My Stepbrother's Rules: The Complete Series (Steamy Stepbrother Romance)

My Stepbrother’s Rules: The Complete Series

Lila Moore

Copyright ©2015 Lila Moore

First published by Lila Moore 2015

Distributed by Amazon

All characters depicted in this story are over the age of eighteen.

PART ONE

1

“You’re insane.”

“It’s perfect!” I protested.

“Etta, what if something happens? What if you’re kidnapped? Those places are crawling with creeps.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not going to be kidnapped. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re insane,” Maggie said again. This time she laughed. Even though she was trying to talk me out of it, I could tell she was secretly onboard.

I’ve been working for the local newspaper for a year now. I’m a junior reporter which means I’m constantly handed tame, boring assignments. My last pieces included an exposé on what goes on inside the kitchens of some of our cities most popular restaurants and a piece on a local film festival.

I was dying to write about something meatier.

I first had the idea for an undercover exposé on the local sex scene when a BDSM club opened in my neighborhood. I’d heard whispers about what went on inside, but I was largely clueless.

I pitched the idea to my editor, a short, balding man with a bad temper. As I told him my plans, he sat across from me, his hands folded in front of his chest. When I was finished talking he rubbed the stubble on his chin and nodded.

“I like it,” he said. “The dark underbelly of our fair city exposed.”

The way he framed my story made me cringe. I wasn’t looking to shame anyone or put the club out of business. 

“Learn how the businesses work,” he said “What really goes on behind the scene? Is there any funny business with the mob? Are the girls their by choice? Do they enjoy it?”

I nodded vigorously and took notes. I was thrilled to be doing something a little different and a little dangerous. I was going to go undercover at a local BDSM club. I was giddy with excitement. When I told my best friend and copyeditor Maggie about my plan, she choked on her drink.

“A BDSM club?” she kept repeating. “Like with whips and handcuffs?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“It’s exciting and different. Besides, I think it could be interesting to get a woman’s point of view on the BDSM scene. The club caters to men and all of their employees are women. Are the girls there by choice? Do they enjoy their work? Are they being forced? Even if I don’t uncover anything illegal, it could still be a fascinating look at their lives.”

“So, you’re going to go undercover? Seriously? You’re planning on getting a job working there?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

“But, Etta, you don’t know the first thing about BDSM. They’ll see through you. Besides, you’ll have to… you know.”

She made a whipping gesture with her hands that nearly made me choke on my drink. I laughed and coughed.

“Yes, I’ll have to participate.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Yes, I know.”

2

I approached the front of the BDSM club; it was a dark shadowy building with a poorly lit sign flashing: “The Red Room.”

I wasn’t surprised to see a line of people waiting to enter. What did surprise me was that a large portion of the crowd was female.

I walked to the front of the line to talk to the guy at the door. He was a large, intimidating man with dark eyes.

“Excuse me,” I said.

“What?” he responded without so much as looking up from his tablet.

“Are women allowed inside? I thought the club was men only.”

The man looked up. He started to respond then stopped. His eyes drifted over my legs. I wore a pair of thigh high boots and fishnet pantyhose beneath a dark trench coat. Underneath was a tight, short black dress.

It was the best I could do on short notice. I hoped I fit in with the crowd, but judging by the people waiting in line I wasn’t sure. They were all dressed like regular club hoppers. Nothing about them screamed: Bondage! Domination! Submission!

I admit, most of what I knew about BDSM I gleamed from the internet. What I learned was less than helpful. I’d come across a lot of pictures of people wearing latex and various other dominatrix outfits. Like an idiot, I expected the club to be full of people dressed in a similar fashion. Of course, I wasn’t inside yet. Maybe the girls employed by the club dressed that way.

“Women are allowed inside,” the man said. “We don’t discriminate.”

The man smiled as his eyes drifted over my legs again. I shuffled my feet.

“Do you think maybe I could get in?” I asked flirtatiously. “I’m hoping to talk to the boss about a job.”

“A pretty girl like you? I can’t imagine you killing a fly let alone yielding a whip.”

The man had a point. I can be strong-willed and stubborn, but I’m not the kind of person to dominate another. Truth be told, I preferred the idea of being dominated, but that’s not what the club offered as far as I knew.

“Unless you go the other way,” the man said. “Do you like being dominated? This club might be a bit too rough for a girl like you.”

I swallowed hard. If I was going to get a good story, I would have to toughen up. I stepped closer to the man and ran my hand down the front of his shirt.

“Are you trying to tell me what I can and can’t do?”

