. I'm not going to lie, I do want to have sex with you Quinn, but not because you want the money. Not because Brittany talked you into something. I want you to put yourself in my hands for no other reason that that's exactly where you want to be."
Quinn's lips slowly parted.
Right then, as Santana and Quinn faced each other in the center of the playroom, Santana had never been more certain that this wasn't one of those times of just sex, not for her at least. Quinn's eyes screamed acceptance, and desire, and submission, and a million other things that swirled around those emotions.
"I want to." Quinn simply said.
Santana smiled as she saw something inside Quinn relax as the physical connection between them. Apparently, she let Quinn know that she was safe and controlled, owned by another woman that respected her. For the first time.
Santana turned around and Quinn quickly followed her across to the door in the furthest corner of the room where Santana handed Quinn her coat.
The inconspicuous exit led straight up to the fire exit for her private apartment above the club. Quinn made no comment on that as she trailed along behind Santana. She offered no complaint about the cold that lingered in the little used stairwell. But, when Santana finally led her into the small living room set off the landing and turned to face Quinn, she had no doubt that all of Quinn's insecurities had come flooding back.
Having already discovered one thing that made Quinn feel more at ease in her own skin, it would have been stupid not to make use of it. Back in the playroom, Quinn didn't hesitate to follow the command and the simple fact of look at Santana in the eyes.
So she looked at her.
Stepping past her, Santana moved to sit in her couch that flanked the flat's only fireplace, and she made it easy for Quinn to follow her and notice what she wanted.
Quinn quickly positioned herself between Santana's legs.
She didn't need any further encouragement, she knew perfectly what Santana wanted and what she wanted too. She shuffled forward and even gained the courage to lean in and press a kiss against Santana's jeans that was covering her erection.
Gazing down at her with complete approval, Santana settled her free hand on Quinn's head and merely accepted the licks and kisses she pressed against her over her jeans as if they were her due.
There was no need for praise or to make a fuss over the other woman. Acceptance was all that Quinn really needed from her right then, and Santana let those kissed last several minutes before she slipped her hand between them and undid her jeans, giving Quinn access to her whole crotch.
Again, settling her hand on the back of Quinn's head, Santana guided her to lean forward and take her cock between her lips for the first time, just like she have been dreaming. There was no need to apply even the slightest force, the lightest guidance was more than enough.
Even so, as she settled both her hands on Quinn's head, Santana let Quinn feel a dominant woman, directing her own movements, holding her steady when she wanted Quinn to focus on lapping at the tip and swirling her tongue around the sensitive glans, then leading her forward when Quinn wanted more of the hard shaft to be cocooned in the wet heat of her mouth.
It was unbelievable how good it felt, Quinn had an undeniable talent. More than that, she had blatant enthusiasm for it too. Santana smiled down at Quinn as pleasure rushed through her while Quinn murmured her own enjoyment, sending another wave of bliss through her.
The slow, almost worshipful attentions soon had Santana on the edge. From the look in Quinn's eyes as she glanced up at her. She tightened her hold on Quinn's head, holding her in place as she rocked her hips slightly and thrust her dick deep into Quinn's willing mouth.
Quinn took it easily, sucking and swallowing around her, as if trying to beg the orgasm out of her by any means possible.
The trust, the purity of her submission, mixed with the raw desire she saw in Quinn's eyes was enough to make her come hard inside Quinn's mouth.
Santana tossed her head back, whimpering quietly.
She held Quinn's head still, filling her mouth with cum as her orgasm tore through her. Ecstasy seemed to reach out into every part of her body, until she felt it in every fiber of her body, even after she fell still and collapsed back against the couch.
Blinking her eyes open, Santana looked down at Quinn. Her head was still bowed over Santana's lap, her lips wrapped delicately around the softening shaft, licking the last of her.
Rubbing Quinn's hair, Santana took away her hands from Quinn's head and covered her now soft dick with her clothes again. She then gently pressed Quinn into her lap, feeling happy to be able to just be with her. They both dazed into the fireplace, watching the glowing coals spark and dance with a glowing orange heat.
It was incredible how beautiful Quinn was, Santana couldn't take her eyes off her. And when Quinn sensed that some eyes were on her, she looked back at Santana.
"Do you really think I'd send you to anyone's bed but mine, Quinn? Because I can't. That's why I always order my people not to let any man touch you."
Quinn looked down at her and Santana held her gaze. Santana just wanted to say how the first time she saw her, her heart fell. She wanted to say how the second time she saw her, her heart fell. The third time fourth time fifth time and every time since, her heart had fallen for her.
Then it all happened so fast.
Quinn kissed Santana full on the lips. Very softly and very slowly.
How could Santana explain it? It was such an awesome and powerful thing. Quinn's hands holding her face, Quinn's lips against hers, Quinn's body over her body, Quinn's tongue playing with her own tongue, Quinn's sweet taste. All of that caused Santana to have the most beautiful feeling and she felt like she was so complete, so happy in that moment.
With other girls, there was often hunger and confidence in them, not the shyness and hesitancy Quinn displayed.
She was different and unique and wonderful and so, so gorgeous. Santana couldn't have enough.
Thus, half in love with her and tremendously uncertain of how that heavenly encounter would end, she kissed her back.