by Jenna Jacob
“Indeed he is, Sammie,” Drake drawled as he sent a stern glare to his sub. “Kneel and bow your head, boy.”
As Trevor complied, Max leaned back. He smiled warmly as he watched the couple.
“What did he do?” Mika asked.
“Raise your head and tell them what you’re being punished for this time, my sweet slut.”
“I was… Hope was hungry. I was trying to change her diaper, but she was wiggling all over the place and screaming so hard she was turning red. I hate it when she does that. It makes me feel like a heartless mommy,” Trevor moaned. “I tried to hurry with the diaper, but I still needed to fix her bottle. I knew she’d only cry harder and it was tearing me up. Then the phone began to ring, and I-I asked Daddy to answer the call is all.”
“Asked?” Drake thundered, clearly stunned by his boy’s claim. Trevor quickly cast a guilty gaze to the floor. “I certainly don’t recall you asking me a fucking thing, boy. But I do remember the tone of your voice. You yelled at me at the top of your lungs, and I quote, ‘Dammit…the phone! Can you deal with that, for fuck’s sakes?’”
Mika, Max, and I couldn’t keep from laughing while Drake scowled at his sub.
“Had you looked up, instead of barking out orders to your Master, you’d have seen I was reaching for the fucking phone, my luscious, dictating slut.”
“Yes, Master,” Trevor mumbled.
“Yes, indeed. So now you can sit leashed to the bar naked like the naughty boy you are. When I’m good and ready, I’ll bind you to the bondage bed. I’ll wrap your balls off nice and tight, then I’m going to fist your sweet cock until you’re nice and hard. Then I’m going to wrap my lips around your aching dick and suck you like a popsicle. Your come is going to be churning so hot it’ll blister your goddamn balls. And then maybe…if you wail and beg long and loud enough, I might let you come. Of course, I might simply tell you to”—Drake changed the pitch of his voice, mimicking Trevor—“deal with that, for fuck’s sakes.”
Trevor moaned out an apology as his cock grew thick, twitching in aroused anticipation.
“Nice,” Max murmured. “That’s going to be an exceptionally fun scene to watch.”
Drake fastened Trevor’s leash to the cleats attached to the underside of the bar, then fisted the boy’s long hair in a meaty grip. Jerking his head back, Drake claimed his sub’s mouth in a harsh and brutal kiss. “Just be grateful I’m not locking your pretty dick in a cock cage.”
Trevor paled. “Thank you, Master.”
The cock cage was a molded metal chastity device, shaped like a flaccid penis. Once attached to a male’s genital, arousal was impossible to achieve without excruciating pain. It was one of my favorite methods to torture insubordinate subs who wanted to test my Dominance. The delightfully wicked thought of locking Max’s cock inside one flittered through my brain. I swallowed back a sinister giggle.
I sent Trevor a sad smile, then flashed him a wink. With a sigh, the sub lowered his head, silently accepting his punishment.
As more members began filing in, Mika introduced Max to the masses. Master Quinn and his submissive, Ava—who’d recently married in Las Vegas and returned to the club after a long hiatus—volunteered to check in the members. I tossed Quinn the keys to the front door.
Soon I watched my kinky family parade into the room. In no time at all, the dungeon was abuzz and nearly every station was in use. I smiled as the scent of leather and sexual musk danced in the air. The soothing, centering sounds of cries and moans from the subs’ flesh being whacked and whipped filled my ears.
“What’s a Dom have to do to get a drink around here?”
The familiar harsh, patronizing voice of Master Kerr invaded my serenity and turned my blood to ice. The man who’d earned the lackluster title of Biggest Wannabe of Genesis stood at the bar. I’d prayed that after being shot outside the club—for pissing off the wrong loan shark and literally dying on the dungeon floor before the EMTs revived him—that we’d seen the last of the asshat after he’d been hauled to the hospital. My prayers had gone unanswered. As soon as he was back on his feet, Kerr had returned to the club.
It was no secret that I, and other members, loathed the man for his careless treatment of subs. He held little regard for me…well, for women in general. I didn’t bother masking my anger. Lifting my chin, I pinned Kerr with an icy stare. Curiosity drew several to the bar wearing expressions of disdain, wariness, and flat-out hatred.
