Decadent Master (3 page)

“But you’re gay.”

“Yes.”

“You like women.”

“Yes.”

“And you needed to tell me this now? Today?” Wynne folded a napkin and dragged it under her bottom eyelashes, removing a black smudge of molten eye makeup.

“I know the timing sucks, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I’m dating someone. Things are getting serious between us. You were going to figure it out. I mean, how do I explain why I’m taking a woman into my bedroom?”

Wynne glanced at Kristy for a split second then turned to stare out her window. She just couldn’t look her friend in the eye right now. She was confused. Overwhelmed. “I don’t understand this.”

“There’s more.”

“I don’t think I can handle more right now.”

“I’m sorry, I really am. But I need to get this last bit off my chest, and then you can take me home and…think about stuff, scream, cry, whatever. Okay?”

“God, how bad is this going to be?”

“I’ve been to the bondage club your therapist recommended. In fact, I’m a member of Twilight. Although everyone there knows me as Mistress Raven. I, uh, wear a wig.”

Mistress Raven?

That was it. Wynne’s life had just moved from hellacious to bizarre. What was going to happen next? Were aliens going to abduct her? Was the world going to be struck by a giant meteor? Was her father going to call her after twenty-some years and tell her he loved her?

“Do you think I’m a sex addict?” Kristy asked.

God, Wynne wanted to just crawl in a hole now. “No. Like I said, I was just upset—”

“Do you think I’m sick because I like to dominate men and women? Play bondage games?”

“No, of course not. We’ve known each other since we were in diapers. I know you’re not sick.”

“Good. Now that we’ve settled that, I’m going to ask you a favor.” Kristy gave her a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile, which made Wynne’s insides twist into a knot. “As your best friend. Come with me to the club. One time. Do it for me.”

“Kristy, I can’t. I just…ohmygod. This is a lot to take in all at once.” Wynne dropped her head, resting her forehead against the steering wheel.

“Sure it is. We’ll talk more about it later. After you’ve had some time to recover.” Kristy patted Wynne’s knee, just like she had a million times before. But this time Wynne’s body stiffened. Seeming to sense Wynne’s reaction, Kristy lifted her hand. “I’m not going to stop nagging you until you agree to go….”

“But—”

“You won’t have to do anything. Just watch, talk to some people….”

“Kristy, I can’t—”

“…and we can make up some kind of story to tell people so you’re not embarrassed.”

“That’s not the problem. I mean, it is, sort of—”

“It’s for your own good. I think your therapist is right.”

Dammit, she was going to lose this battle of wills, like she always did. When necessary, Kristy could be a real bulldog. The girl was also an accomplished manipulator.

“You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?” Kristy gave a martyred sigh. “You don’t love me anymore.”

Dammit, if only she didn’t love her lesbian-bondage-mistress-manipulating best friend so freaking much. Wynne rocked her head to the side, sending Kristy some sad eyes. “Stop. Please.”

“I’m not going to stop until you agree to go. Just once. For me. I want you to get past this, and I need you to understand me, too. Until you do, things are going to be weird between us. You know that, right?”

So much for the sad eyes. Wynne inhaled. Exhaled. She’d needed that oxygen. Her head felt a little clearer. “Fine, fine. But give me a while to prepare. A month or two.”

“A week.”

“Two weeks.”

“Done.”

Oh God.

“R
umors are that Master Zane has broken the club’s rules several times, leading to at least one submissive seeking medical care for injuries,” Rolf said as he led Dierk on a quick tour of the club. He stopped inside the main dungeon, kicked a booted foot up onto a bench. “Since I wasn’t here at the time, I can’t verify or dispute the rumor.”

“I’ll have to keep an eye on him. Do we keep pictures of our members?”

“Yes, they’re kept in our computer. The receptionist out front checks every person in, and if she doesn’t personally know them, she checks the picture in the system.”

“Good. I’ll take a look at the photos when we get back to the office.”

