by KB Winters
If she wanted to go to Fuego, it was on my terms, and she’d sensed that, not bothering to ask any questions or pry for details before she’d left my office, and I hadn’t seen her since.
Her absence made me eager, and waiting out two days, to get to Friday evening, had been pure torture with the sheer amount of thoughts running through my mind all the time.
I couldn’t shake the feeling in the pit of my stomach over the whole thing. It wasn’t like I’d never taken a girl to the club before. I had. Dozens of them. But there was something very different about taking Megan there. I found myself mapping out a plan of what to show her first and wondering how she would react to each different scenario.
Fuego had a lot to offer, something for every taste, and I could hardly wait to find out what Megan’s taste would lead us to. …
When I pushed out of bed Friday morning, my entire body was humming with anticipation. I made it through the day making snap decisions, barking orders, and forcing myself to focus, not letting my mind drift to what was waiting for me…us…once the day was over.
The majority of staff had checked out, racing out the doors as early as possible to start their own weekends, and I grinned to myself knowing that my night would trump everyone else’s. When Cara said goodnight, I knew it was my cue to leave. I took my time closing down my office, knowing that each moment I waited Megan was somewhere nearby growing more and more anxious. It was like I could feel her energy, even without her being in front of me, and there was something delicious about it that melted away my own worries.
I finally left the office and rode down to the underground parking garage. When the doors of the elevator swooshed open, I spotted Megan standing outside looking in the opposite direction. I stilled and watched her for a moment, wishing I could tap into her mind and see the thoughts that were likely racing through. Her fingers were tapping nervously against her leg and confirmed my suspicion earlier that she was coursing with nerves. She turned and offered a nervous smile that sent my heart racing like I’d just done three miles with a sharp incline on my treadmill.
“Grant,” she said, barely above a whisper. God, I love the way she says my name.
“Second thoughts?” I asked, casually strolling from the elevator, burying the new surge of eagerness.
“No,” she replied, setting her jaw.
“Well if that delivery didn’t scare you off, I guess you’re pretty bent on this,” I growled into her ear, thinking about the package I’d had delivered to her cubicle. On the outside, it was a plain brown paperboard box. The card attached told her not to open it in public, because inside, was an outfit I’d personally selected for her to wear. My cock twitched at the rush of thoughts, imagining her body wrapped in the bondage inspired lingerie. It wasn’t anything too outlandish, just a simple taste of things to come, but I knew it would highlight her best assets and give me a visual feast that I couldn’t wait to devour.
She flushed and glanced down at her shoes for a moment. I captured her chin with the crook of my fingers and brought her eyes back to mine. “I’ll take care of you. You just have to trust me.”
“I do,” she replied and my heart jolted higher in my chest.
I dragged my fingertips down the side of her face, over the angle of her jaw, and down the side of her neck. “Good. Let’s go.”
I led her to my car, opened her door and we took off, speeding downtown. Fuego wasn’t advertised to the public—for obvious reasons, it was by invite only. Originally, I’d heard about it from a friend in college whose older brother was a Dom. He’d pulled some strings and got me an invite to one of the introduction parties and the rest had been history. My attendance was never routine, but over the years, I’d become well known and respected among the other members.
As I wound through town, Megan kept her gaze trained out the passenger window, and I could see her chewing on her bottom lip. “You okay over there?” I asked her.
“Yeah,” she replied, too quickly. She smiled over at me but I wasn’t convinced. She toyed with the edge of her skirt. As much as I liked the game, to keep her off kilter, I also didn’t want her to back out, and it wasn’t clear how far I could push before she would pull away. I wanted to reassure her, but I didn’t know the words that would relax her. I’d just have to wait until I could show her. We drove in silence until we arrived at what, from the outside, appeared to be an abandoned brick warehouse.
Megan craned her neck to look up and down the dark street. “This is it?” She asked, looking back at me.
“Welcome to Fuego.” I jutted my chin in the direction. “It’s in the basement of that building.”
“Oh.”
“Megan?”
She whipped back to face me.
“We don’t have to do this,” I reminded her.
“I want to,” she insisted, her voice stronger.
I nodded. “All right. If you change your mind, at any point, you have to tell me. Okay?”
Her eyes went wide but she bobbed her head frantically, assuring me that she wasn’t going to back down. “I’m ready.”
“All right. Let’s go.”
Moments later, I was leading her down the alleyway that connected two old buildings, and down a flight of stairs that used to be used for deliveries when the warehouse was operational. Some kind of sporting goods distribution center. So pedestrian, considering what it housed now… I’d walked the path down to the secret entrance so many times that the surroundings were familiar to me, but I tried to imagine what Megan was thinking as I led her into the darkness. As we neared, the only light was given off from small LED lights set to illuminate the stairs and to showcase the metal plaque, stamped with the Fuego logo, which hung to the right of the heavy metal door.
I pushed the plaque—which was actually a cover for a sleek, silver keypad—aside, and pressed in the key code I’d been given. Every time a reservation was made for a room at Fuego, a unique code was sent in an encrypted email.
