by Cassie Ryan
Sandra stopped short. “Membership prices? I totally forgot about that. I’m sorry. I haven’t even found a job here yet. I don’t think I can afford membership.”
Brent turned her to face him. “Your membership is taken care of for as long as you’d like to be here.”
She faltered, confusion creasing her brow and a frown marring her expression. “But…”
He laid his finger over her lips, silencing what she’d been about to say. “It’s taken care of. Don’t worry about it.”
Her furrowed brow showed him she wasn’t convinced, but at least he’d headed off the conversation for now. Membership prices were mentioned in the contracts, so she would have ended up asking him about it anyway.
He guided Sandra toward the entrance to his alcove and inserted his key into a small panel to the left of the door before pushing it open.
As soon as the door opened, soft lighting came on to reveal an overstuffed sectional, a comfortable bondage bed, and a few chairs, all strategically placed to give a good view of the happenings down on Basement 2 below.
Sandra sucked in a soft breath before she took several quick steps forward so she stood close enough to the curved floor-to-ceiling window to press her palms flat against it. “Wow. This is amazing.”
“I’m glad you like it.” And he was. He knew it had been ten years since he’d seen her and worshipped her from afar, but pleasing her was important to him, and he enjoyed the sensation.
He pulled the door shut and then moved deeper into the room to stand close behind her. He looked out at the view over her shoulder as the heat from her body tempted him to pull her back against his hard cock.
Instead, he took a deep breath and returned his attention to the happenings on the floor below them. Even though she stood a foot in front of him, the soft scent of honeysuckle and her arousal filled his senses and made him ache to touch her.
“I more than like it. I could’ve never imagined this back in New York. Don’t tell Master Mason, but his dungeon and yours are on two totally different levels.”
Pleasure hummed inside his veins. He leaned forward. “I won’t say a word,” he murmured almost against her hair, nearly giving in to the temptation to thread his hand into the silky mass, bend her head back, and take what was his. But he forced himself to take one firm step back and look out over her shoulder to see what she was seeing.
From where he stood he could see the full view of Basement 2 and all the play areas inside it. He knew if he were standing right next to the glass where Sandra was that there were some areas on the far side of the floor that weren’t visible, as well as the ones directly below them, but most of the floor was in easy view. That was the reason for the circular setup.
“You can see so much from up here. This is great,” she said, mirroring the direction of his thoughts. She glanced back over her shoulder at him, her face animated.
“I have another private alcove, one I do rent or loan out on occasion—usually to Dex, Cameron, or one of the other main Doms. It’s on the other side of the floor.”
“Sort of like a time-share?” She laughed softly.
He smiled, her laugh making him feel light inside. “Something like that, but so far we’ve avoided any scheduling issues,” he answered in the same light tone she’d used.
“I’m surprised you don’t have the Doms fighting for reservations.” She braced her palms more comfortably against the glass.
“They keep themselves pretty busy, and there are lots of places within Club Desire to play.”
He clenched his fingers against showing her the scene forming inside his mind. He would have her widen her stance, then rip off her skirt and begin teaching her what pleasure she could experience at his hands.
He clenched his jaw. He knew he should continue to fight his overwhelming attraction to her. Even though there were no guidelines against him interacting with any member who agreed, Sandra hadn’t yet laid out her soft or hard limits, or even given her permission. He was a stickler with everyone else about having both of those in place before anyone played together, so he needed to try to discipline himself, at least until those were set.
Added to that, she was still recovering from a traumatic D/s relationship, and without knowing more, he could unwittingly make that worse.
A knock from behind him slammed his common sense back into place, at least for the moment.
Brent opened the door and gestured the server inside.
The man set the large tray filled with food and drinks on the end table next to the sectional, as was Brent’s usual preference. Then at Brent’s nod, the man left, quietly pulling the door closed behind him.
At the sound of Sandra’s stomach rumbling, Brent turned to find her looking at him.
He bit back the question that formed on his tongue—which hunger would she like fulfilled first? He was having enough trouble avoiding temptation without inviting it directly.
“That looks amazing.” She gestured toward the tray, making Brent smile. “How did you order all of that with only a few words?”
Brent motioned for her to sit on the sectional. “I come to this alcove often and usually order a selection of finger foods and various drinks to enjoy while I watch.”
She dropped her gaze as she took a breath to speak, making him think she was trying to hide her deeper thoughts from him. “I’m sure your subs appreciate that—”
Her words cut off abruptly and she sat down hard on the end of the sectional nearest the tray of food, but she still wouldn’t meet his gaze.
The urge to mark her as his roared, and he battled it back. “I’ve rarely brought anyone here. I usually use this place to rest and recharge.”
Finally she raised her gaze to his, her expression inscrutable. “I’m sorry—that wasn’t any of my business. My mouth does tend to get me into trouble.”