“He’s easy to pick out in a crowd. He’s a dark sonofabitch, with straight black hair. Pulls it back in a ponytail. His eyes are the color of coal, and his mouth is always twisted in a sneer. Looks mean and has a reputation to match. Some members tell me the guy’s trouble. Personally, I haven’t had any problems with him. I’ll tell you this: the submissives, especially the humans, can’t seem to resist him, despite his rep for ignoring limits.”

Dierk shook his head. That he would not tolerate, especially if the guy had actually injured a submissive he’d been playing with. No Dom had the right to ignore a submissive’s limits, ever. Especially when it came to an issue of safety. Every Dom worth a damn knew a submissive’s safety was his responsibility.

Safe. Sane. Consensual. Those were the three pillars of their world. If any one of those three were knocked down, the whole damn thing would come crashing to the ground.

What the hell was the guy thinking?

Dierk’s nerves were twitchy as he checked the equipment, making sure it had all been maintained properly, cleaned, and sanitized. Meanwhile, Rolf continued his monologue about each member of the club, ending with a human Domme who called herself Mistress Raven.

Dierk glanced at the clock before he checked the last piece of equipment. Ten minutes and it would be sundown. The club would open. And this room would be full of humans and immortals, tops and bottoms, stripping away their everyday identities to become the Master, slave, Dom, or submissive of their fantasy.

Rolf rested an elbow on a nearby support. “The private suites are leased by a handful of members, including Master Zane, who has the last room on the right.”

“Do we have keys?” Dierk asked, standing. Everything looked good. Nothing broken or needing repair.

“Sure.” Rolf cocked his head to the side. “They’re in the office, bottom desk drawer.”

“I want to take a look at his suite before he comes in tonight.”

“Good idea.”

Dierk headed toward the office, his brother trailing close behind. “What about cameras?” Dierk asked.

“We don’t have any in the private suites, if that’s what you mean.”

“I want some installed tomorrow. But I don’t want the members to know. I don’t trust anyone else to handle this but you. Will you find someone to come in and install them for me? We need a mortal company who can be here before sunset.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks.” Dierk unlocked the desk drawer, snatched up a ring loaded with keys, and headed toward the private suites. “You ever watch the sonofabitch play? Is he intentionally ignoring his submissives’ limits or is he just getting carried away?”

“Hard to say. Like I said, the guy looks like he would take on a demon without thinking twice about it. Hell, he might be a demon, for all we know. He’s immortal, but I can’t say for sure what species. But, as mean as he looks, I’ve never seen him get outta line.”

Dierk unlocked the door and stepped inside. Behind him, Rolf snapped on the lights. A quick look around, and Dierk had the guy summed up. Hardcore sadist. Among his toys, Master Zane had a large and wide assortment of torture instruments, more than he’d seen in one place before. There was the standard—ropes, floggers, paddles, masks, and leather restraints—as well as needles, nails, enemas, equipment for electro play, mummification, and water torture. This was not a Dom for a new bottom. His taste ran to the extreme side of S and M.

Dierk was no angel, had in fact tried most of those activities at least once. Some of them he’d liked. Others, not at all. But even he had some limits on what he’d do in a dungeon.

As the club owner, Dierk couldn’t limit the activities that went on in this room, as long as those three pillars were maintained. Safe. Sane. Consensual. But he would watch this guy closely, and if he stepped even a toe over the line, he’d be out. No explanations. No second chances.

“We better get going,” Rolf said, moving toward the door. “Alicia the receptionist will be coming in any minute now. We don’t want Zane to know we’ve been in here.”

“Yeah.” Dierk followed Rolf out, locking the door behind them. He pocketed the keys just as he heard the back door chime.

He shared a knowing smile with his brother and headed toward his office to view the digital picture files. Rolf went to gather the employees as they arrived.

After a quick introduction to the staff, Dierk gave a short speech about making sure their guests were safe at all times. Then he sent them off to see to their jobs.

