* * *
The De Sade Club was not a club, but a private residence in the Garden District of the city. Nestled among the live oaks, blossoming crepe myrtles, and historic homes of First Street, the pink, two-story, double gallery mansion did not appear to be the menacing structure I had envisioned.
Detailed iron railings ran the length of the first and second-floor galleries, with additional wide archways of black ironwork framing the long french windows situated along the home’s façade. Gardens of azaleas and gardenias rose on either side of the oak door at the entrance, while two huge, black cast-iron lanterns hung from beneath the second-floor balcony. Trimming the edge of the property was a short, black iron fence, accentuating the heavy use of black iron in and around the structure.
“So this is your club,” I stated, as Garrett shut my car door.
“Enough talk.” He hit the alarm on his remote and the yellow lights of his black BMW flashed twice. “Don’t speak unless I ask you to. If someone asks you any questions, look to me before you answer. When I nod, then you have my permission to speak.” He took my elbow and we started down the uneven sidewalk toward the front gate. “And above all, always refer to me as Master or Sir.”
“Yes, Master,” I said mockingly, fighting to keep my balance on the cracked and broken walkway.
“You need to be on your best behavior, Lexie. Screw this up and I will be very angry with you.” His hand closed around my arm. “Remember, you’re always being watched.”
I simply nodded my head, as he pulled me through the gate and up the stone path to the front door. Standing on the grand porch, I glimpsed the dark street behind us and noted the array of very expensive cars park in front of the home. From fine German automobiles like Garrett’s, to Porsches and even two Ferraris, I was beginning to get a feel for the kind of people I would be meeting inside.
The front door opened behind me, and when I turned an older woman wearing a white maid’s uniform was smiling at me. Her coffee-colored face was quite beautiful, with fine features and silver hair. When she saw Garrett, her smile deepened.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Hughes.”
“Treba.” Garrett dipped his head. “How are you tonight?”
“Fine, sir, just fine.” Treba moved away from the door, allowing us inside.
The small foyer was tastefully decorated in bright yellow wallpaper dotted with small white flowers. A two-tiered brass chandelier hung from the high ceiling and shined down on the old oak hardwood floors. A deep walnut Napoleon settee and bench lining the wall of the entrance caught my eye. The pieces had to be antiques and were undoubtedly very expensive.
“Ms. Mabel’s in the parlor with the other guests, Mr. Hughes. You know the way.” Treba shut the door and waved us deeper into the home.
Garrett took my hand. “Thank you, Treba.”
Leaving the foyer, we moved into a short hallway decorated with assorted framed photographs. A few were of children playing on beaches, or visiting Disneyworld. As we progressed, the children got older, ending with high school graduation portraits, and one large formal wedding photograph. I glimpsed the assorted pictures, perplexed at how anyone could go from the Disney World to Bondage World.
“Mabel Bergeron is the first person you’re going to meet when we enter the next doorway up ahead.” Garrett gestured to the end of the hallway. “She is the empress that Colin referred to. She owns this house, monitors the club, and makes sure everyone abides by a code of conduct during our play.” My heart began to pound. “She will ask you how we met, how long we have been together, and if I’m a good master.” He stopped before the last tall door along the hall. “You have to impress her in order to be admitted to the club, so make it look good. Mabel can spot a fake a mile away.” He put his hand on the crystal doorknob, giving me one last encouraging smile. “Relax; and remember, you are mine.”
As he pushed the door open, it took everything I had to stay upright on my pointy heels. What in the hell had I been thinking? I was a writer, not some spy meant to infiltrate an underground network of tie me up, tie me down fanatics. Regrets started piling up when I realized exactly where my hunger for a bestseller had brought me. If I made it through this night, I vowed I was going to start drinking, heavily.
“Are you ready?” Garrett whispered to me through the corner of his mouth.
I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to answer, so I just squeezed the hell out of his hand.
“I’ll be right by your side the entire time.” He started into the room. “Not to worry.”
