Owning Sarah [Sequel to Loving Sarah] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Julie Shelton

  Sarah’s chin wobbled and sudden tears filled her eyes at the unexpected kindness in the girl’s voice. Biting her lip hard to keep them from falling and ruining her makeup, she just nodded.

  “Just remember, Safe, Sane, and Consensual. Everything you see happening in there, no matter how much screaming and hollering you hear, is something that everyone participating wants to happen, okay? Safe, Sane and Consensual—with the emphasis on…well on all of them, actually. Just don’t forget the ‘consensual’ part of the mantra and you’ll do fine.” She looked Sarah up and down. “I suspect you’re new to the life, too, aren’t you?”

  Sarah gulped and nodded again. “Is it that obvious?”

  “You’ve got that deer-in-the-headlights look.”

  Sarah grimaced. “I’m just a little…” She let her voice trail off, not sure what she was, exactly. “Is terrified too mild a word?”

  Molly laughed. “Just try to relax, okay? Nothing bad is going to happen to you. In fact, quite the opposite. Your Doms will see to it that you have the time of your life. Trust them, Sarah. They’re two of the best men I’ve ever met—not just as Doms, but as human beings as well.”

  Another nod. “I know.”

  “They got me through a really rough patch with my ex-boyfriend. Helped me see that what he was doing to me was abuse, not Domination.”

  Sarah sucked in her breath, her eyes widening. Holy Moley! Had she—had they—

  Molly laughed at the expression on her face. “No, no, nothing like that. No sex, not even any touching, really. They just talked to me, that’s all, and gave me a couple of floggings, which I fully deserved, by the way. They’re really good listeners and really, really good floggers. They’ve taught master classes in technique to other Doms, not only at this club, but at several others they belong to as well. And on top of that, they’re so-o-o-o haw-w-w-t!” She fanned her face with her hand.

  “I have to agree with you there.” Sarah laughed.

  “I’m telling you, girl, you’re going to be the envy of every sub in that room tonight.”

  “How many are in that room tonight?” Sarah asked.

  “Oh, I’d say around fifty or sixty in all, both Doms and subs, couples mostly, some ménages and harems.

  Harems? Did she just say harems?

  Molly laughed again. “Oh, girl, you should see the expression on your face. Your eyes just got as big as saucers. Oh, yeah, your horizons are definitely going to be expanded tonight, that’s for sure. Just relax and accept and you’ll have the time of your life, I guarantee it. C’mon, let’s get that dress off before two pissed-off Doms come barging in here looking for someone to punish.”

  It took all of two seconds for Sarah to pull her dress off over her head and hang it in the locker, revealing the black-and-red corset she was wearing underneath.

  Molly gasped. “Oh, my God! Girl, you have got the best boobs ever! May I touch them?” Without waiting for permission, she reached out her hand and slid her fingers beneath Sarah’s left breast, hefting its weight in her palm. “Omigod, they’re perfect. I almost wish they were fake so I could go to the same doctor to get mine done just like them. And that nipple rouge! Da bomb!”

  Before Sarah could stop her, she leaned forward and took the rouged nipple into her warm, wet mouth, suckling gently before releasing it with a little pop. “Omigod, I shouldn’t have done that! Master Michel—he’s the owner of the club—is always punishing me for acting before I think. You won’t tell him will you?”

  Sarah just shook her head, too startled by the lingering sensation of a woman’s soft, moist mouth on her breast to speak.

  Molly looked down at her own small, but perky breasts and heaved a sigh. “Master Michel forbids me to even consider getting a boob job. He’s training me, you know, to be a better sub. And he’s helping me find a new Dom, one who appreciates small packages, boobs included.” She settled Sarah’s breast back in the demi-bra and heaved another sigh. “God, what I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall in there tonight. You’re going to be blown away, no two ways about it. I’m green with envy, you know, seriously considering scratching your eyes out.”

