Billionaire's Christmas (Titans Book 3)

by Sierra Cartwright

  With a radiant smile, Aviana took both of Hope’s hands. “So you’re the one.”

  “I’m sorry?” Hope asked.

  “He raved about you when he made the reservation. You must be a very special woman. I’m delighted to have you at the Quarter.”

  A nervous exhalation rippled through Hope.

  “I have some paperwork for you to fill out,” Aviana continued. She led them to a table against the far wall. In recognition of the season, a Christmas tree had been plonked on the table. It was decorated with naughty ornaments, whips, handcuffs, etchings of couples and moresomes engaged in illicit acts. While she extended a pen toward Hope, he placed his bag on the floor.

  Aviana outlined a few things Hope needed to know. “The club’s safe word is red. If you use it, one of our dungeon monitors will step in. They’ll be wearing black vests with a gold fleur-de-lis on them. As your sponsor, Rafe will be responsible for your behavior. We don’t allow nudity unless it’s in a private room. We do have a bar that’s open until three a.m., but we do not permit you to imbibe if you’re playing. If you order a drink, we mark your hand with an X, and if you’re caught scening, you can lose your membership. Except for bottled water, no beverages are allowed outside the bar area. Also, no interfering with anyone else’s scene. Please watch from a respectful distance. If you have questions as to whether something is okay, please ask a monitor or Rafe.”

  Hope nodded.

  “Will you be using a scene name?”

  “It’s your choice,” Rafe told Hope when she turned her head toward him for guidance. “A few people I know use a middle name or a combination of their initials. Others a nickname or something that strikes their fancy. I’m comfortable with you doing whatever you wish.”

  Aviana took over by explaining, “The privacy clause prevents members and guests from acknowledging each other outside of the club, unless both parties agree.”

  “What do you do?” Hope asked him.

  “I go by Rafe.”

  “Then I’m fine using my name.” She scanned the agreement before affixing a shaky signature to the bottom.

  Rafe placed his hand on her nape to massage away the tension. She exhaled, soft and slow, and it gratified him to know she responded so completely to his touch.

  Addressing Rafe, Aviana said, “Please sign here to acknowledge your sponsorship of Hope.”

  He did so.

  “Hope, after three visits, you’ll be eligible to apply for your own membership. That would permit you to attend without Rafe.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” He struggled to keep a snarl from his voice.

  Aviana grinned. “So that’s how it is.”

  “It is.”

  “The coat check is open.” She scooped up the paperwork. “Enjoy your evening.”

  “Milady.” He inclined his head.

  Aviana moved off to greet an arriving foursome.

  Rafe drew Hope toward the cloakroom located to the left of the podium. “May I take your jacket?”

  She loosened the belt, then hesitated before removing her peacoat and also turning over her purse.

  Rafe secured a claim ticket for her items. He considered keeping his bag in case she wanted to play, but then thought better of it. If they had no way to scene, she might relax more. Hearing her ask him to collect their toys would be a joy.

  “You look beautiful,” he said to Hope when the clerk departed. Before they left the cottage, he’d wrapped her neck with the multistranded necklace that served as her collar. With every breath she took, the tiny diamonds sparkled, much like her eyes.

  She’d opted for fishnet stockings and a garter belt with the dress. When she slipped it on earlier, he was taken aback. He’d known it would be stunning, but it was more than that. It was perfect. The front snuggled her breasts, showcasing their delicious plumpness. The waist fit snugly enough to highlight the flare of her hips. He was torn between keeping her in the dress and giving in to the urge to rip it off and fuck her until she couldn’t remember anything except his name. “Let’s have a walk around to get your bearings.”

  “So far, I’m doing okay.”

  A frosted-glass door with a fleur-de-lis etched into it separated the reception area from the dungeon.

  Before crossing the threshold, Hope paused. Loud music thumped through the air, reverberating through him. He waited for her to process it. Then, much sooner than he anticipated, she entered of the dim room of her own accord.

