by Poppy Flynn
"Answered your questions, you mean," she answered sarcastically. "I never had any!"
"I don't have any questions, either," Jake replied smugly. "I already know the answers. So, will you come?" He leaned against her desk with both his arms and ankles crossed, the epitome of nonchalance, as if he had no particular care, either way.
What could possibly go wrong? Desi wondered. It wouldn't be her first excursion to a sex club, and it wasn't like she was going to participate, just have a look around and see if it did anything for her. She had to admit that she was more than a little intrigued by Jake's assertion that she really was a submissive and that she needed the kink to partake in a fulfilling sex life. If that was the case, then she might just be opening the door to the rest of her life.
Desi burst into motion, grabbing her briefcase and handbag and nodding briskly before she could change her mind. Jake grinned and unfolded himself from his deceptively casual position and made swift arrangements to pick her up as they made their way down to the foyer.
"Don't forget to dig out your best fetwear!" he reminded as they left the building. "And I'll bring along a collar, in case you want to use it." He winked as he waved goodbye.
Desi felt the flutter of butterflies in her stomach as they signed in at the front desk of 'Perversions'. Who on earth had thought up that name? she wondered with mild distaste. The club required membership, which Jake had filed, but their screening process wasn't as thorough as Club Risqué and the clientele less exclusive. The differences didn't end there. The place had a distinct industrial feel, quite unlike the excessive luxury of the other club, but as they made their way through the spartan lounge area towards the bar, Desi found that she rather liked it, since it gave this club a rather more youthful vibe.
The lounge area edged a packed dance floor, where the pulsating rhythm of grime music churned out. The heavy pulse thudded through her frame like a heartbeat and the throng of bodies on the dancefloor writhed sinuously together like a vast, undulating wave.
The self-consciousness Desi had felt when Jake picked her up, at being dressed so scantily, had eased now that they were inside the club. In fact, her metallic bronze coloured corset and chocolate suede boy shorts were actually rather modest in comparison to the non-existent outfits and partial nudity that surrounded her. Eleven years ago, she would have worn a skimpy silk and lace chemise without any underwear to cover her perfectly waxed pussy and her face would have been makeup free.
Tonight, she'd painted on her makeup with a heavy hand, using thick black kohl eyeliner and a shiny copper lipstick, her mask still well and truly in place. She'd released her hair from its usual severe twist, but still wasn't comfortable leaving it completely wild, so she'd piled it into a loose topknot that had little tendrils escaping around her face to soften the look. Her appearance was nowhere near the tousled, ingénue guise of the old Daisy, but she suspected than no one who knew the dignified, professional Desirae would recognise her, either.
Jake had presented her with a rather decorative collar of black lace with double drapes of black chain curving in several dainty swags and meeting at a small silver padlock at the centre. It felt almost like a necklace, and Desi appreciated Jake's perception that a more substantial collar would have made her feel far too trapped and awkward. Plus, she welcomed the modicum of protection it provided. Of course, it wouldn't prevent certain Doms from asking Jake if he would share her, but at least it eliminated the possibility of having to deal with anyone directly. All Doms understood that it was completely unacceptable to approach a collared sub and it would certainly have consequences that none would want to pay. Clubs in this very marginal sector stuck together; they had their own exclusive network and any Dom found guilty of poaching would find himself outcast from every reputable club.
Desi clung to Jake's hand, still too apprehensive to make her way alone, and noted the many appreciative stares he attracted as they made their way through the crowd. He looked undeniably sexy in brown leather trousers and a matching waistcoat over his bare, muscular chest. His signature signal whip was coiled and hooked into his belt loop and she felt a pang of guilt that her presence would probably prevent him from playing this evening. She made a mental note to have a quiet word with him about that eventuality; she was sure they could come up with some kind of ruse if he wanted to indulge. It would be acceptable for him to find an unattached sub to join them, but it would look odd if she didn't participate, herself. Maybe they could portray her as a recalcitrant brat who was being punished by having to watch her master with another sub…that wouldn't be outside the realms of appropriateness.