“Ever thought of asking nicely?” Max growled, tossing a sideways glance at Kerr.
Great!
On top of the stellar night I was having, the last thing I wanted was to referee a testosterone-induced throwdown. An hour ago, the subbie barback, Joe, called in sick. I’d been schlepping heavy buckets of ice, cases of soda, and juice by myself. Yes, I could have asked for help, but I didn’t want Mr. Bowflex sitting at my bar thinking me weak and incapable. I’d be paying for my insufferable pride in the morning. Already my arms ached and my shoes were killing my feet. They made my legs look killer hot, so I simply suffered in silence.
A humorless laugh peeled from Kerr’s lips. He sized Max up with a contemptuous sneer. I watched the exchange from the corner of my eye as I hoisted up a bucket of ice. As I was about to replenish the reservoir, Kerr snorted loudly.
“Who are you? Sammie’s Master?” the prick asked in a hateful growl.
“Mistress?” Trevor’s trembling voice sliced through my flare of panic.
The confrontation brewing between the two Doms was frightening Drake’s sub.
Trevor had survived not one but two homophobic attacks. He’d come back from the depths of hell, but conflict still sent his anxiety soaring. I needed to get to the boy and reassure him that all was fine. With my focus on Trevor, the heavy bucket in my arms slipped and tilted to the side. Ice rained across the floor.
“Son of a—” I spat.
Kerr burst out laughing. The mocking sound flayed my flesh like razor blades.
From the very depth of my being I wanted to bitch-slap the son of a bitch. Or egg him on enough that he’d finally cross the line and do something…anything to break his contract so Mika could kick Kerr’s miserable ass to the curb.
Ignoring the mess on the floor, I snapped my head toward Trevor. Two fellow submissives, Peanut and Tawny, who’d been standing near the bar, were now kneeling beside the scared boy offering reassurance.
“Peanut, unleash Trevor and take him to Drake. Now!” I ordered.
“Yes, Ma’am.” The middle-aged redheaded man nervously nodded.
“Take a breather, Sammie. I’ve got this.” From behind me, Master Justice clasped his hands to my shoulders and sent me a tight smile.
The tall, soft-spoken Dom possessed a unique and quiet command. He’d been a longtime friend of Mika’s. When Justice moved to Chicago, the two men reconnected. The forty-something, handsome charcoal-haired Dom was now a regular at the club.
Justice gripped my hand to steady the bucket I hadn’t realized was still in my arms. He nodded to Destiny. The pretty blonde masochist/bottom who craved pain had been sitting at the bar, watching others scene, and pouting for over an hour. “Would you help me for a little while, girl?”
“I’d love to, Sir.” Destiny leapt up and hurried to his side.
“We’ve got things here under control,” Justice assured me in his usual calm and gentle timbre. “Go relax. Sit back and kick up your feet, or find a needy subbie and beat some ass.”
His wicked grin was so charming neither the Domme nor the woman in me could refuse.
“Thanks. I owe you one.”
As I rounded the front of the bar, Kerr was inching closer into Max’s personal space. The fury rolling between the two was tangible and dangerously combustible. A part of me hoped that Max’s blasé expression would goad Kerr into throwing the first punch. I knew Max could render the other man unconscious with one blow, but at least Mika could then void Kerr’s contract and ban him from the club. The only flaw in
my rationale was that Max, too, would be banned. I couldn’t allow that to happen.
Dylan had specifically asked me to keep Max out of trouble. I was failing that task miserably. In my peripheral vision, I saw two black-T-shirt clad DMs, Master Ink and Sir Bent-Lee, as well as Drake, striding toward the bar with purpose. I had to defuse this situation, and fast.
Sidling up alongside Max, I looped my arm through his. He jolted and snapped his head toward me. I met his bloodthirsty gaze with a placid smile and swallowed tightly. His whole body felt like reinforced steel. He was as solid as a slab of concrete. But his flesh was warm and soft, like velvet. I suspected his cock would feel the very same.
His cock? Why the hell are you—Stop thinking about his dick!
The man made my estrogen spike like a bad EKG. I needed to unleash a sweet subbie mouth on my girl, and soon.
Max’s anger suddenly vanished and he flashed me a knee-knocking grin.
“I’m taking a break from the bar. Let me introduce you to some friends I’m sure Dylan would want you to meet.”
