BDSM Checklist: A, B, C Chapter 17

“Lift your hair.”

With trembling fingers, Anna lifted her hair away from her neck. The posture collar was prettier than
most, with bands of metal connected to plates at the front and back. The plate at the back had a hinge,
while the front had a series of metal closures. He slid it around her neck and closed it with a small click.
It was wider in front, dipping down to touch the top of her breastbone.

“You will be careful while you wear this.”

“Yes, Master.”

He pulled a small Allen-wrench-like key from his pocket and used it to screw the fastenings together.
There were no buckles, no safety latches. He’d fastened her in and only the key he held could get her
out. Anna trembled, her eyes on the far wall. The posture collar kept her chin raised a fraction higher
than was comfortable. She could still talk, and turn her head a limited amount.

“Look at me.”

Anna met her Master’s gaze. He stroked her cheek. “I know you hate it, but you’re beautifully
submissive when you wear it.”

It was true. Though her arms and legs were free, she felt as bound as if she were hanging from the
ceiling in rope.

“I’m happy to please you, Master.”

He squeezed her breast.

“I need to prepare for the rest of our day. Go to the Subs’ Garden. You aren’t allowed to view any other
play sessions, or to leave the garden. Understand?”



“Yes, Master.”

He kissed her hard and deep. “Good. Go.”

Arousal still humming through her, Anna left their room. She hoped he didn’t make her wait too long.

* * *

Mae poured herself another glass of champagne and curled up on a delicate love seat in the lounge of
the Subs’ Garden, a pretty suite of rooms reserved exclusively for the use of submissive members of
Las Palmas Oscuras. It was nearly midnight and there were only a few other subs milling about.
Members who hadn’t reserved play time or space for this weekend had gone home. Others were off
meeting with their checklist partners, planning when they’d work through their letter. Some were
ensconced in playrooms with their Owners or Masters, since the rules said that they had to complete
their checklist items within the month, not that they were restricted from any play that wasn’t part of the
game.

A few hours after the announcement, Mae had ventured out to see what was happening, and who was
playing with whom, in the public spaces. She watched Master Carter drip black wax onto a sub’s
nipples—a fairly regular occurrence since Master Carter was a wax connoisseur—and tried to not let
herself get too worked up by the woman’s moans of pleasure. A few of her favorite Doms had
approached her while she watched the scene, but she’d gently replied that she wasn’t free to play,
making sure her smile let them know how much she regretted her reply. It wasn’t a lie, but maybe it
wasn’t the whole truth.

In the six hours since the game had been announced, it seemed that club members all knew who their
partners were, what their letter was, or at least when they were expected to be here to play. Mae knew
nothing. She hadn’t been contacted, either over the loudspeaker system that allowed the Doms to
make announcements in the subs-only spaces, or by paper message delivered by a few slaves who’d



been tasked to play mail carrier. Envelope after envelope had arrived to the Subs’ Garden,
announcement after announcement had been made, but none addressed to Mae.

Taking a sip of champagne, Mae tugged the shoulder of her kimono-style robe up over her shoulder,
covering her breast, and tried to keep her mood light. Her emotions were a mess of arousal—which
was an almost Pavlovian response to being at Las Palmas, frustrated—since it didn’t seem like a scene
or orgasm was coming her way any time soon, angry—that her partner hadn’t contacted her, and
worried that somehow, for some reason, she hadn’t been included in the game. Mae wasn’t used to
being alone. When she came to play, she never doubted that there would be Doms delighted to have
her submit to them, if only to have her sitting on their laps while they drank and chatted.

Polishing off the champagne, she decided it was time to give up hope of being contacted. She’d
chosen to come here, to play and be played with, but it seemed that wasn’t going to happen. She could
stay the night and see what happened in the morning, using the downtime to get some work done—her
phone and tablet were in her locker—but if she was going to work she might as well go home. Plus at
home she had a lovely box of toys she could play with.

Letting irritation mask feeling sorry for herself, Mae set her glass down with a snap, glad to have a plan.
She was in no shape to drive home immediately, but she could change into her street clothes and get
ready to go. Rising to her feet, she left the lounge for the locker room, keying in the code and taking her
phone and glasses out of her designer purse. Slipping on the glasses, she started typing an email to
her assistant, letting her know that, despite what was on her calendar, she would be available to take
meetings and approve designs this weekend.

“Mae?”

Startled by the sound of her name, Mae jumped slightly, knocking the locker door closed. Gabriela,
Master Leo’s bonded submissive, was standing in the doorway. She was a lovely Hispanic woman and



older than Mae, but maybe not as much as anyone would have guessed. She had waves of lush dark
hair and wore a long black silk robe, held closed by an under-bust corset.

“Gabriela, you startled me.” Mae tapped her chest, just over her heart. “I was just going to change.”

“Don’t. Come with me.”

Mae’s stomach muscles tightened and irritation morphed into trepidation. The only people who could
send Gabriela to do an errand were the overseers, which meant that they wanted to talk to Mae about
something serious. Was she being kicked out? Was that why she hadn’t gotten a letter? The idea of
being shut out of Las Palmas was enough to make Mae physically sick.

“Let me put my stuff back in my locker.” She reached for the keypad but stopped when Gabriela spoke.

“Now, Mae.” Gabriela’s tone was soft, but firm. In the hierarchy of club submissives you didn’t get any
higher than Gabriela, and only the unwise ignored an order from her.

Tucking her phone and glasses into the sleeve pockets of her robe, Mae followed Gabriela out of the
locker room. The abrupt change from ready-to-go-home to mysterious summons left her feeling off
balance. If Gabriela had come even thirty minutes earlier Mae would have been prepared, but mentally
she’d already started to check out, leaving her submissive side behind.

They left the Subs’ Garden, which did indeed have a native plant garden in the small courtyard around
which the submissive-only rooms were arranged. The hallways were mostly empty, with only a few
people out and about, most of them wearing the cat-that-ate-the-canary smile that indicated they were
in the middle of, or had just finished a scene.

A few minutes later they reached a part of the estate Mae knew existed, but had never been to. The
Spanish-style of the buildings meant that everything was arranged around courtyards, and the various



playrooms had been named to go along with their gardens. Each court, and each playroom, had
different equipment and amenities. The Constellation Court had six rooms, each unsurprisingly named
after a constellation, and rooms large enough to accommodate large pieces of bondage equipment.
The Sub Rosa Court, where Mae most often found herself, had playrooms modeled after bedrooms or
living rooms and were named after famous roses breeds.

For the first time, Mae found herself in the Iron Court, so named because instead of lush plants, the
courtyard held a statuary garden, each piece rendered in metal and stone. The figures were those of
naked men and women, each shown in some sort of bondage—a stone woman encased in bands of
steel, a bronze male figure with chain wrapped not only around, but seemingly through, his arms and
legs. Mae folded her hands together, letting the sleeves fall over them to hide how hard she was
clenching her fingers. The Iron Court rooms were for people who liked their BDSM physical and
dangerous.

Gabriela stopped at one of the doors. There was no label on it, no name to the place she’d been
brought.

The other sub reached over and pushed one shoulder of Mae’s robe down so it pooled at her waist,
exposing her right breast. “You’ll be okay.” She knocked three times on the door.

With that Gabriela departed, leaving Mae staring at the closed door with no idea who, or what, was on
the other side.


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