The parlor was actually a long, windowless room with an assortment of small wooden tables and green cushioned chairs set up as a sort of bistro. Colorful framed portraits of women tied or handcuffed in various provocative poses covered the walls. The paintings were quite extraordinary. As I admired the portraits, I reflected on the mind that had created them, and if the artist was also a member of the club. Set between the pictures were various whips, black hoods, and pairs of handcuffs; even the chandelier above was made out of handcuffs. At one end of the dark green painted room was a walnut bar with a bartender dressed in black, tending to a few guests wearing similar black cocktail dresses and black suits. In fact, everyone in the room was in black. A few of the women dressed like me were wearing black leather collars. I touched the white collar about my neck, wondering why mine was a different color. Behind the bar, carved into a mirrored wall, a circle with three tadpole-like shapes coming together caught my eye.
“It’s the Ring of O,” Garrett whispered beside me, mind reading again. “It’s a symbol associated with the bondage culture.”
“There’s my handsome Dom,” a harsh voice declared from the corner of the room.
“That is Mabel Bergeron,” Garrett muttered.
When I followed the voice to its source, Garrett tugged on my hand, probably reminding me to behave. Reclining on an exquisitely carved red velvet chaise, wearing a bright crimson dress and dripping with long gold chains, was the owner of that grating voice. Round, with deathly white skin and fiery red hair, the older woman looked nothing like an empress. She was more akin to a Storyville madam, well past her prime. Despite an absurdly thick application of makeup, she appeared to be in her mid-sixties. Her invasive green eyes alluded to a formidable and cunning individual beneath the caricature.
“What have you brought me, my boy?” Mabel called across the room.
Escorting me to her red velvet chaise, Garrett slipped his hand behind my back while Mabel’s bright eyes perused every inch of me. I thought what initially flared in her small eyes was jealousy. Then the light changed, and her intense focus became one of profound interest.
Mabel stood, grunting slightly as she pulled her weight up from the low seat. “Colin warned me you had found a new playmate,” Mabel said to Garrett, never taking her eyes off me. “Pretty little thing. I thought you would have preferred someone…taller.”
“Her name is Alexandra Palmer,” Garrett told her. Letting go of my hand, he took a few steps back from me.
Mabel came up to me, circling me like a wolf debating on how to kill its prey. Dipping her head to the right, she let her eyes wander over every inch of my face. “How did you meet Garrett Hughes?” She waved a plump hand at me. “Your Dom will give you permission to speak to me.”
I looked to Garrett, and he nodded his head to Mabel.
“We met at Woldenberg Park.” I kept my answer short, not wanting to offer too much information.
“How long have you been his?”
I had to do some quick math, adding up the days since we had first met. “Since…four days. I’ve been his for four days.”
Mabel peered over to her right. “Is that correct, Colin?”
Colin emerged from behind a small blonde, smiling for Mabel. His black suit accentuated his broad shoulders and athletic build.
“That’s right. It began the day after they met by the river.”
I glared at Colin. How the hell would he know anything
about us? The way the man’s blue eyes were drinking in my figure made my flesh crawl.
Mabel eyed Garrett, as she spoke to me. “Is he good to you, your Dom? Does he see to your needs?”
“Yes,” I answered. “He has taught me well.”
Garrett raised his hand to his mouth, hiding a grin from the mistress of the house.
“Well then,” Mabel motioned Garrett back to my side, “you are welcome to join our club, Alexandra, but you must adhere to our rules in order to remain. First, you are here as a guest of your Dom. You are not a member until you have been given a black collar by him in a ceremony. After that, if your Dom is done with you, he can pass you off to the group. When that happens, another Dom may collar you for his own. You cannot be with any other Doms in this club until you have been collared, and only one Dom per sub. I do not allow harems in this club, despite the numerous objections of my Doms.” A slight dissent of deep chuckling could be heard from the men around the room. She grinned, flashing a glimpse of her yellow-stained teeth. “All members must attend meetings once a month, and attendance for special functions is required,” she continued. “Dues are paid by your Dom. Subs never pay to be part of the club. What members chose to do in this club is private and shall never go beyond the walls of this home. I have had subs try to blackmail members in the past, and they have been harshly dealt with. All subs in this club are to be obedient. If for any reason you’re not happy with your Dom, or if he does things to you without your consent, then you can come to me and we will discuss terms for dissolving the union. Everything done in this club must be done with your consent. We do not tolerate cruelty, torture, or infliction of pain. If that’s what you’re into, then it must be done off these premises.” Mabel’s eyes stared into mine. “Do you understand, and will you abide by our rules, Alexandra?”
