Chapter Text
The bar was dark and almost smoky beneath the forgiving orange light. There were small groups huddled together in the nooks and corners, acquaintances through the artform no doubt. It made them unapproachable in Clarke’s mind nonetheless, the way they exercised their comfort with these games so…effortlessly.
There were submissives dotted everywhere, doe eyed ingenues staring up at some smouldering creature who was there trying to run away from something just like everyone else. The girl at the bar with a cigarette and leash in the same hand, hissing and spitting violent pretty words at a boy on his knees with his hands raised like paws? Clarke imagined she was getting over her fear of dogs through more unusual methods. She laughed quietly at the thought.
The man with a ponytail in the far corner whipping soft leather strips in circles over a girl’s whimpering ass? Definitely picturing his seventh grade teacher who said he’d never be respectable with a haircut like that. Then again, no man over thirty should have a long ponytail, Clarke decided with a shudder.
Then Clarke saw them, the two women she had watched walk in this place every Friday night from across the street when she finished work.
“Look,” The tall slender one made eye contact and then nudged her friend, “You owe me ten dollars.”
“Damn it!” The friend bristled and dug in her jean pockets, finally retrieving her wallet.
Clarke grew courageous and took a few steps over, “What were you guys betting on?” She tried to seem cool and collected.
“Well," the tall slender one smiled, "my friend Lexa and I saw you in the cloakroom looking nervous. We were betting on whether you’d have the balls to walk in here or not. You’re definitely a new face.” A sharp playful brow was raised in her direction.
Clarke stopped herself from pushing her locked lips into a frown. She had a whole list of nonchalant things she planned on saying, confident little nothings to at least give the impression she knew what she was doing in a place like this. But the jig was up, she had already been caught red handed.
“I’m not nervous,” Clarke lied and looked at Lexa. “I’m not.”
Lexa smiled pleasantly, tapping the bar softly for the bartender to bring over another whiskey, neat. “This one is one me, you could definitely use a drink.” She turned back with a tiny smirk.
“I don’t take drinks off of strangers.”
Lexa laughed and seemed please with herself. “Sweetheart if you knew how many ten buck bets I’ve won the last two months over you? You would take the drink and then some. Isn’t that right Anya?” She grinned at her souring friend.
“Nobody likes a show off, puppy,” Anya chastised.
Lexa ignored her friend and took the poured drink, pushing it towards Clarke slowly. “We noticed you staring a while ago whenever we came in here, and we’ve been betting ever since on whether you’d work up the courage to follow your wandering eyes inside.”
“I always thought you would,” Anya explained and took a sip of her drink, sighing in satisfaction. “And as for Lexa? Well…she seemed to think you were a scared little bird. I’ll be honest I like rooting for the underdog, even when they do cost me a pretty penny they always tend to crop a winner in the end. Money well spent if you ask me. I for one am very happy to see oh so beautiful you in this old dump. Brightens the place up if you ask me."
"Which no one did," Lexa reminded.
"Jealousy doesn't suit you," Anya taunted her back wryly.
Clarke exhaled nervously and forced a tiny laugh at their exchange. The pair of them were beautiful, beautiful in that self assured way that didn’t need for her to tell them so in the slightest because they already knew. Lexa was the one who caught her eye at first, always neatly dressed in slim fitting slacks and an expensive suit jacket while they stood in the line outside—not at all the usual dress for the clientele who frequented this bar. Then it Anya she couldn't take her eyes off of. Always smouldering and dressed to the nines in all black. Every single week it was all black. Anya wore slim black jeans, expensive, tall, black leather Chelsea boots, a black leather jacket with silver buckles hanging at the waist, and always that slouchy black t-shirt. Anya wore it all as if she were dressed in a couture gown. It was the confidence that did that, the oozing femininity that dripped from her slender figure until all Clarke could imagine was the other black items worn underneath it all.
She had made a frequent game of imagining them over the last few weeks.
“You both caught my attention, I’ll give you that.” Clarke nudged her chin up confidently.
Lexa smirked at her friend, “Do you want to tell her or should I?”
“Oh no, I won the bet tonight. I want dibs.”
“Well alright,” Lexa encouraged her and rolled her eyes.
