He loves his job, he really does. Not many people can say they work in a place like this, or do the type of work he gets to. It's just that he can only take so many shifts on the stage. Every one of the erotic play technicians has to take their rotation, and some people love the show of it all and appreciate the opportunities they get to teach people and demonstrate their own prowess. He couldn't care less for most of the imbeciles he ends up having to deal with.

The couple he's working with now is very new to the lifestyle, and it shows in every movement. Tom has yet to grasp, even after fifteen minutes of solid instruction, that the proper way to achieve the desired welts and redness without bruises involves the use of the wrist. Winding up his entire body and lashing at his girlfriend again, Kathy lets out a scream that makes Finn cringe. There are good screams and bad screams and Kathy's is definitely the latter.

Finn takes the whip from the idiot and demonstrates the proper technique again, even over-exaggerating the wrist movement involved. As he goes to strike his girlfriend again, Finn stops him. "Try it on me first, Tom, I don't want you to hurt Kathy anymore if you do it incorrectly." He's getting dangerously close to being too cheeky with a client and if Tom reports him it's something that will definitely go on his record. Finn has only had a few complaints in his three years working here and all of them have come about after a few too many failures to understand a simple concept. He just doesn't have patience for complete idiots or guys who think that because they're a "dominant" they automatically know how to use a whip.

At any rate, he and his boss both know that he's the best guy she has right now, and she isn't about to let him go easily—even with another complaint. Finn holds out his arm, and Tom gets close enough to what he's supposed to be doing that Finn praises him. "Now try is on Kathy again. It's all in the wrist. The blow can be sharp but not heavy enough to leave a bruise." Sometimes he feels like he's a kindergarten teacher. Only most of his kids are overgrown idiots experimenting in something that's actually a way of life for thousands of people. He checks his watch before informing Tom that he has half an hour left before stepping back and relaxing against the post, still within the cordoned off area of the stage he's working on.

Technicians are required to stay with their station even if their expertise is no longer needed, it's better to stay safe and keep an eye on things. Tom really is finally starting to get the hang of it even if he still winds up too much using his shoulder.

Finn lets his mind wander. After three years working at Normal's Edge, he can afford to not give something like this his full attention. He never really expected that he'd end up working in a place like this, and he still lies to his mother and tells her that he works at a bar, which is kind of true, minus the alcohol and the fact that he whips people for a living.

His girlfriend in college had dragged him there one night on a dare and, while she left, he never did. Finn has found his place with them and under some serious apprenticeship he's worked his way up to be the most able to handle a whip. Because he really does love it. He loves the exchange power, and the way you can make skin the perfect shade of red that doesn't turn into bruises, the way scared little college kids come in here to experiment and how some stay because they too have found their place. Still, in three years he's only managed one steady girlfriend, and even with the occasional fuck, it's not enough to satisfy his real needs. Finn refuses to mix business with pleasure. There are no rules against meeting people at the club so long as you don't do anything while you're on the clock, but Finn won't on principle—even if it is a really handy way to meet women with one very important shared interest.

But he's still young, and he's biding his time until he finally meets the right woman. For now, he's plenty busy teaching other people how to properly please their lovers and occasionally getting the honors of doing it himself. It's not as common to have someone come in on their own and ask for a session, but it does happen. He had been lucky enough to get one just last week. Rachel. Her name fits with those wide brown eyes and the lips she likes to lick when she's nervous.

The girl had been pretty, nothing too special, but just curvy enough to make him notice. Over the years he's gotten very good at suppressing his own urges, it makes things really awkward when he gets a hard-on in front of a paying customer, but with this girl he'd had some trouble. She'd said she wasn't very experienced, but everything about her had screamed how much she'd needed it. The image of her face as she came still hangs behind his eyelids. He'd done that to her. With nothing more than a flogger he'd brought her to that place.

Girls like her don't usually come back though, and it isn't because they don't crave the pain—they always manage to find someone willing to spank them in private. Pretty girls with a submissive streak usually do. Finn's going to miss her if she never shows up again. And if she ever does, he's going to make sure she enjoys herself just as thoroughly a second time around.

He chimes into the session telling Tom to make sure to spread out his blows and not spend too much time on one area. Tom takes the correction, and Finn feels a prickling at the back of his neck that he recognizes as being watched. Of course he's being watched, he's on one of the stages, but this feels different. This is intense and he swivels his head until he catches sight of the very girl he'd been thinking about. She looks different, no corset, and her hair isn't as voluminous, but she looks hungrier somehow. The moment she realizes he's looking she drops her gaze.


