by Lily Freeman
“—organizations.”
“Just don’t. I’ll be there by seven.”
“It’s only three hours.”
“You said two!”
“Did I?”
By six o’clock PJ knew she had no show of meeting India. Dreading the conversation, but not being able to avoid it any longer she called. Indy was beyond upset, but she understood. With the barge arriving three hours late, they’d all worked through the afternoon to offload the massive sections of wood. Even PJ had been roped into the painstaking task of maneuvering the sections through the warehouse.
By seven-thirty she was standing with her hands wedged in her pockets feeling utterly female.
“All done boss, you can go now.”
“Okay, you sure?”
Rodger looked exhausted. “Yep, go.”
PJ grabbed her phone and hit Indy’s number as she headed down the hallway, her call being answered after the first ring.
“PJ?”
“What’s the address again? I’ll be late, but I’ll be there. Can’t have your ass getting paddled without me there to witness it.”
“Oh my God, Babe, I love you. I’ll text it now and let them know. Don’t want to get detention on the first night.”
Hell no, she wouldn’t want that.
After throwing herself in the shower, PJ changed into her new red merino dress, pulled her hair up and threw on some makeup. As she searched through her handbag for her favorite lipstick, she hauled out the piece of paper that was blocking her view.
“No, no, fuck no.” Her medical certificate, she hadn’t scanned it or sent the photo. Indy was going to kill her. If she didn’t turn up, she’d be in the bad books forever, but without her details she wouldn’t get through the door.
Fuck, it was too late, she’d just have to wing it, knock until they let her in, then blag her way through whatever interview process they required. Grabbing her bag and coat she ran out the door.
“One’s missing, Master Luke, should I wait or send the rest through?”
Luke glanced up from the screen he’d been studying. “No Sasha, they’re already running late. Send them in, I’ll see if I can find a contact for,” scrolling down his list he found the only applicant not confirmed, “Miss PJ Lester.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The vice like tension around Luke’s neck tightened another notch. Every second since he’d walked back through the door, he’d felt the walls closing in. It wasn’t a sensation he was familiar with. After a long, much needed breath, he continued to trawl through the file, finding no medical, no phone number, no details at all. Someone had seriously fucked up. People didn’t get into Bond Street without providing specific information and this woman had provided none. She was however, not his problem.
Looking back through the other applicants, he found no surprises. All women, all attractive: one blonde, two brunettes and a redhead with cropped hair. None of them warranted a reaction because his decision had been made. As much as it evoked a deep, aching sense of loss, he was done with the clubs, the parties, the willing subs who were chasing the high, almost as much as he was. He was done with it all. Somehow he’d find a way past the void it left in his life and when he did, he’d be ready to fill it with something or someone new.
With only four subs now Luke wasn’t needed for the tour, he wasn’t actually needed at all, but he’d promised Gabe two hours and that’s what he’d give him, no more.
He headed out into the main club just as the small group of new subs disappeared down the staircase to the dungeons.
The bar was empty so he poured himself a whiskey, then pulled up a chair right at the back.
Massive, black and forbidding. They were the three words that described the door PJ was standing in front of perfectly. As she searched for some sort of button or bell, a few others came to mind. “You are fucking kidding me.”
It was the door from her book, right at the beginning. She might have guessed from the extravagant joining fee, but India could’ve said. Surely she wasn’t so blonde that she didn’t notice? Finding no form of intercom, buzzer or anything else, PJ grabbed the huge lion’s head door handle and twisted, stepping straight into a lavish reception room. Candles burned in wall sconces while the gorgeous chandelier hanging from the ceiling, cast soft prisms of light all over the dark burgundy walls. A beautifully polished desk sat off to one side, the woman behind it looking up as PJ stepped forward, her legs trembling so much she had to grip the table.
“I’m PJ LLester. I’m late, I’m sorry. Also, I had some issues getting my information through to you today, but I have it with me.” Her hands were quivering as she passed her documents over.
With her clear blue eyes framed beautifully behind black-rimmed glasses, the woman took a very thorough inventory of PJ. It left her feeling naked, vulnerable and incredibly selfconscious.
“So you’re the mysterious number five. Please take a seat and I’ll have one of our Doms come and talk to you.”
Frantically glancing around, PJ spotted the huge leather couches arranged against the far wall. Eternally grateful to escape the receptionist’s scrutiny she headed over, slowly removing her coat on the way. Again she found herself asking, why the hell was she doing this? She was yet to see a man and she already felt nauseous. There was fuck-all arousing about that.
Ten minutes later, when the door opened on the far side of the room, PJ was a wreck. She knew it was a man, could tell by the way he moved, and while his face was hidden in the shadows, his body wasn’t. His shoulders were broad and high, standing at well over six feet. His crisp white shirt appeared a second before his carelessly styled rich brown hair. Then she saw the dark stubble covering his lean cheeks and—Jesus Christ, he was magnificent. There was a mean edge to his gaze as he scanned the room, his eyes narrowing before they finally spotted her. She was practically hiding in the corner. As PJ scrambled to her feet, her coat fell to the floor, but she didn’t pick it up because he was marching towards her, fast, right up into her personal space.
