Tormented Dreams: Club Risqué Book Seven

by Flynn, Poppy

  An unattached sadist, somewhere close to her own age, who wanted to settle down and have a family…yeah, she was doomed!

  Letting out a hearty sigh and running her free hand through her thick, wavy hair, Grace decided, if that really were the case, then she might as well enjoy herself while she had the chance. And what better way than to visit Club Risqué and check out whether the local club was worth the hefty membership fee for the luxury of visiting a venue on her doorstep? Although it was certainly true that she'd reap some of that back in both travel costs and time, as well as in the aftercare she was missing out on right now.

  So, really, what was there to lose? She might even find out a little bit more about the delicious Dr. Diaz and whether her fantasies came anywhere close to reality.

  With her mind made up, Grace went into her bedroom—the purple boudoir as she liked to think of it, since it was decorated in layers of her favourite deep lilac shades—and pondered what to wear.

  Stripping off, she eyed herself critically in the full-length mirror on her wardrobe door. Slim and fit, she was looking damn good for her age. While her breasts might have started to sag ever so slightly, a few character lines adorned her face, and she might not be a spring chicken anymore, but she reckoned she could still give the younger generation a good run for their money. Besides, what she lacked in youth, she damn well made up for in experience. And in the hard core sadomasochistic circles in which she thrived, that, at least, meant something.

  Nevertheless, her taste in clothes, even fetish wear, ran closer to conservative than non-existent. She was definitely too old for some of the dirty, flirty outfits that the younger generation got away with and she accepted that gracefully. If she tried, she'd just end up looking like mutton dressed up as lamb, and that was a place she refused to go, even if that mind set might be more psychological than physical.

  Donning a sexy lace thong, Grace wiggled into a black shift dress with a deep vee back. She'd been going braless for the past couple of weeks so that she didn't aggravate the lacerations now that they were finally healing nicely, and she was thankful her breasts were still perky enough for her to get away with it. Besides, low back, no bra always drove the men wild, she thought with a satisfied smile as she sat on the bed and pulled on a pair of plain black heels with a distinctive red sole.

  Fluffing her hair, Grace kept her makeup light except for the fire engine red lipstick that she favoured. With a last look in the mirror, she was ready to go.

  Turning and looking over her shoulder so she could see herself from behind, she peered at the whip marks which adorned her back, framed by the fabric of her dress which hung in a loose, liquid fall that highlighted the dimples just above her buttocks.

  It was a pity they weren't quite healed, so she wouldn't be able to play, but she wore the marks with a certain pride. They said a lot about who she was without her having to provide a commentary.

  Besides, tonight, was about scoping the place out, not looking for a suitable sadist. Well, that wasn't exactly true. You could bet your last bank note that she'd be taking an interested perusal of any prospective candidates. The very idea had her insides tingling…almost as much as the thought of seeing the delectable doctor again.

  * * *

  Xavier walked through the creatively lit dungeon at Club Risqué and tried not to tease himself with the idea that Grace Miller might turn up at the club tonight. She hadn't last night, after all, and surely, if she were keen to do so, she would have done it at the earliest opportunity.

  He had looked for her the previous evening then berated himself for doing so, since the unexpectedly strong disappointment ended up spoiling his night as a result. He was determined not to do the same again tonight.

  Hell! Why was he so interested in whether or not the woman was going to turn up anyway? He barely knew her and had made the invitation in a gesture of good faith. A no strings gesture, at that, so he had no business trying to make anything else out of the situation.

  Of course, telling himself that didn't change the fact that he found the woman incredibly appealing on a variety of different levels, not least because she identified as a masochist, but there was plenty more besides which had his motor revving.

  Despite his very best efforts, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering over all the intriguing possibilities, and he couldn't help wondering if she'd be open to the kind of sadomasochistic Master/slave relationship he wanted to cultivate with the right woman.

  And now he was getting ahead of himself all over again, because he didn't even know if she was going to make an appearance.

  She had been coy with her personal details, and short of deliberately stalking her, he might never see the woman again, so it was time to put the daydreams to bed and make the most of the delights that were right here in front of him.

  And he really did plan to do exactly that. In fact, he was determinedly checking out the occupants of the dungeon, which this vast playroom was affectionately referred to, despite the fact that it was upstairs, when the club's assistant manager frantically waved him over.

  Xavier had to work to conceal a smile as he caught sight of Trinity trying desperately to make her diminutive stature noticed through the sea of members, since she was such a tiny little thing.

  Glad of the distraction from his wayward thoughts, Xavier changed direction and made his way toward her, wondering if there had been an emergency. He was used to being unofficially 'on call', as it were, at the club, and accepted it good-naturedly. It was rather nice, really, to feel that he was relied upon in that fashion, since he had no one to rely on him in his personal life.

  "What's the problem?" he asked when he reached the petite redhead.

  "No problem, Xavi," she declared, using the pet form of his name which seemed to have become the norm since he'd become a regular here. He let it go; Trinity was management after all, even though he was more used to being called Master X by submissives. More comfortable too, since, to his mind, it showed the necessary respect.

