Too bad he was being forced to relocate.
The thought of giving up his prime location still grated his nerves, but he digressed. He was used to starting over, and though moving his club to the wilds of Montana still rankled his nerves, he refused to give up his dream.
Now if Tristan would only move his ass and secure the land he needed so he could start building.
“Hey you,” a soft, sultry voice said, interrupting his thoughts.
He immediately stood, kissed her cheek, and pulled out a chair for her. After sitting down, he asked, “Where are your men, love?”
She smiled and said, “Oh, they’re hiding from Gabriel. He wasn’t too happy to find out that I was bringing all three of them. Of course, I couldn’t just leave them at home. Besides, JD needs to work off some steam, and so does Brannon. However—” She snickered, then blushed. “I did leave PC tied up in our room. He was a very bad boy.”
“Katarina, your transformation never fails to surprise me. You look marvelous, my dear.”
“Thank you, Sasha,” she replied, then asked, “What about you? Where is your cohort in crime?”
“If he knows what’s good for him, he better be signing the deed to my land.”
“I heard about the problems you are having in Seattle. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right, love. Nothing for you to worry about. So tell me, are those men of yours treating you well?”
“They’re wonderful, and you already know they are treating me well. Charles and Kaden showed up two months ago out of the blue. I should be angry with you, Sasha. That was so mean, sticking your goons on my men like that.”
Sasha snickered unrepentantly. “You matter to me. I was just making sure they were treating you as you should be.”
“They scared poor PC to death, and it took Brannon and me to pull JD off Charles. It wasn’t pretty.”
“I’m sure your men survived.”
“You just tell those assholes to knock before they barge in next time,” JD Kincaid said, coming over to the table. Sasha smiled as the giant cowboy leaned down and kissed his wife, before sitting himself. “How are you, baby?”
“I’m okay. Where’s Brannon?”
“He’s talking with Braxton. He’ll be here soon.”
“Have you seen Gabriel yet?”
JD cringed and shifted himself. “Let’s just say that we’re good, as long as I don’t leave this table.”
Katarina sighed. “I wish Gabriel would get over it. It happened years ago.”
“He’s a tough nut, baby. Face it, we’re never really going to get along. So let’s just enjoy ourselves.”
Sasha tuned out the young couple the second they started talking. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about Katarina’s wellbeing, he did, he just didn’t need to know everything that was going on her life.
Getting to his feet, he said, “Please excuse me, love. I see Gabriel. I need to talk to him.”
“Your funeral,” JD whispered as Katarina smiled.
Ignoring JD, Sasha excused himself and made his way through the crowd, only to stop short when in walked a vision of submissiveness. She was perfect in every way. The way she looked about made his hunger demand to protect her from everything and everyone in the room. He watched as she, along with three other women, moved through the room until they came to a group of men, who surrounded the women. The men were attentive enough, but Sasha could tell that the woman in question wasn’t comfortable. She had an air of vulnerability about her he hadn’t seen in quite some time. She was elusive and when one of the men went to touch her arm, she flinched. Sasha knew then that she didn’t belong to any of them.
He wondered if she had a Dom, and if she did, where he was. He would never allow someone as beautiful as her go anywhere unattended, let alone to a Mask without proper identification. He couldn’t see a collar, ring, or bracelet on her.
She was unclaimed.
“Sasha,” Gabriel greeted warmly, walking over to him.
“Who is she?” Sasha asked, cutting to the chase.
“Who?”
“The beautiful woman in red,” he said, motioning to the corner of the room where she stood and waiting for Gabriel to identify her. When Gabriel saw who he was looking at, Gabriel stiffened and replied, “She’s nobody. Just the club’s receptionist.”
“Where is her Dom?”
“She doesn’t have one,” Gabriel said firmly. Sasha looked at his childhood friend and wondered why he was posturing. Something was amiss.
“Is she not a submissive?”