“Miss Lester?”
With her hand reaching awkwardly forward, PJ waited and waited until he slowly touched her. “Just PJ.”
Amusement gleamed in his eyes, but only until his fingers curled around hers.
“I’m Master Adam. I believe we have some issues with your application?”
“You mean like the fact I haven’t filled one out yet?” She smiled, he didn’t.
“That’d be one of them. If you’ll come with me we’ll go through as much of the application as we can. You can take the optional section home and return it on Saturday.”
Turning around, he simply led her across the foyer and into an office where she was deposited into a large leather chair in front of an unquestionably masculine desk while he moved behind it. Sifting through the drawers he pulled out several sheets of paper, handing them to her in order.
“Read them, reread them, then sign.”
When he leaned forward to pass her a pen, he seemed to fill the space between them. PJ wasn’t stupid, she understood body language, his was very much trying to overwhelm hers, but she was nothing if not up for a challenge. Brave thoughts for someone whose heart was banging against her ribcage with so much force it hurt. Still she attempted to ignore it, and him.
The first page was a non-disclosure agreement which she read, reread and then signed. The second page listed the club rules, again she read, reread and just as she was about to initial it, Master Adam interrupted her.
“Are they clear?” His dark eyes penetrated hers. “People think they’re clear, but when push comes to shove, they’re not clear enough.”
Slowly she reread the list. “Okay, maybe this one.” Pointing at the fifth line down, she risked a look up. “It states any sub who is unspoken for can be punished by any Dom who is a current member of the club.” A list of punishable offenses ran underneath, her stomach heaved with each one. While his fingers casually drummed against the desktop, Master Adam w
atched her, no smile, no frown, just that dark imposing stare.
“So basically,” PJ’s voice trembled, “looking at some of these offenses, the Dom can find any reason they choose, take whatever action they like and there’s nothing a sub can do about it?”
“That’s correct, PJ, but keep in mind there are subs who thrive on punishment so they’ll openly provoke a Dom. We don’t set out to punish, you have to break the rules, it’s that simple.”
Not for the first time tonight, she wondered how the fuck India had talked her into this, yet she still scrawled her signature along the bottom of the page before she moved on.
“This one we’ll go through together then you can complete it at home.”
The controlled calm in his tone had her looking up, the distance between them, nothing as he leaned further across the desk.
PJ did not want to be reading this, thinking about this and certainly not talking about this with Adam—Master Adam, because in front of her, described in explicit detail was every sexual preference, every kink, both soft and hard that she could imagine. Some she’d heard of and some she hadn’t, but if he seriously expected her to talk about them with him, he was fucking dreaming.
Adam Mackenzie watched, amused by the adorable rosy hue that was climbing up PJ’s face. Even without the pleasure of looking into her gorgeous, golden brown eyes, it was obvious she was growing more uncomfortable by the second. He fully intended to make it a whole lot worse.
Giving her a minute to get to the bottom of the page, he waited to see what she’d do. Dropping the pen, she lifted the corner of the paper, clearly intending to fold it in half.
“Let’s start at the top shall we and work our way down. Anything you’re not one hundred percent sure about, I recommend you tick ‘no’ because you can guarantee if you put it out there, someone will take you up on it.”
She peeked up at him.
“Be very sure you understand and are certain about what you’re willing to do, PJ.”
“Okay.”
Her soft pink lips parted, either to question him or to draw in a breath. They were plump and pouty, beautifully shaped, like the breasts he could see heaving as she fought to stay calm.
The first few paragraphs covered basic sexual practices. She ticked yes to oral, yes to full penetration and surprisingly, yes to anal. Red didn’t begin to describe the color slowly creeping over the pale curve of her cheeks, but her pain wasn’t over yet. Adam leaned forward, tapping the next box with his pen. “Group play, PJ?”
“No.”
“Public scenes?”
“No.”
“Restriction and light bondage?”
“Yes.”
His cock jerked. “Gags, masks and—”
“No.”
They moved on to the hard limits. A light sheen of perspiration moistened her forehead.
“These all sound awful. Can I mark no for all of them?”
Thick honey colored curls escaped their bindings as she fidgeted nervously with her hair. The gesture made her look impossibly delicate, unsure of herself, the perfect submissive response.
Scraping his chair loudly across the floor, Adam stood up, loving the way her eyes locked onto him, taking in every little move as he walked around the desk. With a brush of his finger he caught her hair, threading the silky strands behind her ear before he placed his arm around her, leaning in real close. Her scent hit his nostrils first before it filled his body. There were no high floral notes or sweet sickly perfume for her, she was all dark spice and midnight.
“You need to be open to some form of punishment, PJ, or you’ll find yourself tied to the bar or left at the mercy of someone else’s desires. It’s better to get five swats with a flogger than two hours of slow torment.”
He eased back, instantly resenting the distance. Her hand hovered over the page before she finally ticked spanking and light impact. A bold cross went beside all the other options of punishment. Leaving only the last section to address, Adam returned to his chair, he wanted a full frontal for this one and she didn’t disappoint. As her focus shifted slowly down the page, her brows drew together, tighter and tighter before she bit her bottom lip, clamping it firmly between her teeth.
