Tomboy: Dark Dominion (Chapter 6) (Patreon)

Tomboy: Dark Dominion

Chapter 6

Kelly had to trek a few blocks to reach her destination, a secret FEM Fighter lair under a bank. Kelly accessed the side entrance, and found the FEM Fighter headquarters empty and dark.

Going to her locker, Kelly stripped and put away her street clothes. Then she pulled out a pair of tight blue short-shorts. Very skimpy, in fact, displaying half-again too much butt cheek. Then she sat on the bench and pulled on her stiletto-heeled sneaker boots. The ankle boots were her colors of red and white. That done, she pulled on a white sports bra. A short red vest went over that. After using fashion glue on her red mask, she pressed it to her face for thirty seconds.

“I am Tomboy,” she declared when she snapped the wide FEM Belt around her tiny waist, feeling the super powers rippled through her body. Felt so sexy and invigorating. And then after snapping the Power Bracers around her wrists, she pulled on red batting gloves. “I’m ready for anything now.”

Tomboy put her red and white baseball cap on, with TB displayed. She grabbed her baseball bat and strode over to her custom painted street bike. The super fast motorcycle was painted red, white, and blue, with “Tomboy” on the license plate. As a FEM Fighter, the state gave her those custom plates.

Her bat went into a special holster on the bike, she started the bike, and then activated the departure sequence. Cameras connected to a computer scanned the alley for any sign of life or activity. When it was safe to leave, it opened the secret door for her. She raced up the ramp, out and away.

The ultra private club, Dominion, wasn’t too far from campus. Jenny could walk to work in heels, after all. So it only took a few minutes to arrive. It was still early, as clubs measured time, but the parking lot was full of very high end cars and SUVs. Tomboy circled the place a few times, and then found a dark spot to park.

The sexy young heroine moved stealthily up to the club. It was much larger than she anticipated, with a loading dock in back. She was actually expecting it to be some large old home, considering the neighborhood and secretive nature of the club. It was a two story modern building. Not an office building. Not a store. She wondered if they had it custom built for their purposes. According to Jenny and Whitney, the club had multiple stories. She had to assume some were underground.

BDSM sex clubs should be underground, she thought. The heroine paused to take in the size of the structure. How many kinky rich people live in this city?

Tomboy made her way to the back, easing up to the two bay door dock. She could only assume they received food there. Maybe some large sex contraptions needed such large passages. But there was a black-painted regular door to the right, so she tested it. Locked.

“Of course it is,” she muttered, and looked up.

There was a single-story wing beside the docks. Her FEM Belt gave her the strength to jump that high, so she leapt up and found herself on a roof deck. She wasn’t expecting that. The “wing” also surrounded a swimming pool for members, complete with access into the building from the roof deck and stairs down to the pool.

Tomboy tested the door onto the deck first. Unlocked. She was inside, immediately hit by rather cool AC. She guessed the AC was turned down to around sixty-eight.

Must be for those unlucky dominatrixes working in full leather and latex, she mused.

The busty blonde started checking doors. She found offices and conference rooms. An office supply storeroom, as well. She even found the security office, peeking inside to find multiple guards staring at monitors. They had cameras zoomed in on different women, some dominatrixes, mostly barely dressed slavegirls. None of the cameras had views inside the dungeons, but doms were leading slaves from dungeon to dungeon.

She noticed the monitors showing the docks, realizing that if they were doing due diligence, then she would’ve already been caught.

Yeah, they are going to lose their minds when they spot me wandering up and down the hallways in a few, she thought.

Tomboy wasn’t really trying that hard to sneak around. She expected them to have some kind of surveillance. Part of her goal was to put the fear of super heroines in their bones, and maybe push them into making a mistake.

She eased the door closed, and then headed for the stairs she’d noticed. Not fire escape stairs, but wide general public stairs. She strode down them like she owned the place. Men and women glanced at her when she reached the ground floor. No one was alarmed. She strolled through them, looking around.

It was a lobby of sorts. Most of the people were dressed in kinkwear: leather, latex, or just straps around their bodies hiding nothing. The strap outfit seemed to be most popular with the men, most of whom looked to be in their 40s and 50s. The women were much younger in contrast, and more numerous. The female membership wore very little, so Tomboy saw more naked boobs in one place than she’d ever seen before. Topless seemed to be the preferred style.

“Excuse me,” a forty-something woman in black leather asked. Her gray-streaked dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and she carried a riding crop. “Are you a new member? Or staff? I could really get into some captured super heroine role playing.”

She slapped the riding crop into her left palm a few times. Goosebumps rippled up Tomboy’s back. She remembered her previous summer of sex slavery, and struggled to pull her eyes away from that instrument of pain and pleasure.

“Sorry, not available,” was all Tomboy said.

Tomboy found the main dining room off that lobby. It was the club’s official cover, the supper club portion of the building. There were only a few diners left, all dressed in evening wear. Two of the doors off the long, wide lobby were obviously the changing rooms for the members.