The club wasn’t just a bondage dungeon. There was also a bar and restaurant in the building, catering to a more mainstream human crowd, which meant there were over fifty people to manage, including cooks, waiters and waitresses, bartenders, dishwashers, and maintenance crew. Human and immortal, both.

If there was one thing he hated, it was having someone looking over his back, telling him how to do his job. He wasn’t going to be that kind of boss to his staff.

His staff. Damn, that sounded strange.

After the impromptu meeting, Dierk settled himself at the small nonalcoholic bar positioned at the front of the dungeon and ordered a yerba mate. He swiveled his stool around to watch the action unfolding behind him, in the dungeon. His eyes meandered through the room, from a Shibari scene just beginning in the corner, to a Mistress training a lovely little olive-complexioned slave girl on a kneeler, to the entry, where a pair of women had just stepped into the room.

The one on the right he recognized from his quick perusal of the photographs on file. Mistress Raven. The one on the left, however, was new.

“Looks like Mistress Raven brought in some fresh meat,” Rolf said, taking the seat beside him.

Dierk grabbed his cup, taking a sip of the grassy-flavored hot beverage. Humans drank it for its health benefits. He drank it to clear his mind. An immortal didn’t need anything to counteract cellular destruction or improve his immune system.

Rolf sighed. “What a sweet little thing she is,” he mused. “Obviously scared out of her mind.”

“Yeah,” Dierk agreed, tracking the petite brunette as she followed her hostess, almond-shaped eyes wide, little heart-shaped face pale. Her lush lips, coated with a layer of deep pink lipstick, were slightly parted in a sexy pout. He suddenly ached to kiss that pink lipstick off, smear it all over her sweet face.

“My money’s on that one leaving before the half hour’s up,” Rolf said, extending a hand. “What do you say? Wanna bet me…a thousand?”

“I say you’re not very sure of yourself if that’s all you’re willing to lay on the table.” Dierk gave his brother’s hand a shake, hoping Rolf was wrong, and not because he’d lose the money. It had been a long time since he’d watched an innocent get broken in. There was no greater rush than watching the training of a new bottom.

The brunette’s hostess waved in their direction and Dierk glanced back, realizing she was signaling Rolf. Clearly, his brother hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he spent a lot of time in the club—which begged the question of why he’d turned down the offer to run the place.

Dierk made a mental note to ask him later.

“She’s heading this way,” Rolf stated the obvious. “Maybe she’s looking for a Dom for her friend.”

“And I’m the man on the moon,” Dierk said, noting the newbie’s tight expression. She wasn’t nervous like the average new submissive was. There wasn’t a speck of curiosity in those deep mocha-hued eyes of hers. Only fear, mixed with a little…hostility?

Interesting. What was her story? Dierk couldn’t wait to hear it.

Wynne had never been so petrified.

Hello. She was in a real, honest-to-God bondage dungeon. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so out of her element. Not even that one time when she’d gone with Kristy to that freaky art exhibit downtown, where people wearing plastic clothes handed out free samples of condoms, and rows and rows of tables loaded with sex toys lined the enormous warehouse. That had been years ago, when they’d been in high school. Catholic high school. She hadn’t even known what half those sex toys were for.

Maybe she should’ve known then that her friend wasn’t exactly cut from the same cloth as she. But like her therapist had said, she’d probably just wanted to believe what she’d wanted to believe, rather than seeing her friend as she truly was.

It had taken both her therapist and Kristy two weeks to prepare her for this. Already, she was ready to go home. There was only one thing, or rather two, keeping her from turning on her heels and saying
sayonara
to Twilight forever. And that thing, or things, weren’t the ones she’d expected.

Instead of staying to find out more about bondage, or more specifically why anyone would want to seek out a Master, she wanted to find out a little more about the godlike men Kristy was waving at.

“Hi, Master Rolf,” Kristy said, reaching behind her, no doubt to catch Wynne’s hand and coax her up closer.

Master Rolf. Guess he wasn’t an employee. Wynne was happy to stay where she was for the moment, thankyouverymuch.

Kristy motioned to the second man. “It looks like we’ve both brought guests today.”

