The Master's Choice

by Abby Gordon

  “We owed it to Ally to try the usual routes of therapy.”

  “Good point,” his wife replied with a nod. Her gray eyes met her husband’s. “But am I right in assuming that you want Liam O’Grady to take Ally into the Club? Under contract?”

  “Yes,” he answered with a meaningful glance at his wife that Ally didn’t understand.

  “You sure that’s a good idea?” Belinda frowned. “That bastard did a number on her.”

  “Bel!”

  “All right,” she conceded. “His parents were married when he was a born. Let’s just call him a son-of-a-bitch then.” She smiled and winked at Ally. “Since I’ve dealt with his mother at fundraisers, I know that’s the truth.”

  A giggle burst from Ally’s lips. Andrew smiled at her response. “Haven’t heard much of that lately.”

  She relaxed a bit and curled up in the chair. “So, what is this club? Is Liam a sex therapist?”

  “Not quite,” he paused and glanced at his wife.

  “Just tell her. She can handle it, Andy,” Belinda advised. “She’s stronger than she realizes.”

  He nodded. “Liam runs a sex club.”

  Ally froze, not even sure if she was breathing. “A…a what?” She shook her head to clear it. No such luck. “Andy, I’m no good at sex. Obviously, given…”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass what that asshole said.” Andy rose, came up to her chair, put his hands on the armrests, and leaned over her. “He was wrong. About everything. Got it?”

  She swallowed and nodded. “What could Liam do when nothing else has worked?”

  “It’s not so much what he could do, but the opportunity he would give you.”

  “To do what?” Ally’s confusion must have been evident, even to them.

  “Well, he would need you to complete a questionnaire to help determine what you are.”

  “What I am?” she blinked. “I don’t follow you.”

  “To see if you’re a submissive or a dominant. Your answers also will help pinpoint what you’re most likely to respond to sexually.”

  “That’s the problem,” she muttered. “I don’t respond to anything.”

  Andy mumbled a few obscenities under his breath. “Enough of that or I’ll put you over my knee and spank you myself.”

  “That would be too perverse even for you,” his wife spoke up. She leaned forward and touched Ally’s knee. “The Club trains members according to the results of the questionnaire. Submissives have very different roles than dominants within the Club.”

  “The Club,” Ally echoed.

  “Everything that happens inside the Club is confidential,” Belinda continued. “You’d sign an agreement and you’d never refer to it in public, even with another member.”

  “Submissives and dominants,” Ally echoed, rolling those words through her mind. “What are they specifically? How do I fit into this?”

  “Ally, given your nature,” Bel started with a smile. “You’ve got to be a submissive. You prefer the dominant to take control. He or she…”

  “He,” Ally said firmly.

  “He would determine when and how you felt pleasure,” Bel continued, with a smile at her husband.

  “If I were a submissive, what could be done to me?” Ally felt her curiosity rising.

  “You decide on the parameters of a scene,” Andy told her. “As mild or extreme as you are comfortable with or excited by.”

  “What’s a scene?” she asked, waving her hands to get him to slow down a bit.

  “A scene begins when a Master chooses a submissive,” he explained. “Some subs have hard limits. Others quite a few soft limits. The Master agrees to follow those guides. A submissive chooses a safeword. If he or she says it during a scene, the Master must stop.”

  “I’m confused,” she whispered, blinking and shaking her head. “Granted, I don’t know much and that’s only from a few books that have been popular lately, but I thought the Master controlled everything. From what you said, the submissive does.”

  “The sub sets the boundaries,” elaborated Belinda. “Within those limits, the control is the Master’s right up to or if a sub uses the safeword.”

  “And if the Master doesn’t stop?” Ally wondered. She didn’t know what to think about what they were telling her.

  “Fortunately, that doesn’t happen often. But when it does, the Master faces various penalties set by the Board,” Andy replied. “Liam O’Grady is president of the Board of Members. His family started the club a hundred and seventy years ago. Liam is very proactive about safeguarding submissives and slaves.”

