Collared (Vegas Nights Book 1) (10 page)

BOOK: Collared (Vegas Nights Book 1)
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“Yes, sir. I went up there straight after my workout. I didn’t take my purse with me. I just had a twenty stuffed in my sock in case I needed a water or something.”

“If you can go up there after lunch and pay it with your own money, I will ignore it, this time. In the future, if you don’t intend for me to pay for something, you need to pay for it out of your pocket immediately, understand?”

“Yes. I understand. I’m sorry for the confusion.”

“I’m sorry too. I jumped to conclusions, but it doesn’t excuse the way you spoke to me.”             

She blushed, casting her eyes to the floor. She knew where this was going. It was written all over her face.

Pax turned her around, gently guiding her with his hands on her hips, and tapped her bottom with his index finger. “Okay, naughty girl. Assume the position. This is going to be short and sweet, but with the condition your bottom is already in, that will be enough.”

* * *

“Okay, tell me about this trip. Maybe the fire I just lit on your backside will help you remember how to speak to me.”

She had to agree that it most likely would. Her bottom wasn’t on fire, but it was all numb and tingly, and she certainly didn’t feel like she was going to be inclined to tell him to get the fuck over himself or anything of the sort anytime soon.

She was standing in front of Pax, pants still around her ankles as she stood between his knees.  One large hand cupped her bottom as an ever present reminder of what would happen if she failed to heed his warning.

“My littlest sister, Emmy, is graduating from college tomorrow. I promised I would be there, and I have been planning it for months. I had the time off at Aubergine. I had put in for it months in advance.”

“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about it, less than twenty-four hours before the trip?”

“I forgot. Honestly. Until the calendar reminder popped up on my phone this morning. In all the chaos of the week, I just totally spaced it. But my family is expecting me, and Em will be heartbroken if I don’t come. I hardly ever go home anymore.” She didn’t add that the only way she had stopped her father from racing up there on her birthday when the details leaked was by promising that she would come home this weekend. Bringing up the disaster that had been her twenty-fifth birthday didn’t seem like a great tactic for getting what she wanted.

“Home?” His face was fraught with concern. “Home to LA.? To your dad’s house? Where I’m guessing the paparazzi have been camped out since the news broke?”

She didn’t bother denying his assumptions. Dealing with the paparazzi was a necessary annoyance in her life.

“Pax.” She turned towards him. “Yes, the paparazzi will probably be around. But they are harmless. They will snap a few pictures of me as I walk in the door, and snap a few pictures of us as we leave for graduation. It’s really not a big deal.”

She could see that he wasn’t going to be easily convinced. “I’m going with you,” he stated stubbornly, in a voice that bode no argument. She argued anyway.

“Um, how about no? We’ve been together for less than a week. My family isn’t even aware of the fact that I’ve switched jobs, and I thought we were trying to keep our relationship on the down low for a while. You running off to LA with me, and straight into view of the paparazzi is not conducive to preserving our privacy as a couple.”

“If you want the time off, I’m going with you. I don’t like the idea of you going out there alone with everything that has happened lately. The photographers are going to be like leeches right now, more persistent than ever, especially where you are concerned. Besides that, I could use the break. I haven’t taken time off since,” he stopped short, pursing his lips together as he tried to remember. “It’s been at least three years.”

“Pax, no offense, but if you need a break, take a real vacation.  A college graduation a few hours away with people you don’t even know does not a vacation make.”

“Di, I’m coming with you. It’s not up for discussion. Remember that talk we had last night about my role as your dominant and what my most important job was?”

It took everything in her not to roll her eyes before she responded. Ugh! Dominants could be so stubborn. “Yes. To keep me safe. But I’m not in danger. I’m talking about going home to be with my family. It is literally the least dangerous thing I could possibly do. Working downstairs is more dangerous.”

“It certainly is not. I have a highly trained security detail.”

“So do we!” She couldn’t help it. Her foot stomped on the floor in frustration. His eyebrows went up, but he ignored it.

