But these were also men who loved her. Who treasured her. Who gave her more pleasure than she’d ever thought possible. These were men she couldn’t live without.
Her lips compressed and suddenly, inexplicably, she felt like crying. God, she loved these men so much. Jesse, her forever love. Jesse, whom she’d never forgotten through all the long, lonely years of their separation. Whom she’d despaired of ever seeing again. Jesse, who, by some miracle, had come back to her. And who, wonder of wonders, had brought Adam with him to complete their circle. Adam, her new love. How had she gotten so lucky?
She swallowed…hard.
Then she saw the items they’d laid out on the bed for her to wear. Holy Moley! An entire squadron of butterflies the size of 747s took off in her belly. Are they kidding me? They expect me to wear this? She did a quick search of the entire bed. Where’s the rest of it?
Adam held up the black leather corset and curved it around her while Jesse laced it up the back and pulled tight. Really tight. Propelling the breath noisily from her lungs. Holy Moley, how do people breathe in these things? No wonder Victorian ladies were always passing out. Adam lifted her breasts onto the demi-bra at the top, which was basically nothing more than a small, red leather shelf upon which her breasts perched like cantaloupes on a platter. The feel of his hands, hot against her skin, hardened her nipples to aching knots.
“Very pretty, love.” Giving her a grin, he bent his head and suckled her nipples, pulling them gently between his teeth until they were swollen and elongated and throbbing with every beat of her heart. While she struggled to deal with all the contradictory sensations bombarding her, Adam knelt and tapped her foot. She lifted it, and he slipped on one of the fishnet stockings, pulling it up and fastening the top to the long garters suspended from the corset, which ended just below her waist, exposing everything south of that. Jeez, no panties? They’re really going to make me go without panties? All of her most vulnerable, intimate parts were going to be on full display tonight. Nothing hidden behind the barrier of clothing. The very thought made her wince and squirm.
“Problem, Sunny?” Adam asked, his stern Dom voice and the use of that name letting her know that the scene had officially begun.
She bit her lip. Unless she used her safe word right now, they would be taking her to a bondage club, putting her on display for a bunch of strangers, tying her up with ropes, and sexually tormenting her until she was sobbing and begging them to let her come. Could she do it? All of a sudden she wasn’t so sure. When she hesitated, she heard Jesse’s voice, cool and distant. “Present, Sarah.”
He watched her assume the submissive posture, hands behind her back gripping opposite elbows, legs spread, and her eyes straight ahead. “We have one more little thing to put on you…” He stepped in front of her, a jar in one hand, something red on the tip of his other index finger. Something that smelled faintly of strawberries. He reached out and began rubbing whatever it was on the nipple and areola of one breast. “This is nipple rouge. We want you to look especially beautiful tonight.” He spread the red cream on the other nipple and areola, then stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Lovely,” he said, a note of satisfaction in his deep, baritone voice. “The rouge is edible. I can’t wait to get these babies in my mouth.” He gave her a wink as he grasped them between his thumbs and forefingers, twisting and pulling them until she was shifting her weight from foot to foot and moaning helplessly. “You will be the envy of everyone there tonight. Every Dom or Domme will want you. Every sub will want to be you.”
Adam lifted a bright yellow sundress over her head and pulled it down. “This is only for traveling to and from the club,” he informed her. “Don’t want you to get arrested for indecent exposure. You will remove it once we get there.” Slinging identical black duffel bags over their shoulders, they shepherded her down the stairs and through the darkened house out to the garage. Less than five minutes later, they were in the Hummer on their way to Norfolk.
Adam sat in the back, Sarah in front with Jesse, her legs spread wide, her wrists cuffed behind her back. She could feel her slick pussy juices seeping out onto the leather seat. She knew that even before they took her inside the club, they would require her to clean up the wetness with her tongue. A practice that had appalled her at first, but one she now accepted, knowing how much it turned all of them on. And she’d come to crave the taste of her feminine essence—especially when they presented it to her on their fingers, mouths, or cocks, which she always cleaned with relish. It reinforced her submissiveness to these two dominant men and made her want to please them even more.