“Sounds good.” Max replied, seemingly calm, cool, and relaxed.
“Oh, so you’re not her Master. You’re Sammie’s little subbie boy,” Kerr chortled. “I get it now. Run along, boy. You don’t want to keep your Mistress waiting. She might spank you.”
I was unsure how it was even possible, but Max’s stony muscles flexed even firmer. A tremor of anger billowed through his body. I knew the only thing keeping him from ripping Kerr’s heart out and shoving it down the prick’s throat was sheer will. Unfortunately, Max understood that no matter how inviting or gratifying, killing Kerr was still a crime.
“Max, allow me to introduce you…this Wannabe Master is Kerr. Better known as the gutless troll of Genesis,” I stated, staring the obnoxious asshole straight in the eye.
“Christ, you’re a hateful slutbag!” Kerr spat at me before turning and storming off.
“Kiss, kiss. Buh-bye,” I drawled sarcastically.
“What the fuck is a clown like that doing in classy club like this?” Max ground out his question between clenched teeth.
“Taking up space and sucking down perfectly good oxygen,” I quipped with a saucy grin.
As I started to lift my arm from his, Max clasped his elbow against his side. Trapped to the man, the Domme in me wanted to take issue with his control. Instead, I tempered my knee-jerk reaction and gave into him…this once.
“I like you, Sammie. You’ve got a quirky sense of humor, a beautiful smile, and a softness I find intriguing.”
“Don’t make me regret being nice to you,” I teased. “You won’t find my softness intriguing when I cuff your ass to a cross and stretch your ball sac—”
“Okay. Enough. I get it. I’m good.” He cringed. “Who are the people you think Dylan wants me to meet?”
“What’s the matter? Are you afraid of a little pain?” I giggled.
“No. I like pain…giving it to needy subs.”
His rumbling seductive tone and the way his eyes caressed the contours of my face nearly made me whimper. He drank me in like a wayward soul, lost in the desert. My skin tingled.
All he did was look at you!
Fuck! The man was far too sexually potent for his own good…and mine.
“This way.” I jerked my head toward the numerous tables and chairs situated in the center of the dungeon.
Playing the perfect hostess in Dylan’s stead, I introduced Max to the more intimate circle of friends that Dylan, Nick, and Savannah were close to. Starting with Tony Delvaggio—the club’s former resident sadist, psychologist, and husband of the beautiful submissive, Leagh; Dominant and world-renowned sculptor Joshua Lars and his gorgeous sub, Mellie Carson—who also happened to be Savannah’s older sister; Ian Stone and James Bartlett, supporting Dominants of their stunning sub and ER nurse, Liz Johansson; and last but not least, Master and ob-gyn surgeon Samuel Brooks and his feisty, alluring sub, and Liz’ nursing supervisor, Cindy Noland.
As we made our rounds, I introduced Max to other longtime members. I wanted to laugh at the subs who were all but drooling over the new buff Dom. Of course, Max not only encouraged their interest in him, but invited it, as well. The man was an outrageous flirt. He turned a lot of heads…including mine.
“Mistress?” Eli, a raven-haired submissive with soulful dark eyes—who I frequently scened with—approached. He lowered his dark lashes and paused.
“How are you doing tonight, Eli?”
He raised his head at my acknowledgement and flashed me a buoyant smile. “I’m doing well, Mistress, thank you. And yourself?”
I smiled and cupped his chin, holding his gaze. Arousal and a deep-seeded need to please reflected in his eyes. “I’m well.”
He glanced at Max before growing suddenly nervous. “I-I…if it would please you, Mistress, I offer myself for your use.”
The boy craved a long, hard session. Soaring him into subspace, then cradling him in my arms, swaddling him in aftercare as he tumbled back to earth fed my Dominant needs, as well. But at the moment, with the rigorous heat of Max’s body enveloping me, nurturing my own Dominant headspace wasn’t even a blip on my radar.
I wanted sex. Hot, sweaty, deliriously mind-bending sex.
Eli would willingly dive face first between my legs. He’d lick, lave, and suckle me to a dozen orgasms, but I refused to steal him away in my private room. I’d never used a treasured sub for my own selfish needs; I wasn’t about to do so now.
Besides, I needed more than a submissive could give.