  Sarah lifted her hands to adjust her breasts on the leather shelf, and Molly let out a screech. “Omigod! Omigod! You’re engaged to them! You’re marrying Master Jesse and Master Adam, two of the hottest Doms this club has ever had!” She grabbed Sarah’s left hand, practically wringing her arm out of its socket in her enthusiasm. “Ohmigod, that ring is so fucking—oops.” She slapped her fingers over her mouth. “Sorry, Master Michel doesn’t like me swearing. He gives me two swats per word. I’m already up to twelve tonight. You’re not going to tell him are you?” Without waiting for confirmation, she continued with her original thought. “Gorgeous! Now I know every sub in there is going to absolutely hate you!” She sounded almost gleeful. “Any questions? Good. C’mon.” She tugged on Sarah’s hand, practically pulling her toward the door. “Let’s get this party started.”

  Sarah dug in her heels. “Wait.” Molly stopped. “I do have a question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “How does Master Michel know when you swear?”

  Molly just laughed. “All the employees keep tabs on me. Each night, after we close, he collects all the slips and gives me what I’ve earned.” She shook her head ruefully. “He never forgets. C’mon, your Masters are waiting.”

  Jesse and Adam watched her approach, the raw hunger in their eyes making her stomach lurch. Her heart stopped, then stuttered on, skipping every other beat, as her arousal, already at record heights, soared to the stratosphere. Holy Moley! Molly was right. They were so-o-o-o haw-w-w-wt! And that’s when she realized that she was going to do everything in her power not to disappoint them. Not tonight, not any other night. Not ever. They were her Masters, and she loved them with all her heart.

  Giving them a sexy little smile, she assumed the Present position and waited docilely while Adam clipped the leashes back onto her collar and Jesse encased her wrists in wide, fleece-lined cuffs, snapping them shut, but not hooking them together. He brushed his lips against her ear. “Hands down at your sides, sugar,” he whispered. “Eyes on the floor. Remember to wait for permission to speak.”

  Adam and Jesse each grabbed a leash, wrapping the excess leather around their hands as they shouldered their duffel bags and led her through a heavily curtained archway in the right-hand wall. They went down a short hallway toward a heavy metal industrial door that could only be opened by swiping a card or entering a code in the keypad. Jesse swiped a card.

  The instant the door opened, they were greeted by a driving, heavy-metal beat, a blast of sound that nearly blew her off her feet. Jesse just shook his head. “I see Jason’s doin’ the DJ honors tonight,” he shouted to Adam at the top of his lungs.” He smiled down at Sarah. “He likes it loud!” he explained.

  Uh-huh. Sarah nodded and returned his smile, just hoping her ears didn’t start bleeding. Giving in to her curiosity, she looked around. They were in an enormous room, divided into several areas by office-style cubicle walls and potted trees. Immediately to their left was an enormous bar made of highly polished walnut with a black granite top so shiny she knew she’d be able to check her makeup in it.

  One of the three bartenders behind the bar had his hand over one ear as he shouted into an old-fashioned phone hanging on the wall. He looked like the pitching coach putting in the call to the bullpen. Slamming the receiver back on the hook, he turned back around to see that everyone sitting at the bar had turned their heads toward the entrance. Following their gazes, he saw Jesse and Adam and his face lit with pleasure. After giving Sarah an obvious once-over, he gave them an exaggerated wink and a hearty thumbs-up. Abruptly the pounding assault on their eardrums ceased, leaving everyone sagging and sighing in relief. There were shouts of, “Hey!” from the raised dance floor, but everyone else applauded.

  With the music, some funky techno-pop selection, reduced to the decibel level of ambient background no
ise, Sarah began to notice the other sounds in the room. The slapping of flesh against flesh, the striking of…other things…against flesh, moans, howls, screams, all rising above the low hum of conversation and laughter. So far, Club Ravish sounded like any nightclub—well, except for the screams, of course. And that flesh-slapping thing. Okay, it didn’t sound anything like a nightclub. At least not like any nightclub she’d ever been to before.

  Word got around quickly that Masters Jesse and Adam were back, and they’d brought a woman with them! Evidently a novelty in this particular universe. Masters and Mistresses alike, along with their slaves and submissives, began to gather, wanting to be introduced to this phenomenon who’d finally captured the hearts of the Club’s two stoniest Doms and brought them to their knees—so to speak.

  Swallowing nervously, she looked up at Adam who just smiled indulgently. “You have our permission to greet these people, sweetheart.”