“Every Tuesday and Thursday you visit my place on third and normally Lexa and I are out front drinking coffee on our break… and you have never recognised us once. Not a single time!" Anya couldn't help but laugh until her shoulders shook. "You just walk right on past happy in your safe little world, pretty bird."
“Wait, your place on third?” Clarke’s brows did the thing.
Anya nodded, “That little overpriced artisanal coffee store with the line that goes half a block back? Oh yeah, she’s mine alright. You’re a great tipper by the way, the girls out front all tell me good things.”
“Oh god,” Clarke swore at herself and pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s your coffee shop?”
“A joint venture," Lexa added. "But she takes care of day to day operations, sure. Which makes me wonder by the way, what is it about the sight of us on Friday night outside of this place that catches your attention? I can’t help but wonder whether it’s us… or whether it’s the idea of us inside this room.” Lexa made a square in the air with her fingertips.
“Well, everyone in here looks… a certain way," Clarke said diplomatically, looking around. "Then there’s you two.” She shrugged and sat herself down on the adjacent bar stool.
“And then there’s us. Did you hear that? What a great line," Anya nudged her friend in pleased surprise.
“What do the other folk look like to you?” Lexa became interested and leaned in to the conversation.
“Like…they’re running away from something?” Clarke looked around at all the latex and masks, “Like this is just a means to an end for them, I guess? I mean who am I to judge? No one. But you asked and so I’m telling you.” Clarke shrugged and took a sip of the free drink, breathing in a deep breath. “They’re running away…and you’re both running head on into the fire.”
“Oh I really like this one. Can we keep this one?” Anya looked over at Lexa with a pout.
“Are you going to feed and exercise her everyday?” Lexa shot back with a raised brow.
“Define exercise.”
“You’re disgusting and I love you,” Lexa said expressionless and slipped her hand along the inside of her thigh.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Clarke snapped to attention at the small symptom of affection between them. “I had no idea you were a—”
“Relax, kitten.” Anya looked up with a smirk and pushed her thighs further apart. Lexa's fingers came to a rest on top of her kneecap, her hand sat firmly on the bend of that joint as if it were a thing that belonged to her. “Lexa and me are just friends. Just, very, very close friends, right?” She slipped her gaze towards her friend and earned a darkened smirk from Lexa's liplocked mouth.
“Right,” Lexa agreed and glanced back, “What’s your name by the way?”
“Emily,” Clarke lied.
Anya rolled her eyes. “Your real name?”
“Clarke."
“Better. See, was that so hard?” Anya smiled and leaned forward with a sultry whisper, “You don’t have to be afraid of me princess… but I like that you are anyway.”
It sent a shiver down Clarke’s spine, the ease and reverence of those words making her tingle in places she didn’t know words could make her tingle. Anya was sharp featured and all the more beautiful because of it, with cat like almond eyes and tanned skin that the low light made all the more golden and perfect.
Lexa pulled the collar of her leather jacket until Anya was made to thud against the back of the bar stool.
“Be nice,” Lexa warned her friend and smoothed her jacket down again, “Please? For me?” She offered her the kind of twinkling smile that felt intimate and between the two of them.
“It’s a good job you put a please on the end of that before I had to put a bruise on the end of you.” Anya bristled to herself and slumped against the seat. Utterly tamed and made quiet by that one twinkling smile.
“Yeah yeah, bruised pride, I know,” Lexa crooned mockingly and then raised her hand for another round. “Same for you…Clarke?” She tried her name on for size with a pleased grin.
“Yeah,” Clarke grew brave and decided the one drink she was originally intending on staying for would now be stretched to a second. “I’ll take another one please.”
“Mmm,” Anya closed her eyes and smoked. “I hope above all things you’ll be saying the same thing tonight when my hand—”
“So help me god, Anya.” Lexa leaned and growled with a pointed brow.
“Alright, alright!” Anya folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “I’ll play nice.”
…
The bar closed, the people left in twos and threes and fours and fives, the tables were cleaned, the chairs placed upside down, the lights dimmed until the only light that remained were where they continued to sit—like moths crowding the last naked flame.
“I am glad you stumbled in here tonight,” Lexa admitted with a smile as the laughter dwindled and fell into pause once again.
