* * * *
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” A.J. said, voice hoarse from fear and trepidation. He tucked a finger underneath the black leather collar around his neck, checking the fit for the umpteenth time in the last two minutes. “This was a mistake. I can’t believe I agreed to do this.”
“Relax,” said Riley Jones, giving him a confident smile. Which was disconcerting, considering the man was standing there in a loincloth and collar and nothing else. “You’re doing the right thing. Ryder and Lyss won’t able to take their eyes off you. Hell, half the people here are having a tough time keeping their eyes off you. You’ll do fine.”
Easy for him to say. Riley already had his own Dom, and the woman he loved who happened to be a submissive just like Riley. That had been a shock, when A.J. found out that the three of them were honorary members of Club S. That Maddox was a Dom didn’t surprise him all that much, to tell the truth. He exuded the same quiet confidence as Austin. But it had been a shock to discover that the three of them not only knew about Club S, they’d also been instrumental in setting up this fundraiser for Street Smartz. Apparently, all of the major contributors to the charity were part of the club, so it was only natural to hold an event there.
Natural to them, anyway. They’d been part of the BDSM lifestyle long enough now that none of this really fazed them. A.J., on the other hand, was still trying to wrap his head around it, still trying to process the fact that one of his sexual fantasies was about to come true.
The club itself was enormous. The space had been converted from an old, abandoned underground parking garage in Downtown Houston, and covered about half a city block. It shared an entrance with a night club at ground level, some glitzy little place that catered to the young hipsters who frequented the area. Those who were “in the know” knew to take a left at the fork in the front hallway, walk down past the guard station, take the elevator down one floor, and then pass through a series of double-doors that only opened once the guards had verified your identity as a member of the club. And once inside…
This was definitely not one of those clubs that expected the décor to be hidden by flashing lights and dancing bodies. Everywhere he looked, there were opulent yet tasteful decorations, from the gold carpeting to the black and gold accents on the walls. And that was just the look of the place. The amenities it offered…well, let’s just say you could find just about anything within those walls.
There was a huge entrance foyer guarded by a reception desk, where club members could make requests for the evening. There were private rooms for rent, stages for public display, and even private showrooms for groups. A fetish store occupied one corner of the entranceway, filled with everything from hardcore fetish-wear—spikes and steel and latex and God knows what else—to period-accurate costumes for role-play scenarios. One entire wall held corsets in all shapes and sizes, while another held leather harnesses in a variety of styles. Lingerie, sex toys, collars, leashes, jewelry, even shoes were all on display there.
Just beyond the entrance foyer, a long bar and dance floor occupied a room large enough to house a thousand people comfortably. There was a sign over the bar that read, “One Drink Maximum. You’ve Been Warned.” When he laughed about it, Austin, who was leading in through the club, turned to him with a frown and said, “Why are you laughing? We don’t allow drunken play inside these walls. In fact, most of our members are encouraged not to drink at all. Drink muddles inhibitions, and not in a good way. Safe, sane, consensual, A.J. Always.”
He couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut.
Then, of course, there was the grand ball room, where the slave auction had been set up. A stage had been erected at one end, with the back edge curtained off by floor-to-ceiling black panels of fabric which had silver threads scattered throughout so it looked like a blanket of stars hid that side of the room. The stage wasn’t large, maybe ten feet across, and there was a small dais in the center of it. A velvet rope line, similar to what movie theatres used to corral large lines of people, described an area around the stage that was big enough for ten men to stand in comfortably.
That was where, Austin informed him, the Dominants would come to stand while inspecting the property up for sale. The description—and the mental image—set A.J.’s lower belly tightening with forbidden lust.
Now he stood in the small staging area behind the main stage, waiting for his turn. There were about thirty potential slaves back there with him, all in varying states of undress.
“The Dominants will want to see you,” Austin had explained when the group stood around him, awaiting his instructions. “So display yourselves to best advantage. And, if you choose to wear nothing at all, well, so much the better.”