“I’m going. Do whatever you need to do to arrange it. We will leave here at 6:00 am.” He patted her bottom in a way that told her there was no use arguing further. “Get dressed for lunch. I’m starving.”

Chapter Nine

At nine on the dot, Diamond entered the club, her jaw dropping as she took in a scene that was wildly different from the one on Tuesday night. It was like walking through the curtain into a BDSM circus. The lights were dimmed, and the stage was dark. The real entertainment wouldn’t begin until ten, and thankfully she wasn’t a part of it. Her job tonight, as Pax had explained it, was purely to be a hostess. She was dressed in a black and red leather mini dress and spiked suede stilettos, and a large choker bearing the Rojo symbol completed the getup. Pax had explained that it was to emulate the collars worn by many full-time submissive in the scene.

“Someday,” he had told her, as he had fastened it earlier that evening, “you will wear my collar.”

The simple edict had sent a shiver down her spine, and her pussy had throbbed with desire and anticipation. They weren’t ready. She wasn’t ready—but just the thought that someday she would wear something that’s sole purpose was to stake his claim on her and serve as an ever present reminder of her commitment to serve him was a heady one.

The club was packed with people, and just as Pax had predicted, many of the women, and a few of the men too, wore similar piece of jewelry. Tonight was a play night. All of the hardcore Vegas scene members were here. You could tell just from the look of them that they were pros. Large men dressed in black with bulging muscles, wielding floggers, and whips were scattered throughout the club. One looked directly at her, and winked, and she froze mid-step. It was intimidating to be surrounded by such an abundance of testosterone and sheer unbridled dominance.

“Keep walking—they’re like animals—they can smell your fear.” 

Startled by the voice, Diamond looked to her right, relieved when she saw Crystal. “Really?”

Crystal shook her head, looking amused. “No, silly. They are just like-minded people, here to drink, play, and socialize with other like-minded people. Sure, they look a bit scary, but most of them are big old teddy bears—at least to us,” she added with a giggle. “I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be one of their subs though. These guys are pros, the best of the best. It is a bit scary until you get used to it. C’mon,” she said, grabbing Diamond by the elbow and guiding her straight towards a big group. “I’ll introduce you around.”

They stopped right in front of the biggest group. The men were all dressed in head to toe black, ripped with muscles. Upon closer inspection, she could see that each of them had at least one woman with them, and many had several. She hadn’t seen the women before because they were all kneeling on the floor. Several of them were in the position Pax had referred to as a standard high protocol position. Legs apart, hands upturned on their thighs, heads down. One was knelt over in a forward facing prayer position, her nose nearly touching the floor, and bound in ropes from head to toe. Another was on a leash, with the chain held by the largest dominant in the group. None of them spoke a word when she approached.

“Good evening, Crystal. Who’s your friend?” Diamond actually had to crane her neck up to look at the one who spoke.  He was taller than Pax, with mocha colored skin, and short jet black hair that seemed to match his piercing eyes. She was speechless in awe at his presence, and it wasn’t until Crystal actually pinched her inner arm that she remembered her job—and her manners.

“Good evening. Welcome to Rojo. I’m Diamond.”

“Welcome yourself, Diamond. I’m Adrian. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing lots of each other. I come here often. This naughty girl on the leash is Tabitha, my newest sub. That’s Tylea, and that’s Portia.” He pointed at a set of stunning redheads clad in black leather themselves, kneeling submissively at his feet.

“This,” he stated, jerking his thumb to the man on his left, “is my brother, Colton, and the lovely young lady with him is his wife, Petra.” He gestured to the prone, bound woman Diamond had noticed earlier. “She’d say hello, but she’s a bit tied up the moment.” He deadpanned, just before breaking into a raucous belly laugh at his own joke.

The absurdity of the hugely intimidating man with the harem of submissives in a state of near hysteria at his own corny joke was enough to finally allow Diamond to relax.

She laughed with him, and when the laughter died, the men continued the introductions, moving around the circle.