I affected a commanding tone that dared the man to disagree. He merely laughed. It was clear that he wasn’t threatened by me. I frowned.

“Don’t get upset, sweetheart- you’re not the first to try that line on me. Why don’t you go inside and have a look around before talking to the boss. You have no idea what you’re in for.”

He stepped aside and let me enter the club ahead of the others. I smiled in thanks and passed several frowning faces waiting in line.

Entering the club was like stepping into another world. I entered a small room drowning in red light. A man, strangely dressed in a suit and tie, stood before a topless girl wearing a latex skirt. Large clamps hung from her nipples.

I looked away shyly. Silently, I cursed myself. What was I doing? I was going to have to stop acting so prudish.

I turned to watch them. The man touched the girl’s chest, twisting her nipple clamps. The girl squealed with delight.

“The club’s in there, princess,” a man whispered in my ear.

I jumped and turned to find a man with long hair standing behind me. A huge smile was plastered across his face.

“Go on,” he said. “Don’t be shy.”

Did I stand out that much? Was I that obvious? This was virgin territory for me, but I’d hoped to blend in with the crowd. It unnerved me the way the man pegged me as new and inexperienced almost immediately.

I shook it off and headed into the main room of the club. Above the entrance was a sign that read: “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”

My stomach twisted into a ball of nerves as I passed through the doorway. I knew with a strange certainty that whatever I was about to see, or experience, would never be forgotten.

The first thing I noticed was a dimly lit stage. A girl was bent over a table where two men took turns whipping her. The girl’s mouth was open as if she cried out with ecstasy, but her voice was lost to the slow bass music filtering through the room.

The second thing I noticed was that no one in the room seemed to be paying attention. Several small platforms were set up around the room. Girls were tied to stripper poles, or handcuffed to hooks on the walls. They giggled and moaned with pleasure as other girls, or men, punished them.

A few people were seated around these displays watching and sipping drinks. There was an open space in the middle of the room where others talked and whispered. The majority of the clubgoers seemed to be lost in their own conversations with girls dressed their underwear or shiny latex outfits.

I had no idea where to start. I decided the bar was my best bet. I sat down and ordered a Shirley Temple which earned me an amused grin from the bartender.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes. I don’t drink.”

He laughed and brought me a ginger ale with cherry. I sipped my drink and looked around. It suddenly dawned on me that I was in way over my head. The bouncer had been right to suggest I take a look around before enquiring about a job.

For some reason, I’d assumed all the girls employed by the club were dominatrices. All these girls appeared to be submissives. The idea of being dominated carried a naughty thrill of excitement for me, but now that I was face-to-face with it, I wasn’t sure I could do it.

A man passed me dragging a leash behind him. I nearly jumped out of my seat when I saw that he led a girl wearing a dog collar.

The bartender slid a fresh Shirley Temple my way. “It’s okay,” he said. “You get used to it.”

I wanted to laugh, but I was too thrown. It was then I noticed a man staring at me. His eyes were wide with surprise; his jaw tense with anger.

“Oh, shit.”

“Did you say something, sweetheart?” the bartender asked.

I turned my back on the man watching me. I knew that face. I squeezed my eyes shut. Please, let me be mistaken, I silently prayed. I took a long drink from my Shirley Temple and wished it had alcohol in it.

A man leaned against the bar beside me. I kept my gaze trained on my drink. His arm rested on the bar; his hand was balled into a fist.

“Etta,” he said sternly.

I turned towards him. I felt like I was facing a firing squad. My stepbrother Alexander stood before me. He wore a white dress shirt without a tie or jacket. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms.

“Alex! Fancy meeting you here.”

He didn’t laugh. “What are you doing here?”

“Working,” I said with a smile. “Not as a dominatrix or a submissive…” Alex’s jaw tensed. “I’m here on assignment for the paper,” I whispered. “I’m writing an exposé on the dark underbelly of our city.”

The sound of my editor’s words coming out of my mouth made me cringe.

“Leave, now,” Alex said.

“Why? I just got here.”

“You have no idea where you are. What would your mother say?”

I watched as a topless girl sat down on the lap of a man.

“Did you miss me?” the man asked.

“Yes, Sir.”

The man spread her legs and slapped her pussy. My mouth nearly fell open.

“I said: did you miss me?”

“Yes, sir,” she responded breathlessly. “I’ve missed my Master.”

“What would your mother say?” I replied to Alex. “Or that girl’s mother?” I pointed to the girl sitting on the man’s lap. “Besides, I have as much right to be here as you. Why are you here, anyway?”