  "There's a woman just come through reception. She was directed to my office to have the required paperwork completed, but she says she's your guest?"

  "Grace?" Xavier queried, a thrill of anticipation running through him that he was unable to quell, no matter how misplaced it might prove to be.

  "Yes, that's right. Grace Miller."

  Xavier couldn't help the uncharacteristic grin that spread across his usually impassive features. "Where is she?"

  "I left her in the care of Connor and Laurel while I came to find you," Trinity told him. "You know she can't wander unchaperoned if she's admitted as a guest."

  "Of course," Xavier agreed readily. "I issued the invitation last week, but I wasn't certain she'd take me up on it, so I left the offer open. I'll go and take care of her right away."

  Trinity nodded and gave him a far too knowing smile. Damn it, he was losing all his Dom cred right now!

  "I left them checking out the theme rooms." Trinity winked cheekily, moving off to continue her inspection rounds, but turning to blow him a kiss across her shoulder. Xavier just rolled his eyes and walked toward the theme rooms. What did a sadist have to do to get some respect around here? But the thought lacked his customary bite. He got too much enjoyment from being a part of the club's inner kink 'family'.

  Xavier observed the interaction between Laurel and Grace as he walked down the long corridor that accessed the eight large themed playrooms. Between them, the two women kind of represented his past and what he hoped might be his future.

  His relationship with Laurel was the closest he had ever come to fulfilling his dream of a 24/7 Master/slave relationship. Of course, his was still a pretty off the wall ambition, since he wanted it to be a permanent remote relationship. That is, he didn't want to have his slave living with him.

  Ever.

  Yeah, he realised that was a pretty oddball idea, but it was what he felt most comfortable with.

  He had been Laurel's Master for around si
x months, but it had not given him the satisfaction he had expected. He put that down to the fact that the contract had been negotiated out of need rather than desire. At the time, Laurel had been in a bad place in her life and had been suffering a severe depression that verged precariously on the edge of suicidal. His role as her Master had been one designed to keep her anchored to reality instead of getting too lost inside her head and making catastrophic decisions.

  And it had worked for both of them as far as it went. The relationship had kept Laurel grounded but had done nothing to rehabilitate her.

  For himself, he'd had a taste of what he aspired to, and while it had stopped rather short of being completely fulfilling for him, he put that down to the circumstances. After all, he and Laurel had never even been intimate, well, not in the sense of consummating their relationship sexually—her stipulation and one that he respected as a Dom. Not every D/s relationship was based on sex, after all.

  But was it really fair to put it down to lack of traditional intercourse? After all, it was no great secret that he had a fondness for seeing a sub on her knees before him while he fucked her face. It was a power trip thing that he fed off of as a dominant, and he had certainly had that with Laurel.

  So why was it that he hadn't found the satisfaction he had expected from the situation?

  It wasn't because she had been a bad slave. True, that wasn't her natural inclination, but she had been close to damn perfect when it came to doing as she was instructed.

  But that was something that would just have to be contemplated on another occasion, he thought, as he approached the trio.

  Looking at Grace, Xavier felt his pulse kick up a notch. Perhaps that was the reason things had seemed a little lacklustre with Laurel—chemistry, or the lack of it on their part. Laurel had only ever really had eyes for Connor, the giant of a man who stood protectively by her side right now.

  While Xavier had a special affection for Laurel, more so than any other woman in the club, the chemistry hadn't been there. Or maybe it was just an age thing. Laurel was almost young enough to be his daughter. Not that that would frighten many Doms off, of course, and Xavier had initially been no different. In fact, he had leaned toward younger women in the past, but the experiences had left him feeling unfulfilled and he had suspected it might be something to do with maturity, so he was ready to adapt and consider things differently. He prided himself on being flexible rather than set in his ways. If things didn't work out, he was always willing to find a remedy.

  The big man eyed Xavier's approach with a hooded look. The relationship between them was slightly strained, though they were both professional enough to be courteous about it. Perhaps that would ease in time, but the truth was that Connor still held a little bit of resentment regarding Xavier's relationship with Laurel, even though he'd been out of the picture, fighting his own demons, at the time. Never mind the fact that he was the one to introduce them in the first place, but it was water under the bridge as far as Xavier was concerned, and hopefully Connor would come to see it that way too, eventually. He and Laurel were happy together as a couple now, after all, and the pair of them had both managed to overcome the darkness that had seeped into each of their lives.

  Laurel's reaction—or Fluff, as she went by at the club—was completely the opposite.

  "Xavi!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up when she saw him. And although Connor had a proprietary hand at her waist, she nevertheless reached up and hugged him affectionately.

  "That's Master X to you, pet," Connor reprimanded, giving Xavier a cursory nod.

  Laurel just giggled and kissed him on the cheek. Xavier sighed inwardly. Yeah, his Dom card was really being shredded tonight!

  Extracting himself with a brief squeeze, before Connor took exception, Xavier turned to Grace. He took her hand in his own and, with a small, formal bow, kissed the back of her fingers.