Then the group wanted a picture with her. “To commemorate the beginning of a new friendship,” they explained. Posing for pictures was the one part of her job she understood, so Diamond was happy to comply.

After pictures, they asked for drinks, and Diamond paused, looking at Crystal for reassurance. She hadn’t understood waitress to be in her job description. Her friend nodded discreetly, and a small pink notepad materialized in her hand. “The regulars prefer us over the hostesses. It makes them feel more at ease. They consider us to be part of the scene, more than the hostesses and bartenders,” Crystal whispered in her ear.  “Just take their order over to Ray at the bar, and he will take care of the rest. If you don’t look busy, he will signal you to deliver it, but if you’re occupied, he will just send one of the hostesses.”

Diamond nodded, wide-eyed, and took the large but simple order. Aged scotch on the rocks for each of the men, and bottled water for each of the submissives.

“Oh, and a bowl please, for Tabitha here,” Adrian added as an afterthought.

Diamond’s eyes bulged out of her head at the implication as she eyed the collared woman, who was now red with embarrassment.

Crystal had to physically force Diamond to turn away, pushing her towards the bar. “No judgment,” Crystal scolded softly as they walked away. “It’s rule number one, and it is part of why they trust us more than the hostesses. They see us as equals, because they know we are also spanked, so we can sympathize on some levels at least. Trust me, you do not want to lose their trust straight out of the gate.”

Diamond nodded, wordlessly. In her head she was thinking that if Pax ever tried to put her on a leash and force her to drink out of a bowl like a dog, it would be the literal end of Paxton Donovan.

They reached the bar, and handed their drink order to Ray, who looked over the order, and signaled them to wait since it was such a simple one.

As they waited, Diamond took another opportunity to look around, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Tabitha, at least, was only being treated like an animal. Some of the women, also kneeling on the floor, although not leashed, actually had tails sticking out of holes in their leather booty shorts.  A robust woman in front of her knelt on all fours, with a long golden colored tail sticking out of her bottom while her Dom stood over her wielding a riding crop. Diamond didn’t even want to know how the tails were affixed, although she had a feeling she had an inkling.

“You are definitely not in Kansas, anymore Toto,” she whispered to herself as she turned back towards the bar to keep herself from staring.

Ray gave them the order on two large trays, and they made their way across the club. It was a more difficult trek with the drinks than it had been without due to the abundance of random women kneeling on the floor.

They set the trays on a table near Adrian and watched in fascination as he winked at them, before serving each of the women before any of the men so much as looked at their drinks. Colton took a bottle of water, and knelt on the floor next to Petra. Grabbing her hair, he gently titled her head, and when she opened her mouth to drink, he slowly poured the water past her lips and into her open mouth.

It was the single hottest thing Diamond had seen so far. A dominant serving his submissive. While that was happening, Adrian had opened the last bottle, and was slowly pouring it into the red glass bowl. She was amused to see that the bowl was emblazoned not only with the Rojo logo, but with the word Pet, on it in elegant script. Rojo, it seemed, was well equipped for any situation.

Adrian leaned down and placed the bowl in front of Tabitha, giving her a hard slap on the rear as he straightened.

Diamond was tempted to watch to see if Tabitha actually drank from the bow as she was seemingly expected to, but Crystal took her by the arm once more and turned her away.

“Rule number two—don’t stare. It’s hard at first, but pretty soon you will get used to everything, and it will get easier.”

“Like the spanking?” Diamond questioned, remembering her conversation with Crystal on that first night.

“Yup, just like that,” Crystal agreed. “Look! A hundred-dollar tip,” her friend added happily as they walked away, shoving the crisp bill into the crevice between her breasts. “We’ll split it later. I love those guys. C’mon, let’s go over here. I’ll introduce you to the mistresses.”

The mistresses, as Crystal called them, were even more intimidating than the Tanners.  There were seven of them, all decked out in various outfits of leather and latex in various shades of red. They were exquisitely made up, and their tanned bodies towered over her in their stiletto heels. They were less friendly than the men, and seemed aloof as they approached. They were also, she noted with interest, surrounded by young men in latex hot pants and collars who knelt at their feet. Unlike the submissives across the way, the “boys” as Crystal referred to them, were turned towards the woman, and appeared to be worshiping at their feet.