  Off to the left was something that appeared to be a bit of an obstacle course. It had a wall that wasn’t too high, a long tunnel contraption, a web of ropes a couple of feet off the ground with a crash pad beneath, a balance beam, and a tank of water that appeared to be about three feet deep. It hadn’t been here the last time he visited, and he imagined it would be used for competitions among submissives. That could be interesting to watch.

  At the far end of the open space, a massive wooden throne sat on a raised dais. “For Mistress Aviana,” he said against her ear.

  “That’s impressive.”

  “It was a gift from an admiring sub. You can’t see the detail from here, but her likeness is carved into the top, and the rounded arm ends were custom-made from a plaster cast of her grip.” The upholstery was velvet. And there were hooks in the wood of the dais where she could chain her submissive du jour.

  Rows of Saint Andrew’s crosses were scattered throughout the area, along with numerous spanking benches. Nearby, a sub was being subject to a single lash, and the crack of the leather echoed. Elsewhere, a Dom yanked away his partner’s pants, leaving the man wearing nothing but a skimpy gold lamé thong.

  Since Hope was all-but gawking, Rafe suggested, “Let me show you around.” He kept his hand on her as they moved to the right, where the bar was located.

  The area was enclosed with thick glass, making it much quieter than the dungeon. The polished bar had been reclaimed from an 1800s pirate lair—if legend was to be believed.

  Aviana had selected Louisiana-proud as her theme. A stuffed tiger represented LSU. A neon sign from the local brewery hung from the ceiling, and shelves were lined with Saints’ helmets, alligators, trumpets, saxophones, carnival masks. Photos of local landmarks adorned the walls, and there was a cardboard cutout of Riptide, Tulane University’s mascot. Mardi Gras beads were wrapped around hurricane glasses, and a server was dressed as if she were on a paddlewheel boat, with a brocade vest and a garter encircling her upper arm.

  Rafe leaned in toward Hope. “They have your favorite champagne.”

  She turned to him. “You asked them to?”

  “I sent it over.”

  “You think of everything.”

  “We can have a drink at the end of the evening. Or, after you’ve had a look around, if you decide you would rather not play, we can enjoy the bar.”

  She looked at an empty table then back at the dungeon. After wetting her lower lip, she admitted, “I think I want to see more.”

  Unable to hide his pleasure, Rafe smiled. “So brave.”

  They walked through the main area and stopped to watch a rigging demonstration.

  “My God, that’s gorgeous,” she said when the woman was suspended, and the rigger twirled her around.

  “Not my particular expertise,” he admitted. “Though I am willing to learn. Or if you want to try with Xander, I’m willing to let you.”

  Eyes wide, she faced him. “Are you serious?”

  “I’d want to be there, of course. And perhaps take pictures. But yes. He’s willing to instruct or do private rigging.”

  “One day I might be interested.”

  That was such a leap from where she had been that he was speechless.

  While Xander released his model, Rafe suggested they continue the tour.

  “What are all the couches for?”

  “Aftercare. Cuddle time.”

  “You mean that happens in clubs also?”

  “Of course. And if we play, I will meet all your needs,
not just physical ones.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  How could she? “I should have done a better job of explaining what the club is like.” If he had, maybe she would have had an easier time discussing her fears. He could have even suggested that they visit during off hours.

  He guided her through a door that led to a more secluded part of the club. “The club is shaped somewhat like a U,” he explained. “This part wraps around the main area. It affords more intimacy. And it’s quieter.” All the better to hear her whimpers.

  A set of stairs against a concrete wall led to a second floor.

  “What’s up there?” she asked.

  “Private rooms, but there’s an observation balcony that might interest you. It provides an overview of the entire public area of the club. Would you like to see?” Her eyes were wide, but she didn’t shy away as he thought she might.

  “I would,” she replied.

