Jason and Trent Redding had met in college and remained close friends while Trent completed medical school at Harvard, as well as his surgical residency at the Brigham and Women’s Hospital. He had also come home to central Florida to open a medical practice in Gainesville, which was now thriving, and to teach at the University of Florida. He was one of the top heart surgeons in the state, if not the entire southeast.
When the run-down Laurel Oak Estate had come on the market, Jason and Trent had put together a consortium of like-minded BDSM aficionados of the Lifestyle to purchase the estate and renovate the house and grounds for Le Club Laurel Oak–Ocala. It had been a pipe dream of theirs since they had been introduced to the Lifestyle by a college friend from New Orleans whose father was a founding member of Le Club Beaudelair–New Orleans, located in the French Quarter. Neither of them had ever been into the kinkier aspects of the Lifestyle but found BDSM added a spice missing from more vanilla sexual experiences.
The property was perfect for a club patterned after and loosely affiliated with the New Orleans facility, as it was just at the edge of the historic Ocala residential and business district and required no complicated rezoning or permitting for their intended usage.
“What are you plotting, Jason? I’ve seen that look before.”
“A weekend with Miss Roundtree is all,” Steele answered innocently. A weekend with Calleigh sounded good, very good. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed her since she had finished the architectural work. The thought of seeing her again and being close to that sumptuous derriere of hers had sent a jolt like an electric charge through him. Suddenly, he found himself in very good spirits. He thought of the collar he had bought. Maybe I’ll be able to put it to good use after all. The picture in his mind’s eye of her standing on her head made him chuckle. Trent just shook his head.
Chapter Four
“Mr. Steele would like you to meet him for lunch at the Laurel Oak Estate. He will have a car pick you up at your office at 11:45 on Friday. Would that be convenient?” Steele’s secretary asked.
“That would be fine.” Calleigh had an uneasy feeling about this, although she could not help feeling a little thrill of anticipation. In all the months since the project had been completed, she had not heard from Jason Steele and certainly had not been invited for lunch at the Estate. What’s up?
The perennial question was what to wear. Something sensuous but not overtly sexual. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea—or did she? Well, she had a few days to figure it out. Wait until Paula hears about this!
On Friday morning, dressed in a casually elegant sundress the same color as her sky-blue eyes with spiky Manolo sandals, Calleigh paced her office at C.R. Roundtree & Associates, Architects, restlessly. While working with Steele on the project, she had often wondered if the wild attraction she felt was one-sided, or if he felt it as well. Calleigh had given Jason as much encouragement as she could without coming right out and asking him for a date, but he had never acted on her subtly dropped hints. Of course, she had no alternative but to act in a professional manner—but the man was hot. Jason Steele was a well-known attorney, one of Ocala’s “Most Eligible Bachelors,” and extremely smart, sexy, and charming.
The chauffeured Lincoln Town Car picked her up promptly at 11:45 and proceeded to the area just south of downtown Ocala known as the Historic District, which was comprised of street after street of Victorian homes, many of which had been converted to inns and offices. As they pulled up to the electronic security gate and the chauffeur entered the code, Calleigh had a fluttering feeling in the pit of her belly. Here goes nothing! Wow! The enormous, white Victorian house decorated with copious amounts of gingerbread trim was gorgeous, just as she had imagined it would look, with a beautiful English garden in full bloom. The hundred-year-old laurel oak and live oak trees draped in Spanish moss that gave the Estate its name seemed to hold the house in their protective embrace. She felt a glow of pride looking at the culmination of her vision and hard work. The chauffeur opened the door and escorted her to the front entry, where Steele was waiting to greet her.
“Good afternoon, Calleigh. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Steele said as he escorted her to the sunporch overlooking the beautiful garden, but his voice had an edge to it, she realized. Not all friendly and relaxed, not Friday-afternoon casual. A table for two had been set on the wraparound porch, and as she was seated she noticed a manila folder at her place. She looked up into his eyes, but they gave nothing away.