  The Doms were all wearing heavy leather boots and leather clothing, some of them pants only, baring their deeply muscled chests, some hairy, some shaved smooth, some gleaming with oil. Many of them had piercings. All of them had tattoos. There were a lot of chains. The Dommes seemed to favor corsets made of satin, leather, or PVC, in a variety of colors. The submissives were pretty much naked, except for collars and nipple clamps complete with assorted chains and weights.

  “Uh-oh,” Adam murmured sotto voce to Jesse. “Heads up. Incoming at two o’clock.” Jesse turned his head. A Dom was elbowing his way through the crowd, pushing people aside to grab the honor of being the first to extend his greetings. He was towing two naked female slaves behind him. Both unfortunate girls wore only thick, spiked leather collars, to which leashes were attached, wicked-looking nipple clamps with sharp prongs that resembled an eagle’s talons, and black leather hoods with holes only for their noses and mouths. Their hands were handcuffed behind their backs. A red ball gag stuffed the first sub’s mouth, making her drool all over herself. The other sub’s lips were stretched around a double-ended penis gag that fastened with leather straps to the side of her hood. The gag not only stuffed the inside of her mouth, but also extended a good eight inches beyond it. Moisture gleamed on the inner thighs of the first sub, on the dildo and on the leather-covered face of the second sub, leaving Sarah in no doubt as to where that dildo—and that face—had recently been. Two sharp downward yanks on the leashes brought both subs instantly to their knees. Only superb muscle tone kept them from falling flat on their faces.

  The Master was a morbidly obese man with heavily kohled eyes, heavy jowls, and so many chins Sarah lost count. He wore an odd-looking red silk hat that looked like a muffin with a gumdrop on top, and a floor-length red silk robe, like he was an emissary from another planet.

  The minute he took Sarah’s hand between both of his, it was all she could do not to jerk it away in disgust. Jesse noticed her slight recoil and put his hand on her shoulder to steady her. The Master gave no indication that he’d noticed either the recoil or the protective gesture. He just continued holding her hand. His palms were clammy with sweat, and his fat, be-ringed fingers felt like raw sausages touching her skin. The way he was looking at her, as if she were a prize heifer he was considering for purchase, made her flesh crawl.

  After several compliments delivered in a smarmy tone that reeked of insincerity, he licked his thick lips in a gesture that Sarah found repugnant. “Your sub is quite lovely, Masters—especially her tits. The nipple rouge is…an inspiring choice.” If his smile was meant to be ingratiating, it missed the mark by a mile. And by a mile, she meant a million miles.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such flawless skin,” he continued, seemingly oblivious to the stiffness of Sarah’s posture. “Is it as soft as it looks? Might I have permission to touch her and find out for myself?” Without waiting for permission to be granted, he lifted one of his hands toward her breast, causing Sarah to recoil.

  Instantly Jesse slid his arm across her shoulders and pulled her back against him, a gesture that had the dual expedient of not only protecting her, but also keeping her from jumping the guy and scratching his eyes out. “Take your hands off my sub, Cameron. Now. And by now I mean yesterday.”

  “Back off, Cameron,” Adam said in a voice hard as granite, deliberately omitting the honorific of Master. “You were not granted permission to touch our sub. Nor will you be. Ever. Try that again and we’ll have you kicked out of this club.”

  “Go ahead and try,” the fat man sneered. “You don’t have that kind of power.”

  “Perhaps not,” came a low, cultured voice from the rear of the crowd, “but I certainly do. And, I assure you, I will not hesitate to use it against you or anyone else who deliberately disrespects another Master’s submissive.” A tall, elegant, gray-haired man stepped through the gathering, which parted to allow him through, much as the Red Sea must have parted before Moses.

  He was dressed in black linen pants and a long-sleeved, black silk shirt, open at the neck to reveal several gold chains and a ruby-encrusted gold crucifix. He leaned heavily on a steel-tipped ebony cane with a wolf’s head knob carved out of ivory. The newcomer spoke with a pronounced French accent, and instinctively, Sarah knew that she was looking at Michel Lavallier, the owner of Club Ravish.