  In keeping with old-world New Orleans, the railing was wrought iron, with fleur-de-lis artistically linking the bars. The balcony had beads draped around the railing. Rafe guided Hope toward the front to overlook the main dungeon as well as the more out-of-the-way area behind the wall. “That’s known as Rue Sensuelle. Sensual Avenue. Longtime members often refer to it as Kinky Avenue.”

  “I see why.”

  There were a number of authentic-appearing settings, separated by partitions. There was a schoolroom, complete with chalkboard, desks, books, a globe, a map on the wall, and a selection of canes nearby. Next to it was a principal’s office, then a churchlike scene with a pew and a kneeling bench. Continuing down the line, there was a makeshift jail cell, a boss’s office, an examination table, followed by a pair of stocks set on a platform. Then came the Victorian living quarters, including a brass bed and a stand to hold a basin and water pitcher. His favorite was at the end, a tall rather unremarkable leather chair with various straps attached.

  A couple entered the schoolroom.

  Turning toward Hope, Rafe asked, “Would you like to watch?”

  “Uhm… Yes. I think I would.” Surprise lingered in her words. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.” In fact, he wanted to enjoy her reactions.

  After the couple had exchanged a few words, and the Dom had given his sub what appeared to be a reassuring pat on her rear, he pulled out a couple of implements from his toy bag and laid them on the table before returning to her. In a sharp tone that carried toward them, the man said, “You will learn your lesson about cheating on your test, young lady.”

  “Oh, Sir!” she wailed. “I’m so sorry. I swear it won’t ever happen again!” Full of contrition, she fixed her gaze on her saddle shoes. But then she gave a quick peek upward again.

  “I shall see to it.”

  The man pressed his hand on the sub’s back, forcing her to bend over. She was dressed in over-the-knee socks and a plaid skirt, and she obediently grabbed her ankles. Next, the Dom wedged her panties between her buttocks, then pulled the material tight, showing off the swell of her mound.

  Hope gripped his forearm.

  “Are you shocked?” he asked against her ear.

  “Interested,” she replied. Her breathing quickened as the Dom picked up a ruler.

  He placed it against the woman’s ample bottom. The sub lifted her head, but he pushed it down again, her hair spilling around her.

  “I can’t imagine looking like that,” Hope confessed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “So… She’s so into it. So… I don’t know. Sexy.”

  “My darling sub.” Hands on her shoulders, he turned her to him. “You’re every bit as glorious. And when you’re in the throes of a scene, you are wildly magnificent.”

  She frowned, eyebrows furrowed in skepticism.

  “There is no one more gorgeous than you. I’m proud to be with you. You’re the sexiest woman here, Hope.”

  The woman’s yelp grabbed their attention and they turned back to watch the scene. Hope dug her fingers into him.

  The Dom gave the poor woman at least two dozen strokes, turning her ass a gorgeous shade of pink. And when he helped her up, her face was streaked with tears.

  “She’s beautiful.”

  “She is,” he agreed. “Are you beginning to understand what you do to me?” After checking to be certain no one was observing them, he lifted Hope’s dress and slid a finger between her labia. She was slick. “Watching turns you on.”

  She nodded and flushed.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. I was hoping for this.” He extracted his hand before smoothing her dress.

  Her knees wobbled a little, and he steadied her, cherishing her reactions.

  Next, the Dom took his schoolgirl to the desk and had her drape herself over it while he selected a cane. “Are you sure you want to see this? It’s going to be more extreme.”

  “I…” She took a breath. “Yes.”

  The submissive was given eight harsh strokes, each leaving a searing stripe.

  Hope gasped when the Dom traced the lines with a Wartenberg wheel. Then he left the woman there, her punishment on display for anyone who walked by or observed from the balcony.

  “What do you think?”

  “I’m wondering what it might be like to be her.”

  “Are you?” When she didn’t answer, Rafe didn’t push. He wanted her to ask for the scene.

  A moment later, they were interrupted by a voice he recognized.

  “Excuse me?”