  “It’s just sex?” she frowned. “Sounds like an elaborate prostitution ring.”

  “No,” he replied firmly. “The Club is a safe, anonymous place where people can explore and enjoy their sexuality.”

  “So, there can’t be that many people who are part of it. Someone would have said something…” Ally was mystified that an organization like that could exist in today’s society without detection.

  “No, because most members come from society and business. The resulting publicity would ruin you, your family, and your business.”

  Ally smirked and nodded. “That certainly would keep a lot of people quiet.”

  “Exactly,” Andy confirmed. “And, it’s not all about sex. For a lot of people, it’s about control.” He sat down on the footstool in front of her chair and gripped her hands. “And I think that is what you need. You’ve never had control over anything. Grandfather was a strait-laced Puritan who wanted your father to marry a woman he approved of. Your father didn’t follow his dictates, so you never knew any of our family. Then that damn drunk driver took those you did know. Same for your marriage. Kevin took advantage of you at your weakest moment.”

  “He thought that with us being married, you would sign that contract for the South Pacific resort.” Ally sighed at the humiliating memory.

  “In his dreams,” Andy snorted. “You see what I mean, though? The Club would give you a chance to determine your limits, to become more comfortable with sex, around people, and with men, in particular.”

  Ally chewed on her bottom lip and looked at Belinda for support. “Nothing else is working, is it?”

  “It doesn’t look like it, dear,” she agreed.

  They were silent as she thought for several minutes. While quite startled by the suggestion at first, the more Andy and Belinda had talked, the more appealing it sounded.

  “You’re both members?”

  “I’m a Dom,” Andy replied. “Bel is my sub, if you can believe it.”

  His wife grinned and stuck her tongue out at her husband. At the heated look Andy gave Bel, Ally smiled then stared at the flickering flames. What the hell did she have to lose by trying? If all it did was get her over her ex, then it would be worth it. She could start living again. Hell, she might even find a man she could trust the way Bel trusted Andy.

  Finally, she lifted her head and smiled, feeling good about a course of action for the first time in months. “Andy, I’d like to meet your friend, Liam.”

  Chapter Two

  JW hauled his duffle bag off the conveyor belt at JFK Airport and headed out to find a cab. He hadn’t told his family he was coming home. After so many months in Afghanistan, he wasn’t sure he could handle the emotions. He adored his mother and she would try to give him the space and time he asked for, but he knew how hard it would be for her not to see him after so long. He’d heard the fear and worry in her voice every phone call. She’d always tried to sound cheery and upbeat, not wanting him to lose his concentration. He couldn’t tell her what had happened. He didn’t even want to think about it.

  Seeing a man in a black suit with a sign, he sighed. He should have known better. His cousins Grant and Bronson would have called friends to check on when he was coming in. Damn.

  “I’m JW Franklin.”

  “Welcome home, sir,” the man replied. “Mr. Grant Franklin requested that I meet you and take you to the fa
mily hotel.”

  “If you’d said the family home, I would’ve turned around and gotten back on the plane,” JW replied curtly.

  “No need, sir. Shall I carry that?”

  “I’ve got it, thanks.”

  They headed through the crowd and outside to where a sleek car waited. With so many people, JW already felt twitchy. He hadn’t liked large groups before, but now… Now, he positively hated them. What the hell was he going to do around his family? They held huge gatherings every couple of months throughout the holiday season, a large fundraiser for breast cancer in February, and every other excuse to party in between. He’d never make it through one, let alone a full calendar of social events.

  The growing heat and humidity of a New York City summer hit him. So different from the cool breezes he’d felt just a week earlier. A bus from a city university pulled up. Young adults streamed out, backpacks and suitcases in hand. As they swarmed around him, JW tensed, head swiveling from one to the other as if looking for an enemy coming at him.

