by Sasha White
If approved, this would get her enrolled into a program geared specifically to training her as a sexual submissive at a real club with people who knew what they were doing. Without a partner she could trust to explore with, it was the only safe way to figure out if the men she was meeting were truly the problem, or if her dream was simply unrealistic. Only, it involved making herself completely vulnerable to men and women she’d never met and really knew nothing about.
She sighed.
Joining Overwatch was either the smartest thing she’d ever do or the dumbest.
ONE
Ian Johnson stared down at the handwritten words on the application in front of him. It was a bold answer, an honest answer. The way the letters started to slant and wobble toward the end made it clear the author’s emotions had leaked into her words. Someone who was so open and honest about her needs would be a joy to initiate into the world of BDSM, which was why there was already a debate at the table over who would be this one’s trainer — and why his heart was suddenly pounding against his ribs.
“She’s delightful,” Eden said.
Simon was practically drooling. “She has no experience?”
“She’s not a virgin; she’s had lovers, even some playtime,” Adam said as he leaned forward and braced his arms on the table. “She’s got enough experience to know she wasn’t getting what she needed from them, so she placed an ad online and met some wannabes.”
Ian’s gut clenched, and he tamped down the rush of anxiety that hit at that bit of news. Eden groaned, and Simon cursed beneath his breath as he reached for another beer. The four of them were seated in deep, cushioned chairs around a low table in the middle of the closed club, an ice bucket of full of bottled beers in the middle of the table. Only select Doms and Dommes at the club participated in the core training program for Overwatch, and they all took turns. This round was Simon Sharp, Eden Morgan, and himself. All of them agreed the damn Internet made it too easy for the curious to find trouble.
It was dangerous, especially for submissives who didn’t know how to protect themselves. Ian knew the need to protect submissives, to provide them a safe place to explore and meet good Doms, was why Adam had opened Overwatch. He took their safety seriously. In fact, he was obsessive about it.
As the owner of the club, Adam vetted all the applications for membership and decided who would or would not be accepted. The man was strict as hell about any Tops who wanted in, but Ian had yet to see a submissive rejected. Those with little or no actual experience were required to go through the training program, which ran four or five times a year, and not all of them made it through the process, for various reasons, but it was always their choice to walk away. They weren’t turned away.
Since Adam limited the number of trainees for each class to ten or twelve, he liked to give the trainers a heads up on who would be in the class, beforehand.
As one of those trainers, Ian wasn’t quite sure what to do about the application in front of him.
Damn it. There really was only one thing he could do. “I know her,” he said.
Conversation stopped, and Adam’s eyes snapped to his. “How well?”
“Well enough.”
Adam nodded. “How do you want to handle it?”
Ian bit back the urge to shout Hell no, to those seated at the table. No way was he going to let his childhood friend’s little cousin join a kink club.
It was unusual for one of the trainers to know an applicant in their day-to-day life, but it happened. When it did, Adam let that trainer have the final say on how to handle the applicant. He could step back and get one of the others to take his place with this class or he could ask Adam to deny her application. Neither option felt right, so what was he going to do?
Simon and Eden remained silent while Ian considered his options.
Denying her was a knee-jerk reaction. He had no real reason to do it, other than thinking about what Dave would say if he said yes. What he should be considering was what Ronnie would do if he said no. Adam said she’d placed an ad online. God only knew what sort of men she’d met as a result, but they couldn’t match the Doms of Overwatch.
Would she place another ad if she didn’t get into the club? Where would she go to get her needs met? If she truly was submissive then she needed what they could offer her. What he could offer her.
Decision made, he lifted his gaze from the table and looked at the others. “Accept her.”
Ian’s work kept him busy, leaving him little time for a social life, and he liked it that way. Romance and emotional entanglements were not his thing, and most of the time, being a sexual dominant helped him steer clear of them. He’d head to Overwatch when he wanted, play a little, and leave. He didn’t have a permanent sub, and he wasn’t looking for one. Which was also why training the new ones was one of his favorite things to do. He loved helping subs to find their way by testing their boundaries and learning their limits, and then setting them free to find the right Dom for them.
But Ronnie Mack … the tomboy next door. He wasn’t sure he could train her.
Damn, she’d been such a little thing when she’d moved in next door. Tiny, and tough, she’d walked around with a chip on her shoulder that had held her relatives at a distance no matter how much they tried to bring her into their fold.
“Alright, everyone. First meet’s tomorrow night. Be here and ready to engage.” Adam’s words pulled him out of his head and back to the table. “Ian, stick around a minute.”
No surprise there. Simon and Eden nodded to him as they left the table, and Ian faced Adam.
Ian wasn’t an idiot, so he had a pretty good idea what was coming. He wasn’t wrong.
Adam leaned back in his seat. “Between you and me, how well do you know her?”
He’d tell most people to mind their own business, but he’d known Adam for almost five years, and he respected the man. Plus, this was Adam’s business. “Her parents died when she was ten, and she came to California to live with her aunt and uncle. She was the girl next door, literally.”