“Yes, she is, but she isn’t like any other submissive. Yes, she works and lives in the Pleasure Cave, but she does not participate in the club frivolities. And she doesn’t have a Dom.”
“Why?”
“She’s not for you, Sasha,” Gabriel ground out. “Forget you ever saw her.”
“But you just said she was unclaimed. As a master Dom with no submissive, I have every right to claim her if she allows it.”
“Stay away from her, Sasha. I mean it. She’s not for you.”
“Are you telling me that you have claimed her for your own?”
“No!” Gabriel shouted, attracting others. After calming himself, he firmly said, “Violet is different. She’s nobody’s submissive and never will be again. Promise me you’ll stay away from her.”
Sasha just smiled at him and said, “She is intriguing.”
Gabriel cursed loudly. Sasha knew whatever Gabriel was hiding was bad enough to break through his tough aristocratic demeanor. The beautiful shrinking violet had a past, and Sasha was going to find out.
Gabriel reached out and grabbed his arm. “Sasha, I am asking you. Please forget you ever saw her. She isn’t like the other submissives. She had a Dom before. He…wasn’t kind. It’s taken five years to get her out of her shell. This is the first time she’s ever come to any function at the club. We all had to promise her that nothing would happen. There isn’t a Dom or sub in this room who won’t lay down their life to protect her. She is more than an employee, she’s family.”
“Where is the son of a bitch that hurt her?” Sasha asked, staring at the beautiful woman.
“In jail.”
“I will not introduce myself to her,” Sasha said, taking a step toward the door. “We can talk about your club later?”
“I still haven’t decided, Sasha.”
“You will sell. You just need to come to terms with it. Call me when that happens.”
Chapter Two
Alcohol, she needed alcohol. She hadn’t had a drink in, well, years, but the only way she was going to survive the night was if she had a glass in her hand. As if reading her thoughts, Macie pushed her through the throng of pulsating bodies and masked faces toward a table covered with every brand and vintage, as far as she could tell.
“Shots!” Kelly screamed, grabbing a plastic neon shot glass and shoving it into her hand.
Violet wasted no time and slammed hers back in half a heartbeat and didn’t even hesitate when another shot magically appeared in her hand a second later.
“Round two!” Charlotte grinned wickedly and they all threw their heads back in unison.
“Whoooo!” Macie shrieked, gyrating her hips as she linked her arm around Violet’s waist. “Let’s go have some fun!”
Violet didn’t remember losing the girls, but one by one they had floated away from each other, caught up in the intoxicating rush of the mob. Everywhere she looked there were strangers mingling, laughing, groping as if they have known each other for years. She couldn’t go more than ten steps before hitting another couple lost in their embrace. Violet was having a hard time believing anyone would be able to remember, much less talk about the party tomorrow. She knew the edges of her world had softened, her nerves had quieted, and she could feel the warmth, the soft burn of liquor dancing through her veins. She hadn’t felt this relaxed in, well, she couldn’t remember. Then again, she didn’t want to remember.
Violet wandered d
own a long, shadowy hallway lit dimly by twinkling lights glowing on pale blue strings hanging from the ceiling. Door after door opened into countless rooms filled with intimate gatherings and mini-parties. She slipped in and out of these effortlessly, talking when she wanted to talk. Mainly she stayed hidden from women, as men flirted and touched here and there before detaching themselves and moving on to the next room. No one asked for her name, no one looked at her as if she was something to pity. Incognito definitely has its perks.
Somewhere in the sprawling dungeon, a clock struck midnight and she wondered briefly where the girls had gone off to. The heat of the hallway pushed in on her from all sides as she felt the music blasting through her heels from the floor below. She rubbed her left wrist absently, feeling a faintly raised outline under the silky fabric. Her fingers traced its length halfway up her arm. Immediately she removed her hand.
She needed fresh air. Shaking her head and touching the mask on her face to make sure she was still hidden, she crossed over to one of the curtained windows recessed between the doorways, hoping one of them was open.