“Tell me what’s on your list, PJ?”
Silence.
—“PJ?”
“Umm toys yes, restriction yes, role play,” she glanced up at him, “not really my thing, verbal abuse no, erotic asphyxiation definitely no.”
The list went on and on. If she didn’t recognize the term she ticked no, apparently feeling no need to clarify any of the definitions with him. Signing it, she pushed the stack of forms back across the desk.
“Right, Sasha will deal with your application when you leave so let’s go and get acquainted with the club.”
Taking her hand, he led her straight out of the office, across the reception and over to the main bar.
“Once we walk through this door, PJ, it’s no longer a game.”
She peeked up at him again, all long lashes and big eyes. “I understand.”
Did she? Adam couldn’t wait to find out.
Two whiskeys down and Luke was seriously starting to regret his decision to hang around. He had a conference call at eight with an environmental scientist who seemed to take immense pleasure in talking to Luke like he was an idiot. But he was pivotal to their case, so as much as Luke wanted to tell him to fuck off, he couldn’t.
As he nursed his drink, he slowly gazed around the room. Every chain, bench, whip, cage and handcuff, he’d used time and time again, although he could remember none of them specifically. Just as he was about to get sucked back into the guilt trip, mind fuck, wherever the hell his erratic thought process was about to take him, his phone vibrated. Luke grabbed it, about to thank Gabe for the check up call when he saw Thomas’s icon flashing across the screen.
“What now?”
“Kaiser’s back, won’t say where he’s been, but he’s got the file and he was right, Luke, the data’s been altered. You know what this means?”
“Yeah.” There was a long drawn out silence between breaths as the ramifications of what Thomas had said, sank in.
“This is big Tom, we’re talking thousands of jobs if this gets out.”
“Of course it’s going to get out, Luke. One of the biggest automotive companies in the world has sold millions of vehicles based on false claims. The fact that Kaiser stumbled onto it at all is a fucking miracle.”
“So what does he want?”
“He wants a meeting with you.”
“Of course, set it up for early next week.”
“Tomorrow?”
“What?”
“The man’s a wreck, says he’ll wait a day then he’s going into hiding until the court case.”
“Fuck.”
“Look, do what you can to reassure him, whatever it takes. There’s a flight to Frankfurt at seven am and you’re on it.”
Very calmly Luke brought his glass to his lips, knocking back the last mouthful of liquor. It burnt all the way down, the heat that resonated back up his throat was a Godsend because it went straight to his head. He had to leave, pack, sort through the documents he’d left sprawled all over the kitchen bench. This unexpected little trip couldn’t have come at a worse time.
Luke stood up, about to text Gabe and apologize when the door on the far side of the club opened. Adam Mackenzie walked in with a woman, her hand firmly shackled in his. Swathes of red fabric floated around her thighs, nipping in tight around her tiny waist, but it was the low V-neck that had him staring. Her generous breasts were hugged to perfection, high and firm. The next second, she was gone, drawn into the darkness.
With a little thud, Luke’s glass hit the bar, his phone a second later, his text all but forgotten. The rising frustration that had been surging through him was also gone as the couple emerged across the room.
Adam towered over her, murmuring something. Luke understood the tone if not the command. The youn
g Dom sat and the woman hesitated, challenging him for a moment before she gracefully dropped to her knees.
If she’d been his, no one had ever been his, but if she had been, he’d have reprimanded her for that transgression regardless of how insignificant it appeared. In his fantasy, his delusional, unrealistic fantasy between himself and his submissive, virginal masochist, there would be absolute trust. She would respond so that he wouldn’t have to. They would be perfectly aligned, his will woven around her heart. Yet for that to happen, for that ultimate understanding, a language without words, she’d have to be taught. Luke believed in swift but fair punishment, breaking a habit before it began. Except he wouldn’t be breaking anything anymore.
He didn’t even know why he was still here, thinking about a woman he’d seen for all of two seconds. She was everything he didn’t want. A submissive in a club, someone willing to be used, yet for some reason, he wasn’t moving away. Instead he shifted a little to the left so he could see her better. Adam leaned back, his shadow lifting, the woman between his knees turning just as the light caught her face.
“Jesus.” Luke hissed.
Everything about her was overtly feminine, from the soft curve of her chin to the hair tumbling right down her back in messy, unruly curls. She had the most exquisite ivory skin, pale and flawless except for the blush on her high, delicate cheeks. Even from twenty feet away he could see her tremble, her small hands clasped tightly on her lap. She was definitely new to the scene and nervous as hell. That was to be expected on her first visit to the club, but there was something else, a gentleness in the way she nodded before smiling shyly at the man looming over her, an innocence even. She was untainted by everything around her; the lustful indulgence, the open depravity. She was beautiful—she was pure.
“Rule number one; eyes down unless you’re given permission otherwise.”
After a sharp nod from Master Adam, PJ lowered her eyes.
“Good girl.”
Easing closer, his thighs closed in around her.
“Rule number two; you don’t speak unless you’re spoken to first. If your Dom grants you permission to converse freely then you may, otherwise you’re to remain silent.”