Spotting another set of open double doors, the young heroine hurried over and passed through. She stopped in her tracks, jaw dropping. Tomboy had seen BDSM dungeons before, but they were always small, intimate affairs. Not that dungeon. It was huge, full of sexily attired men and women.

Dominatrixes and doms attended slaves locked in bondage playstations. She saw young women and middle-aged men locked onto St. Andrew’s Crosses. Others were held tightly and helplessly atop padded bondage horses. The air was filled with moans, groans, and the sound of paddling bare butts.

Tomboy spotted Jenny in the middle of that den of debauchery. Her friend was naked, wearing only a wide leather collar and strappy black stilettos. She knelt before a very handsome thirty-something man, sucking his dick while he held her leash. The sight so shocked her that it took a second to recognize the man as local billionaire Dorian Moore. The insurance and banking mogul was in countless TV commercials promoting his insurance company. A very familiar face. He and his companies would take a big hit if the public learned he was a member of that BDSM club.

I don’t understand why the members don’t wear masks, she thought.

“Excuse me, miss,” a gorgeous redhead asked, bolding approaching her. She wore shiny black latex and leather: spiked collar, strapless corset, opera gloves, and pants stuffed into lace-up thigh boots. Her only pops of color were blood red lips, fierce blue eyes, and that glorious mane of bright red hair. “Are you a new member? May I have your name please?”

“Hi. I’m Tomboy,” she said, giving her a little eye wag.

“Oh. The local super heroine?”

“I am,” she said. “And you are?”

“I am Lady Lovelace,” she said. “Head Dominatrix, and floor boss tonight.”

Tomboy’s eyes were pulled back to Jenny. The kinky billionaire came in Jenny’s mouth, pulling out to make a rope of cum between his dick and her open mouth. Jenny was just staring up at him with lusty eyes. He said something, and her tongue came out to swirl round that rope of man seed, and suck it into her mouth. In a flash, she’d consumed the cum and wrapped her lips around the head of his cock again. The heroine’s jaw dropped as her friend licked the man clean.

“She’s one of our more popular slavegirls,” Lady Lovelace said. “Would you like to spend time with her? On the house.”

“What? No!” Tomboy cried. Discombobulated, she lifted her eyes above all the debauchery. Why were her insides and pussy so hot and fluttery? “It’s just… Is it really necessary to lick a man clean like that? So disgusting.”

Lady Lovelace laughed. It was a beautiful laugh, too. Tomboy relaxed a little listening to it. She could well imagine how popular Lady Lovelace was with the male membership.

“If that shocks you, then you are in for a rough time while here, Tomboy,” Lady Lovelace said. “That little courtesy is pretty tame.”

“It’s not required?”

“Nothing is ‘required’ in BDSM, except respect for each other,” Lady Lovelace said. “Slave Jenny didn’t have to do that, but there’s a reason she’s so popular. Even though she’s on staff, she has the right and ability to refuse to do anything she’s not comfortable doing. In fact, we insist everyone’s safe word be ‘Red’ just so there is no confusion.”

Tomboy frowned at the dominatrix. Lady Lovelace wasn’t acting like someone guilty of a crime. In fact, she seemed quite nice and reasonable. No one else was freaking out over their security being breached, either. Of course, Tomboy was sure security would get ripped later, behind closed doors.

“So it’s just another Saturday night at Dominion,” Tomboy said. “Nothing illegal going on, nothing to see. Move along. Is that what you’re saying?”

“In a nutshell,” Lady Lovelace said. “I assure you, all of our ducks are in a row, legally speaking. I know, I’m one of the partners. But we would appreciate your discretion. There’s no reason to publically out this club or its members just because you don’t approve of our little hobby.”

It never occurred to Tomboy to take their kinky scene public. What they did consensually was their own business. Though, she hated that Jenny was caught up in it. And Whitney went missing while working there. And Lady Lovelace seemed a little too cool, a little too smooth.

Looking around again, Tomboy found Jenny strapped down tight atop a bondage horse, while a woman strap-on fucked her and a man thrust his cock down her throat. And that wasn’t the kinkiest thing going down in there.

“I better leave before someone urinates in some poor woman’s face,” Tomboy muttered.

“That’s only allowed in the watersports room,” Lady Lovelace said, a wicked grin spreading. “I could show you…”

“No thanks,” Tomboy said. “But I do have a question. I saw a police report that a woman went missing while on the job. A woman named Whitney Sanders. What can you tell be about that?”

Lady Lovelace hesitated, eyes glazing over. For the briefest of seconds, she looked cornered. Or was she just distressed at what happened?

“Yes. That has management quite stressed. I was working here, as Floor Boss, that night,” Lady Lovelace said cautiously. “I saw Whitney leaving early, so confronted her. She was quite upset. I’m not sure why. She didn’t say. I assumed someone did something she didn’t like, and it pushed her over the edge. She just wanted out.” The redhead shrugged. “It happens. Whitney quit, and left. I haven’t seen or heard from her since. Would you like to question her friend? Jenny, the slave you were so disgusted with earlier, was her best friend.”

Tomboy glanced at Jenny, still getting double-teamed on the bondage horse.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” she said. “I’ve seen enough.”