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Babette’s Lounge was the newest, and quite possibly loudest addition to the franchise that sat nestled in the depths of Zaun. Another one of the city’s worst kept dirty little secrets. It’s entrance was unmarked except for a single crimson light burning above a rusted door. Inside, the air hung thick with sweat, spice, and the sweet-sharp tang of chemical smoke.
Caitlyn followed Vi through the threshold, her chest tight with anticipation. The collar around her throat, that sleek band of midnight leather with its small silver ring, felt heavier here than it had in the privacy of their home.
She felt much more exposed.
Out in public…out in Zaun.
Gulp.
The weight of it pressed against her windpipe with every swallow, a constant, delicious reminder of what she was tonight…of who she was tonight.
Not the Sheriff. Not an enforcer. Not a Kiramman. Just Vi's.
And Vi—Gods, Vi looked like she owned the place already. She'd swapped her usual brawler gear for something that had made Caitlyn’s heart skip a beat when she’d first seen her, an absolutely devastating charcoal waistcoat tailored tight across her broad shoulders, sleeves rolled to the elbows to expose the flexing ropes of her forearms, those scarred knuckles bare. Her shirt was crisp white, collar open to reveal the hollow of her throat and the antique silver chain resting there. Black trousers fitted to her thighs, boots shined to a dull polish. Her pink hair was swept back, the undercut sharp, exposing the angle of her jaw.
Her own attire walked the line Vi had requested. It was elegant, refined, all hers, yet available. I want to show you off, Vi had murmured while fastening the collar, her thumbs tracing the edge of Caitlyn's jaw.
Her dark blue hair was pinned in a low, elaborate twist, exposing the vulnerable column of her neck and the collar gleaming there. Her coat was a long, silken trench in deep charcoal to match Vi, tailored close through the waist, the heavy drape of it falling to her mid-thigh.
Her dress was a sleeveless sheath of layered midnight chiffon, fitted through the bodice and flowing past her knees, but the fabric was sheer. Completely, and ever so deliberately sheer. Each layer tempered the transparency just enough to create mystery, but when the light caught her, or when she moved just right, everything was visible underneath. The swell of her breasts, the tuck of her waist, the pale lengths of her legs, and even then dark smudge of hair between her thighs.
She'd forgone underwear at Vi's instruction, and the cool air moved against her bare skin and made the hairs on her arms stand tall.
A hand found hers and squeezed once, and she squeezed back, grateful for the reassurance as they crossed the threshold into the club's dim, pulsing interior.
Her eyes swept the room, one eyebrow raised at the displays unfolding around them, and she leaned close, lips brushing her ear. "See anything you like, cupcake?" Vi's hand found the small of her back, and guided her toward the long bar set against the back wall.
The space was thick with bodies and motion. The main stage area was a sprawl of platforms and alcoves, each hosting its own performance. To the left, a woman knelt at her partner's feet, cheek pressed against a leather-booted thigh, eyes glazed with bliss. Against the far wall, a shirtless man was being flogged in slow, rhythmic strokes, his back crisscrossed with bright red welts while another man fed him fingers to suck. Two figures tangled on a lounger nearby, one straddling the other's face, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent moan.
They found two stools at the bar, the velvet worn thin in places. Vi raised two fingers to the bartender, a bored-looking woman with a face full of piercings, and soon two glasses of amber liquid appeared. She untied her coat and shrugged it off her shoulders, letting the heavy silk slide down her arms, unveiling the sheer dress beneath. She folded it over the stool back, the cool air rushing against her bare skin through the chiffon, and the collar at her throat seemed to tighten with the exposure.
Vi took hers neat, knocked back half in one swallow. She sipped her drink more carefully, the burn spreading through her chest.
She felt herself start to relax as the burn settled in her chest into a warm, pleasant hum. Vi patted her thigh, and she set her glass down and rose, then lowered herself onto her lap, back against that solid chest, thighs falling on either side of her knee. The sheer dress pooled and bunched. She could feel the hard ridge of muscle beneath her, the warmth of her body bleeding through the fabric. An arm wrapped around her middle, anchoring her in place, and that simple touch made her skin prickle with heat.
Around them, variations on this theme played out. A man with his partner draped across his lap, lazily stroking her hair while they watched the room. A woman sitting sidesaddle on her dom's thigh, collar gleaming, eyes downcast.