They’d been on the road for around ten minutes when Jesse turned to her. “Okay, sugar, I’m gonna go over a few of tonight’s rules. For the most part, all the people at this party are people we’ve known for years. They’re all close friends of ours, as well as of Master Michel and Mistress Sidonie. They are all in committed relationships, either as couples or ménages. There will be no unattached Doms or subs lookin’ to hook up for a scene, no prospective members, no weekend dabblers or people who’re just lookin’ for a little kink to liven up their sex lives. These people are all hard-core lifestylers, some of them as Master and slave, living the life twenty-four seven. In spite of strict adherence to the BDSM creed of Safe, Sane, and Consensual, you will see things that might disgust or frighten you.”
His left hand reached out and grabbed her chin, turning her head toward him. “We will not make you do anything you don’t want to. Your safe word is unnecessary tonight. A simple ‘no’ or ‘stop’ will suffice. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You will be expected to obey us instantly and without question, do you understand?”
She gulped. “Yes, Sir.”
“As our sub, everything you do is a direct reflection on us as your trainers and Masters. People will be watching.”
Seriously? As if I weren’t already terrified enough, you need to throw out this little bomb?
He released her chin. “Most of the people you will meet tonight are high-protocol people, who insist on certain behaviors from a sub—any sub. You are to keep your eyes downcast at all times. You are not to speak to any of the Doms or Dommes. If you are asked a direct question, you must wait for Master Adam or me to give you permission to speak. Your assigned place when we’re walkin’ is behind us. Your assigned place when we’re seated, or anytime I point to the floor, is on your knees at our feet, with your hands palms up on your thighs. When you’re not on your knees or walkin’, you are to assume the Present position. Can you remember all that?”
Holy Moley! “I—yes, Sir.”
Jesse chuckled. “I doubt that. But don’t worry, we’ll be there to correct you. Relax, sugar. You look like you’re goin’ to your execution. I assure you, you will be so turned on by the things you see and do tonight that your orgasms will literally explode from your body.”
Orgasms. Omigod! Her brain latched onto the word like a shipwreck survivor latches onto a bit of flotsam. He said orgasms, plural. That means more than one. Oh, thank God, they are planning to let me come! Her shoulders sagged with relief, an action that had him chuckling again.
“Poor little sub. Did you think we were just going to torment you and not let you come?”
Uh-oh. Trick question. “Um…”
He laughed out loud. “Trust me, baby. You will come tonight. Many times. Of course, you will also be tormented and denied relief. That’s just one of the perks of bein’ a Dom. It’s also one of the perks of bein’ an obedient sub. Obedience always equals orgasms. Eventually.”
“Y–yes, Sir.”
Adam scooted forward, reaching his hand between the seats to curve his hand around her left breast. He lashed his thumb across her nipple then squeezed it between his thumb and forefinger, twisting and pulling, sending an onslaught of sensation straight to her clit. As pleasure spiraled through her, ratcheting up her need for release, she longed to be able to close her legs to help control t
he urgency rising within her. But she knew she mustn’t. So she sat, her breath see-sawing in and out of her lungs in short, sharp bursts as she fought her climax.
Adam just chuckled and released her. “You’re primed, aren’t you, Sunny?” he asked.
Thank God he didn’t seem to require an answer. Breathing was pretty much all she was capable of at the moment. And she wasn’t doing any too well at that.
They drove to what looked like an industrial neighborhood on the outskirts of Norfolk. Most of the buildings seemed to be warehouses, many of them boarded up and deserted. Until they turned a corner and pulled up to an enormous wrought-iron gate in an eight-foot high brick wall. Jesse entered a code on the electronic pad and the gate opened. He drove in and parked in one of the few remaining spaces in the lot. She looked around curiously.
They appeared to be in the parking lot of a large, two-story brick warehouse. There were no windows and the entrance was flanked by two flaming torches, a touch that lent an air of mystery and intrigue to the already-imposing façade. Concrete steps led up to the platform where the front door was. A huge, heavyset man with a spiked Mohawk, covered from neck to toe in black leather, sat behind a lectern at one side of the door.