  Otto followed behind him, along with another man even larger and more intimidating than Otto. Sarah just stared. Jeez! How can that even be possible? If they were any bigger, they’d look like members of an alien species. Both men stopped around a foot behind the gray-haired man and stood, legs apart, beefy arms folded across their barrel chests, glowering at Cameron. She had to give them credit. They excelled at glowering.

  “Our subs are treasured here,” Lavallier continued, “not dishonored or insulted. Are we clear?”

  Master Cameron drew himself up to his full height and gave a slight, imperious nod of his head, as if bestowing patronage. “Of course, My Liege.”

  Michel’s lips thinned in a grimace that might have been a smile. But it wasn’t. If he had a smile in his repertoire, this definitely wasn’t it. “Need I remind you, Master Cameron, that you are still on probation and that behavior like this is likely to get you suspended for six months?”

  The fat man’s face reddened with anger. “There is nothing wrong with my memory, My Liege,” he said sharply.

  “You owe this lovely sub an apology,” Lavallier continued, “after which Bailey and Otto will see you to the door. Your evening is over.”

  Master Cameron’s entire demeanor changed. He placed his hand over his heart and gave a deep, obsequious bow. “My humble apologies, My Liege. I meant no harm.”

  “Nevertheless,” His Liege replied. “Bailey and Otto will see you out. We will take up the matter of your suspension at our next board meeting.”

  With a hard glare at Jesse and Adam, he turned the obsequious bow toward the three of them and muttered something beneath his breath that might have been an apology but probably wasn’t. Then, with a defiant sweep of his crimson robe, he flounced away, dragging his blinded, stumbling subs behind him. Otto and Bailey closed in behind the trio.

  Then Michel Lavallier, led by his cane, approached Sarah and took her hand. With a gracious bow, he brushed his lips over the backs of her knuckles. “My dear young woman, you have my profoundest apologies. Master Cameron is a disgrace to our way of life.” He gave her a smile, revealing even, white teeth. “Our board of directors is meeting next week. I will definitely ask them to consider a six-month suspension for him.”

  “We’re all here now,” piped up an older Dom, indicating the group with a sweep of his hand, “why wait a week? I say we take it to a vote right now. And screw any pansy-assed suspension! He’s a disgrace to the lifestyle. It’s high time we threw the bum out! I vote aye.”

  Michel Lavallier turned and looked out over the crowd that had closed in around them, like water filling a void. “Do the rules allow this?”

  “Screw the rules,” another Dom shouted. “Master Paul
said it, throw the bum out! I vote aye.”

  A veritable chorus of ayes greeted this declaration.

  Lavallier just shrugged and shook his head. “So say you all?”

  Another enthusiastic affirmative response.

  “Any nays?”

  The thundering silence that met this question elicited a tight smile from Lavallier’s thin, elegant lips. “So it is done.” Applause and whistles greeted this announcement. Apparently Master Cameron was in no danger of being voted Most Popular. In fact, from what Sarah had seen of him, it was more probable he’d be voted Most Likely to Commit a Felony.

  Master Michel raised his hand to call for quiet. “Most of you know Master Jesse and Master Adam.” More whistles and clapping. “I am pleased to announce that they have found their lifetime sub.” This time the noise was nearly deafening as even those people still in other, as-yet-unseen parts of the room joined in. “Her club name is Sunny, and she is new to the scene, so try not to frighten her too badly.” General laughter. “Her Masters welcome all of you to come and meet her.”

  Chapter Eleven

  For the next half hour, the Doms and Dommes meeting Sarah either shook her hand, kissed it, or simply held it between theirs as they introduced themselves and talked briefly with her. Then it was the submissives’ turn to welcome her. Looking out at them, Sarah began to feel that, as skimpy and revealing as her own attire was, she was definitely overdressed.

  Most of the subs, both male and female, were naked except for collars and accessories such as nipple clamps, butt plugs, and cock rings. The cock of one male-model-handsome slave had been stuffed through a bizarre-looking, downward-curving metal tube that encased the entire length except for the angry red head, which protruded from the end. His balls were imprisoned in a heavy metal ring. The two parts of the torture device locked together with a small padlock on the top. In spite of the severe restriction, pre-cum dribbled from the slit in the tip, which looked painful and swollen.