  “Sir?” the chauffer paused with his hand on the door handle. JW stared at him, realizing the man had seen his reaction. “Would you prefer to go somewhere else? Instead of the Franklin?”

  As JW removed his leather jacket, he considered that and nodded. The younger man opened the door and he tossed his duffle bag in. “Take me to the Club.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  JW climbed in and closed his eyes as the door was shut with a solid, but quiet, thud. Then the driver got behind the wheel, closed his door, and they began moving through the traffic.

  “Let me guess. Grant knew I’d prefer the Club.” Did his cousin know him that well?

  “Actually, I believe Mr. O’Grady mentioned it,” the driver replied calmly as he navigated through traffic.

  Liam and his damned sixth sense. “God knows what I think I’ll do there,” JW muttered, opening his eyes. He undid the buttons on his cuffs and rolled his sleeves a couple times. He stretched his slack-clad legs out and studied his loafers. He missed his boots.

  “If I may be so bold, sir,” the man paused as he changed lanes. “You may find that your dominant tendencies are more aggressive and pronounced than before.”

  “Really?” JW addressed the brown eyes in the rear view mirror.

  “Indeed, sir. I don’t mean to sound like a smart ass, but I’m studying psychology at NYU, with a focus on sexual behaviors.”

  Intrigued, JW cocked his head. “What do you suggest?”

  “Push your own boundaries. I remember how quiet and calm you were before this last deployment, but you have a temper like slow moving lava.”

  JW grunted, remembering the last time he’d been so thoroughly provoked. “Let’s see, that would have been when I nearly put Madison in an ER because of what he did to his submissive.” He shrugged. “I can’t stand to see a sub abused like that.”

  “Exactly, sir,” the man agreed. “Now, if that temper doesn’t have an outlet, it becomes like a volcanic eruption.”

  “And you think that using sex as an outlet…”

  “Not just the sex. I may not be a part of the lifestyle but I know it’s never all about the sex. It’s about the control and the balance between Dom and sub or master and slave.”

  “I’ve never been into the slave aspect,” JW countered quickly. “It’s too extreme.”

  “Sir, after what you’ve been through, maybe that extreme is just what you need.”

  “Is that your professional opinion?” JW cracked sarcastically.

  Their eyes met in the rear-view mirror. “Mr. Franklin requested that I drive you because he knew my brother is a sniper and that I could relate to how a soldier in your situation might feel coming home.”

  “So,” JW murmured thoughtfully, looking out the window. “A slave might help.”

  “It’s a possibility, sir.” The man continued to move the car through traffic easily.

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Maybe at some point. Not after…” JW fell silent and took in everything the car passed. “All these people going about their lives and they have no idea what kind of hell lies beyond these borders,” he said quietly.

  “There are those who feel like hell is everywhere,” the driver replied.

  “Oh, now there’s something I didn’t need to hear,” JW snorted.

  Traffic wasn’t backed up as horribly as JW had expected and they were soon in the underground parking lot of The Gray Shadows nightclub and ultra-exclusive sex club that catered to nearly all tastes.

  “Do you think you’ll be staying in one of the guest rooms or should I leave your bags in the car?” The driver queried before he opened his door.

  JW frowned as he thought about that and the driver moved to open his door. The Franklin Hotel usually had at least two or three paparazzi waiting outside or stationed in the lobby. The last thing he needed was to deal with the press.

  “Sir? Will you be staying?”

  “See if Liam has a spare room,” he replied, getting out and stretching.

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “I never caught your name.”

  The driver smiled as he moved behind the car and opened the trunk. “Wesley, sir.”

  “Thank you, Wesley. I’ll be in the pub.” JW handed him his jacket.

  “I’ll find you there, sir.”

  JW moved toward the elevator and contemplated what the hell he was going to do now that he was out of the military. As the elevator smoothly ascended, he considered that nearly twenty years of his life—more than half—had been spent in uniform. The doors opened into the paneled hall of the Club’s entry, he heard muted classical music and voices as he stepped forward to the wide double-doors of the pub. The O’Gradys were proud of their Celtic heritage and the interior of the Club reflected that.