A.J. couldn’t bring himself to go that far—though his cock had jumped at the thought of being naked, on display for a room full of sexual Dominants—so he’d stripped off his shirt and jeans but left his tight-fitting black boxers in place. He didn’t really need to show off, right? He was here for one particular couple, not on display for everyone there.
Keep telling yourself that, Johannes.
Riley suddenly clapped a hand around A.J.’s shoulder, jarring him from his thoughts. “Hey, man. Relax, okay? Everything will be fine.”
And again, easy for you to say. But he nodded anyway, trying for a confident smile but failing miserably. “I’ll be fine. Austin…Austin said…”
“They’ll bid on you,” another man said from behind A.J., making him turn to see who would butt in on their conversation. The man walking toward him was impeccably dressed in a fitted suit—clearly expensive—with a plain white button-up shirt underneath. He had black hair done up in stylishly messy spikes, dark brown skin, and eyes the color of melted chocolate. And holy Christ on a pogo stick, the man was fucking gorgeous.
The guy smiled at A.J., holding out a hand. “We haven’t met, yet. I’m Allen. I belong to Sidri and Tatum.”
A.J. shook Allen’s hand, unable to find his voice. The guy was hot. Seriously hot. Like, drop-dead “oh my god, if I wasn’t bi before, I for damn sure am now” kind of hot. How the hell did this guy manage to walk around without people throwing themselves at him everywhere he went? How the hell did Sidri and Tatum allow him out of their sight?
Allen smiled, completely unaware of A.J.’s inner turmoil. “Don’t worry, A.J. We’ve got it all planned out. I’m on first, since Street Smartz is my baby, and then Amber and Riley will go on as a package deal. Then you go on. Trust me, Ryder and Lyss won’t let you get off that stage without bidding on you. Be warned, though—I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a bidding war. You’ve have quite a few interested parties asking after you since we added your name to the roster.”
A.J. blinked. Was this guy for real? Who the hell would be looking at A.J. after Allen went on stage?
Riley chuckled. “Is that right? Well, I hope Ryder and Lyss get their act together, then. Otherwise, this whole thing might backfire.”
A.J. cleared his throat, reaching up to tug his collar yet again. “You two seem to know something I don’t.”
Allen shrugged, smiling softly. “Don’t worry about it, A.J. Everything will be fine. I know you’re getting tired of hearing that, but trust me, it will be.”
A.J. opened his mouth, a thousand questions bubbling on his tongue, when the lights around them suddenly dimmed.
“Oops,” said Allen, “there’s my cue.” He gave A.J.’s shoulder a brief, reassuring squeeze, then turned and headed toward the front of the staging area.
“You know,” Riley said suddenly, drawing A.J.’s eyes toward the huge man. Riley, for his part, was watching Allen walk away. “Except for the eyes, the two of you could be brothers, you know that?”
“You’re insane,” A.J. blurted immediately. “That man is beautiful. I’m nothing. Less than nothing. I can’t even begin to compare to someone like him.”
Riley faced him, a slight frown marring his brow. He opened his mouth to speak, but the li
ghts went out altogether, making both of them freeze. Up until that moment, there had been a sound of muted conversation, rustling of clothing, and clinking of glasses on the other side of the curtain. Now, there was complete, total silence.
“Here we go,” Riley murmured.
“Here goes nothing,” A.J. echoed sourly, tugging his collar yet again.
Or, should I say, here goes everything I ever wanted.
Chapter 14
“Bring on the firing squad,” Ryder muttered sourly as the lights dimmed around them. “Because I feel like I’m being forced to do this with a gun to my head.”
Lyss wrapped both hands around his bicep, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. “It will be fine,” she assured him for the umpteenth time that night. “We’ll bid, get out, and go back home to A.J. That’s all.”
Ryder sighed, but said nothing. Hiding a sigh of her own, Lyss turned her attention toward the stage. Their table was near the front of the assembly, just to the right of the rope line—prime viewing position, which should have been reserved for someone who truly did want to bid on the slaves up for auction tonight. But Tatum and Sidri were also at the table, and they had insisted that those seats were reserved for her and Ryder, so what else could they do?