“Me too,” Clarke admitted wryly.
They had spoken about boring ordinary things all night, with just a sprinkle and hint of games that fell beyond the line of what was decent and moral. It excited Clarke. It bloomed inside of her throat and unfurled like a lily and made each breath and word all the more floral because of it—all the more bursting with spring.
“I should go home, Bellamy will be wondering where I am. I only really planned on staying for one drink and seeing what it is exactly you freaks get up to in here,” Clarke joked with raised brows.
She was reluctant to leave, but it was late and in all honesty she had no idea what it was she was doing in a place like this. She had fantasies, sure, but The Gag And Whip was infamous for all the reasons she couldn’t afford to be associated with.
She really, really, should be going.
“Bellamy? A boyfriend?” Anya asked inquisitively.
“He wishes,” Clarke sighed and folded her legs. “Just a friend.”
“Well then,” Lexa stood and fetched her coat from the back of the stool, “Why don’t you surprise yourself and come home with us? You didn’t come in here because you wanted to find out who we were. You came in here for yourself—to find out who you could inside this room.”
“What?” Clarke said dumbly.
“You came because it was exciting, because you’re either running away from something or running head on into it,” Lexa said it plainly as if it were the most obvious truth. “And by the way, I think I’m going to steal that line until the end of time now.”
“You’re welcome to it,” Clarke exhaled and long breath and paused, looking Lexa up and down lustfully.
Over the course of the evening she had switched favourites at least a half dozen times. Toyed with the idea of what it would be like to go home with them both, or maybe just one of them. Now here it was: her chance, the opportunity to do something so entirely out of her comfort zone in the most exciting way possible.
She willed herself to say no thank you.
“Such a pretty little bird,” Anya leaned in with furrowed brows and pushed a weft of soft blonde hair behind her ear. “So frightened and lovely.”
“You don’t frighten me,” Clarke said sternly.
Anya pushed forward and kissed her softly. It took her by surprise, the sweetness of it. The way her mouth tasted like brown sugar and hot liquor. Clarke’s throat burned with the aftertaste of whiskey, but Anya’s lips soothed as quickly as they scalded. Her warm hands slipped around Clarke’s waist and held her firm.
Clarke melted.
Anya dragged an open hot mouth along her cheek and ear, “How about now?”
“You want me to be frightened of you?” Clarke groaned and felt herself grow aroused and alight.
“No,” Anya pulled back and stared with absolute certainty, “I want you to be terrified in all the ways that keep making you cross your thighs like that.”
“And what exactly would the two of you do if I went to bed with you?” Clarke grew brave and slowly looked at Lexa.
She stood there brooding, hanging from the praecipe of her very bones even. Her eyes were an insurmountable kind of wrath. A burning blaze of want and desire. A perfect clarity of what she can and will do in order to dampen the flames.
“Have you ever been fucked in the ass?” Lexa asked calmly, as if she was talking about ordinary pleasantries.
“Y...yes. I mean, once?” Clarke licked her lips nervously.
“Well that’s what I would do, if you went to bed with us.” Lexa took a step forward confidently and placed her empty glass on the bar, her face absolutely without expression. “I would warm you up while she made you do all kinds of disgusting shameful things to get her off,” she pointed at Anya’s darkened smile, “and I would push a plug that was just a little bit too big inside of you from behind so slowly, so achingly slowly.” The thought made her laugh lightly, “And just when you felt yourself close around the widest part? Just when that relief sunk into you? I’d pull it back out again. Then there’s the clamps too,” she shrugged and walked off.
“The clamps?” Clarke choked out the question and watched Lexa walk around the darkened bar, searching high and low for something.
“Do you want to tell her about the clamps, or should I?” Lexa offered her friend and rolled up her sleeves, pressing up on her tiptoes and pulling down a dusty bottle from the top shelf of the bar.
“I really like it when you let me tell them about the clamps—generosity is one of your greatest virtues,” Anya exhaled with soft eyes and the pair of them ignored Clarke completely.
“You’re tipsier than you’re letting on you know,” Lexa scolded.
“Pour me a double of the good stuff anyway, spoil me." Anya leaned back and popped her knuckles.