“It’s good to see you as well,” she replied. “What’s this?” Opening the folder she saw a copy of her executed confidentiality agreement, and her stomach dropped like a stone. This is not good. She looked up into his stern face, not a smile in sight. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you? I’ve flagged the pertinent clauses,” he said, “both ‘Confidentiality’ and ‘Penalties for Breach of Agreement.’”
“But…”
“You were overheard discussing the particulars of Le Club with a magazine editor, so do not pretend not to understand our concerns. Perhaps you would like to review the agreement.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Just as she was about to try to explain, the first course of luncheon was served by a stunning young man in waiter’s garb. I don’t think I can swallow this food.
“Let’s eat, and then we can discuss this situation.” Steele smiled a predatory smile that made her insides tremble.
“I doubt that I will be able to do that,” she said, her heart in her throat. Legal action over a matter this serious could finish my very promising career. The central Florida professional community functions like a small town, with everyone knowing everything about everybody.
“Not to worry. I’m sure we can work something out. After all, it’s not a hanging offense,” he said with a wolfish grin.
“If I recall correctly, the ‘Penalties’ clause was not firmly defined in the agreement,” she said tentatively, trying to gauge his reaction. “A point I made at the time of signing, if I recall.”
“That’s right. Penalties are at the discretion of Le Club…in other words, at my discretion…”
Oh my God! I’m in deep trouble! She tried to project a confident demeanor and not let the butterflies fluttering wildly in her belly show. Unfortunately, her efforts were to no avail. Steele looked glad, and she knew he could see she was on edge—on the very edge of panic. Calleigh picked up her fork and carefully chewed a bite of salad, trying to get it to go down past the lump in her throat.
“Apparently you and your editor friend are very curious about what goes on here. What do you know about BDSM?” he asked.
“BDSM…I don’t know anything about it. Why would I know anything about that?” she stuttered. Worse and worse! Calleigh had never considered an alternative sexual lifestyle for herself, although she wasn’t appalled by the idea, just surprised and somewhat embarrassed. She never would have imagined that Jason Steele, the upstanding local attorney, had an interest in BDSM.
Chapter Five
“BDSM is also known as ‘the Lifestyle.’ It’s as varied as the people who practice it. It spans practices, including spanking to whipping, blindfolding to bondage, role-playing, dominance and submission, all in varying degrees and extremes. The purpose is to increase sexual tension and pleasure for both participants. It is not abuse, and it is not what you might see in a porn film. Most of the members of this club engage in a more moderate form of the Lifestyle, but there are a few members who are more extreme in their tastes. You will probably see some of that in the Playroom this weekend. I am not sure which members are scheduled to be here. I am a ‘Dom’ or dominant personality. You will be a ‘sub’ or submissive.”
“Whoa, wait a minute. I have no intention…” she blurted, stunned. So that was the reason for the confidentiality agreements. Confidentiality for an enterprise like that would be especially important. Sudden comprehension dawned.
“Your choices are twofold. You can spend
the weekend with me at Le Club Laurel Oak as my sub and expand your horizons, or we will pursue the standard legal remedies regarding the breach of contract,” he stated coldly. He settled back in his chair and continued. “The club carefully monitors activities in the Playroom. You probably won’t see anything out of the ordinary in the common areas. The suites and theme rooms are private. No Dom is permitted to be with a sub in the Playroom alone, and dungeon monitors are present at all times. It’s a liability issue. We stress ‘safe, sane, and consensual’ sex. The house ‘safe word’ is ‘Magnolia.’ If you say the safe word at any time, all activities will stop, and you will be immediately put in a car and taken home…never to return under any circumstances, so be sure to only use the word if you mean it.”
“Jason, I can’t…I couldn’t possibly…”
“Let’s finish eating while you consider your alternatives before making a decision. Since your editor friend is so curious, why don’t you have her pack a bag for each of you. I can have a car pick her up at 3:30. Trent indicated that he might enjoy training a new sub this weekend.”
