by Poppy Flynn
She had been sorely tempted to leave behind the dozens of exquisite gowns that had been purchased for her escort duties, but common sense had prevailed through her angst and resentment. The gowns were immaculate and expensive. She decided instead to sell them all and put the proceeds into her college fund. She had been pleasantly surprised at how much they had made. Enough, in fact, for an entire year's tuition. It seemed fitting, somehow.
And Trinity hadn't wasted any more time. She enrolled in business classes, took an expedited course that monopolized her time, left her exhausted, and without the opportunity to dwell too much on what was lost.
The only concession she had made to the life she had left behind was to look into the BDSM kink scene. She didn't know quite what it was that prompted her to do it. Maybe it was just a natural quirk of human nature to want to know what it was that made her less appealing than someone else. Trinity had stoically avoided looking up Bianca. But somehow, BDSM had a different kind of draw. Maybe because Trinity felt that she had been superseded by the lifestyle more than the woman, although that probably wasn't really fair to Bianca. Not that she was particularly interested in being fair to the woman. It was incredibly rare, but Trinity could be a bitch if she felt like it. It was just that, for the most part, what made her happy was being of service to other people. Being bitchy pretty much opposed that aspiration, so it simply didn't have a place in her life.
What had really drawn her was a small section on a local club's website, which had offered insights into the many different types of characteristic that knitted together people in the lifestyle. There was far more to it than just Dominants and submissives. There were sadists and masochists, of course, but there was also a whole host of divisions in between. From brats to littles, to Daddies, and on to Masters, who were experts in a particular methodology like Shibari or suspension. And it was there that a few short lines had caught her eye and brought about another huge shift in her ideology and changed all of her perceptions. Service Submissive.
Trinity had googled everything she could possibly find on those two little words and therein lay her epiphany. A few lines on Wikipedia which completely summed up her life and how she had devoted it Christian…
In human sexuality, Service-oriented is a term used in the BDSM community to refer to a relationship dynamic where the focus is on how the submissive can contribute resources to the dominant partner and provide for some of their needs or advance their goals. These relationships may also include romantic feelings or sexual activity, depending on the specific relationship dynamic.
Realising that her desire to serve made her vulnerable to being taken advantage of, Trinity had signed up for a membership to Club Risqué, using the last of her savings, and enrolled in one of their submissive training courses, hoping she would find an outlet for her desires which would help her avoid finding herself in the situation like the one which had developed with Christian.
And that's when Trinity had been born.
To mitigate the expensive club fees, she had volunteered to do bar work at the club and as she gained experience within the lifestyle, she was promoted to Club Submissive. That role encompassed many things; they offered their services, sometimes in exchange for discounted fees, but always because they were committed to the lifestyle. They were generally unattached, always experienced, and made themselves available for various training sessions, either to help out, in general terms, or to take part in practical demonstrations. They also worked as Dungeon Monitors to keep the club supervised, as play partners for members who wished to put on displays or who maybe want to just be sure they find someone compatible with their own kink. And sometimes they acted as escorts for visiting members who didn't have time to trawl the sub pool for their own hook-ups. Along with all of that, Trinity still helped with the bar work, since she was already trained and, when the opportunity had arisen, she had applied for the proper paid position of Bar Manager, determined to put her business degree to some use, at least.
She had been lucky. Her roles within the club and her eagerness to serve had not gone unnoticed, and this time they had garnered the right kind of attention. She had become friends with a lot of the patrons, but more importantly, with the four men who had purchased Club Risqué not long after she had joined, herself—Joel and Jake Blackwood, Connor Griffin, and Logan Thornton.
Businessmen themselves, they had recognised that her skills were underutilised within what was a niche industry. It was difficult, after all, to appoint a manager to a club who wasn't involved in the lifestyle, but, also, equally difficult to find someone within the lifestyle with the right kind of qualifications. It was for that reason, when the new club on the east coast had been opened, they had asked her if she would take on the role of assistant manager.
Trinity had mixed feelings about returning to the east coast, but the new club was in a different area to where Christian was based, and she knew she would be a fool not to accept the very generous package that they were offering. Plus, for the first time in her life, she felt as if she was actually utilising her skills.
The fact that she identified as a service submissive meant that this was also her ideal environment. Trinity obtained a huge amount of pleasure just from the day to day functions of her job and from doing what she could to help people within the lifestyle. Getting paid for it was almost just a bonus. She probably would have done it for free…and that was exactly why the lifestyle was good for her. It stopped her from spending too much time, doing too many things, for too many people who would just take advantage of her willing nature. Because as much as Trinity gained pleasure from serving others, it was incredibly soul destroying to constantly be giving, without any gratitude in return. Now that Trinity understood that about herself, she was able to protect herself from some of the inevitable pit falls of her innate character.