She's tied to a bed, spread-eagle and panting already. Rachel tests the restraints and the tightness of them coils into a ball of arousal in the pit of her stomach—she isn't going anywhere. There's a dark chuckle from the corner of the room and Rachel strains her eyes trying to see who's laughing at her torment. Finn steps out from the shadows. "Someone's finally awake."

He's wearing his uniform and holding a crop that she knows holds one purpose. Before he'd used a flogger, but she'd never felt the sting of a crop. She has a feeling he'll be just as wonderful with it as he was with the flogger. He stalks up to her slapping it down on her tits and making her jump and pull at the restraints that don't let her move.

It's like he knows exactly what she wants, just by looking at her and the slight movements and moans and pants she makes. It feels like he's reading her mind as he keeps hitting her in all the places that make her the wettest. The underside of her tits and along her ribs until her skin is red and feels swollen and prickly in the best way. Eventually the strikes slow and then stop, and he's rubbing smooth oil over heated skin to help sooth it.

He keeps things professional, he doesn't strip, or even drop his fly, but he does kiss her. It's so much she feels like her heart is going to explode for this man. She would do anything to serve him. To be his completely in every sense. There's a sensation of vibration between her legs and she gasps because he has a vibrator to her clit making her mouth fall open enough for him to plunge his tongue inside.

He keeps things professional, but there's no fucking way this is professional, and she loves it. Her legs start to tense and shake and she's so on edge that everything shatters but doesn't fall apart.

The tension in her body snaps her awake, panting and horny as hell. The image of her dream is so crisp in her mind, and the ache between her thighs is one-hundred percent real and so delicious she might cry. The red numbers of her alarm clock glare at her accusingly, it's two in the morning and she has work tomorrow, but there's no way she's going to sleep without relieving herself of all of this build-up.

Her skin is hypersensitive to every touch, the silk of her camisole and the softness of her sheets make her already hard nipples ache to be touched and squeezed and pulled. Rachel indulges herself pulling one dark bud between her fingers and rolling it before tightening them and sighing. It felt so much better in the dream, but this works for now. She focuses on the dream as her hands toy with her tits and slip into her panties. She's wet and soft as she parts her own lips pressing two fingers gently inside herself. It isn't enough—doesn't come close to comparing with even the remembered feeling of a wet dream.

Sighing and rolling over to reach the drawer in her bedside table, Rachel pulls out the gag gift Santana had bought her for her last birthday. A huge dildo in hot pink. Laying back down on the bed Rachel shimmies out of her shorts and panties letting her legs fall apart, and she immerses herself in her fantasy. If she's staying up at two in the morning, this better be the best orgasm she's ever had.

She pictures it in her mind, just like the dream, herself tied down, Finn standing there, looking at her like she was a piece of meat. He walks towards her and undoes his fly keeping on that damn black uniform of his that makes him look so sexy. In her mind, he's there pressing up against her slick folds, and she can hear his voice in her head. The gravelly quality that melts her insides is sliding smoothly through her ears. Little slut's all wet. "Yes, Sir. All for you." It's a whisper. Do you want to touch yourself? Of course you do. You're a dirty little whore—you can't keep those fingers away from that greedy little pussy can you? "I can, Sir. I can." Who do you belong to? Who's body is this, slut? "I belong to you, Sir. I'm yours to use, Sir. Please, Sir. Please use me."

Rachel's pushes the dildo into herself slowly, and then starts fucking herself. Hard and rough and just the way she thinks Finn would fuck a dirty little slut like her.


It's been a few days since her dream, and she just has to see him again, if anything to prove to herself that he isn't this perfect dominant she has fantasized him to be in her head. He's human and just because he wears stupid black clothes and she only knows his first name doesn't mean he's what she's been looking for. It just makes him a guy who works at a club. Her dream hasn't left her though, the feeling of being at his mercy, even in her head, is enough to make her squirm.

So she puts on some of her sexiest clothes, nothing compared to what she borrowed from Santana, and catches a taxi to Normal's Edge just hoping that he's working.

When she walks in, she asks one of the wait staff if they can find her Finn, and the waiter smirks at her saying that he's managing stage three tonight. She leans against one of the bare brick columns of the club trying not to feel like an awful voyeur as she watches him do his job. He really does seem to be good at it, and from this angle, his ass looks fantastic in those slacks. He looks at her like he can read her thoughts, and she feels the prickles of shame and arousal mixed in the best cocktail.

