by Sophie Stern
Starboard
Anchored
Sophie Stern
Copyright © 2017 by Sophie Stern
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For my mate
Christina hasn't had a regular Dom since her husband died in Afghanistan. She's a war widow with a daughter: she doesn't have time for relationships, but she does make time to play.
Christina goes to Anchored to unwind and to have her submissive needs met. Whether she's playing with a Dom or Domme, Christina's partners all know one thing: she's there to serve, not to find love.
It's all fun and games for the Damsel of the Dungeon until a new Dom arrives and he sets his sights on her.
Only, he's not just interested in scening with Christina.
He's interested in everything.
Zack has always considered himself a good lawyer, a loyal friend, and an observant Dominant. When his business partner and best friend, Tony, invites him to visit a local sex club, Zack's ready for anything.
Except the feisty brunette who doesn't want to be tied down or taken care of.
After the third time he sees Christina refusing aftercare, Zack decides to do something about it, only Christina isn't like other subs.
It's a good thing he loves a challenge.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Author
Take Your Time
1 Melody
2 Melody
Chapter 1
Christina
“Are you ready?” Odessa’s shoes click loudly as she makes her way across the locker room floor. She’s wearing five-inch bright-red stilettos tonight and honestly, I have no idea how the hell she manages to walk in those things. I prefer to be barefoot, myself, but that’s probably just because I don’t have half the grace Odessa has.
“Just about,” I tell her. “Let me finish my mascara.” I twirl the mascara brush over my eyelashes one last time. I really should invest in falsies, but I’m just not confident enough in my ability to put them on. Besides, the double-dark mascara I’m wearing tonight makes me look incredible.
Kissable.
Fuckable.
It makes me look unstoppable.
“You look great, love,” Odessa kisses me on the cheek and manages to pry me away from the vanity mirror. “But it’s time. The night is in full swing and if I’m not mistaken, you have a date with destiny tonight.”
“Her name is Mistress D,” I smile, but Odessa is right. We both know Destiny from outside the club. It should make playing together a little weird, but somehow, it doesn’t. Somehow, playing with Mistress D is different than working with Destiny.
Odessa just rolls her eyes and gives me a once over. She reaches out and adjusts the corset I’m wearing, pushing my breasts up just a little higher. Then she walks around me, smoothing out the miniskirt I’m wearing and making sure each part of my outfit looks good, perfect. She makes sure I look complete, and for that, I am grateful.
I’ve been playing at Anchored for months now, but sometimes, I still get nervous. Tonight isn’t my first night playing with Mistress D and it certainly won’t be my last, but sometimes I still worry that I’m not going to be good enough to please my partners. Sometimes I worry that I’m not going to be good enough to make this fun for them.
“Stop over-thinking,” Odessa warns me sternly. “Stay focused on the scene. Remember, Christina: stay focused.”
“I will.”
She grabs my chin and turns me toward her. Odessa’s bright brown eyes practically glow as she gazes at me.
“You are not a mother tonight. You are not a widow. You are not a childcare provider. You are not anything but a submissive. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“Say it for me, love.”
“I am only a submissive tonight.”
“That’s right,” Odessa nods, seemingly satisfied. “Don’t make the mistake of spacing off during your scene, okay?”
I blush, embarrassed she remembers the debacle from a few weeks ago. I had been playing with someone new and just couldn’t really get into the submissive mindset. As a result, I was spacing off, thinking about grocery lists and errands, and the scene fell short.
Really short.
“I won’t space off tonight,” I tell her. Odessa is a submissive, too, and she’s going to be playing with her regular Dom tonight. Theodore is a kind-hearted tax-attorney who is seriously cut. He’s huge, and if I was at the end of his whip, I’d be terrified. Odessa isn’t, though. She loves it, takes it in stride. She’s a perfect fit for him and sometimes, I wonder why the two of them aren’t dating.
“Good girl,” Odessa says, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I give her the same once-over she gave me, fixing her top and adjusting her boy-shorts to make sure every part of her looks perfect. We each take one last look in the mirror, but then it’s time.
It’s time to leave the safety of the locker room.
It’s time to go to Anchored.
Odessa takes my hand and we leave the room together. Instantly, the sound of the heavy music hits our ears, reminding us where we are. Tonight is about fun and excitement. It’s about relaxing. It’s about unwinding, but it’s about more than that, too: it’s about submission.
Tonight is about giving ourselves to our partners, and in return, they’ll give us a little bit of themselves, as well. That’s the true beauty of submission. In giving of myself, I get something in return. The feeling of offering myself to my partner is satisfying in and of itself, but knowing that it meets my partner’s needs, as well, is even more fantastic.
I like knowing that my Dom or Domme feels good about themselves when we’re through playing together.
