Saving Graves: A Club Irons Novel

by Drew Sera

  I stopped at the mailbox when I got home from the gym and frowned when I saw a large envelope that was curled on the edges. There was no return address, but I saw the postmark was from Vegas. At first, I thought it might be something from an attorney or the courts in Vegas. For a long time after the lawsuits my dad won, the mail constantly came for him regarding them and the settlements. I usually didn’t get any mail at my apartment regarding it.

  As I walked inside, I tore the envelope open, and before I could focus on the words, the logo for Club Irons caught my eye. I sat down at my kitchen table and spread everything out.

  “Thank you, Mr. Graves, for your interest in the mentoring program at Irons. The enclosed documents are extensive and will demonstrate the seriousness and professional approach we take to ensure inductees to the program are the perfect fit. In addition to the paperwork, you will also be subject to independent medical and psychological exams, full background check, series of interviews by the existing Masters and Mistresses and the necessary funds to become a full member of Irons. Best of luck to you.”

  Blake, the owner, signed the document. This was my chance.

  For the rest of the week in between classes and my study sessions, I worked hard on completing all of the documentation. The instructions asked me to mail the questionnaire back as soon as possible but also to bring a copy with me to the selection weekend and to notify them of any changes to my answers.

  Chapter Fourteen

  April 1996

  As I got off the phone, my stomach gurgled, reminding me that I needed food. I glanced at the card that told me about all of the restaurants inside the hotel and headed down to the casino. I stood in front of the steakhouse and looked over the menus they had posted near the host stand. It smelled so good, and I nearly went in, until I noticed most of the people entering were in “fine dining attire.” My jeans and blue t-shirt were not going to cut it. I meandered around and finally settled on the coffee shop. I was starving by the time my food arrived. I ate quickly and returned to the room to look over the packet I received a while back from Irons.

  I scoured the documents again making sure I answered everything thoroughly and hadn't overlooked anything. Tomorrow was my shot. I had visited many dungeons and BDSM clubs up and down California, and while each of them was unique in their own way, there was something really special to me about Irons in Vegas.

  The atmosphere of Irons was hard to beat. There wasn't a single detail that was missed in that club. The theme rooms were neat, though I had only played in one. The dungeon was where I felt most at ease. And I’ve never played in a dungeon of this caliber. Blake opened up his mentorship program once a year and the opportunity is great. All of their experienced members earned the "Master" or "Mistress" title. And I wanted to earn that too. I knew the chips were stacked high because even the inexperienced people that were applying were much older than I was, and still somewhat experienced. But I was hungry for this.

  I picked up the welcome letter that accompanied my packet and read over it for the millionth time. I sighed and leaned back on the couch. Annual membership fees were now twenty-five grand. I had it ready. I set the alarm clock and climbed in bed. I have wanted many things in life, but nothing quite like this.

  “Anthony Graves, Sir,” a tiny club slave stood in front of me and addressed me. “The members are ready for you now, Sir.”

  I nodded as I stood and followed her down the stairs and into one of the dungeon stalls that was being used for interviews. I was shown to my seat and quickly took inventory of which board members were in the room...one key person stuck out: Blake.

  Most of the board members made notes on their papers in front of them as I answered questions, except for Blake. I wasn’t intimidated by him or anyone here. I made eye contact, spoke calmly and with respect. I wanted this badly.

  “You live in California, Mr. Graves. How do you plan on being here in Vegas for the mentoring program but live in California?" Master Kent asked.

  "I graduate college in a few weeks, and if accepted into the mentoring program, I'll move out here."

  "You can just pick up and go? No obligations keeping you in California?" Mistress Melissa questioned.

  I thought of my dad. He knew I was going to Vegas to “socialize” and I knew that though he’d never voice it, he was concerned over what kind of parties and clubs that I was attending in Vegas. I’m sure Club Irons wasn’t even on his radar.