Here, at least, she knew she was valued. And that gave her all she needed from life. Well…companionship would be nice. No, not companionship, she had plenty of that after all. She had made good friends here already, even in the short space of time the club had been open. It wasn't even comfort, although maybe that was a small part of what she felt was missing from her life. Certainly, not sex; she had Micah for that if the need arose, or she could always negotiate intercourse into a scene if the fancy took her. No, it was much more ephemeral than all those things, although possibly a little sprinkling of each. But yes, she could admit there was something else missing from her life, but Trinity wasn't entirely sure what it was.
Despite everything she had to be grateful for in her life, she almost felt as if she were lonely. But that was completely ridiculous, wasn't it?
The following day at work, Trinity was suffering a low-grade headache that she couldn't seem to shake, and she knew it was because of the traumatic recollections of the day before. They had left her in tears for the first time in years and she had suffered a seriously restless night as a result. She was finding it difficult to concentrate when Micah came into her office and frowned at the sight of her.
"You look awful!" he said bluntly. "Are you ill?" He stalked over, in what Trinity silently referred to as the 'Dom strut' that many of the club's Masters seemed to have perfected, and tested her forehead with his palm, finding it cool.
"Thanks!" Trinity replied drily, leaning away from him and concentrating on her computer screen. "Your flattery knows no limits, and no, I'm not. I just had a disturbed night."
"Why did you have a bad night? Do you think you're coming down with something?" he persevered. Despite being a Dom, Micah was a nurturer, first and foremost.
"No," she refuted, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. Her boss was a psychologist after all, as well as the club manager. Once better known as Dr. Flynn, a title he still held, though secondary these days to Master Micah, it didn't pay to forget that he analysed everything as if it was second nature. It wasn't a deliberate act of invasion; it was simply the way he was wired.
; "Just some bad memories coming back to haunt me," she admitted finally as he continued to give her 'the look'.
He relaxed a little but not completely. "Well, how about a little assignment to take your mind off things?" he asked.
Now it was Trinity's turn to raise an eyebrow. "What kind of assignment?" she queried, leaning back in her office seat and giving him her full attention.
"I've had a guest request from the friend of one of our members. The guy is an experienced Dom with Master status at another club, but he's going to be here on business for two, possibly three weeks, and he's asked to be paired with a suitable submissive for the duration of his visit. His credentials all check out and he's already been granted guest membership here. His limit list matched up with yours pretty evenly, so I thought maybe you'd like to give it a shot. It's been a while since you had a longer-term client engagement. It might be just what you need."
Trinity didn't need to think about it for long. The idea of having a single Master to serve for maybe as long as three weeks appealed to something inside of her almost immediately. She was still cautious, however.
"Has he looked at my limits, himself, and is he aware that intercourse is by negotiation and may not be on the table at all?"
"Of course," Micah replied smugly. "Although I believed you were the obvious choice, I forwarded several sets of details as well as your own. The man is obviously a connoisseur because, like me, he picked you as his first choice."
Trinity was pleasantly surprised if she was honest. There was nothing particularly outstanding about her own resume. Her credentials, by lifestyle standard, were fairly middle of the road. On the one hand, that meant she was fairly versatile, but on the other, it meant there was nothing that made her stand out from any of the many other submissives who frequented the club. Yes, it detailed her more personal attributes, height, weight and measurements, but those usually appealed more to the Daddy Doms, a factor that caused Trinity to hesitate.
"He's not after a little, is he?" she demanded, referring to the type of submissive who identified with more childlike characteristics and liked being pampered and spoiled and dressed up as little girls and sometimes even little boys. Despite her tiny stature, Trinity had never truly enjoyed the few occasions when she had played that role. The Daddy Dom persona wanted to nurture a sub like they would a real child, and that didn't appeal to Trinity's nature because that kind of care was directly opposed to her own need to serve. While providing what a Daddy needed fulfilled a latent need on a very basic level, being cossetted instead of physically fulfilling someone's needs by her own hand was actually quite frustrating on a deeper level, so she generally chose to avoid it. It most certainly wasn't something she would manage to fulfil for an extended period of time.
"Please!" Micah exclaimed indignantly. "Do you have no faith in me whatsoever?" He softened his exasperation with a cheeky grin. "Come on, I know you better than that, sprite,"
He handed over a file that contained all the necessary details about her prospective pairing, but before Trinity could take a look at it, he added, "Actually, he was interested in the fact that you were a service submissive."
Trinity looked up in surprise. It was a rarity for a Dom to be interested in that as a specific requirement. Most of them were a little more interested in the more hard-core stuff when it came to scening on a day to day basis. Service submission was more common in slave relationships rather than one off play, but Trinity wasn't slave material, either. While she loved to serve, she didn't want her every move dictated by someone else.
"One of the things he did request was someone who would be willing and able to act as an escort on a couple of occasions, for the duration of his visit. Gowns will be provided at his company's expense."
A shiver of apprehension shivered down Trinity's spine, but she shook it off, refusing to be ruled by the ghosts of her past. If anything, it was a role that she had plenty of experience in and certainly nothing that she would have trouble engaging with. Except…
"What if those coincide with club nights, when I'm scheduled to be on duty?" she voiced her only concern.