Sarah shivered. The first thought that came into her head was, like Cerberus guarding the gates of Hell.
Except, wasn’t Cerberus a dog? Angel asked matter-of-factly, her hands folded primly in her lap.
Okay, okay, maybe the analogy is just a bit off—
And didn’t he have three heads?
Okay, okay, so the analogy sucks…still…
Adam opened Sarah’s door, interrupting her inane inner dialogue. He released her seat belt and handed her out, unable to resist stroking the curves of her ass while she bent over to clean her essence off the seat. With her hands still cuffed behind her, she had to be careful not to lean too far forward. She didn’t want to do a face-plant in the middle of all that moisture. “Beautiful,” he murmured, sliding his thumb through her crease, slick with her copious pussy juice, and rimming her ass hole. “You are so goddamn beautiful, love. We are going to be the envy of every Dom and Domme here tonight.”
Jesse came around the front of the car with something in his hand. It was a black leather collar, not as wide or thick as the one Lisa Wilson wore, but it definitely made a statement. At first she was just happy to see that there were no spikes, but her relief faded when she noticed that it had two D-rings in the front.
Uh-oh. That can’t possibly be good.
“Lift your hair, Sunny.”
Following his instructions, she stood still as he fastened the collar around her neck with a small padlock. He thrust his finger between the collar and her neck to check the fit. Satisfied, he hung the key around his neck.
Adam handed Jesse a long, black leather…Whoa! Oh, my God, is that a leash? They’re going to lead me around on leashes? Like a dog? She couldn’t help it. She jerked back away from them.
They didn’t say anything, just stood there waiting silently while she dithered, trying to deal with the ramifications of what they were asking of her. Okay. They’re going to lead me around on a leash like a dog. She bit her lip, struggling with the mental image that lurched across her mind. Images of her, trotting after them blindly wherever they led her, heeling when ordered to do so. Images of her, crawling on her hands and knees, her bare ass high in the air…She groaned inwardly, dismayed to realize that, far from disgusting her, the images were spiking her arousal off the charts. Holy Moley! Her horizons were definitely going to be broadened tonight!
Jesse just watched her, studying the emotions playing across her face. He knew the exact moment she accepted what they were planning on doing to her. And that’s when he broke the silence. “The leashes and collar are for your protection, sugar,” he explained quietly. “As long as you’re connected to us, no other Dom will make unwanted advances toward you. They’ll have to go through us first.”
She compressed her lips between her teeth as she took that in. “I thought you said everyone in there is in a committed relationship,” she ventured cautiously.
Adam grinned. “He didn’t say they were dead.”
“Some Masters have more than one slave,” Jesse added. “The fact that they’re momentarily committed to the slaves they already have doesn’t mean they aren’t constantly on the lookout for new ones.”
“And some Masters are just plain assholes,” Adam added. “Unfortunately, our lifestyle attracts a lot of bullies, brutes, and wannabes.”
She shivered but stood docilely, allowing them to snap the leashes onto the D-rings. “Remember,” Jesse whispered, “eyes downcast. Do not speak to anyone without waitin’ for our permission first. If we point to the floor, we expect you to kneel instantly, no questions asked, even if we’re not seated.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Wrapping the excess leather of the leashes around their hands, they pulled her up close behind them and started toward the building. As they led her across the parking lot, she could actually hear her thighs squishing. She’d never been so wet. The insides of her thighs were slick down to her knees, making walking uncomfortable. They paused at the bottom of the eight concrete steps leading up to the front door.
“Are you ready, Sunny?” Jesse asked. His black eyes slid over her, hunger blazing in their depths.
“No, Sir,” she answered truthfully.
He chuckled. “Yes you are, sugar. You just don’t know it yet.” Bending to swirl his tongue around one of her rouged nipples, he straightened, smacking his lips. “Mmmm. Strawberry. One of my favorite flavors. You want to know what the other one is?”
“What?”
He brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “You.”
Her eyes closed on a soft whimper. Her belly rolled over sending fresh juice cascading from her core.