  “My only obligation right now is to graduate. I’ll be done with school in a few weeks."

  "You're a business major at UC Berkeley. Do you have any job bites out here, then?" Master Lance asked.”

  “No, sir,” I replied.

  “Are you a silver spooner?" Paul asked.

  "No, not at all."

  My dad had money, but I certainly didn’t grow up around money. And the money I did have came from the lawsuits my dad filed. And in a Twisted way, I earned every fucking last cent of that.

  "No? What do your parents do? Forgive me for saying, but you’re very young to have the funds for membership to Irons." Paul added.

  I flashed back to watching my mother and stepfather violently fighting over money she earned pole dancing. They fought over what they’d spend it on: drugs or liquor.

  “My mom and step-father died a few years ago. I went to live with my father in California while going to school.”

  “You indicated on your application that you’d like to learn various lifestyle kinks, what is one of the things you’d like to learn?” Master Ken asked me.

  “Rope work. I’d love to be a rigger and be able to do suspension confidently and safely,” I responded.

  Paul stood and then walked around my chair. I felt as though he was messing with me. I wouldn’t bite at it.

  “Stand and remove your clothes, Anthony,” Paul instructed.

  Fuck that. I was pretty sure he was trying to intimidate me. I think if it was a serious request that maybe it would have been approached differently. I was going to take a chance and call him on his bluff.

  “No,” I said calmly.

  “Come again? It sounded like you said no, but I don’t think I heard you correctly. I wasn’t asking you, I was telling you,” Paul said.

  “I mean no disrespect, but I’m not a submissive. Now, if you want to see me naked to see what I’ve got, come watch one of my scenes when I’m in the dungeon. But if you’re trying to intimidate me, you’re wasting your breath,” I said.

  There was an awkward silence, and I glanced at Blake, and he was glancing at me wearing a grin on his face. He didn’t look angry or surprised though. Suddenly, Paul wrapped his arm around me and jostled me as if we were long lost buddies.

  “I like this guy, Blake,” Paul said as he laughed.

  I was dismissed and sent for my physical with a few other guys. I was pretty nervous about this part, mostly because I feared being seen by a doctor each time my dad took me to the doctor.

  I really didn’t have anything to fear though. This physical wasn’t nearly as invasive as anything else that I had experienced at a doctor’s office. They took blood work and said that was mostly what Blake was concerned with. He wanted to know allergies, blood types and a few other basics, such as height and weight.

  After that, we went back to Irons and had to talk with a psychologist to answer a slew of questions. Sitting across from someone who wanted to analyze me was nothing new. I knew how to appear calm even if my pulse was saying something different. This guy was ok as opposed to David, the psychiatrist that my dad had me seeing. Mainly because unlike David, this guy knew nothing about my past.

  I was broken into a small group and taken down into the dungeon with Paul. I couldn’t say that I hated the guy, but something about the way he looked at me bothered the shit out of me. I figured he was just that kind of guy and I shouldn’t let it bother me. Maybe he was still trying to intimidate me. I had been taking some notes when Blake joined our group.

  “Need me, boss?”
Paul asked Blake.

  “No, I was just checking in on everyone. When you’re done though, I’d like to speak with Anthony,” Blake said.

  Oh, fuck. I worried as to what that was about. Was he removing me from the selection already? Had something popped up from the blood work? Maybe something about my heart? Maybe something I had no idea about regarding my health. Suddenly, Paul’s hands clamped down on my shoulders, and he jostled me again. I hate being touched. Especially like this. I had to keep my cool though, Blake was right there.

  “Is he in trouble? Shall I take him into one of the stalls and discipline him?” Paul asked.

  Blake looked at me, and I swear it was as though he could read my mind.

  “That’s not necessary, Paul. Anthony, when you’re ready for a break, please come find me.”

  As soon as Paul was done with his instruction and dismissed us, I sprinted up the stone steps to find Blake. He smiled when he saw me, and we went to the bar. I really liked Blake. He was very relaxed and easy to be around. I was sipping on my Coke when Blake started talking.