Fanning herself with her hand, she placed her drink on the table and grabbed a small bottle of water instead. She took a sip, letting the cold wetness cool her body. She finished it in one long swallow and grabbed another. She could feel her buzz starting to lift. She no longer felt like Cinderella at the ball. Instead, the reality of where she was began to intrude. She placed the empty bottle of water on a small table next to the heavy, velvet curtains and pushed the fabric aside to find a window.
She didn’t touch the glass. Because when the curtains parted slightly, she could see old hardwood floors extending beyond their cover. It was another room.
Violet stepped through, out of curiosity more than anything else.
She found herself standing in a small space not much wider than her arm span, bracketed on either side with a single white candle burning with a soft glow, casting shadows across the walls. Behind her, the curtains she had just stepped through closed, and in front of her were yet another set of drapes, these in a rich midnight blue.
Why would Gabriel hang two sets of curtains? she thought hazily.
She couldn’t help herself, ignoring that little voice deep inside of her that was whispering feverishly at her to do an about face and march her skimpily clad behind out of there this instant. Instead, she gently parted the thick, velvety curtains and peered through. She almost laughed out loud when she found herself facing yet another set of curtains. However, this one was just a sheer pale wisp of almost translucent lace that did little more than soften the image behind it. A gracefully wrought iron railing that came up to the hem of her skirt lay between the two layers of fabric, halting any forward progress she could make, at least in the heels she wore.
Deep down, she still imagined there to be a window on the other side of the curtain, maybe overlooking the beautiful mountains she had come to love.
However, her imagination fell inelegantly short.
As her eyes adjusted, Violet saw through the lacy haze to a large, open room dominated by a massive fireplace at the far end. The room was lit with a low, smoldering fire that shifted shadows across the room and its occupants. Leather armchairs and chaise lounges formed a large arc in the middle of the room, centered about what appeared to be a small dais or altar covered with dark plum and wine-colored cushions. Men in masks reclined with brandy in their hands, most with cigars, one with a pipe, watching, staring. Here and there a couple of gentlemen dipped their heads in conversation, laughing at their own jokes, before turning their attention back to the altar.
A woman was bent over at the waist. Her long, lean legs splayed open in a wide stance atop her platform heels. She was leaning over the dais, holding herself up with straight arms. Her flaming red hair was pulled up in a thick braid high atop her head. Aside from her black mask, black heels, and a pair of lacy black panties, she was naked. The light caressed her striking form, full breasts hanging down toward the cushions under her tan chest. Her back arched in a slight curve, pushing her rounded ass up into the air for all the spectators to see.
But she was not alone. Two men, one a fair-haired, blue-eyed man, the other the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, stood in matching slate-gray tailored suits and white masks. They looked like they accidentally wandered into the room on their way to a swanky dinner gala. The blond man had undone his tie, letting it hang loosely around his neck, his pristine white shirt unbuttoned at the collar.
He walked up to the statuesque beauty and ran his hand over her ass, rubbing her skin with slow, languid strokes. He slipped his fingers under the lace band of her panties, dipping in a teasing motion toward her pussy. She didn’t move as he glided his fingers deeper under her panties, circling her clit with lazy flicks of his wrist. Still, she didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. But Violet could see her breathing quicken, her breasts rising and falling faster, her dark nipples erect and tense.
He looked back at his audience and grinned before sliding his hand deeper between her legs, finding her pussy. He placed his other hand over her breast, gently tugging on her nipple.
Still, she didn’t move.
Then the dark and handsome man nodded his head with a wicked leer and the blond man plunged his finger deep into her still-covered pussy as he twisted her nipple with a vicious turn.
A low moan broke from the woman’s sealed lips as her knees buckled slightly. Without a moment’s hesitation, the dark and handsome man brought his hand crashing down on her raised ass with a cruel smack.