I like knowing that they’re having just as much fun as me.
And I like that at the end of the night, when I walk out of Anchored, I’m leaving them at the door.
It’s fucked up, but I don’t really care.
Anchored is my release. It’s my safe space. It’s my haven. Anchored is where I go because I have nowhere else to go. Anchored is the only time I get to myself, and I take it. It’s the only time I have away from my daughter. It’s the only time I can be me.
I’m not the best mother in the world. I certainly wasn’t the best wife. When Cameron died, he left me alone. He left me without anyone in the world. Even now, I don’t have anyone. It’s been two damn years since he died and I have no one.
No one.
But I have Anchored.
I have this place where I can forget, for just a couple of hours, that I’ve lost my true love.
I have this place where I can forget, for just a little while, that my life fell apart and I’m only starting to rebuild it.
I have this place where I can forget, for just a tiny bit of time, that I am completely alone in this world.
I have this place.
And I’m not giving it up.
I’m not going to get in a relationship with one of my play partners only to have us break up. Then coming to the club would be awkward, weird, and uncomfortable. I’m not going to get into a relationship where we have a fight, and then neither one of us goes to the club. I’m not interested in that
.
I don’t want to sacrifice my safe space for the temporary satisfaction of being someone’s romantic partner. That’s not what I want and it’s certainly not what I need. That’s not for me.
So at the end of the night, after I play with Mistress D, I’ll spend some time crying in the locker room showers. I’ll wash my hair. I’ll clean my face. And then I’ll get dressed, get in my car, and go back to the real world, where I am a mother, and a childcare worker, and a widow.
I’ll go back to the real world where everything hurts.
I’ll go back to my life as a solitary person.
I’ll go back to my world.
“Christina,” I hear a sharp, crisp voice, and I turn. A tall black woman with braids tumbling past her shoulders is walking toward me. A corset pushes her breasts up and out. She’s wearing tight leather pants and stilettos that are even taller than Odessa’s.
Instantly, I drop to my knees, palms down. I bow my head and I wait quietly for my Domme of the night to tell me how I’ve done so far. I wait until she tells me it’s time. I wait until she tells me she’s ready.
And when Mistress D tells me I look beautiful, and that she’s ready to play with me, I take her hand, and I walk into the world of Anchored.
Chapter 2
Zack
“Are you sure this place is a good idea?” I ask Anthony, sipping my whiskey. We’re sitting at the bar in the back of Anchored, which is, apparently, one of the best sex clubs in the city. Who knew? I certainly didn’t. I’ve lived here for 10 damn years and I’ve been spending all of my time at the other, more popular, more public clubs.
I’ve certainly never played anywhere as nice as this before.
“Of course it’s a good idea, dumbass,” Anthony turns, facing the room around us. “You’re wound up tight, my friend. You need this.”
Anthony has been a member of Anchored for a year now. He loves it here. It’s his favorite place to play. He’s been exploring BDSM since we were in law school, and although he’s offered to bring me here many times, I’ve always turned him down.
I’m not even completely sure why.
Perhaps it’s because Anchored seems like a closer-knit community than some of the other clubs. At the places I go, it’s easy to slink in and out of the club unnoticed, undetected. It’s easy to find an anonymous partner for the night. It’s easy to find someone to play with or to just sit and watch. It’s easy to stop coming for awhile and then start back up.
There’s no commitment required.
Anchored is different.
You have to pay monthly membership fees to come to Anchored. In my case, Anthony got special permission from the owner to bring a guest. If I want to come back, I’ll have to cough up the money for membership dues, go through a medical health check to make sure I’m clean, and undergo a psychological assessment.
Health and safety is taken seriously at Anchored.
Since I’m a guest tonight, I’m not even allowed to play. This is part of the reason I’m drinking. If I was going to pick a submissive for the night, if I was going to find a woman to play with, I wouldn’t be touching alcohol. I wouldn’t have anything to do with it because I wouldn’t want it to impede my judgment.
When I play with a submissive, I want her to have my full attention and understanding. Even if we’re only together for one night, I want to know she’s completely taken care of. That’s the beauty of Domination. My submissive gives herself wholly to me and I take and I take and I take, but then I give back so much more. She gives me her body, her mind, and her soul, but I give her pleasure she’s never imagined, pleasure she’s never even dreamed about.
I give her everything I can possibly give her, and then I give a little bit more.
“What do you know about how tight I’m wound?” I ask because I can’t help myself. I shouldn’t poke Anthony, shouldn’t prod at him to get snarky with me. I know perfectly well that he’s right; I’ve been a bitch to deal with lately. Still, hearing it from my friend stings a little, and I want to talk about it.
Anthony doesn’t respond right away.