  “So how do you feel about your first day into the process?”

  “Good. It’s hard to believe that today is actually almost over. I’ve been preparing for it for a while.”

  “You’ve been coming here since December. I know we’ve spoken a few times in passing, but I apologize for not having taken the opportunity before tonight to sit down and chat with you.” Blake paused while he took a drink from his glass. “How do you like UC Berkeley?”

  “It’s nice. They have a great campus. But actually, I’m just focused on graduating and getting my degree.”

  “Any idea what you want to do with the degree?”

  “I have no clue,” I said honestly.

  “No rush. You’ll figure it out. So, a few weeks of school left, congratulations on that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you work while you’re going to school?” Blake asked.

  “No, I’ve just been concentrating on school. It takes up all of my time. I have special permission to take an extra class each semester so I can graduate early.”

  “Do you live with your father?”

  “No, I have a small place of my own, but he lives about a half hour away from me,” I told him.

  I was starting to relax into the conversation. None of the conversation topics seemed to be an indication that something from an interview or exam was wrong. Blake just seemed to be trying to get to know me.

  “So, rope is something you seem to be very interested in. We have a few Doms here who are our local rope masters. I’ll make sure to introduce you to them.”

  “Yeah, I’d like that a lot. Thank you.”

  “Can I get a volunteer?” Paul asked the crowd.

  I raised my hand to volunteer because no one else had made any movement to volunteer. And Blake was here watching, and I wanted to show him that I’d make an effort to learn anything new.

  “Excellent. Our brave, youngest applicant. Come over here,” Paul instructed.

  I stood next to Paul and waited for instructions. He put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed my arm. I hated his arm around me. My mind flashed to my dad. When I first started living with him, he knew about all of the wounds on my back and that they caused me a lot of pain. So when he’d hug me, instead of pressing his hands against my back, he’d hang onto my upper arms. Paul was now gripping my upper arm, and a chill went down my spine. I swallowed hard, hoping that I gave no indication of wanting to move out from under his grip.

  “Anthony, have you ever felt the kiss of any of these implements?” he asked.

  I shook my head. I meant to answer him vocally. The realization that he was going to hit me with something prevented me from being able to say much. Oh fuck. I didn’t want to be hit, but I volunteered and wasn’t going to pussy out of this. Especially since Blake was here.

  “If you would, take your shirt off and stand right over there.”

  Paul pointed to a spot on the floor, and I made my way to it, pulling my shirt off as I went. Fuck, my scar; they could all see it. I prayed that no one would say or ask anything about it. I was numb and terrified that if I backed out of this, I’d be kissing my shot at the mentoring program goodbye. I vaguely heard Paul talking to the crowd. At some point, he’ll ask me about my hard limits or any spots to avoid. Think Anthony! When he asks, tell him touching the scar is a hard limit. Fuck and the implements! I was pissed at myself for not knowing what I idiotically volunteered for. I urged myself to calm down and focus. There were various floggers on the table. Ok, I could handle those. I ran back over it in my head for when he asks about hard limits; I’d tell him not to touch my scar and no belts. I’d survive the rest.

  “Give me your wrists, Anthony,” Paul requested, and I presented him with my wrists.

  He’ll ask me about the limits and safe word.

  Soon.

  “You like rope, so this won’t be so bad. Fuck, that’s a nasty scar if I’ve ever seen one.”

  I looked down at the physical reminder of that horrible night my stepdad and Connor cut me while my mother stood by and laughed. My arms were now bound above my head with no give.

  Had he asked me about my limits, and did I just miss it? I don’t recall being asked about my safe word.

  Speak up, Anthony! Don’t let him start without telling him about the scar and belts! I yelled at myself.

  He’s got to ask me…doesn’t he? Isn’t he supposed to? Or, maybe since this is a demo, he really won’t strike me…because that’d be dangerous without him asking me about my hard limits.