The mistresses didn’t bother with introductions or niceties, also ordering bottles of water for the men, along with white wine for themselves. They took the order once more, and delivered it themselves, again receiving a sizeable tip.  When the lights flashed red, they left the group. The stage lit up and Pax was standing in the center of it.

“Good evening, and welcome,” he greeted the crowd, who had suddenly gone silent and turned toward the stage. “Tonight is our long awaited and largely anticipated flogging demonstration. Flogging,” Pax continued, pacing the stage slowly, his deep voice rumbling into the microphone and across the club, “is an art form—one that can be used to bring much pain to a naughty submissive, and much pleasure to a deserving one. The flogger is not an instrument to be wielded by an inexperienced dominant or mistress as it requires much precision and skill. I always recommend that a person attend at least one lesson or demonstration before picking up a flogger themselves, which is why we like to occasionally host such demonstrations here at Rojo. Tonight, we have the distinct pleasure of having the renowned BDSM expert and master flogger, Sir Darius, joining us on stage to give a beautiful demonstration on the art of flogging. Please welcome him and his wife and 24/7 lifestyle submissive, Roxy, to the stage.”

Pax made a sweeping gesture towards the curtains before exiting the stage on the opposite end, and taking a seat in the front.

Sir Darius was hands down the most intimidating ox of a man Diamond had ever laid eyes on. His size alone made the Tanners look like field mice. Darius had the darkest skin she had ever seen, which made his white wife beater nearly glow in contrast. He wore camo cargo pants, and a black fedora on top of his head. A large silver hoop hung from his right earlobe, making him look as if he was about to recite poetry in a cafe rather than give a demonstration on flogging in a BDSM club. He snapped his fingers, and instantly, two stagehands appeared, carting a formidable looking object of leather and metal. It looked almost like a piece of workout equipment, but without the weights.

“Oh, that’s a nice one,” Crystal squealed beside her.

“Mmhmm,” Diamond agreed. “What is it?”

“Spanking bench,” Crystal whispered, never taking her eyes off the stage. “Shh. I love flogging, and Sir Darius is hot.”

Diamond had to agree that he was indeed, in a scary sort of way, one of the hottest men she had laid eyes on tonight, excluding Pax, of course.

He snapped once more, and a tiny blip of a woman with skin as white as his was dark skittered out to join him on stage. The thin strapped dress she wore was long and plain, although the raven haired beauty inside it was anything but. He introduced her briefly as his wife and submissive, Roxy, and then he took her hand and lovingly guided her prostrate across the bench. When she was settled, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small pair of scissors, slitting her dress up the back, exposing her white panties, and the creamy freckled skin of her back—stopping right near the top of her rib cage.

“Well, that’s handy,” Diamond muttered, suddenly understanding the function of the woman’s plain dress was to afford her privacy while still giving her partner easy access to her exposed areas.

Roxy gave an involuntary shiver as the cool air kissed her skin. Sir Darius stooped to the ground, and picked up a small leather duffel that Diamond hadn’t noticed before, placing it on top of Roxy’s back for balance, and began to dig in it, before extracting two leather floggers, and returning the bag to sit on the stage, underneath the bench. The floggers he pulled out were beautifully crafted of a bright purple leather, which made her smile. Darius certainly didn’t look like the type to be wielding such beautiful and colorful implements. Everything about the man was dark and foreboding including his name. Seeing his dark hands wrapped around the thick purple handles was a mesmerizing sight. Flicking one of the floggers in the air a few times, he held it up for inspection, explaining that it was a suede flogger, quite stingy and not for beginners. According to Sir Darius, this particular flogger had twenty falls, each one being twenty-three inches long, and a quarter inch thick.  He went on for a while, his spiel purely informational, but it was after all, a demonstration.

BOOK: Collared (Vegas Nights Book 1)
8.99Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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