"What do you want to do first?" Jake shouted to make himself heard. "Dance, catch a scene or get a drink?"
Desi looked around her. Yeah, maybe a little Dutch courage might be in order just to relax her a bit.
"Let's head for the bar," she pointed.
Jake inclined his head and strode in the direction she had gestured. It was a little quieter over there.
"Two drink limit," he told her as they waited.
Desi nodded, it was a fairly standard practice in BDSM circles. It wasn't safe to play under the influence of alcohol.
As Desi started to relax and took in the sounds and scenes all around her, her gaze settled on a vaguely familiar man who was heading in their direction. She frowned as she struggled to place him. He was good looking in a mild-mannered sort of way and had smiling but distinctive amber coloured eyes which elevated his looks from modest to striking. His honey brown hair reached to his shoulders with a slight wave and the overall effect reminded her of a lion. He wasn't as tall as Jake and had a leaner build, but she couldn't shake off the impression that she knew him. As he drew closer, the Dom grinned at Jake, and Desi realised that he was followed by Connor Griffin.
She frowned as old memories coalesced. She was more used to seeing him with his hair tied back and in a pair of glasses which gave him a serious, studious look, but Desi remembered that he'd never worn them at the club. The man approaching them was none other than Logan Thornton.
An uneasy feeling stole through Desi as Logan stopped in front of them and clapped Jake on the shoulder in greeting. These were three of the four men interested in buying the club they stood in and Desi couldn't help the ensuing paradox of both anticipation and dread that shuddered through her that she might find herself encountering Joel, as well. She'd expected tonight to be rather more anonymous and she wasn't sure she was ready to share the experience with people who actually knew her, no matter how casually.
Jake felt her stiffen and reached an arm around her waist, pulling her close to his side.
"Did you set me up?" Desi muttered under her breath just loud enough for him to hear.
Jake lowered his mouth to her ear. "Of course not, you know me better than that. I wouldn't do that to you," he chided. "The guys knew I was planning to check the place out and Logan and Connor were keen to come along, but they didn't think they could make it."
"What about him?" Jake didn't pretend not to understand. He gave her a reassuring squeeze.
"I didn't tell Joel I was coming, and I didn't tell any of them that I was bringing you. Now, be honest, is it really so bad? Just think of it as an extra step that you've managed to take and give yourself a pat on the back. You're just looking around, remember; now, you're looking around with friends."
Jake's gentle reasoning reassured her, and Desi slowly raised her submissively downturned gaze to meet Logan Thornton's.
"Well, well, if it isn't little Daisy. I barely recognised you! I certainly didn't expect to see you here." He reinforced Jake's assertion as he took in her collar, looked to his friend for permission and, at Jake's barely imperceptible nod, cupped Desi's face and kissed her lightly on both cheeks.
"She's better known these days as Desirae Harper," Jake told Logan before Desi could correct him, herself. "Or 'Desi' to her friends," he added, winking at her.
Connor moved forward and greeted her in a similar fas
hion; she supposed it would look kind of odd if they formally shook hands in a sex club. The absurdity of the notion tickled her sense of humour and she smiled widely, showing off her dimple.
Connor gazed intently at her, taking in the changes. With his big hand settled behind her neck, he drew his thumb across her collar and raised an eyebrow at Jake.
Jake just shrugged. "It's a protection thing," he revealed honestly, and both man nodded in acknowledgement.
"Well, Desi?" Logan asked. "Perhaps I can persuade you to come and dance with me for old times' sake?" He took her hand in his and started drawing her off towards the dance floor without really waiting for a reply. Desi glanced back at Jake in alarm, but he simply nodded his encouragement and took the glass from her hand. Thirty seconds later, Desi found herself thrust into the throng of gyrating bodies and pressed obscenely close to Logan Thornton's body.
