Consent isn’t negotiable. Neither is dignity.

This story is fantasy. Any likenesses to people, places or events is purely coincidental.

Hey Lovelies,

This prompt was kindly given to me by the wonderful Jamesxmorgan of Tall Tales — if you haven’t already, do pop over and check out his blog!

Alright, let’s get into it!

The prompt: write a blog post with the prompt “no”.

Lucas was a Dominant, that much he knew — he had no desire to ever submit to a woman. Lucas — a thirty-something business entrepreneur — liked women who had their shit together, so long as they knew when to kneel.

Tonight was party night: one of Montreal’s finest BDSM events — The Bondage Boudoir. Lucas had picked out his outfit for the evening – smart black trousers, a black shirt, and a matching tie – based on the dress code he’d found on the club’s website. It was the low-effort option,  but Lucas wasn’t there for fancy dress prizes – he was there for the girls. 

The club was much larger than Lucas had expected, but he didn’t let that stop him in his tracks. Layered over three floors, he learned that downstairs was the main lounge, upstairs was another bar and playspace, and the guest rooms and private spaces were above that. Lucas devised his game plan: start at the bottom, and make it all the way to the top.

The main bar was full of young couples, and Lucas realised immediately that he wasn’t the only one on the prowl. There were young men and women; some of the men seemed rather unfriendly, but some of the women offered warmer smiles. Lucas felt assured by that — confident, even. Maybe he could nab one of these pretty girls for himself?

The lounge rumbled with bass from the decks, and the air was heady with leather and perfume. In the distance, Lucas could hear the slap of leather on skin and the occasional moan or yelp. He smiled a wicked smile – that was Level Two.

From across the bar, one young woman caught Lucas’ attention: a curvaceous blonde with subtle tattoos and piercings, laughing loudly with a small group of friends. Lucas watched her for a while. She was loud but feminine — and definitely a barrel of laughs.

When she walked in his direction, Lucas took a quick sip of his drink then plucked up the courage to speak.

“Excuse me,” he said nervously. “I heard you laughing, which drew my attention to you I couldn’t help but notice you have amazing…”

The young woman rolled her eyes. She looked ready to throw Lucas’ drink in his face if he so much as uttered the word.

“Tattoos!” Lucas grinned. She laughed.

“Oh! Thank you,” she replied. “That’s not what I thought you were going to say.”

“I know! Dirty girl” Lucas teased with a wink. The girl blushed.

“Aimeé,” she said, holding out a tentative hand.

“Lucas,” he replied, taking her hand in his gently. “The pleasure is mine.”

“How about we go upstairs where it’s quieter?” Lucas suggested. “We can talk a little better there.”

Aimeé considered the proposal, then smiled.

“Sure! I can see if I’d like to get to know you better” she said pouting playfully. Lucas raised an eyebrow and smiled inwardly to himself.

Level Two: result.

The first-floor bar was quieter, with plush red leather seating and bar tables for drinks. The space was divided into thirds: one-third open playspace, the rest reserved for seating and the bar. Guests could stand and watch scenes unfold — or sit and chat if they preffered.

Lucas bought himself another whisky. He bought Aimeé a second glass of wine, too.

“So, what brings you here?” Aimeé asked.

Lucas smirked. “Same as all of us, really. I’m looking for someone to play with. Have a good time with, you know?”

Aimeé’s face shifted. Surprise? Disappointment? Empathy? Lucas wasn’t sure.

“What about you?” he asked.

“I just come here to hang out with my kinky friends,” Aimeé shrugged.

Lucas nodded. “It’s a cool place.”

“So how long have you been single?” he continued.

Aimeé met his gaze, more serious now. She shrugged again, harder this time. More surrendered.

“Who’s counting?”

“Just not found the right one?” Lucas pressed.

Aimeé sighed.

“Too many want the good girl. The perfect girl. The fantasy girl. I’m none of those things.”

Lucas smirked again. “I’m sure you can be very good when you want to be,” he said, letting his voice drop to a low, seductive tone.

Aimeé bit her lip.

Lucas stood, walked around the table, and sat beside her on the leather sofa. Now to seal the deal.

“Maybe, if you’re a good girl, just maybe I’ll take you upstairs tonight. Just you and me, our own room and a blindfold. Then we can get to know one another very well, and you can decide if you want to know even more.”

Aimeé sighed deeply, finished her wine, then she slammed her glass down with an audible BANG!

“You must think I don’t hear corny pick-up lines all the time,” she hissed.

“You must think I come in here because I can’t get dick — and this is the only place I can.”

“But I—” Lucas tried.

It was hopeless.

“But you nothing. No, I don’t want to go upstairs with you later. No, I don’t want to ‘see if I ‘want to get to know you better’, and no, I most certainly never want to see you again. I thought you were better, but you’re not — you’re just like the rest of the creeps in here.”

Aimeé stood, picked up her clutch bag, and met his eyes one last time.

“Goodbye, Lucas,” she mouthed.

Lucas watched Aimeé storm back down the industrial staircase, out of his sight, and out of his life for good. This time, the sound of Aimeé’s heels rang much louder than the music below.

Level Three: failed.

Until next time.

Stay safe & have fun,

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