And the things Brent could do with that mouth…
He resisted the urge to tell her exactly what he would do with it. Instead, he pulled an armchair closer to the end table so the tray rested between then. “I see no problem at all with someone who speaks her mind openly and honestly. In fact I prefer it.” Brent remembered many years where he’d held his tongue for fear of censure, teasing, or outright bullying. He swore when he’d reinvented himself that he would never do that again, or require it of anyone else.
“What would you think of us eating while we talk…and watch?” He glanced toward the glass and the scene below before turning back to watch her chew her bottom lip as she considered.
Finally she raised her chin, her confidence slowly returning before his eyes. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard in at least the last hour.”
Her self-deprecating laugh made him frown. “You need to take better care of yourself. Why didn’t you eat before you came tonight?”
Color blossomed in her cheeks and she visibly swallowed before trying to speak. “To be honest, I lost track of the time trying to make sure I was dressed well enough, and was brave enough, to come here.”
He nodded but felt his frown deepen. “From now on, you take care of your body’s needs as a priority. Understand?”
Her brow furrowed briefly and he realized he’d slipped into the mode as her Dom. He wondered if she would get spooked, but then she dropped her chin and murmured, “Yes, sir.”
Chapter 5
Heat seared through Brent at her giving him the honorific “sir,” which she would call him as a sub—his sub. Subs in Club Desire never used “sir” or “ma’am” with anyone but a Dom they’d entered into a play arrangement or agreement with. But until he had her official permission and she’d outlined her limits, she was most likely answering a strong command out of habit.
No matter. It would be official soon enough.
He dropped his gaze to the tray and scanned the drink offerings. The kitchen had sent his normal preferences—Coke and several bottles of water. He usually drank Coke with the Jack, Crown, or Parrot Bay he also kept stocked in one of the w
ide drawers against the far wall.
He didn’t drink at the Club often, and even then only in his own suite of rooms or one of his alcoves. Running a place of this size and type did come with its fair share of headaches, though, and sometimes he did come here to watch, drink, and unwind. Although he was always very careful that none of his members ever saw him drunk, tipsy, or in any way out of control. That wasn’t to say he never allowed himself to be out of control, just that he didn’t allow the members to see him that way. A trusted few, like Jake, Dex, Cameron, and some of his other main Doms, could and did back him up when he needed to escape. That meant inside the club or into the outside world, and it was only they who had seen him drunk or otherwise in those situations. He knew he could trust them in their discretion.
One thing he’d learned well from growing up as a pariah was to choose carefully those he put his trust in, and he’d become very good at making those choices. None of those in his current inner circle had made him regret the trust he’d extended, and he hoped that trend continued.
He twisted the top off a bottle of water and passed Sandra the cold bottle.
She took a large drink and he enjoyed watching her throat work as she swallowed. She took another long drink before leaning over to study the assortment of finger sandwiches stacked neatly on plates.
“They look like the little sandwiches served at afternoon teas. I’ve always wanted to go to one.” Her features were animated, her gray eyes bright as she met his gaze.
He smiled, pleased that she knew some details of what afternoon tea was beyond something the British did. Most Americans didn’t. And she wanted to attend one.
Vivid fantasies involving Sandra, clotted cream, and a corner booth at a very busy tearoom filled his mind. He shifted in his seat to try to find a more comfortable position for his aching erection, without much success. “They are sandwiches from an afternoon tea. For my first job I spent several months in Britain and fell in love with their tradition of high tea. I don’t usually have hot tea except for breakfast, but when I order finger foods from the kitchen, they know I mean these.”
A smile blossomed over her face, making her even more beautiful. “You have a pretty nice setup going on here. And your staff apparently keeps you pretty spoiled.”
He loved the teasing light in her eyes, and hoped he got to see this side of her more often now that she’d come back into his life. In high school he had only seen it infrequently when she was with her best friend, Michelle, or one of the few others she was close to. He had always longed to be in that small group, but he might as well have been on a different planet for how far apart in the social high school hierarchy they were. He pulled himself back to the present and the conversation at hand.
“There’s chicken salad, salmon and cucumber, and watercress egg salad. They’re all excellent.” He gestured to the small plate of scones, clotted cream, and jam. “We also have something sweeter if you’re interested.”
When Sandra continued to watch him with rapt attention, Brent picked up a small triangle of a chicken salad sandwich and held it out to her.
She held his gaze and surprised him when she didn’t reach out and take it, but instead, leaned forward and took a small bite.
Heat seared through him as her even, white teeth cleanly cut a small bite out of the sandwich.
She chewed quietly, a small crumb of bread on her bottom lip, and he couldn’t resist the urge to brush it off with his fingertip.
Before he could pull his hand back she snaked out her tongue and licked the tip of his finger, making him suck in a large breath as if he might never get enough air.
“Hmmm, that’s good too.” She looked at him speculatively, which nearly snapped all of his control. “May I have the rest of that sandwich?”
Brent mentally shook himself and handed her the rest of the small sandwich, and then took a small empty plate off the tray and filled it with an assortment of sandwiches before he handed it to her. It would be much more fun to feed her, but also much more dangerous to his weakening resolve to keep his hands off her.