Suspended above the dance floor were steel platforms that Desi hadn't noticed before, but from where she stood now, they seemed to surround her. Everywhere she looked, there was a platform with a spotlighted scene. At least a dozen of them.
The one closest to them featured a scantily clad woman bent over a spanking bench, her bare backside being warmed by her Dom's big hand, and Desi's mouth went dry as long buried memories struggled to the surface—memories of Joel's skilled and sensual hands and how freeing it had felt to surrender herself to his sinfully erotic spankings.
Higher up, with a good margin for safety, naked male and female subs were cuffed to opposite sides of a St. Andrew's cross and the distinctive sound of a whip split through the noise of the music as the Dom decorated both of them with a precise lattice pattern. Desi wetted her dry lips as a ripple of long dormant arousal arrowed through her body and settled in her girly bits.
Across the room, she had a spectacular view of a tiny sub with the palest of skin, on her knees with her nipples clamped and her arms bound behind her back while a huge dark skinned Dom with a glistening oiled up body fed her his mammoth cock. Her mouth stretched unnaturally wide just to fit him in and the stark contrast of their skin tones was just as compelling as the act they were participating in.
Desi felt her own nipples tighten and tried to swallow, but her throat was too damn dry. She couldn't say the same for her pussy.
Another platform featured a cage, and within its bars, two females fondled each other intimately, and in one of the corners, a platform featured a pole and the woman performing contorted herself into the most amazing acrobatic positions as she wrapped herself around it.
The heavy, hypnotic beat of the music thrummed through her veins and the throng of bodies heated her skin…except it wasn't just the throng of bodies…
In another corner, a Domme dressed in a black leather bustier and a matching thong and thigh high boots stood admiring her male sub, whom she had bound and gagged while she attached pegs to his scrotum. Any pain he might be feeling had clearly done nothing to dampen his desire and his engorged cock pulsed, proud and purple headed.
Logan moved behind her so he didn't obstruct her view. He was an extremely sensual dancer; he held her tightly and touched her often, but nothing he did was overtly inappropriate. He held her hips and moved them in tandem with his own, her buttocks fitted snuggly against his groin and his hot breath whispered across the side of her neck. She could feel the outline of his erection but decided she'd maybe be more concerned if he didn't have at least a semi, surrounded as they were by all the erotic acts and the suggestive dancing.
In truth, the sights and sounds, the smorgasbord of flesh and the moans and gasps of pleasure and pain that were being broadcast and filtered above the sound of the music from microphones attached to the platforms were turning her on, as well.
Desi could feel her nipples pebbling into hard little buds that rasped against the fabric of her corset as she moved, despite the sultry heat around them, and shivers ran along her skin where Logan touched her. Heat pooled in the pit of her stomach and she revelled in the light, bubbly cravings that fizzled through her veins. God, it had been so long since she'd let herself feel this good.
They'd been out there for a while when Jake joined them, plastering himself provocatively to her front while the pair of them sandwiched her in the middle. It felt deliciously decadent and indulgent.
Desi relaxed and gave herself up to the beat of the music, the snugness of their positions, which made her feel oddly safe as she happily absorbed the arousing atmosphere.
She didn't know how long she'd been floating on that knife edge of stimulation before a deep voice broke into her erogenous stupor. "Is this a private orgy, or can anyone join?"
Desi froze at the sound of Joel's voice. She was aware of Jake stiffening in front of her and Logan tightened his grip on her hips. The silent support helped her to breathe again.
Jake turned to face his cousin, shielding Desi in the process, but Joel deftly sidestepped him and grabbed her hand.
"Dance with me…Desi," he ordered, putting extra emphasis on her name.
An electric jolt shot up Desi's arm at his demanding touch and tremors ran through each of her limbs, mingling in her tummy and causing it to do a slow summersault. His turbulent blue eyes pinned hers and she couldn't look away.
Logan chuckled at her reaction and started backing away, but Jake stood his ground.