The thing about being a good lawyer is that it’s not just about knowing the law. It’s not just about memorizing legal jargon. It’s not just about researching previous cases to establish legal precedent.
It’s so much more.
One of the most important qualities of a good lawyer is being able to observe people, to read them. In the courtroom, a good lawyer needs to be able to read the faces of the jury. Are they on your side? Are they believing what you’re saying? If they aren’t, you need to change whatever it is you’re doing in order to sway them to your side.
It’s not just courtroom lawyers who need to be able to observe, though. If a new client walks through the doors of my legal firm, I need to be able to tell if they’re lying to me. I’m more than happy to talk on cases that are complicated or tricky, but I won’t deal with clients who lie.
Not to me.
Not to the person who is trying to help them.
Now, Anthony is looking at me, sizing me up. This doesn’t offend me, but perhaps it should. We’ve been friends since law school. We were roommates during school and we’ve worked together ever since. Edgar & Berstein LLC is an incredible law firm, and I’m thrilled I get to call Anthony my partner in crime. We work well together, and I trust him more than anyone else in the world.
“You haven’t had a serious relationship since Felicity Dashner.”
“There’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”
“You were going to marry that girl.”
“I was planning on it,” I sip my drink. “I think she had other plans.”
Felicity Dashner was my girlfriend all throughout undergrad and my first two years of law school. Then, the summer before my final year of school, I found out she was cheating on me with my friends.
All of my friends except Anthony had slept with the woman I loved.
She was smart enough to stay away from my roommate.
That wouldn’t have ended well for her.
“She broke your heart,” Anthony clarifies. “And you’ve been afraid to love ever since.”
“What do you know about love?” I say. “No offense, brother, but you’re just as single as I am.”
“I’m happy with my life,” Anthony says smoothly. I know he’s being honest. He’s not the type of guy who settles down. He’s never really been interested in that. No, Anthony is more interested in making money, working out, and going hunting than he is in settling down with one woman.
That was always my dream.
It’s a dream I’ve had for many years, but that was shattered long ago. Now, the idea of marriage seems out of reach. I wonder if it’s even really that important, or if I just had the concept on a pedestal somehow.
“I don’t think I’m going to find a wife in a sex dungeon,” I tell Anthony.
“Perhaps not, but you never know.”
“Do you know something I don’t?”
Anthony claps my back. “I just want you to have some fun,” he says. “This is a nice place full of good people. I think you’ll be able to enjoy yourself here. You can let loose a little, meet some new friends, and maybe find yourself a submissive. Even if you don’t find your dream girl, you’ll at least get to play a little, and you can’t complain about that.”
“No,” I agree. “I can’t.”
“All right,” Anthony sets his glass down on the bar. “What do you say we go watch some scenes?”
Instead of answering, I place my drink on the bar and hop down from the barstool. I’m wearing a bright bracelet that indicates I’m drinking tonight and won’t be playing or scening with anyone. Anthony has a matching bracelet. It’s the paper kind, the kind that you have to cut off when you get home at the end of the night, and it scratches at my skin.
“I know it’s annoying,” Anthony says. “They should come up with a better system.”
“You’d think with all the mone
y they’re making, there would be an easier way to distinguish the drinkers than making people wear these damn things.”
“You’d think so,” a voice says to my left. “But then again, people are tricky. Perhaps the motivation is to discourage people from drinking at all.”
I turn to see a man in the shadows. I can’t see his face, but I don’t have to in order to know this is a powerful man: one who is used to being listened to. Is it the owner? It must be the owner.
“Perhaps you’re right,” I say simply, and the man turns and vanishes into the room.
“That’s Master Thorn.”
“His name is Thorn?”
“Last name. Not sure what his first name is and I don’t really care. He’s the owner.”
“Interesting guy.” You’d have to be. The man single-handedly took a mini-cruise ship and converted it into a sex club. Who would have dreamed that up? It’s incredible. The interior of Anchored is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, as far as sex clubs go.
The dungeon is dark and the music is loud, but everything is clean and new and pristine. There’s a nautical theme throughout the dungeon. There are ship’s wheels throughout the room, along with rope and flags and sails. The entire thing looks exactly like the interior of a ship should, except that there are also crosses and spanking benches and stages.
“Allow me to give you a tour,” Anthony says, pointing to a stage. “That’s the main stage. That’s where the big demonstrations happen.”
“Demonstrations?”
“Sometimes they’ll bring in a specialist or an expert who can show a new technique. Maybe it’ll be a ropes demonstration or perhaps they’ll have a psychologist who gives tips for aftercare. Could be anything. That all happens there. There are a couple of smaller stages,” he points. “As well as play areas for people who want to experiment publicly.”
“And for people who don’t want to experiment publicly, but who still want to play?”