“Eat. You’ll need your strength.”
Her gaze snapped to his and he realized that he’d once again taken on the Dom role with her without even thinking. He watched her reaction carefully, but she slowly nodded and began to eat.
Silence fell around them for a long moment. He thought about trying to eat something so she would feel more at ease, but the only thing he wanted to feast on was the woman sitting on the end of his sectional.
He couldn’t count the number of times he’d lain on that sectional watching the activities below, fantasizing about playing with his high school crush while he stroked himself to a thundering orgasm. He wondered how much better it would be to have her place both hands against the glass again, to pull up that peasant skirt and reveal her shapely ass. To put a spreader bar between her ankles and tease her with his fingers before he thrust inside her and fucked her while they both watched the scenes below.
He struggled to break out of the haze of raging lust and need, and back to coherence. Thoughts like that wouldn’t get him through the next few hours without taking her, and he needed to get a handle on himself.
Because no matter the man he had become, and no matter that she was in his club now, she wasn’t his, and he had to face the fact that even if she chose to play scenes with him, she might never be “his” exclusively, although his body and his mind were in definite disagreement over that decree.
“These are all really good. Thank you for feeding me.” She looked stronger, more confident, and her skin was flushed as she exchanged glances between the actions on the floor below and him. “Although being fed was fun too.” She smiled, and it was like the sun had come out from behind a cloud. Her inner personality shone clearly, reminding him of what had fascinated him about her in high school.
“I’d have to agree. But I was sure you’d eat more food this way.” He took a large drink of water to give his hands something to do. She surprised him when she pointed toward the basement floor below.
“What’s that electric device she’s using on him?”
Brent’s brow furrowed as he glanced down at the scene she’d indicated. If she’d never seen a violet wand in use before, either Mason’s dungeon was much more on the vanilla side or she wasn’t a very experienced sub, or both.
As he thought about everything he’d seen from her since she’d arrived, suspicions curled in his gut, but he kept them to himself. There would be time enough to discuss that when they took care of the administrative details.
“That’s called a violet wand.” He watched as the man, who dangled upside down tied by his ankles to a beam overhead, was teased with the wand by his female Domme. The man squirmed as the arcing energy snaked out to touch him, but his clearly visible erection showed he was enjoying the stimulation.
“Is it some kind of electric shock?” She sounded almost horrified as she watched.
He laid his hand over hers, pulling her gaze away from the hanging man. “It gives a low-level electrical current, and can feel like anything from lush tingles to sharp shocks depending on the setting. It brings the blood to the surface and heightens the senses. It’s arousing if used correctly. But it can also be used for temporary or permanent body modifications, so limits have to be clear when using one.”
She shuddered. “Body modification? You’ve tried it?”
“I haven’t used it for that purpose, but many do, and it’s a definite fetish.” He glanced down at the Domme below, pleased to see she was letting the energy arc into the man’s body as it found its ground instead of holding it against his skin, which caused the types of marks he’d mentioned. “I wouldn’t give anyone a permanent mark like that. I’ll admit, I do enjoy marking a sub with a flogger or rope, but those marks aren’t permanent, and last just long enough to remind them of the intense pleasure they reached during our scene.”
A visible shudder ran through Sandra and she sucked in a small br
eath, but he pointedly ignored her signs of arousal from his words. With his already weakening resolve, he couldn’t let himself become distracted. Brent took a small breath and continued. “As for the regular use of the wand, I couldn’t see using it on someone else in good conscience without knowing what it felt like to have it used on me. I was surprised, but I enjoyed it.”
Sandra beamed at him. “You’re a good man, Master Brent. Do all the Doms here share your views?”
He frowned, wondering exactly what her experience with Diego had been. His protective instincts roared to life once again. “All the Doms here have gone through Dom training specifically for Club Desire. Part of that is an in-depth discussion of the philosophy of the consensual power exchange between Dom and sub, as well as the ethics and responsibilities that go along with that.”
He kept her gaze, trying to read any clues there as to what she’d been through, but finding none. “Our motto at Club Desire that everyone is trained to abide by is ‘Safe, Sane, and Consensual.’ If anything doesn’t meet that standard, it isn’t done here. By the same token, our sub training makes sure that the subs know their rights and their ability to set limits—basically that they have great power in the D/s equation.”
Sandra frowned. “I still struggle with the thought that the sub has power. I’ve heard the philosophy, but from my experience I haven’t really seen it practiced.” She frowned, a shadow clouding her expression. “Isn’t the whole idea for the Dom to have all the power over the sub?”
Brent wanted to shake his friend for not ensuring Sandra knew the basic tenets of the lifestyle. “Sandra, the sub willingly gifts a Dom with trust to take care of him or her, sexually and emotionally. The sub gains even more pleasure by giving the Dom pleasure. I try never to forget that.” He saw her interest sharpen and knew she hadn’t had such an experience in her own D/s relationship. He wondered if she’d ever even attended a munch or gone through any sub training. He’d call Mason at the earliest opportunity and find out the details.