She glanced to her right, where Tatum sat next to her, with Sidri on his opposite side. As always, the two of them looked simply stunning, like models fresh from a New York runway. Sidri met her gaze, green eyes flashing with amusement.
“Are you sure…” Lyss began.
“Positive,” Sidri purred. “The seats were reserved for the both of you. Wouldn’t want you to miss the show, now, would we?”
Something was definitely going on here. Some conspiracy their friends refused to let them in on. But that was okay. She and Ryder could play the game for the time being. No harm done, since no one was required to participate beyond the bidding process. The first rule of the auction was that all contracts must be agreed to by all parties concerned, and even then, they could be nullified at any time. So she and Ryder could bid on someone without the obligation of fulfilling the three-day contract that was part of the bid. The charity would get its money, and she and Ryder could walk away, no harm, no foul.
Yet she shared Ryder’s feeling that they were being forced to do this. She didn’t want to be here tonight. Which was funny, considering she’d been looking forward to it. Tonight was supposed to be about finding a third, about finding the submissive who could potentially fill the void between them. There were no guarantees, of course, but she’d been looking forward to the opportunity to meet someone new, share new experiences, and exercise her Dominant nature for once.
Until A.J. showed up, that is.
Only a few weeks since he dropped into their lives, and already she couldn’t imagine being without him. Every step they took with him, every encounter that got him closer to being in their bed, drove her to new heights of desire. She wanted the man. Desperately. And so did Ryder. Which was why, after months of anticipating this event, she suddenly felt like there were ashes in her mouth.
Ah, well. No obligation, right? They’d bid on the first slave to come up after Amber and Riley left the stage and be done with it. Then they could go home, track A.J. down, and convince him that from now on, his “plans” had better include the two of them, or there would be hell to pay.
The thought made her shiver.
Austin, the club’s owner and a very dear friend, walked onto the stage with a microphone in one hand and a huge grin on his too-handsome face. His dirty-blond hair was neatly trimmed, and his black suit jacket set off his shoulders nicely. He stood in the center of the stage, grinning as the crowd cheered for him, then waved for silence.
“Here goes nothing,” Ryder muttered. Lyss squeezed his arm in sympathy.
“Welcome, everyone,” Austin began. “Welcome to the first annual charity slave auction at Club S. Tonight’s benefit is held in honor of Street Smartz, a charity that is devoted to helping runaway kids make something of their lives. Tonight is very special indeed, because we not only have the founders of the charity in the house with us, but three of them will be auctioned off tonight—with very specific instructions.” The last was said with a flirty wink, which drew a laugh from the crowd.
“Now, before we begin the festivities, I’d like to go over the rules for tonight,” Austin continued, his gaze sweeping over the assembly. The room was filled with small tables, each seating two to four individuals, all of them dressed to the nines like this was a New York Opera House instead of a high-end BDSM club. Lyss had seen more diamonds, gold, and platinum jewelry tonight than ever before in her life. She and Ryder weren’t exactly shabby, but it was obvious they didn’t come from the same financial class as the rest of the room’s occupants.
Doesn’t matter, she told herself. We’ll be out of here in no time.
“As always, ladies and gentlemen, this club operates under the golden rule of BDSM,” Austin said. “Safe, sane, consensual. That means that no matter what title you call yourself, be it Master, Mistress, Sir, Lady, or something else altogether, everything that happens here must adhere to that mentality. So even though you are bidding on potential slaves, kindly remember that they are people, too, and their needs always come first.”
A series of nods, some of them quite forceful, met Austin’s words, making Lyss hide a smile.
“So, to the rules. Tonight, you’ll be bidding on the right to a three-day contract with your potential slave. All of you, I trust, have read the dossiers provided for you. Please, ladies and gentlemen, do not bid on a slave who doesn’t fit your requirements. There’s no point on choosing a slave who doesn’t enjoy punishment if that is your main focus. Please choose carefully, with their needs in mind above all else. That said, the slave will also have the right to void the contract after the fact, if he or she decides the match is not a fit. So, even though this is a slave auction and it is your right to choose who to bid on, it is, ultimately, their choice whether to submit to you.