She let herself relax into Vi's hold and watched. Her eyes tracked across the different stages, the flogging, the ropes, the wax, until something nearby caught her attention and held it.
She turned her neck, following the sound of a sharp gasp, and found them… two women tucked into a shadowed corner beside the far wall. One was tall, dark-haired, with her back pressed against the rough concrete. The other was slighter, blonde, and had her pinned there with a hand on her throat. They were kissing, and not tenderly. The blonde's mouth moved over the other's with ravenous ownership, swallowing her breath, swallowing her gasps, pressing their bodies flush. A thigh shoved between legs. Fingers tangling in dark hair and yanking. The dark-haired woman's eyes were shut, her face twisted, her hips rolling in tiny, desperate circles against that controlling thigh.
The music buzzed in the space around them. Her mouth went dry. Her heartbeat kicked up, audible in her ears as the bass thrummed in time. She stared.. transfixed and watching the blonde's jaw work as she bit down on that swollen lower lip, watching the other woman whimper and arch and grind.
Without meaning to, without any conscious thought at all, her hips shifted. A small, automatic press downward, her bare sex dragging against the hard muscle of Vi's thigh. A single seeking grind, chasing friction, chasing relief for the sudden liquid ache blooming between her legs.
She froze the instant she did it. Every muscle in her body locked.
Vi's arm around her middle went rigid. Her fingers pressed into the sheer fabric, into the soft flesh beneath. For one suspended moment, neither of them moved.
Then she felt lips brush against the shell of her ear, and her voice was very soft and very even. "Did you… just?” the question hung in the air.
Her throat clicked around a swallow. She’d had one rule. Vi had laid it out before they'd left, tonight..
Your pleasure belongs to me. You'll take what I give you, when I give it. You don't get to help yourself.
She'd agreed. She'd wanted to agree. And now
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Violet, I didn't mean to..it was just automatic, I—"
"Shh." Vi's hand slid up from her waist, fingers finding her chin, tilting her head back against Vi's shoulder. Gray eyes met blue in the dim lighting. "I didn't ask for excuses. I asked if you took something that wasn't offered."
Her chest was so tight she could barely breathe. "I—Yes."
"Mm." Vi released her chin and lifted her off her lap with casual ease, setting her on her feet. She stood, downed the rest of her drink, and set the empty glass on the bar. "Bathroom. Now."
She didn't wait for agreement. Her hand closed around her wrist and pulled, steering them through the press of bodies toward the back. She followed, her legs unsteady beneath her, the sheer dress swishing against her thighs with every step, arousal already slicking the crease where they met.
The public bathroom was a surprise, it was not the dingy, grimy hole she'd imagined, but clean, well-lit, tiled in white subway tile from floor to ceiling. A long counter with twin basins ran beneath a full-length mirror that stretched the width of the wall. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting everything in stark, unflattering clarity.
If the door had a lock, Vi didn't use it.
Instead, she pulled her inside, let the door swing shut behind them, and turned to face her.
"Hands on the basin. Bend over."
Her hands trembled as she turned to the counter, pressing her palms flat against the cool porcelain. She bent at the waist, her spine curving, her hips pushing back as nervous anticipation coursed through her. The sheer dress fell forward, bunched around her waist, exposing the pale curves of her ass completely to the cooler air.
She raised her eyes to the mirror.
What she saw made her breath catch. Her own face staring back—blue eyes glassy, pupils blown wide, her lips parted. Dark blue hair still immaculate, the silver collar a bright line across her throat. Vi standing behind her, broad and dark, expression calm and controlled and unreadable, and rolling up her sleeves.
"Look at yourself," Vi said quietly. "Don't look away."
She kept her eyes on the mirror. Watched Vi step to the side, one hand pressing flat between her shoulder blades. Watched Vi's other hand rise.
Smack.
The sound cracked through the bathroom like a gunshot. Her body jerked, her hips pitching forward, a startled gasp ripping from her throat. A fire spread through her skin. She imagined a single, bright line of heat blazing across both cheeks where Vi's palm had landed. In the mirror, she watched the pink bloom across her face, watched her own mouth gape, watched Vi's expression remain perfectly, terrifyingly composed.