“But I don’t know anything about this stuff or what to do or…”
“That’s why it’s called ‘training’ a new sub,” he said patiently. “You will both be instructed as to what is expected of a sub in a Dom/sub or D/s relationship.”
“Okay,” she said tentatively. This is not exactly what I had in mind as a ‘date.’ “Let me call Paula.” Oh, Paula, if I’m in this, you are in this!
After finishing the superb luncheon, which Calleigh barely tasted, Jason left the table to take a phone call. Calleigh took the opportunity to call Paula. “Well, if you are still interested in seeing what goes on at the Laurel Oak Estate, pack a bag for me and one for yourself. You have been invited to spend the weekend. Jason will have a car pick you up at 3:30.” I’ll just let her discover the pertinent facts for herself when she gets here.
Chapter Six
Calleigh and Paula sat in comfortable leather wingback chairs in the library at Le Club. Jason remained standing behind the enormous mahogany partners’ desk, and Trent relaxed against one of the eight-foot-high French doors overlooking another view of the fabulous gardens. Jason reiterated his explanation of BDSM for Paula’s benefit and as a reinforcement for Calleigh. He then presented the two with new confidentiality agreements and releases for signature.
“Do you need me to explain ‘confidentiality’ to you again?” he asked in a stern voice. “This is not a joke, and it is not optional.”
“No, I understand, and I’m sorry about the slipup.” Calleigh scanned the Release of Liability. “Basically this says that we will not hold Le Club and its members liable for any activities taking place here, and that we consent to participate in all said activities of our own free will.”
“That’s basically it,” Trent replied. “A Dominance/submission or D/s relationship is based on trust and communication. You have to trust us that your well-being is our first concern, above our own pleasure, and that your best interests and pleasure are of utmost importance. You will discuss with us, individually, the outer limits of what you are willing to experience and trust us to push those boundaries safely. If there is something you absolutely do not wish to experience, like whipping or extreme bondage, you will say so when we have the limitation discussion.”
“I don’t think either of us are up for whipping or extreme bondage,” Paula replied, looking to Calleigh for affirmation. “I, for one, am not that adventurous. I don’t really know what else to expect.”
“You never know until you try. It’s all about trust and communication,” Trent told her with a smile. Damn, she’s a cute little thing. Pert boobs, cute little butt, well-muscled body…but I’m not so sure about her personality and character. She was so damn single-minded and pushy about getting the scoop on this place. I don’t know if I trust her. Was it just curiosity, or was it something more?
“All right, training begins now,” Jason said in a firm voice. “Remove your panties—no underwear allowed here—and on your knees on the floor.” Both girls looked at him as though he had sprouted horns. “Now, subs. We will not repeat our orders.”
Calleigh and Paula straightened the skirts of their dresses and then scrambled to remove their panties as ordered. Jason showed them the correct “slave” position—kneeling, sitting on their heels, legs spread, hands behind their backs. “You will address all Doms as ‘Sir.’ In the event our only Domme, or female member, is here this weekend, you will address her as ‘Mistress Adrienne.’ Understood?”
“Yessss,” they both hissed in disbelief.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Master Steele,” they chorused.
Trent saw the shock on Calleigh’s face. Apparently despite Jason’s extremely masculine appearance and the fact that as an attorney he was always the one calling the shots, his dominant side still surprised her.
“While we are participating in a ‘scene,’ you will address me as Master Steele and Trent as Master Redding. If we are not in a scene, you may call us Jason and Trent. When in a scene, you will not speak unless asked a direct question. You will answer all questions verbally. You will obey all orders immediately and without question. You will be respectful at all times. You will not have an orgasm without permission.”
Jason and Trent helped Calleigh and Paula to their feet and showed them to the suites where their weekend bags had been delivered.