  With a smile, and a reassuring hand on Hope, he turned to greet the submissive he’d played with for years. “Sara!”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But I wanted to say hello, if you’ll forgive me?”

  “Hope, this is the woman I believe you called. Sara, I’d like to introduce my future bride, as soon as she’ll have me.”

  Hope’s eyes widened at the sight of the beautiful woman. She wore a gauzy two-piece outfit that left her midriff bare. The pants were sheer and flowy while the top was tightfitting. Both accented her feminine curves.

  “If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll excuse myself. I apologize for bothering you.” Sara’s smile was genuine, as was her sensitivity.

  “No. No. I’m sorry.” Hope shook her head. “I hadn’t expected to run into you, though it makes sense.”

  In the early stages of their relationship, Rafe had provided Sara’s name as a woman who would vouch for him as a Dom. Hope had spoken to her and another woman before agreeing to submit to him.

  “You’re one of the reasons I took this chance.”

  “Then I’m glad!” Sara gave Hope a quick hug. “Enjoy your evening. Welcome back, Sir. I’m happy you found your one.”

  Sara left them, her bare feet silent on the floor.

  “I should have thought to warn you,” he said.

  “She’s…graceful.”

  “She is.”

  Hope continued to watch scenes in the dungeon. “There really are all kinds of different people here.”

  He curled a hand around the railing, studying her rather than the crowd. “We kinksters are a varied lot.” Young as well as old, and bodies of all types. All were welcome and appreciated for their uniqueness. Perhaps because of the location, the Quarter attracted an enormous variety of ethnicities, education levels, genders, and sexual as well as kinky preferences.

  “Sara wasn’t what I expected.”

  “My mother and sister filled out my application for your matchmaking services, not me,” he reminded her. “They never asked what I was looking for in a wife.” He only needed a few things. Intelligence, warmth, genuineness. And mostly, that she liked having her ass reddened.

  “I discover new depths of you every day.” She angled her body for a better look at him. “So, hypothetically…”

  “Hypothetically?”

  “If we were to play here tonight, what would you want to do?”

  “We’d use the room on the end.”

  After a quick glance, she knit
ted her eyebrows together. “The one with the chair?”

  “Yes.”

  “What could we do with that?”

  “A number of things. I have all our toys and a new slapper.” He’d used one on her before, and she’d enjoyed it. This one was different, however. The strike area had three different layers, all different lengths. If he used the opposite side, he’d produce a single strike. If he used the front, his stroke would land in three different spots at the same time. His grip and swing allowed him to adjust the intensity. He was anxious to try it out on her derriere. “I’d start with the flogger and move on from there. Hypothetically.” And with the way she’d be strapped to the chair, she’d give herself orgasms like she’d never experienced before.

  Her eyes were clear, and her gaze was steady. “I’m ready.”

  “You’re…” His heart tripped, and his cock nudged against the inside of his slacks. “It’s important to me that you ask.”

  “Please, Rafe?” Her voice was steady, sure, a fantasy breathed into life. “I’d like to scene with you here tonight.”

  The fucking pleasure was all his.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Rafe had retrieved his bag, and now he placed it on the table in the area where they would be playing. Since he’d first mentioned the Quarter, Hope had exaggerated what it might be like. She’d pictured all the subs as gorgeous females, when in fact a good number of them were male. She’d imagined all men were Doms, yet there were plenty of Dommes, also. Attendees were all shapes, sizes, ages, and a few were garbed as pets, and even some mythical creatures, making it impossible to determine what sex they were. It was liberating. Meeting Sara had toppled the last of Hope’s inhibitions.

  Rafe hadn’t asked her to play out in the open. Instead he’d selected a room that most people wouldn’t wander past. It was possible they’d be observed from the balcony, but as she knew, there was so much going on in every corner of the club, and everyone in attendance was involved in their own life.

  He pulled out some sanitizing wipes and cleaned all the vinyl surfaces of the chair. Then he said, “I’m going to put pasties on your nipples.”