“Should you guys be doing that? Just pouring drinks when the bar is closed?” Clarke stumbled and tried to seem grounded in what was happening. Truth was she couldn’t care less about anything other than the burn of her aching cunt, but she could hardly let them know that.
Well. Not yet at least.
“Jack!” Anya shouted over her shoulder at the bartender who swept in the far corner. “You don’t mind if we pour ourselves a drink right?”
The man looked up, confused. “Last time I check you still own the place right?” He asked, continuing to sweep and make himself invisible with the furniture.
“We do?! Well in that case Jack you better go home early!” Anya pretended to be shocked. She snapped back around towards Lexa with an excited grin, “Did you hear that? We own the bar?! Oh what a plot twist!”
“I’m sure I told you about making big purchases on the joint account without talking to me first, Honey.”
“Hey if it doesn’t work out we can try Amway and recoup our losses,” Anya elbowed playfully.
Clarke gulped and burned red with embarrassment. She knew what they were doing was purposeful, revealing little bits of detail and fact as the night drew in to make her feel all the more spun out and intrigued.
It was working.
“You guys own the bar?” Clarke looked at Anya first.
“Shh,” Anya smiled and took a tiny sip of her drink, “The clamps. We were talking about that first, try not to distract me.”
“Jesus,” Clarke closed her eyes and felt her stomach twist in arousal at how sudden the tide of conversation drifted.
“Have you ever worn nipple clamps before?” Anya asked plainly.
“No, but I think I would,” Clarke told her and in a moment of bravery pushed forward until she was within the intimacy of her personal space. Anya inhaled and blinked, offset and surprised by the act. It made Clarke smile as she took the drink from Anya’s hand and took a sip too, “Have you ever worn them? For Lexa, specifically?” She smirked and earned a deep set brow.
“Would you look at that... she asks questions, this one.” Anya raised a pleased brow and bit her bottom lip. “Do you mind?” She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket and raised a brow at Clarke.
“I do,” Lexa spoke up with a disapproving look.
“Nobody was asking you, Dad.” Anya didn’t bother turning around. She pushed a cigarette in her mouth and lit the end. “To answer your question I have indeed wore them. For Lexa, specifically. I’m versatile like that.”
“Versatile?”
“Sure I am, but not for you, little bird.” Anya smiled softly while a small smog of smoke left her nose. “Right now all I can think about is how pretty you would look between my knees with my hand around a chain between your tits keeping you good and whiney. I don’t think there’s anything versatile about that.”
Whatever game they were playing, Clarke knew Anya had won. Her confidence ebbed from her like steam from an open window, drifting away in seeping wisps that she couldn’t claw back. Instead Clarke stuttered and felt her stomach melt with arousal, her underwear completely ruined.
“What else would you do?” Clarke encouraged and crossed her legs.
“Well,” Anya thought about it for a moment with a flash of an expression and puffed the cigarette, “I’d have to put some bruises on that peach of an ass to give you a nice reminder to come and say hi when you get your flat white on Tuesday.”
“And if I wanted you to do that…? What would be the etiquette?”
“You would follow me upstairs to the apartment while Lexa finishes up down here. I would take your clothes off and put you on your knees and enjoy you in all the ways I’ve wanted to enjoy you since I spotted you staring from the other side of the street. I would touch you. And I would spank you. And I would fuck you. And I would humiliate you. And then I’m sure Lexa would come and join us and give you a reason to come back next week. And if you wanted to stop, then we would stop and I would make sure you got home safe," she said coolly.
Anya then slowly stood from her barstool and stubbed out the cigarette in an empty glass. She turned and walked away towards the back of the bar, glancing over her shoulder just once with those low dark come hither eyes.
Then she walked off entirely.
“Did she just?” Clarke whipped round and blinked at Lexa. “Is this…?”
“Oh yeah, she’s being serious.” Lexa nodded and continued tidying the bar indifferently, as if this was a completely usual occurrence. “The apartment is up the stairs, first right at the top. That’s if you want to go up and get your ass bruised up to heavens, it really isn't for everyone." She glanced up with a smile, "Then again, maybe it's for you? Won't know until you find out, right?"