She stays where she is, leaning against the brick and letting its cool presence sooth her racing heart and shaking body. He keeps looking at her, glances through thick lashes that make her heart stop. Eventually she doesn't lower her gaze when he looks in her direction. She isn't sure if there's a challenge in his eyes or if she's imagining it, but either way when the couple finishes she marches up to the stage and hands him a fifty. "Dealer's choice," and as an afterthought she lowers her voice and speaks respectfully, "Please Sir."


There's something about her that he can't put his finger on. She exudes innocence when he has a feeling she's anything but. And she seems so shy up until the moment she marches up to him waving a bill and telling him it's dealer's choice. Without hesitating, he tells her to strip. He has quite an advantage over her in height, and she has to crane her neck to look at him. The fire in her eyes is burning, but she follows his orders swiftly never removing her eyes from him.

He'd expected her to back down, and with her standing naked in front of him, and even more beautiful than he remember, he has to think quickly. "You just want to be a good little sub don't you?" He plays with her because it's what she wants. She wants the fantasy.

"Yes Sir. I just want to make you happy." She plays the part so well, and he can feel himself slipping into it—not being as detached as he likes himself to be.

"Kneel on the bench. I'm going to strap you down. Your safeword is red, understand, slut?" As she kneels he closes his eyes and focuses on anything but her ass that is so perfect and soon going to be so red. He can think about this all he wants later when he's alone and not on a stage in the middle of the club. He pulls the leather straps across her calves and then secures her wrists on the upper level of the kneeler feeling his pants get tighter.

Finn grabs a crop from the bucket of toys and starts on her ass letting himself fall into the familiar ritual. He moves to her strapped down arms next getting a strange pleasure from watching her experience the new pain. Her back is too him so he can't torment her tits like he wants to, but with her legs spread and strapped down he can bring the crop up against her pussy. It comes back wet, and he wants to get her off again, but a bigger part of him doesn't think she really deserves it yet. "Someone gets so wet for a good whipping…" He just rubs the leather against her soaked pussy making her thrash against her restraints and beg. "Unless I tell you otherwise, you won't beg. Only worthless cunts beg to come, and you're not a worthless cunt are you pretty girl?"

"No Sir, no Sir, I'm not." Her skin is covered in sweat and her welts are at the worst point they'll reach, and he knows she's had enough for tonight.

"You're a good girl, now let's get you of the stage. I'll take you to a room." He undoes the straps and grabs his radio from the corner of the stage saying that he's taking a twenty minute break before grabbing one of the soft, silk robes that they keep around for times like this. Rachel is panting and her eyes are wide as he wraps in the material. He folds up her clothes before walking her to one of the quiet private rooms with a bed. "Settle down," he pats the bed and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. "What kind of tea do you drink?"

She looks at him like he's insane and he points to the electric kettle he's put the water in. "Tea? I don't want you drinking something cold right now because you look like you're a little too close to going into shock."

"Lemon," she rasps out, "Just warm water with lemon." She's still looking at him like he's crazy, and as he's squeezing a lemon wedge from the fridge into a cup she bursts out with, "And you do this for a living?"

"Pays the bills, it's fun… and I like to think I'm good at it," he pours the water over the lemon and hands it to her.

"You're… yeah, you're good at it." She shivers and takes a sip of the lemon water.

"Look, Rachel," and she looks like she's surprised he remembers her name, "I have to get back to the stage, just—just stay like half an hour more because I know things got intense up there. I'm sorry I know I probably over-stepped my bounds, and I don't want you to suffer because I can't control myself." He hadn't acted professionally. He can tell himself he was just giving her the experience she wanted, the fantasy, but that's a lie. Maybe it really has been too long since he's had a good release for this energy in his personal life.

She takes another sip of her drink and gives him a look that he can't decipher before she says, in a voice so quiet he almost can't hear it, "Don't apologize for giving me what I wanted. I hate when guys do that."

AN: So incredibly pleased with the response to this so far—honestly I was a little surprised at how much everyone likes it. Thanks again to Kelsey and Sam for general nefarious planning. Anyway, I promise I will update as soon as I can, but my schedule is busy and my writing habits tend to be eccentric. Rumor has it if you leave a review gets a night in a private room with Finn Hudson and some dealer's choice ;)!