"Joel!" he warned, grasping his cousin's shoulder.
"It's just a dance, Jake," Joel growled, never taking his eyes off her. "You can stop with the mother hen routine for a while."
"Desi?" Jake turned to check with her.
"It's okay." She swallowed without looking at him, her gaze still glued to Joel, like a deer caught in headlights.
Jake looked between the two of them, clearly torn. Finally, he nodded. "I won't be far away."
Desi wasn't sure if his words were a reassurance for her or a warning to his cousin.
A moment later, she wasn't thinking anything as Joel yanked her into his arms.
Chapter 6
Desi collided with Joel's hard body, her hands raising automatically and settling on his shoulders to steady herself. Every inch of her skin fizzled in reaction where she was crushed against him from thigh to shoulder and her nipples drilled into him where they were squashed against his chest.
Heat pooled in her groin while blood rushed to her head, and she was glad Joel had such a solid grip on her or she feared she might puddle at his feet in an old-fashioned swoon.
His arms came around her, one at her waist holding her so close that not even a sliver of light could pass between them, the other cupped her butt and massaged it firmly.
Desi felt her entire body combust as he ground his hard cock into her belly and forcefully insinuated one of his legs in between hers, his muscled thigh pressing against her mound as he thrust his pelvis against her in a crude imitation of intercourse.
Joel's head dipped and she felt his hot breath on her skin seconds before his teeth sank into that erogenous point where her neck met her shoulder and Desi felt her sex flood with arousal. She couldn't prevent the obvious tremor that ripped through her body and Joel gave a dark chuckle when he felt it.
Joel tormented her for what seemed like ages and Desi felt powerless to do anything but accept the onslaught. If she was honest with herself, she didn't want him to stop. It felt so damn good being back in his arms.
Suddenly, Joel spun her around and melded his chest against her back. Snaking an arm back around her waist, he grasped her hair in his other hand, tugging harshly on her topknot so that it spilled free from its confines as he wound her hair around his fist to pull her head back. Desi felt her pussy spasm in direct correlation to the jerk of her scalp.
"Watch!" he demanded, pointing her towards a platform where a female sub stood naked, her arms stretched over her head and cuffed to a chain that hung down from the ceiling.
A bare-chested Dom, wearing what resembled an executioner's hood, rained blows across her entire body, her breasts and thighs wer
e reddened, her screams shrill and her face contorted in ecstasy.
"I want to do that to you!" Joel grated, pushing the tips of his fingers into the top of her skin-tight boy shorts and grazing them teasingly close to her throbbing clit but never quite touching.
Desi writhed against him in frustration, trying to move his hand just a little bit lower while he laved her throat with his tongue, then drew back his head and blew on her dampened skin.
Goose bumps gathered, and her nipples hardened so much that she ached to rub them and soothe them. Involuntarily, her hands rose to her chest, but Joel pushed them away.
"No!" he denied. "No one touches but me."
Before she could guess his intentions, Joel pushed his hands roughly down the front of her corset, right there in the middle of the dance floor. His big hands flattened against her breasts, trapping each nipple between his middle and forefinger and squeezing.
Desi threw her head back until it rested on his shoulder as the breath left her body and Joel grazed her collarbone with his teeth. Every cell in her body felt as if it had received some kind of rude awakening. The gentle arousal she had felt just being in this place and from dancing with Jake and Logan had ramped up to a fever pitch, and she ached for even more.
Joel turned them both ninety degrees, until she was facing another platform. There stood a sub with her breasts bound tight with coarse hemp rope so that they swelled and jutted while her Dom swatted the tips with an implement that looked like a mini spatula.
Joel still kept the pressure on her own nipples, and now, he harshly squeezed her breasts.
"I want to do that to you, too," he breathed, nipping behind her ear, and Desi wondered if the evidence of her desire would dribble down her thighs, since she was so damn wet, or whether it would be absorbed by her shorts.