Not sure if I should speak, I simply nodded my head.
“Good, that’s settled.” Mabel was about to take a step away when she leaned over to Garrett and said something I could not hear. Trepidation roared through me. Had I screwed up? Was she disappointed in my performance? When Garrett clasped my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, I took a calming breath.
“I’m impressed,” he whispered to me.
Colin and the blonde he was with were the first to come up to us after Mabel walked away. Colin’s eyes were eating me up. Little alarm bells went off in my head. This guy was going to be trouble. I was not sure why I suspected it, but I did.
“Well, that will make the old girl happy.” Colin shook Garrett’s hand. “You must make it official soon.”
My eyes darted from Garrett to Colin.
“Mabel doesn’t like her Doms taking up with subs from outside of the club,” Colin explained to me. “You’ll need to be collared like the rest of the subs.”
I could tell Garrett was acutely aware of how Colin was ogling me.
“It’s just a simple ceremony all subs must perform, Lexie,” Colin went on. “We pay a pretty penny to belong to this club. Once you receive your black collar, the others will feel more at ease.”
I shifted my attention away from Colin to the mousy blonde next to him. Her head was turned downward and I could not make out her features. She was petite and wearing a simple black cocktail dress. The hem was trimmed in black lace and there was even a black lace bracelet about her tiny left wrist. The collar about her neck was made of black leather.
“We should get a drink,” Garrett affirmed, and hastily pulled me away.
On the way to the bar, he lowered his head closer to my ear. “Stay away from him.”
I wanted to tell him that wouldn’t be a problem—the guy gave me the creeps—but I just nodded my head in agreement.
While Garrett ordered a drink at the bar, I recognized the prominent local businessman, Nathan Cole, clasping the arm of a leggy brunette with another black leather collar. Known about the city for his real estate developments, the man’s bedroom brown eyes gave me a hasty examination. Beside him, I spotted the notorious attorney, Gerard Bence, whose commercials were always a staple with the local five o’clock news. Clinging to him was a very slender blonde with the most clear blue eyes I had ever seen. She was devastatingly beautiful and should have been gracing the cover of a fashion magazine, and not hanging on the arm of an ambulance chaser. At the corner of the bar, there was an elegant man without a date; tall and lean with blond, curly hair, and deep green eyes. When he glanced my way, I thought he seemed familiar, yet could not place his name.
“Ren Plancharde,” Garrett murmured in my ear, anticipating my thoughts. “He’s the artist who did the portraits on the wall. Very well-known among our kind, and growing in popularity in the vanilla culture.”
I soon discovered the entire club was composed of the movers and shakers from the city: politicians, businessmen, with a renowned heart surgeon and an actor thrown in. Each man had their arm about a woman with a black leather collar. All the women had the same vacuous look that I was trying to imitate. It did not take me long to feel sorry for these women. At the end of the night, I could walk away from this charade; they had to continue on with it for as long as they could.
“Garrett.” A tall, skinny man with blond-gray hair came forward, extending his hand. “How is my house coming?”
“Judge McCord, it’s coming along nicely.” Garrett took the man’s hand. “We should have the preliminary plans to your builder within the week, so he can start clearing the property.”
“That’s good,” the judge returned in a slow drawl. “The wife’s hot to get started on the house.”
Wife? I eyed the very thin blonde standing behind him, noting that there was no ring on the third finger of her left hand.