A gasp escaped the woman’s lips just as a tiny whimper crept from hers, which was followed by an even more sadistic slap to her other ass cheek. This time she remained silent.
“Ah, you’re learning, love. No noise. No movement. Nothing unless you are given permission,” the dark and handsome man said in a thick, husky growl. Violet saw a couple men in the room adjust their swelling cocks as they sipped from their glasses.
Violet shook her head in disbelief, her little voice returning with a vengeance. Get the hell out of here, it shrieked at her like a little girl. But her legs wouldn’t listen. She was rooted in place, torn between feeling ashamed for watching and the possibility of something else.
She’d never seen anything like this before. Well, that wasn’t true. What she looked at now was tame compared to what she’d seen before. Oh, she knew what was really supposed to happen in the BDSM lifestyle, but she never experienced that. In truth, she hadn’t even thought about sex much at all over the past five years. She didn’t have time for any sort of extracurricular life, much less a kinky one, what with her job and many hours of therapy.
She watched, biting her lower lip as the blond man pulled the woman’s panties down to her mid-thighs, leaving them stretched in a taut line between her legs. He gripped her ass roughly between his hands, kneading her flesh with his fingers, spreading her cheeks apart so the men circled around them could catch a glimpse of her glistening lips and puckered, dark asshole. Then he pulled his jacket off and tossed it aside before slowly unbuckling his belt.
Violet froze.
She could not believe he was going to fuck her in front of all of those men. Go, go, go, her little voice wanted to scream out. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t break the hold they had on her as if in a trance. She worried for the woman, and yet she was unable to do anything.
She watched in shock as the blond man tugged off his belt in a final flourish. Instead of unzipping his pants, he folded the belt in half and asked the woman, “You’ve been a bad little girl, haven’t you, pet?”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied in a quiet whisper.
“Louder, pet, he couldn’t hear you,” the dark and handsome one said crossly, tweaking her nipple with a nasty pinch.
“Yes, Sir, I have been a bad little girl,” she said again, her voice loud and slightly husky.
The blond man ran his hand down her ass cheek and up through her thighs, grazing her now exposed, shaven lips. �
�Tell us how you have been bad, little pet,” he said, lazily flicking her clit.
“I played with myself without permission,” she said through clenched teeth.
A knowing murmur ran through the crowd as the men adjusted themselves in their seats to get a better view, others rubbing their cocks slowly through their pants, uncaring of their fellow spectators.
“And what happens when little girls pleasure themselves without their Master’s explicit permission?” the dark and handsome one asked in an ominous tone.
“She must pay the price,” she said meekly.
“That’s right. Every transgression must be corrected or else you may lose your way. We are here to guide you back. To make sure you stay safe,” the dark and handsome man said in an affectionate tone that twisted Violet’s insides with something akin to fear blended with an unspoken want. Which added to the growing smolder she felt slowly blossoming deep in the pit of her stomach.
She needed to get out of here, she thought to herself, trying to pull herself back from the curtains, but her legs were locked in place, her breathing shallow.
“I know, Master,” she said, her voice cracking with shame, her head dipping slightly. Violet saw her breasts rise and fall deeply.
“Are you ready to answer?” the dark and handsome man asked, running a finger along her spine.
“Yes Master, please let me answer for my crime and right my wrong,” she said with iron conviction, arching her back once more and pushing her ass up higher in the air.
Oh dear God, Violet thought. The woman felt as if she deserved what was about to happen to her. This was insane.
Violet had heard the belt race through the air before it landed with a solid crack on the woman’s ass. A red welt leapt out across her smooth skin, marring its perfect tanned glow. Again the belt flew, scorching her flesh, again, and again. The blond man laid stripe after burning stripe on her round cheeks in seven neat, raised lines. The woman’s breath came in gasps, but she didn’t flinch, she didn’t cry out.
The Reluctant Submissive: Courage to Change [The Men of Treasure Cove 14] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 2