“So you knew her pretty well.” It wasn’t a question.
In some ways, they’d been kindred spirits, but they’d never really been friends, not the kind who hung around together, anyway. He shrugged. “Her cousin Dave was one of my buddies in high school, but she held herself apart from everyone. She was a tomboy from Oklahoma living in Brentwood. She didn’t fit in, and she never really tried to.”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”
Ian glanced away. “I left when I was eighteen and only came back to Los Angeles five years ago. And before you ask, no, I never looked them up when I came back. I haven’t seen her, or her family, for almost twenty years.” And why did admitting that make him feel like a prick?
“Knowing her could be a detriment, if you go into this with preconceived notions,” Adam, said, looking him straight in the eye.
“I’m aware.”
Adam gave him the hard stare for another minute, but Ian didn’t back down. He was a successful businessman, one of the most sought-after software designers in the country. He might be a geek, but he sure as hell wasn’t a wimp. Still, Adam Kessler wasn’t a guy you wanted to fuck with, no matter who you were. And looking after the subs who joined his club was something he took very personally.
Just when Ian was starting to take offense at his obvious concern Adam nodded. “Okay then. You’re a good man, and a damn good Dom, so I’ll trust you to let me know if your history becomes an issue.”
Ronnie’s stomach jumped as she stared at the building in front of her. Was this the right place? The parking lot was half full of vehicles of every description. There was a shiny new Mercedes parked between a dented Ford pickup and small pink Hyundai. Who the hell would want a pink car? She’d parked at the far side of the building, next to a kick-ass midnight-blue ’67 Nova that made her fingers itch to pop the hood. She struggled to ignore it as she moved toward the door. She wasn’t there because of
her passion for fast cars, she was there for another passion. One she needed help exploring.
When she was about three feet from the set of double doors at the front, she saw the simple black X directly in the center of it and knew it was the right place.
Overwatch. The private club that just might be the answer to her prayers.
This place had been recommended to her after a she posted a particular rant on the “lifestyle” website she’d been using to try and find a Dom. After posting the rant, she got a message from Mason Hardin, the owner of a club up in Canada. He sounded like he knew what he was talking about, and she’d emailed with him a few times before he sent her the paperwork and told her to apply for membership at Overwatch, and here she was.
Her fingers trembled when she reached for the handle, and she paused for just a second. She was about to step into another world, one she’d only ever dreamt of belonging to. One she wanted— no, one she needed to be a part of. Each day since she’d made the decision to join the club, her lust had gotten stronger. Filling out the application had fired up her imagination, and her dreams had gotten darker, raunchy enough that a couple of times she’d woken up so wet she’d thought she’d peed the bed like a little girl. If only she’d remembered the orgasms she was obviously having in her dreams, they might satisfy her inner hunger a bit. Instead, they just made the need for a man claw harder at her insides.
Be brave, Ronnie, she told herself. Damn it, girl. Get your shit together and go get what you want.
With a deep breath, she pulled the heavy metal door open and strode in. She laughed at herself when she saw the next set of double doors. This time, when she reached for the handle, she didn’t hesitate, and her fingers didn’t tremble.
Here, she found a real person. A good-looking guy in black slacks and a black button-down shirt that did absolutely nothing to hide the hard body beneath the soft clothes stood in front of yet another set of doors.
“Hey,” she said as she walked toward him.
“Hello. Can I help you?” He smiled, but didn’t move from blocking the entrance. Doors through which she could now hear music.
She pulled the email she’d printed earlier from the back pocket of her skinny jeans, unfolded it, and held it out to him. He read it, stepped back, and opened the door for her. “Welcome to Overwatch.”
Okay, that was kinda cool. Also a bit intimidating.
She stopped just inside the club and looked around. More than bit intimidating. She went down the small set of stairs that led her into the centre of the club, breathing deep to slow her racing heart.
She was in.
She spotted a group of women gathered together at the cluster of chairs and couches nearest the small stage at the front of the room. Some of them were staring at her, and her stomach clenched. Great. Her worst nightmare. A clique of mean girls in a place she was sure to feel vulnerable.
Ronnie had never had much luck with girlfriends. She didn’t enjoy drama and angst, and it seemed to her that women thrived on that shit. Except for Scarlet, her best friend since she was sixteen, and her only girlfriend. Scarlet was cool.
Sucking in a deep breath, Ronnie prepared to go over and meet the others.
“Veronica Mack?”
The deep voice startled a rare squeak out of her, and heat rushed to her face as she turned to the shadowed corner at her left. “Yes.”
“I’m Adam, owner of Overwatch.” A man stepped from the shadows. “I’d like to have a word before you join the group.”
Her nerves disappeared as she looked him over. Tall, dark, and dangerous looking, with muscles and tattoos everywhere, the guy looked like one mean-ass brawler. Until she looked into his eyes. They were strangely gentle. “Sure.”
“Come on over to the bar with me. Can I get you a drink? Soda, coffee, juice?”
“Just water, thanks.”