“She has been bugging me to build in Lakeview since before that wretched storm. Only after Katrina could we afford to buy three lots in that neighborhood.”
“Yes,” Garrett agreed, shifting his eyes to me. “I have five houses in various stages of planning out there, with orders for four more.”
“I take it business is good.” The judge patted Garrett’s arm. “The benefits of belonging to Mabel’s little group.” He smiled, showing off his large capped teeth, reminding me of a horse. “We’ll talk soon.”
Garrett gave a curt nod of his head. “Of course, Judge.”
After the garish man and his diminutive blonde had walked away, Garrett leaned over to me. “His wife is one of the social elite in this city, Allison Wagner, part of Wagner and Billings shipping company.”
I had heard the name before. Anyone who had grown up in the city knew of Wagner and Billings. They owned most of the port of New Orleans.
“She has the money and lets him do what he wants, as long as it is out of the public eye.” Garrett peered around the room. “Many of the men here are in similar situations. They have wealthy or politically important wives who don’t want to know of their affairs. That’s why clubs like this are so important, and why many of these men pay handsomely for the privilege of belonging.”
I glared at him, thinking, Then why are you here?
He chuckled, amused by my face. “Yes, you’re asking why I am here? I don’t have a wife or girlfriend to appease.” He leaned over, resting his elbow on the polished copper top of the bar. “I have a business to get off the ground. Sometimes joining such clubs can have financial benefits, as well as…,” his eyes traveled over my body, “extracurricular ones.”
I snorted with disgust.
He put his hand about my waist. “Your eyes give you away, Lexie. I can look into them and know your every thought.”
I put my hand over his to push it away.
“Don’t,” he warned. “Several of the men here are checking you out as fresh meat. I need to show them that you are mine.” He pulled me closer. “Whatever I do, go along with it.”
I wanted so much to scream at him, but I could almost feel the eyes of the room on me. His hand ran along my hip, cupping my ass. Then he pulled away and picked up his glass of scotch from
the bar.
“Let’s get a table and you can see what happens next.” While holding his drink with one hand, he took my elbow with the other. “This will be quite an education for you.”
While we cruised across the room, Garrett’s hand slipped to my butt, patting it right as we passed before a trio of men. I wanted to lash out at him. Instead, I kept my head down and swallowed my pride as the men chuckled.
At the table, he sat down first and left me to pull out my chair. Taking my seat, he lowered his head, hiding his words from the rest of the room. “Remember, I’m the one in charge and we must put on a good show. So don’t get that face.” His eyes swerved to me. “That look you get when you’re angry. Your forehead furrows, your cheeks turn pink, and your mouth turns down into an adorable pout.” He raised his head. “No matter what you see, keep your emotions hidden. They’re watching you to see how you will react. It’s a test.”
Not a minute after he spoke, a very fat baldheaded man at a table to our left stood from his chair. He hooked his finger through the D-ring on the collar of the redhead seated next to him and urged her to stand. Her face remained impassive as he lowered her head over the table, placing her hips in front of him. Hiking up her black dress, he exposed her black silk underwear. When his hands began tugging the panties down her legs, my stomach lurched.
“Stay calm,” Garrett instructed in a low voice. “The play is beginning. They will each take their subs in different ways. Just remember to keep your face relaxed. They can’t see this upsetting you.”
Around the room, the other men took note and began groping and undressing their subs. I watched the faces of the various women. Some remained indifferent to their Dom’s attention, while others were enjoying it.
In a corner of the room, I saw Colin with his petite blonde. He had her on her knees before him, her hands working the zipper of his pants. Her blonde hair was secured in his fists, and he was pulling her head closer to his crotch.
The room soon filled with the sounds of heaving breathing, giggling, and assorted moans. I fought like hell to keep a straight face, as I saw women in various stages of undress being strewn over tables, kneeling in front of men, or on all fours on the green carpet. Presiding over the entire affair was Mabel, observing the activities from her red velvet chaise. When she connected with my eyes, I immediately lowered them to the table.
Taming Me Page 9