"One," she choked out.
Vi's hand came down again.
Smack.
"Two—" Her voice was shakier now, the word breaking in the middle.
Smack.
"Th-three—"
Smack.
"Fou—"
"Aren't you adorable.”
Vi's voice cut through the count. Her hand rested on her burning flesh, fingers spread, claiming. She leaned down, her lips close enough to her ear that the breath ghosted across the shell.
"I don’t remember asking you to count"
Her fingers curled against the basin. Her arms trembled with the effort of holding herself up. "Violet—"
"No counting." Vi straightened, her hand lifting away. "Just watch yourself getting your bare ass smacked."
And then her hand came down again and she watched. She watched her own face contort, watched her teeth sink into her lower lip, watched her eyes go glassy and wet. She watched the red deepen and spread across her cheeks. She watched the muscles in Vi's forearm flex with each swing, watched the way her broad palm connected with flesh smack, smack, smack—the sound wet and sharp and obscene in the small space.
Smack.
Caitlyn's knees buckled. Vi's hand between her shoulders pressed down, keeping her in place.
Smack.
A moan slipped out, low and involuntary, ragged as she panted.
Smack.
She was dripping. She could feel it—the slick heat sliding down her inner thighs, the evidence of her arousal cooling against her skin. The contrast was maddening, the sharp sting of the spanking, the throbbing ache between her legs, the utter helplessness of watching herself fall apart in real-time. Her bare ass was bright red now, the skin hot to the touch, and still Vi's hand rose and fell, rose and fell, each strike punctuated by that damning smack that seemed to echo off every tile.
The door swung open.
Three women tumbled in mid-conversation, their voices bouncing off the walls—laughter, the click of heels, the rustle of fabric. They stopped short at the sight of her bent over the basin, dress bunched at her waist, her punished ass on full display, and Vi standing behind her with her hand raised mid-swing.
The silence lasted half a heartbeat.
Then one of them giggled, bright and delighted, not cruel. "Oh! Somebody's in trouble."
The other two snickered, pressing closer to see. One leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk playing at her lips. "What did you do, sweetheart?"
Her face burned hotter than her ass. Her eyes stayed fixed on the mirror—she couldn't look away, couldn't hide, couldn't do anything but stand there as her chest heaved, her thighs slick and trembling.
Vi's palm connected with her ass again.
Smack.
She flinched, a strangled noise escaping her. The women giggled again..casual, unsurprised. This was Babette's Lounge, after all. This was what the bathroom was for.
"Want to answer that, sweetheart?" Vi said, conversational, like she was discussing the weather. Her hand cracked down again—smack—and she whimpered, her elbows shaking.
The tallest of the three women stepped closer—dark-haired, sharp-featured. She moved without hurry, her heels clicking on the tile, until she was standing beside the basin. Close enough to see everything… almost close enough to touch.
Vi's hand paused on the downswing. She nodded toward the dark-haired woman. "Why don’t you tell the pretty lady what you did."
Her voice came out thin and broken, barely a whisper. "I—broke a rule. I—ah—"
Smack. Vi resumed the rhythm, slow and measured, each strike deliberate.
"I tried to take… take m..my own pleasure," she barely managed. Smack.
The dark-haired woman laughed—a warm, full sound that filled the bathroom. She reached out and petted Caitlyn's hair, her fingers carding through the dark blue strands with easy affection.
"Oh, you poor thing," she murmured, her eyes bright with amusement. "That is a serious offence."
Her fingers traced down to her jaw, lingered for a moment, then withdrew. She turned and followed her companions toward the stalls, pausing just long enough to let her gaze sweep over her flushed, punished body one more time.
"She's taking it well, though," the woman called back to Vi, grinning. "Good girl."
The stall doors clattered shut behind them, their giggling muffled by thin metal partitions. Vi didn't wait. Her hand connected again—smack—the sound ricocheting off tile, and her fingers gripped the porcelain basin so hard her knuckles went white, a strangled noise escaping her throat.
"Color?" Vi asked, low and close, her breath warm against her ear.
"G-green—"
Smack.
"Mmm,” Vi hummed approvingly.