Now, that raised Wynne’s hopes. If the second guy—who was jaw-droppingly gorgeous—wasn’t a regular at the club, then he might not be a part of the scene yet.

“Hi, Raven.” Master Rolf smiled. “This isn’t a guest. He’s my brother, Dierk. He’s taking over as general manager of the club.”

Manager. That was acceptable.

“I see,” Kristy responded, nodding over her shoulder at Wynne before cranking on the charm for the new manager. “It’s good to meet you, Dierk. Dierk and Rolf, this is my friend Wynne. And I’m sure you can tell this is her first visit to a bondage club. She’s totally new to domination and submission, so she’s a little nervous.”

Great. Thanks, Kristy, for pointing out I’m the new, clueless kid on the block.

She pasted on a smile, hoping they wouldn’t all look at her like she was a freak. How humiliating. Maybe they’d even make her wear some kind of special badge or something.

Dierk the manager gave her a long, disconcerting once-over. Down went his gaze from her face to her toes and then slowly it meandered back up. She could almost feel his gaze as it swept over her body. Her skin felt tingly all over, her nerves twitchy and raw. “Hello, Wynne,” he said in a low, rumbly voice that reminded her of a cat’s purr.

The man was like sin incarnate, the very opposite of what John had been, with his sun-bleached hair and boy-next-door good looks. Dierk had dark hair, almost black, cut in shaggy, messy layers. His face was all hard angles, his eyes too dark to clearly make out the pupils. And his body…He was huge, built like a professional athlete, all muscles and sinew and raw power.

Kristy jabbed her in the ribs, and she realized, embarrassingly, that she’d been standing there, mute and stupid, staring like a groupie at a rock concert.

She didn’t need Kristy to make her look like an ass. She was doing that well enough on her own.

Too nervous to trust her voice, she merely gave him a weak, shaky smile and nodded her head, then turned her gaze to his brother.

Master Rolf wasn’t far down the gorgeous scale from his brother. There was most definitely a family resemblance. He also had that dark, wavy hair, although Rolf’s was a little longer, the bottom layers skimming the tops of his shoulders. His face was as hard edged and fascinating as Dierk’s, although it wasn’t identical. And his body was just as big. And just as breathtaking.

Rolf offered a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Wynne. If there’s anything my brother or I can do for you, just let one of us know.”

“Th-thanks.” Staring into his eyes, Wynne placed her trembling hand into his, expecting him to shake it. Instead, he raised it to his perfect mouth and brushed his lips over the back.

It felt like her skin was on fire, both on her hand and on her cheeks. Sure he could see the blush that had to be radiating from her face, she tugged her hand free and dropped it in front of her, flattening the other one against it.

God, she had never felt this way around a guy before, not even John. She was tongue tied, witless, practically falling over her own feet. What was wrong with her?

Nothing was wrong, she reasoned. Not a thing. It was this place that was making her all jumpy and skittery. And the knowledge of what these men probably did here.

She hadn’t even dared let her gaze wander around the large room yet, although she could hear voices and the occasional snap of a leather whip.

Adrenaline pounded through her body, fueling her instinct to run, making her stomach twist and palms sweat. She swallowed hard a couple times.

“…which is why my friend Wynne is here today. She’d like to watch, learn a little about the lifestyle, why people choose to play domination and submission games,” Kristy explained. “And she’s looking at it from the submissive side, which is why I’m not much help to her.”

Geesh, Wynne hadn’t even realized Kristy had been talking that whole time. She’d been distracted by the two gorgeous brothers. Or maybe it was the loud pounding of blood in her ears that had muffled her friend’s soft voice. She could only hope that Kristy had stuck with the plan. It was simply too embarrassing to admit she was coming here to find out why her fiancé had dumped her for a gay Dom. So instead, they’d cooked up this story about her writing a romance novel about a woman’s first experience with BDSM.

“I can show her around,” Master Rolf volunteered, “since my brother’s going to be busy all night, handling some important general manager–type things.”