The owner of Overwatch made his way behind the bar, neither of them speaking as he grabbed a glass and filled it with ice and water. Excitement started to tickle her insides. The man was something to see. He moved with such confident grace her belly tightened and her pussy warmed just from watching him. She’d never had an instant reaction to a man like that before, and it calmed her in a way nothing else had. She was in the right place, on the right path.
Adam set the glass of water on the bar, and she perched her butt on the seat in front of him.
“Nervous?” he asked.
“A bit,” she said. “More excited, to be honest.”
“Always be honest, especially in here.” He braced his hands on the bar and leaned forward, causing her heart rate to pick up. “I know it took a lot of courage to fill out the paperwork so fully, and that’s why I think you’re exactly where you need to be. You didn’t hold back, and I admire that.”
Holy shit, the man was intense. As his dark eyes burned into her, Ronnie’s spine snapped straight and her insides quivered.
“Thank you.”
“I’m not the only one, either. Just so you know, you caused a bit of a debate among the trainers.”
“Oh?” Shit, they hadn’t even seen her yet, so what was the problem?
“They all want to work with someone so open and honest about their needs, so be prepared. They’re gonna do their best to hook you.”
Before she could get over the shock of that statement, he started talking again.
“The training period is three weeks, followed by a three-month probationary membership. For the three weeks of class training, you’re not allowed into the club when it’s open. Classes are Tuesday and Thursday nights, from eight to ten. Will that be a problem for you?”
“Nope.” And if it was, she would damn well deal with it. She’d deal with anything to be in this place. Her instincts were humming, and she got the same feeling as the first time she’d walked into shop class in junior high school. This place was what she’d been waiting for.
“After the classes, you should visit the club when it’s open a few times before you play. Take the time to observe and talk to members. It’s not a rule, as some people have more experience than others already, but after reading your application, it’s what I recommend for you. Understood?”
She nodded.
“Two more things,” he said with a small smile. “One. If you break any of my rules, you’re out. No exceptions.”
He stared at her, and she looked right back, calm in a way she’d never really felt before. She wasn’t worried.
Adam nodded, took a white card from the back pocket of his jeans, and slid it across the bar top to her. “Two. Becoming a member here makes you mine. Not mine as in my sub, but still, mine, and under my care. This is my personal cell number, if you ever have any concerns or issues, I want to know. That means if you have questions, iffy or bad experiences, or even just weird vibes from someone, you come to me. You hear?”
Ronnie was no innocent. She recognized the look in Adam’s eyes and knew on a visceral level that this man was dangerous. Not to her, but to anyone who would dare hurt someone he considered his.
Relief flowed through her. She’d known him less than five minutes, and she trusted him. With this man’s protection, she knew she’d be able to truly explore her darkest fantasies and not feel threatened.
She reached for the card. “Got it.”
Instead of joining the clique of women when Adam was done talking to her, Ronnie eased her way around the club. Her blood heated and her imagination fired up with all sorts of dirty thoughts as she checked out a spanking bench, a flat table, hooks and bolts sticking out of the walls, and chains hanging from the ceiling.
So many ways to be tied up, or down, or over …
A shiver danced down her spine, and she gave herself a shake. She really needed to get a hold of herself.
Then she saw the St. Andrew’s Cross—the thing she dreamt about the most. She’d always thought they were wood, but not this one. This one was steel. Shiny, clean, and sparkling steel that was cool and smooth to her light to
uch. Bolts at each corner of the cross for ropes to be slid through, or cuffs to be hooked. Being tied to this cross would be the ultimate for her. Hard steel against her skin, spread open and ready to take whatever would please her Dom. She wanted to be tied to it. To be touched and teased, sensually taunted and tantalized, as she opened herself completely to the man she’d chosen to give herself to.
First, he’d touch her lightly, trailing fingertips over her skin, raising goose bumps and shivers of pleasure before stepping back and picking up his favorite toy. Would it be a flogger or a whip? Maybe a riding crop or a cane? Whatever it was, she’d be happy to have him use it on her. It would heat her skin, get her nipples hard and her juices flowing so that when he put down the toy and stalked toward her, she’d—
A sharp whistle rent the air and pulled her abruptly back to the present. She jerked her hand away from the cross and turned to face where Adam stood on the small stage, telling everyone to find a seat. Several men and women joined the half-dozen women already there. She hurried to join them, sinking into a chair near the back of the group.
“I’ve already introduced myself to each and every one of you, and now it’s time for you to meet those who will be running your training sessions. Each of these people has their own areas of expertise, but they also have years of experience in the lifestyle and a wealth of BDSM knowledge. Meet, Eden, Simon, and Ian. Listen to them. Learn from them.”
Ronnie watched as a tall, slim, yet curvy woman with long dark hair spilling over her shoulders stepped onto the stage and faced them with a sincere smile. Behind her was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. The guy had the same dark, dangerous vibe Adam did, but his grin was pure erotic devil. Excitement zipped straight to her nipples at the sight of his muscled forearms and wicked grin. The man was hot!