As they got to the top of the steps, she could hear the torches sputtering in the slight breeze. The strong odor of kerosene met her nostrils. And now that she was closer to the very large, very heavy man, she could see that, in addition to the four-inch-high, black, spiky Mohawk, he also had tattoos covering every inch of exposed skin, including his face. He sported multiple piercings in his ears, eyebrows, nose, and—she would later learn—his tongue and nipples. One of his ear piercings was connected by a heavy silver chain to one of his nose piercings.
At their approach, the man’s face lit up in a huge smile. He left the podium and came out to throw his arms around Jesse, practically lifting him off the ground in an exuberant, back-thumping man-hug. “Master Jesse!” he squealed in a high-pitched, feminine voice that was so at odds with his scary, macho appearance Sarah felt like she was watching a badly dubbed foreign movie.
“Otto,” Jesse acknowledged.
Then Otto turned to Adam, who fended off a similar hug by the simple expedient of thrusting out his hand for a handshake. The other man’s grip was so exuberant, he nearly ripped Adam’s arm off.
Otto ignored Sarah. Jesse and Adam didn’t introduce her.
While the three men engaged in small talk, Sarah stood quietly in the Present position, eyes downcast, trying to solve the mystery that was Otto. He wore no collar, so he wasn’t a sub. And although he looked like a Dom, he certainly didn’t act like one. So who the hell was he?
A sharp tug on her leash jerked her out of her reverie and sent her moving forward toward the door. It also served as a reminder of where and who she was, and of what was about to happen to her as she followed her two Doms into Club Ravish.
They stepped into a small, unprepossessing waiting room of sorts, with a dark mahogany counter straight ahead. Along the left-hand wall was a long bench upholstered in red velvet. On the right-hand wall was an ornately carved mahogany door. The only light was provided by torches mounted on the walls, only, unlike the ones outside, these were electrical, fitted with flickering red and yellow bulbs. In the wall behind the counter, on either side of it, were the restrooms.
The sign on the lef
t-hand door featured the silhouette of a man standing with his legs slightly apart, hands on his hips, a whip dangling at his side. The silhouette on the right-hand door was the profile of a woman on her knees, hands behind her, breasts thrust out, head bowed in submission.
Standing behind the counter was a short, slender young woman, more of a girl, really, who reminded Sarah of a pixie she’d once seen in one of her favorite childhood picture books. Her short, spiky hair was blonde, tipped with black. She wore a red leather collar and nothing else except a delicate tattoo of a flower-covered vine that twined elegantly around her body like honeysuckle twines around a column. The tip of the vine ended with a tiny bud at the corner of her left eye.
“Master Jesse. Master Adam,” she said in a delicate, tinkly little voice that just cinched the pixie image for Sarah. “So nice to see you again.”
“Thank you, Molly,” Jesse said warmly, “you’re looking lovely as ever.” A slight tug on the leash brought Sarah forward to stand at his side. He put his arm around her and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Molly, I’d like for you to meet our sub, Sarah. Would you please show her where she can leave her clothes?”
“Of course, Master, I’ll be happy to. Please come with me, Sarah.” She held out her hand and, after Jesse unlocked the handcuffs and Adam unhooked the leashes, Sarah took it. Molly led her through the door with the kneeling woman silhouette on it.
Inside was a standard-issue locker room of the sort found in any high school gym, lined with gray metal lockers and long wooden benches. In the harsh fluorescent lighting, Molly looked much younger than she’d appeared out in the waiting room. She couldn’t be a day over fifteen. “How old are you?” Sarah found herself asking.
“Twenty-three,” Molly said brightly, indicating an open locker with a sweep of her hand. “Just had my birthday last week. I know, I know, I don’t look old enough to be in a place like this, but trust me, I am. Here, this one’s empty, you can hang your dress in here.” Oh, my God! I forgot I was going to have to take off my dress! At Sarah’s hesitation, Molly just touched her arm. “First time at a club?” she asked sympathetically.
Owning Sarah [Sequel to Loving Sarah] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 26