Another…and another… and she could tell there was no holding back now, each strike punctuated by the wet slap of palm against hot, swollen flesh. She watched herself fall apart in the mirror, mouth open, eyes glassy, that carefully built composure of hers absolutely ruined. Her dark blue hair clung to her damp forehead. Her lips were swollen from biting down on them.
She was dripping down her inner thighs and they both knew it.
"You're taking it so well, Cupcake." Vi's voice was molten, that rough-honey tone that made her stomach clench again in time with another smack that landed on the crease where thigh met ass and she heard herself whine, a high and desperate sound in the back of her throat. "Look at you…all that control, a little discipline and you’re reduced to this. Couldn't even follow one simple rule, could you?"
Smack.
Her elbows buckled. Vi's hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head up, forcing her to meet her own blown pupils in the mirror.
"Keep those eyes open. Watch."
She watched. She watched thick fingers grip her hip for leverage, watched the muscles in that tattooed forearm flex, watched her own face contort with each fresh sting. Her ass was absolutely on fire now, and she could feel how red and hot she was without looking…supposed she'd be feeling this for days whenever she sat down.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Vi alternated now—left cheek, right cheek, the sensitive spot at the top of her thighs that made her whole body jerk. She was shaking, tears sliding down her cheeks, crying from the overwhelming sensation of it, the sharpness, the embarrassment… the relief of not having to hold anything back.
Behind her, the stall doors opened. The three women emerged, still giggling, and drifted toward the basins. The dark-haired woman stepped up beside her at the next sink, close enough that her hip nearly brushed her punished ass. She turned on the tap, splashed water over her fingers, and caught her eye in the mirror.
"Doing great, sweetheart," she murmured.
Smack.
Vi's hand landed again, and Caitlyn's breath hitched. The woman smiled, soft, knowing as she dried her hands on a towel. Her companions were already at the door, their heels clicking across tile.
The music outside swelled as the door swung open again as she left, and let out a deep, thrumming bass that pulsed through the bathroom for a heartbeat, loud and hot and alive. Then, the door swung shut, and the sound cut to a muffled throb, and it was just the two of them.
Vi's hand rested heavy and hot on her punished flesh. The only sounds were her ragged breathing and the distant thump of bass through the walls.
"Think you've learned your lesson?"
"Y-yes. Yes, Violet, I—"
The hand in her hair tightened. Her words dissolved into a whimper.
Vi leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Think you deserve a reward?"
Gods. Her thighs pressed together, a fresh pulse of wet heat throbbing between her legs. She was so far gone she couldn't form proper sentences, couldn't think past the ache and the want and the need. Her fingers scrabbled uselessly against the basin.
"Y-yes—" Choked out, barely a voice at all. "Please. Please."
Vi smiled against her throat. She could feel it—the curve of those lips, the slight scrape of teeth. Then Vi was pulling her upright, spinning her around, and her hands flew to Vi's shoulders to steady herself because her legs were not cooperating.
She must have looked absolutely wrecked. Make-up smudged, eyes wet, lips swollen from biting, standing there with her dress bunched around her waist and her punishment written red across her skin.
Vi looked her up and down slowly, those dark, grey eyes raking over her with that possessive heat that made her feel like she was being claimed, and tucked a strand of blue hair behind her ear with a tender gentleness.
"Not here." She traced her thumb over Caitlyn's lower lip, pressing down until her mouth opened. "I'm gonna walk you back out there, and everyone's gonna see what happens when you break my rules." She gave her a soft kiss on her wet cheek as her hand dropped to grip her hip, steering her around. "And you're gonna let them look."
Right.
Vi smoothed her dress back down, and it clung to her ass, impossible to ignore the heat and color beneath the thin fabric, the way it pulled tight across her swollen skin. Anyone who looked would know. Could see exactly what she'd been doing, exactly what she'd gotten.
A hand found the small of her back, guiding—and pushed the bathroom door open.
The club's noise swelled around them, bass and moans and the sharp crack of floggers from the main stage. Couples in various states of undress, watching, touching, fucking. And she walked through the middle of it all with her cheeks flushed, her eyes down, her red ass on display beneath her dress for anyone who cared to look.
Vi's arm slid around her waist, pulling her close.
"Let's get you another drink Cupcake, you deserve it."
Caitlyn shivered, pressing into her dom's side, feeling that hot, stinging reminder with every step she took, and knowing that this night was far, far from over.