Chapter Seven
“My date for the weekend is Dr. Trent Redding, thoracic surgeon at Pinewood Medical Center in Gainesville—a Nordic god who just happens to be extremely handsome, sexy, and charming?” Paula gasped in delight. “I’ve seen him at several of the hospital charity events. I think he was in one of those bachelor auctions last year.” Those melting, chocolate-brown eyes, that wavy, blond hair, and that fabulous body. Yum! I’d sure bid on him!
“I don’t know that I would call this a ‘date.’ It’s feeling more like coercion to me,” Calleigh replied.
“Not to me! This is fascinating. What a place, what an experience. It’s like a spa or five-star hotel.”
“We’ll see if you still say that in the car on Sunday night,” Calleigh said with a note of trepidation in her voice. “Jason has a court appearance this afternoon, and Trent said we should just go out to the pool and relax until it’s time for dinner.” A half hour later, both girls were settled on wicker chaises around the black-bottom swimming pool, mojitos in their hands. The infamous peacocks were strutting around the pool, tails on full display.
“This is really beautiful. You did a marvelous job on this place, Calleigh! You should really be proud.”
“Thanks. I was thrilled when we drove through the gate and I saw the gardens for the first time and how well the whole project came together. You know, I hadn’t seen it since the end of construction when I signed off on my Architect’s Certificate. Too bad few people will ever see it. It certainly is not going to be on the cover of Ocala Country Life or Florida Today! I can see the headline, ‘Tour a Central Florida BDSM Club.’”
The only other person at the pool was a stunning redhead stretched out on one of the wicker chaise lounges. “Excuse me, girls. My name is Roberta Hamilton. My husband is one of the members, so I am familiar with the project. Did you say that you are the architect who designed Le Club?” she asked. She rolled over to pick up her margarita. “You did a fabulous job, my dear.”
“Oh my, Mrs. Hamilton, you have a terrible sunburn,” Calleigh remarked.
“Oh, honey, that’s not a sunburn!” She giggled. “Call me Robbie.”
Calleigh blushed. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No problem. I take it you are both ‘newbies.’” She smiled. “I would be happy to answer any questions or concerns you might have. My husband and I are celebrating our twentieth anniversary this weekend. We usually come here once a month just to get away without being too far away, if you know what I mean. We have two teenager
s at home, and you know how that can curtail any private life you might hope to have!” said the beautiful, fortyish woman with long red hair plaited in a French braid, green eyes, and a warm sprinkling of freckles.
“Actually, this is our first visit here, and I am not sure it won’t be our last,” Calleigh said. “This is all really different. I don’t think I could live with this twenty-four-seven.”
“I will just tell you to relax and enjoy the experience. If it’s not for you, then at least you will have something to tell your grandchildren…or maybe not!” She chuckled. “BDSM and this club are partly responsible for the wonderful marriage Mike and I have. If we didn’t have this getaway, I don’t know how we would relieve the stress. We don’t practice the Lifestyle at home. As I said, we have two teenage kids, their pets, all of their friends, the household staff, the farmhands, jockeys, trainers, exercise riders, veterinarians, farm manager, etcetera, coming and going at all hours. A lot of the staff live on the farm in staff housing. A stud farm and thoroughbred training facility operate twenty-four-seven, three-sixty-five from before sunrise until nightfall, or later during foaling season.”
“Sounds like a busy life,” Paula said. “What’s the name of your farm?”
“Eden Creek Farm off Route 326 in the northwest corner of the county.”
Paula was impressed. Eden Creek Farm was a five-hundred-acre farm that had bred more than a few of Ocala’s most famous thoroughbred race horses.
Ocala, located in central Florida’s rolling green hills, was locally touted as the “Horse Capital of the World” and gave Lexington, Kentucky a run for its money. The town went nuts whenever there was a Florida horse in the Kentucky Derby.
Michaels, Skye - Calleigh's Collar [Le Club 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 2