I needed someone unencumbered by the dynamics binding Dom to sub.
Someone who’d freely touch me without needing permission.
Someone who wasn’t waiting for a command to suck my clit.
Someone who needed to scratch his itch as desperately as I did mine.
Someone to fuck me long and hard until we were both limp and boneless.
My want list eliminated every male in the club.
It had been six months since I’d had a sweaty sex marathon with my occasional fuck buddy, Scotty. The man owned a quaint Italian restaurant not far from Genesis, where members met to eat and visit before heading to the club. Though Scotty knew I was in the lifestyle, he wasn’t put off. Of course, I never tried to dominate him in bed, either. Our hook-ups were nothing more than a stress-relieving card-punch kind of thing.
While Scotty was bitchin’ hot—built like a linebacker with a fine cock and tongue skills—and always took the edge off my sexual frustrations, nothing flipped my inner Domme switch like fucking a submissive’s mind. That was the ultimate rush for me.
Pity I couldn’t find a man who was willing to submit a bit before turning into a sexual beast in the sack. One thing was certain; I wasn’t going to find him tonight. Eli needed the endorphin rush I could provide. Though it was a catch-22, we were both hungry. Unfortunately we craved vastly different things.
My desires could wait. I needed to feed his.
“I’ll see if I can steal some time away from the bar.”
His eyes sparkled. A smile lit up his face like a kid on Christmas morning. “Thank you, Mistress. I hope you’ll be able to use this boy later.”
I couldn’t help but grin as Eli happily hurried away. I made a mental note to find a volunteer to handle the bar and give the eager boy what he deserved. Tomorrow, I’d pay a visit to Scotty and see if he’d be interested in giving me the relief I needed.
“And that’s why we do what we do,” Max mused. “He’s a cute kid and quite taken with you.”
“He’s hardly a kid. He’s…” Eli was twenty-four to my thirty-eight. “Okay, he is a kid. But he’s an exceptional sub. I wish I was able to give him everything he needed.”
“Why can’t you?” Max asked.
“We both know a full-time sub needs a Dom who can devote time to help them grow. I barely have the availability to scene once or twice a week, let alone take a sub under my collar to care for and protect.”
/> “Yes.” Max smiled a bit wistfully. “It takes commitment on both parts.”
“Do you currently have a sub?”
“No. Not for a long time. But I Top as often as I can.” A hint of disappointment laced his voice.
“But it’s not the same as—”
“Having one of your own?” he asked, stealing the words off my tongue. “No. Not by a long shot.”
Pausing, I watched Lady Ivory secure the cuffs to my former slave’s body. Dark Desire was hers now. A pang of longing splintered through me, and I found myself wishing for a simpler time. A time before the economic crash that caused me to close the doors on my successful upscale clothing boutique on the Magnificent Mile in Water Tower Place. A time when my nights were my own and I didn’t have to depend on a salary from Genesis to feed, house, and clothe me. A time when I could devote my attention to and fulfill the needs of a collared sub of my own.
Had it not been for Mika’s generosity, I’d still be standing in the unemployment line.
“Excuse me, Master Max?” A brave sub with big hazel eyes and strawberry-blonde hair timidly stared up at the massive man. “My name is Honey. I’d be honored to serve you while you’re a guest of Genesis, Sir. I’ll happily bring you a drink or…”
Or let you spank my ass and fuck me, too, I thought, biting back a snarl.
Max peered down at the girl with the gentle understanding of a Master. An almost humble gratitude seemed to radiated off his skin.
“I am the one honored by your offer, little one.” Her cheeks turned rosy and a brilliant smile curled her lips. “I won’t hesitate to call upon you if I feel the need. Thank you, pet.”
Max placed a tender kiss on Honey’s forehead. Out of the blue, jealousy clawed and began shredding my soul. I wanted to lash the girl with my tongue…sink my teeth into her with a scathing lecture, but for what? She’d done nothing wrong. Panic zipped up my spine. Her benign offer was an extension of her need to serve and please. A sub’s attraction to a Dom wasn’t a crime…
But a Domme being attracted to a Dom might potentially be worse than a crime.
I had no idea where the green-eyed monster had come from or why I’d felt the slightest flutter of jealousy. Still, I’d been blindsided and I was mad as hell about it.