  Before he’d taken five steps, the doors opened and the broad frame of Liam O’Grady appeared.

  “Liam,” JW greeted him with a smile that he couldn’t help. They’d been friends since kindergarten.

  “JW,” Liam replied, stepping forward and pulling him into a quick, rough embrace. “Good to have you home. Wesley is taking your things up to five-oh-three. Your code’s been programmed.”

  “Thank you. I should have known you’d anticipate my every move.” JW could only grin that his friend considered his needs.

  “Not hardly, but having the ‘sight’ helps. Especially in this particular career field.” JW smiled at the idea that running a sex club was a career field. A hand on JW’s shoulder, Liam started them both toward the pub’s dark interior. “Any idea of what you want to do?”

  “Here and now? Or in the future?” JW wondered wearily. He was realizing that would be one of the first questions everyone asked.

  Liam glanced at him. “I guess both.”

  “Here and now…” JW paused, recalling Wesley’s words, but decided that was too extreme for him at the moment. “I need a submissive. In the future?” He shrugged. “I’ll probably head out to the family place and stay for a week or so. Mom will understand that I need to decompress a bit, but she’ll have my head if I don’t show up in twenty-four hours. After that?” He shook his head. “I’ve no fucking idea.”

  “Well, let’s get you a drink and I’ll take you up to the selection room.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” agreed JW.

  A few moments later, Scotch in hand, the two men took the stairs to where unattached submissives could be selected by a Dom.

  “Anything in particular you’re in the mood for?” Liam asked, pushing open the door to the corridor.

  “Control. No questions.”

  “If you want no limits, we need to go up another floor.” Liam reminded him calmly.

  JW scowled. Four floors above were where the slaves waited. He’d been on that floor once. “I didn’t say no limits,” he growled.

  “Right,” Liam murmured. “Just because there are no limits, doesn’t mean you would hurt a slave.”

  “No.�
��

  Liam just nodded, his expression neutral as always. JW realized he wasn’t sure what Liam was into. Did he have a vanilla relationship outside this Club that his family had started more than a century ago? Was he a Dom or a submissive? JW dismissed that idea immediately. Liam couldn’t be a submissive in any situation. And it was none of his business anyway.

  Entering the large room when Liam paused, JW slowly moved toward the dozen subs who had knelt as soon as the men crossed the threshold. Four were men, so he didn’t even look in their direction. He studied the women clad in shear silver togas. Three redheads, four blondes, and a curvy brunette who was trembling.

  Instincts twitching, he studied the brunette with observation skills honed by years as a sniper. She didn’t seem as sure of herself as the other women.

  “This is Master JW,” Liam introduced JW to the group.

  “Good evening, Master JW,” they greeted him in unison.

  “How long have you been a submissive?” he asked, walking around the dark-headed sub and tapping her head.

  “Three weeks, sir,” she whispered, keeping her eyes on the ground.

  Liam stepped up behind him. “Ally has a six-month contract with the Club.”

  “She’s clean and protected?” JW asked about her medical record and birth control.

  “Of course. Condom only for anal sex,” Liam responded.

  JW nodded. “Stand, Ally.”

  Swallowing quickly, she rose gracefully by rocking back on her heels and straightening her legs. JW reached out and caught her chin with his fingers so he could see her face. Dark brown eyes quickly lowered to avoid contact with his.

  He assessed her heart-shaped face with narrow brows and the blue leather collar indicating that she could be flogged, taken anally, and used on the Saint Andrew’s cross, but the colored studs indicated that caning, hot wax, and a few other more extreme methods of bondage and sadism were not permitted.

  Beneath the silver gauze, her body seemed to shimmer. A perfect hourglass with soft full breasts perfect for sucking and fondling. Under his gaze, her nipples puckered and he saw her bite her bottom lip.