  “Don’t touch it,” I said and twisted out of his reach.

  I hoped he knew that I was talking about the scar that he brought up. He put his hand on the back of my head and smiled at me. Somehow, this move didn’t make me feel any better.

  “Anthony, this is just for teaching purposes. I’m not going to hurt you. Understand?”

  Ok, whew. I felt stupid for having worried. Just a demo. I needed to find my fucking balls and stop being a pussy.

  Paul was talking again, and then he hit my back with one of the floggers. Time stood still, it seemed. I tried blocking this experience out.

  “Remember, sometimes ordinary, everyday things can be used as an implement,” Paul said.

  Pulling me faintly from my haze was a very familiar sound of a belt being pulled from belt loops; my own fucking belt loops.

  No.

  This wasn’t happening.

  And then I felt it. He hit me with my own goddam fucking belt. My whole body jerked. I know it did. I heard the chains above me, but I wasn’t in the room. I was face down on the floor back home with my step dad. His lower leg was pressing down on my upper back, making it nearly impossible for me to scream as he beat my naked ass with his belt.

  “Red,” called out a voice.

  It wasn’t my voice, though it certainly should have been. I’m such a fucking coward. Suddenly, Blake appeared in front of me. He was looking into my eyes while he quickly undid my wrists from the rope, but I had to look away.

  “Who can tell me why this scene should never have taken place?” Blake asked the crowd.

  I knew why it shouldn’t have taken place. Once I was loose, I moved off the to the side and stood so that the side with my scar was out of most people’s vision. Mistress Melissa came over and handed me my shirt, and I quickly pulled it on. I felt ashamed and like I’d quickly be the laughing stock of Irons.

  “Sweetheart, let me see your back. We can get some lotion on it,” Mistress Melissa whispered.

  I shook my head, and I hoped she didn’t take that as being a sign of disrespect. I meant no disrespect, but I needed to just be still and settle myself down. Blake was talking, and I was trying to get off the fucking floor out from under my stepdad. Focus!

  “Every single one of you is experienced in some facet. This isn’t your first scene or demonstration you’ve witnessed. If not one you can tell me why this s
hould never have proceeded, then you can leave. You don’t deserve to be here,” Blake asked the crowd.

  No one was saying anything or raising their hand. What the fuck? They all had to know. This was basic safety!

  “He didn’t ask me what my safe word was, or if I had any spots to avoid,” I said.

  I was equally to blame. I should have spoken up.

  “By not asking Anthony what his safe word was or if he had any triggers or physical limitations, Paul failed to ensure that the scene would be safe. That is precisely why that scene should not have occurred. You’re dismissed. Good luck to you and I encourage you to take some classes on safety,” Blake said.

  Fuck! I started to walk forward to leave with the rest of the applicants, but Mistress Melissa took hold of my forearm, halting my walking.

  “Blake, there were some good candidates in that group. Anthony, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Paul asked.

  “Paul, can you please meet me in my office?” Blake calmly said to Paul.

  “Since I botched the scene, I need the opportunity to fix it. Let me check his back and see if he needs anything. That’s my responsibility, Blake.”

  “Mistress Melissa and I will check on him, and then I will be in my office. Please just wait for me there.”

  Blake turned his back on Paul and looked at me. I could barely look at him. I had let him down by not speaking up.

  “Sweetie, let me see your back,” Mistress Melissa said again.

  It was best to comply right now. I pulled my shirt up to expose my back to her while Blake picked up my belt. I didn’t want the fucking thing.

  “Anthony, we should get this cleaned up. Would you come with me to the first aid station?” Mistress Melissa asked me.

  “I can find it on my own, thank you.”

  As I started to leave the dungeon stall, Blake handed me my belt. I carefully took it, and once I was out of their sight, I ran up the stone stairs, up to the steps to the theme room level and slipped into the men’s room.