  "I see you've met my guest," he said to the couple chaperoning her, purposely not using her name since he had no indication, as yet, whether she would choose the anonymity of a club pseudonym, as many did.

  Turning back to Grace, he flashed a genuine smile. "I'm glad you made it, Chiquita."

  "Thank you for the invitation." Her honeyed tone had his traitorous cock twitching just like it had every other time he'd met her.

  "I have to admit that I was intrigued and couldn't turn down the chance to see what has been made of this place. So far, I've not been disappointed. It all looks amazing."

  Xavier smiled and stole a pointed look at Connor. Like most, Grace wasn't aware that the big man was one of the owners. Then he crooked his arm and offered it to her. "Well, then, allow me the honour of showing you around the rest of the club."

  Bidding them goodbye, Connor and Laurel continued on their way to the dungeon and Xavier directed Grace along the corridor to the next theme room, which happened to be the headmaster's study. There, a sub, dressed up in a sexy take of a British schoolgirl uniform, complete with stockings and garter belt, was sobbing and screaming somewhat theatrically as she got the cane.

  "Do you enjoy role play?" he asked, noting the anticipatory gleam in her eyes as she followed every movement of the Dom's hand.

  "I've never really had the opportunity to try it," she replied distractedly, her gaze still fixed on the implement.

  "Is it something you might like to sample?"

  Grace furrowed her brow but didn't turn away from the scene, and he thought he detected a small sigh when the cane found its target once again. As the Dom finally moved to provide aftercare, Grace wrenched her eyes away from the floor to ceiling viewing window and gave him her undivided attention.

  "I'm not sure," she replied, still frowning in contemplation. "It's not something I feel like I'm missing in my life. I suppose it might be a fun interlude if I wanted something different for a change, but in general, I like my slice of pain served neat and without frills," she told him boldly as they wandered across to the next window.

  "A woman after my own heart," Xavier said lightly as they stopped to look inside the suspension room where Master Logan, another of the co-owners, had his wife, Luanna—or Serenity, as she was known at the club—bound in complicated Shibari work. He was in the process of suspending her rather artistically, one of his greatest pleasures.

  "You're a sadist?" Grace queried. Had he detected the slightest breathiness in her voice, or was that just wishful thinking?

  "Indeed I am. Master X, at your service," he said with a brief, formal bow.

  "What about you? Are you an exhibitionist as well?" he enquired, the scenes playing out through the glass walls forgotten. "Or do you prefer privacy?"

  "I'm not bothered, either way," she admitted. "I'm only in it for the scene, at the end of the day. It doesn't bother me to be on display, but it's not something I need to be fulfilled. Neither is a club, to be honest. It's just the only way to meet prospective Doms when you're single. I don't trust that kind of thing to internet chat. I need the security of a respected club so that I can meet people who have been vetted, but I'm perfectly happy to scene in private once I'm comfortable that I'm in good hands."

  "Very sensible," Xavier agreed approvingly. "I should have asked before; do you use a club name for anonymity?"

  They had passed a few more theme rooms, the Sultan's throne room, the wet room, and the French boudoir, and had given each one a little time and contemplation, albeit cursory. But none of them had lit Grace's expression as much as watching the caning.

  Now they were approaching the wonders of the dungeon. Xavier had an inkling that this would prove a more interesting space for Grace.

  "Actually, yes, I usually go by the name Gem. My initials. Not very original, I know, but it works."

  "And it suits you," Xavier acknowledged with a small smile. She was certainly looking like a precious little gem to him, and he could only hope that the pulse of desire he felt thrumming through him was not just one sided, especially when her reaction as they came to the entrance of
the dungeon had his groin tightening even further so that his cock felt hard enough to pound nails.

  Chapter 4

  Grace couldn't help the low, orgasmic sounding groan that left her mouth as she stopped dead and took in the wonders of the club's showpiece playroom.

  Dear Lord, the place was a smorgasbord of kinky pleasure stations, complete with mood lighting and social areas where Doms and subs could negotiate or perform aftercare. It was an area where voyeurs could linger or where members could just simply socialise. What a treat!

  The equipment was second to none. She could see at a glance the quality and cleanliness. This alone might be enough to have her completing those membership forms, despite the exorbitant fees. Not to mention the comforting number of very obvious dungeon monitors she could see, carefully scrutinising the area. And finding out that Xavier was a sadist really was the icing on an already decadent cake.

  She could feel the heat of his body searing her bare back as he stood behind her and had to close her eyes for a moment just to compose herself. A composure that was hard won when he clamped a bold hand on her shoulder and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Like what you see?"

  Grace canted her head so that she could look at his striking face. "Oh, yes!" she murmured huskily, although she wasn't entirely sure if she was referring to the club or him. Maybe a little of both.

  Her eyes, heavy lidded, caught and held with his and she could feel the electricity thrumming between them like a living entity. No way that could be one sided.

  Xavier bent his head, and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her, but to her profound disappointment, he instead feathered his hot breath across her cheek and whispered in her ear, "Me too!"

  Just the sound of his voice had her panties dampening. Oh, damn! Did he mean her?