"Well, technically, you will still be working, whether you are providing that service here or away from the club. Granted, if you are with him here, then you could conceivably step in if there was some kind of emergency, but you still wouldn't be pulled from a scene to do so." Micah shrugged. "It's easy enough for me to ensure that I'm available, myself, if you are otherwise engaged, so what do you say?"
Trinity's grin lit up her face, and it occurred to Micah in that second that he didn't see it nearly often enough.
"Yes!" she enthused. "I'll do it."
Chapter 8
Christian Knightley let himself into the hotel suite that was to be his home for the next few weeks and looked around. It had functionality as well as high end elegance with its own kitchenette and mini bar, a sensible working area with a decent chair, and a large, comfortable bed, but, by God, he hated living out of a suitcase!
He was almost thirty-four years old, time he started to settle down.
The thought came out of left field and Christian couldn't help laughing out loud—cynically—because that had really gone so well for him in the past, hadn't it?
He tried not to think about his ex-wife and all the damage and upheaval she had wrought on his life and those close to him. No one to blame but himself, of course. He had accepted that years ago. Her presence might have destroyed all the good things in his life, but that wouldn't have happened if he hadn't allowed it in the first instance, so while she might have engineered the damage, the buck stopped with him.
Christian strode to the mini bar and poured himself a whisky using one of the heavy, lead crystal, rocks glasses. He dispensed with the ice right now, though, and downed it in one shot. The thought of Bianca always left a bad taste in his mouth.
Jesus, he still couldn't believe he'd been gullible enough to be taken in by the woman. The only thing that had saved him was the fact that all of his wealth was ambiguous. His family's wealth was still in the hands of his mother. His business wealth, at that time, had still been tied into the company, and his personal wealth was locked inside an ironclad trust fund, which hadn't matured until he turned thirty.
When Bianca had divorced him with the clear belief that, since there was no pre-nup, she would get half of a huge fortune, she had been very sadly disappointed. All she had been entitled to was less than half of the twenty thousand pounds he had in his checking account. While he lived well, it was all funded by independent sources.
His parents hadn't believed in turning a child into a mini millionaire, so whatever money he had, he'd been expected to work for. He had never been so happy about anything in his entire life.
The look on Bianca's face when she realised that her divorce settlement for the eleven months they had been together, before she petitioned, was a paltry five thousand pounds, had almost been worth the torment she had put him through.
Well, maybe not, but it had certainly been a satisfying form of retribution. She could have earned more by getting herself a job.
Still, she had lived in the lap of luxury for the best part of a year and had taken away many more thousands of pounds' worth of gifts and gowns and jewellery. Although she hadn't been too pleased to find out that the sports car she was using was on a lease in the company name and she didn't have any claim on it. The look on her face had been priceless when her own lawyer had pointed out that she would have to give it back. And she had retained the most prestigious firm of divorce lawyers she could find, thinking that they would manage to finagle millions from him, which would keep her a wealthy woman for the rest of her life. It was rather satisfying to know that what she had managed to get out of him would have, mostly, gone to cover their fees. Served her right, he thought darkly. The woman was nothing more than a vicious, conniving predator. He was glad he had managed to bring attention to the fact that she'd been trawling the BDSM community looking for rich marks f
or whom she could pretend to be their perfect partner. He wasn't even sure why she had chosen that particular avenue, since, in retrospect, he didn't believe she was even a submissive, but somewhere along the line, she must have decided that it was good for a quick buck.
Christian had put paid to that particular line of revenue by ensuring that she was blacklisted by all of the prestigious clubs. She could trawl those that hadn't been interested in putting out a memo to block her membership, but since those were less circumspect clubs, she wouldn't find the type of wealthy marks she was looking to fleece.
Christian had been shocked when his company lawyers had unearthed the fact that she had been married twice before, despite being only twenty-six when he had met her. Karma seemed to have seen her coming because she hadn't made much out of either of them, either. The first had been declared bankrupt when his finances had been investigated during the divorce proceedings and the second had insisted on a pre-nup, which she hadn't been expecting. Sadly, it seemed both of them had been too embarrassed at being taken in to do anything to stop her, in case it brought the spotlight onto their gullibility. Christian had no such qualms and he had even cited the other two men in his case to back up his claim. Luckily, his old friend Logan Thornton had been heavily involved in one of the most prestigious clubs in the country and, being a lawyer as well, he had facilitated the matter.
Recently, Logan had become involved in one of the clubs fairly local to him, though not one that Christian had frequented, but that might change now that the place had been turned around and was quickly establishing itself as a highly reputable establishment. With the endorsement of its flagship namesake, the east coast incarnation of Club Risqué was quickly becoming the place to practice the lifestyle. Christian was going to find out for himself during the next few weeks, with the guest recommendation membership Logan had expedited for him.