“Are we clear on the rules?” Austin said, eyeing the crowd one last time. More nods met his words, and he smiled broadly. “Excellent. Then let’s begin, shall we?”
Murmurs of assent met that statement, along with much shifting in seats. The first slave up for grabs was Allen McAllister, Sidri and Tatum’s husband. Every single Dominant there was hoping for a chance at him, even without knowing the stipulations his lovers had designed for his participation in this auction. Allen was a hot commodity, not only because he belonged to the highest members of the club, but because he was known to be one of the best submissives.
“Lady Sidri and Sir Tatum have graciously offered their sub for our pleasure tonight,” Austin said, sending a wink toward Sidri. “With rules, of course. This contract is for one night only, ladies and gentlemen, and it is not your typical slave contract. Allen and both of his Dominants will be part of the equation. Yes, you heard me right. One night, ladies and gentlemen, to experience the perfection that is the triad of Lady Sidri, Sir Tatum, and sub Allen. So open your checkbooks, and let’s see what our gracious hosts have given us tonight.”
The curtain opened, and Allen walked out. Lyss caught a breath, as she always did, when she first laid eyes on the man. He was absolutely stunning in his expensive gray suit, his hair perfectly styled, his face lit by a knowing smile. He walked to the center of the stage, then turned toward the table where his husband and wife sat and made a deep bow. Then he faced the crowd again, reached up, and slid his jacket to the ground. While everyone in the room watched breathlessly, he unbuttoned his shirt one button at a time, purposefully giving them a slow strip-tease, and let the fabric float to the stage amidst dramatic, hungry sighs.
His gorgeously-muscled chest sported an elaborate tattoo, right over his heart. From a distance, it probably looked like an abstract design, but from her vantage point, Lyss could see it for what it was—a series of stylized letters that spelled the word “owned.” Several others must have rea
lized what it said, too, because murmurs swept through the crowd, filled with such open longing it was almost painful to hear it.
No wonder, Lyss thought. To have a slave tattooed with the proof of ownership…that’s the ultimate dream. God, what we wouldn’t give to have that someday. Perhaps A.J.…But no, she couldn’t think that far ahead.
Shaking her head at herself, Lyss returned her attention to the beautiful man who held the rest of the audience captive with the sight of his sheer physical perfection. Allen flexed, drawing lustful groans all around, and slowly ran a hand across his chest, down his defined abs, and made straight for his belt buckle. As he reached for the button on his slacks, Allen turned—and the entire room gasped.
There was a tattoo on Allen’s back. A magnificent, intricate tattoo defining an angel and demon, doing battle together. It covered his entire back from nape to buttocks, comprised of silver, gold, black, red, and blue inks that defined mythical, winged creatures that were simply stunning to behold. The overall effect made it look like Allen himself had a pair of wings, one a bright white angel’s wing, the other a disgusting black devil’s wing, and both were equally stunning.
Obviously pleased with the effect he had on the crowd, Allen turned slightly and looked at the room over his shoulder. He’d pulled his belt free, allowing his slacks to dip low enough on his waist to reveal the tops of his buttocks, but hadn’t let the material drop all the way.
“My Lady and Sir asked that I not reveal too much to you tonight,” Allen said, eyes flashing with mischief. “Just enough to get you all hot and bothered.”
Austin, standing next to Allen on the stage, had his mouth hanging open. He swallowed, did it again, and turned back to the crowd with pinked cheeks. “Well, there you have it. Who will make the opening bid? One night, ladies and gentlemen. One night to experience the glory. Who will start?”
The bids came fast and furious after that, reaching staggering numbers almost immediately. Ryder met her eyes briefly, one eyebrow raised. If they’d had the money—and if Tatum hadn’t told them they were forbidden—they might have tried bid on Allen, too. He was beautiful in and of himself, but to have one night with him and his lovers together…no wonder the crowd was going wild.
Saints United [For Love of Authority 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 16