I was so shocked by the sight of my stepbrother that I didn’t stop to consider the implications: Alex was in to BDSM. I had no idea. Of course, my stepbrother and I don’t discuss this sort of thing, but it was still surprising.

“Fine. You want to stay? Stay.” he said.

There was a challenge in his voice that I recognized; he was daring me to leave.

“I want to see it all,” I replied.

Alex took my hand and led me away from the bar. Feeling his large hand in mine was strangely comforting. The club was intimidating and it was nice to have his protection. He led me across the room to a hallway. Several door with lights above them loomed before us. One of the doors opened and a couple emerged. The light above the door went dark. Alex led me to it.

“After you,” he said, stepping aside.

I entered the room cautiously. A velvet couch was placed in the middle of the room in front of a glass wall. A curtain was drawn behind the glass concealing whatever was behind it.

“Have a seat,” Alex said.

Obediently, I sat. Alex took a spot beside me. The couch was small; our legs touched. He made no move to put space between us. I squirmed, crossing and uncrossing my legs. Alex’s eyes drifted over my boots then up my legs. He ran a hand over his face, touching his lips.

“Relax,” he said. “Take off your coat.”

Alex watched as I unbuttoned my trench coat. He grabbed the back and helped me out of it. I straightened out the bottom of my black dress again and again.

Alex leaned back in his seat and placed his arm along the back of the couch. I tried to act cool. Alex had a way of looking comfortable in any situation. I envied him.

I stared at the profile of his face. His square jaw and straight nose gave him a strangely aristocratic look. Where had he inherited his looks from? His mother I suppose. I’ve never met her, but she must be stunning.

Alex leaned back in his seat. Again our legs touched. I didn’t move. The warmth from his body created a warm stirring between my legs. That should have been my cue to exit. I’ve never looked at my stepbrother romantically. In truth, he’d always seemed a bit boring to me: a hard-working, wealthy businessman that rarely had time for fun. Little did I know he was having quite a bit of fun in his free time. How long had be in a part of the BDSM scene?

Alex turned to me; I quickly looked away.

“The show’s about to begin,” he whispered.

As if on cue, the curtain opened revealing an office scene. A man dressed in jeans and a t-shirt stood in front of a girl wearing a conservative black dress, stockings and heels. She looked like a secretary with her hair pulled up in a bun and a pair of reading glasses on her face.

The girl pretended to read through a series of documents. The man came up behind her. They spoke briefly, though oddly, there was no sound. Suddenly, the man was turning the girl around and bending her over a desk. She faced us, briefly making eye contact with me. I looked away nervously.

A wicked grin spread across her face. The man pulled her skirt up around her waist and started to spank her, over and over again. The girl’s mouth parted as she mutely cried out. He pulled down her underwear and grabbed a ruler from the desk and started to whip her backside with it.

The man breathed heavily; his cock bulged hard in his pants. The girl gripped the table and bit her lip. She called out to the man, mouthing the words, ‘Yes sir.’

I crossed and uncrossed my legs. The scene made me uncomfortable in a way I didn’t quite understand. I was embarrassed to admit it, but I was turned on.

I watched the ruler cut through the air and into her soft flesh with a mixture of fear, arousal and envy. Could I ever be so bold as to allow a man to whip me?

Alex sighed. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. I expected him to be enraptured with the scene before us; I was surprised to find the opposite. He grimaced with irritation.

“What?” I whispered.

We couldn’t hear what was going on behind the glass, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t hear us.

“Just look at him,” Alex said as if the answer was obvious.

I turned to examine the man. He wiped sweat from his forehead then pulled out a pair of handcuffs. He cuffed the girl to a hook on the side of the desk and resumed spanking her.

“What?” I asked again dumbly.

“This is not how it’s supposed to work,” he said. “He’s way too eager. She’s a beautiful girl, willing, able and eager. He’s done nothing to establish a Dom/Sub relationship with her. He’s barely even spoken to her. He went straight to spanking and whipping with no buildup.”

Alex had a point. I was new to BDSM so I had no concept of what was considered, ‘good,’ or, ‘bad,’ but as I studied the scene closer it felt rushed. The girl’s face was twisted with pleasure, but was she faking it? I had no way of truly knowing.

“Look,” Alex said, “he’s already finished.”

The man was done, having cum in his pants. The scene went from intriguing to embarrassing pretty quickly. I felt slightly embarrassed myself for being taken with the scene. I had a lot to learn.

“And the sound systems broken,” Alex added. “We can’t even hear anything.”

He shook his head with disapproval. The club was apparently not up to his standards.

“What would you do… if it was you inside that room?” I asked.