Sweetheart Submission Part One

In case you missed it in my newsletter, here is part one of my Valentine's Day story. Part two will post Sunday...

Someone had left a single candy heart on her keyboard, perched right on the H key. It said, “My way.” Or what? Lanie picked it up between thumb and forefinger and dropped it into her wastebasket. She hated those things, even more the idea that someone else had touched it first. They tasted like medicine, chalky and dry medicine. Why anyone thought they were sexy or romantic was beyond her. She wouldn’t even waste time trying to figure out who in the office had left the heart. She didn’t find any of them attractive anyway. Besides, this was work, not a place to pick up flings.

When she came back from her lunch break, another one sat in the exact same place. This one said, “All mine.” The possessive suggestion caused a little flutter in Lanie’s chest, but she quickly pushed it aside and threw that heart away too. This was ridiculous.

“I hate Valentine’s Day,” she said.

The woman in the next cubicle, Katie, leaned back and looked at Lanie. “Really?”

“Really,” Lanie told her.

“‘Cause I’ve seen the guy bringing you those hearts and, well, I don’t think I’d hate V-Day if I were you.”

This piqued Lanie’s interest.

Katie went on unprompted. “Yeah, real fit. Tall. Built like you wouldn’t believe.” She waggled her eyebrows, and Lanie giggled despite herself. “You should pretend like you have a meeting, and then go stand by the ladies’ room. You can watch from there. He’ll come back. He’s even watching you now, I’ll bet.”

Now that idea gave Lanie the shivers -- whether good or bad, she couldn’t say exactly.

“Fine,” she hissed. She picked up a file folder, locked her computer, and headed for the corridor as if she were going to the conference room. Instead, she ducked into the alcove in front of the ladies’ room door and watched her cubicle.

Minutes passed, and nothing happened. Then she felt a presence coming down the corridor toward her from the opposite direction. She turned.

Vito stood there, staring down at her, and she nearly melted right then.

“They let you in?” she asked, her voice squeaking slightly. He had no right to be in the building.

But he just nodded and pushed her into the ladies’ room, then locked the door.

Lanie’s face burned with shame. What if her coworkers had seen what just happened?
“We need to talk,” he told her.

“Oh no,” she said, but she knew she didn’t sound very convincing. God, she couldn’t say no to him. It just wasn’t fair.

“I know you hate Valentine’s Day.”

Lanie took a step back. He took a step forward.

“But you can’t push me away.”

She took another step back and felt the paper towel dispenser hit her back.

“Especially today.” He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “Give me your hand,” he told her.

Lanie did as he commanded with a mumbled, “Yes, Sir.” She couldn’t do otherwise. He dropped one more heart into her hand, leaned over to plant a searing kiss on her lips, and left. She didn’t go after him. Just stood there, giving him plenty of room and a chance for her nerves to stop jangling.

She knew what was in her hand. A final candy heart. On one side it read “You and me” and on the other, Vito had written the number seven. The time, she knew. And she knew the place too.

God, I wish I could say no to him.
* * * * *
Lanie stood outside the club. The bass thrummed through the walls toward her. She’d taken the time to go home, change into something appropriate, touch up her bikini line, and do her makeup. Once inside, she could just pretend this wasn’t Valentine’s Day. Just any old bondage night. She could deal with that.

She pushed through the front doors and into the foyer where she had to flash her membership card to the receptionist. The receptionist unclipped the velvet rope and let Lanie inside. Lanie pushed through the lush, red velvet drapes that hid the interior and stopped immediately.

Normally, Vito’s club hung in darkness, rich burgundies, reds, purples, and black the order of the day.

But something had happened.

Everything was...pink and white, marabou feathers and silver glitter, and shiny, bright vinyl to match.

The servers -- men and women -- wore pink sequined hot pants, angel wings, and nothing else. It looked like a Valentine’s Day Barbie factory collided with a Hallmark store, and the contents of both got upchucked into here. What was Vito thinking? But she had to admit, the place was filled with blissed-out couples and plurals of all varieties, pink rhinestone collars and white fun fur abounding on their bodies.

Evidently, she’d missed the memo about the theme night. She looked down at her black leather minidress and felt markedly out of place.

“Compliments of the house,” a server said as he approached. Folded neatly on his tray was a lavender and silver-spangled something. Lanie took it and held it up. This should do.

She went over to the corner and unashamedly changed into the deep-cut, hot pants romper. The front dipped clear to her bellybutton, and the legs rode up enough so someone could just see the bottom curve of her ass. A rhinestone heart clasp kept the thing closed over her ample breasts.

She approved. She handed her old dress and purse off to another server -- one she knew pretty well -- and went off to locate Vito. The fact that he hadn’t come to find her yet surprised her. What was he waiting for?

Then she saw him. Wearing white linen trousers, the dark tan of his bare chest contrasting above, he stood on the main stage where demonstrations and scenes took place. A huge smile plastered across his face.

When others saw him, they quieted. Clearly he had something planned. Lanie felt dread building in her gut. It probably had something to do with her. The music cut off.

“Lanie hates Valentine’s Day, don’t you, sweetie?” He spoke loud enough for the entire club to hear.

Lanie blinked, and her stomach flip-flopped. Why was he doing this to her? Did he need to give her more reasons? Her school years had been plenty, thank you very much. All those V-days with no candy in her bag, and then later having no date to the sweetheart dances.

She crossed her arms. “Yes, Sir,” she bit out through her clenched jaw.

“We’re going to change that here tonight. Come here.”

Lanie’s gaze swept the crowd. She couldn’t say no to him here -- let alone anywhere else. She forced herself to walk to the stage, climb the step, and stand obediently by his side. Whatever he had planned, she would just have to give in. It was what a good sub did, after all.


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