A soft beep sounded, letting me know the door was unlocked. I gave Megan one last glance, silently conveying it was her last chance to turn back and not go inside, but she didn’t back down, instead, she rested her hand on my forearm. I pushed the door open and we stepped into the entryway together. I paused in the entry, letting Megan soak it all in. In some ways, it was laid out like a very intimate boutique hotel—the space was decorated, mostly in deep, rich red tones and exquisite cherry wood furnishings. I glanced over and saw Megan’s eyes had caught on the Fuego logo on the back wall.
I joined her gaze and let myself marvel at the sculptural piece of art. The logo was cut into a floor to ceiling piece of brushed metal. The spaces where the logo had been cut away glowed poker hot red, and the lighting effect from behind made it look like the wall was on fire. I should have known that Megan’s artistic eye would gobble up all the details of the space. Underneath the logo sat a narrow fireplace with shards of metal, all glowing hot. The fire filled the room with heat and an intoxicating blend of spices that scented the air with a sensual smell. The space was vacant of other guests, and the only other person there was a security guard, dressed head to toe in black, standing along the wall on the other side of the door as it swung shut behind Megan and me. He offered a nod of familiarity as I passed with Megan, taking her deeper into the room.
Megan followed my lead, her head spinning and craning to soak in as much of her surroundings as she could. In either direction there was a long hallway. To the left, the hallway led to a series of private rooms, one of which I’d reserved to take Megan to, someplace we could be alone, but first, she needed to see the rest that Fuego had to offer. So, I turned her and started down the hallway on the right. The walls were painted a deep persimmon color with golden accents. Megan’s eyes roved around, but there wasn’t much to see…yet. The hallways were warm, the heat and scent piped in to match the feel of the front room.
“Where are we going?” Megan whispered after we’d walked a little ways.
“The slave auction,�
� I answered calmly.
“Slaves?” She hissed, obviously horrified by the word and idea.
I nodded but offered no other explanation. She needed to learn to trust me. Her fingers had been resting on my forearm as we’d walked, but with each new step, they dug into my skin. “In here,” I said, guiding her with a touch at the small of her back through a thick black curtain. We entered the room and I pulled her into a seat next to me. The lighting in the room was so low it was hard to see there were others in the room. A few whispers buzzed around the room and I leaned over to Megan who still had a death grip on my arm. “That’s the stage,” I explained, nodding towards the front of the room that was currently covered by a sheer curtain. “When the auction begins, people will be brought out, one at a time, and the bidders use the keypads to put in their bid. At the end, the winner is notified and goes to a private room with their slave.”
Megan ran her finger over the keypad built into the armrest between us. “Okay. But they aren’t really…slaves…right?” She whispered.
“Not in the sense that they aren’t up there by choice.”
She nodded and stared at the stage, taking it all in. Before I could add anything else to the description, the stage lit up, and a voice filtered in from the sound system. “Ladies and gentleman, the Fuego slave auction is set to begin. Please use your keypad to bid. All bids tonight start at twelve. Thank you.”
“Twelve dollars?” Megan asked.
I couldn’t help but smile. “Twelve thousand.”
“Holy shit. …”
The curtain was peeled back to reveal a woman on stage, she was a beautiful brunette dressed in a black lace up corset and matching garter belt. I studied her for a moment, but then turned my attention to see Megan’s reaction to the half naked woman. Her eyes were wide but she didn’t say anything as the bidding commenced, and the only sounds were the announcer declaring the winner and bringing the next slave on stage. This time, it was a man, he was wearing leather like a motorcycle rider and a black mask concealed his face.
As the auction progressed, I found myself watching Megan more than the action on stage. She eyed each person that came out, as though inspecting them for some sign of resistance, but the longer the auction went on, the more she seemed to relax.
I was starting to wish for the end of the auction so we could get to the next phase, but before I could make a move to stand up, Megan gripped my arm.
“I know her. Isn’t that the…” Her words trailed off as the announcer cut in.
I glanced at the stage. Son of a bitch. It was Angela, the blonde woman that Megan had caught sitting on my desk the afternoon of our argument. How was it that I couldn’t get away from her? She was on stage, looking identical to the first time I’d seen her, wearing a diamond encrusted thong and matching pasties to cover her nipples. Every other inch was on display as she strutted the way across the stage.
Megan looked over at me. “Have you bought her before?”
Her question surprised me and I shook my head violently. “No. Come on, let’s get out of here.” If I hadn’t already been one foot out the door, I certainly was after Angela’s appearance. Luckily the room was dark, designed to hide them. There was one other room I wanted her to see before we went to the private room I’d booked for the night.
“How long have you been coming here?” She asked.
“Three years.”
She nodded slowly, processing the information, but didn’t ask any further questions. As we continued, sounds filtered towards us, loud commands, screams, moans, all mixed together, charging the air with tension.
Megan looked startled as the noises grew louder with each step, but she didn’t grab on to me as she had when we’d first entered the club. The next room we entered was nearly the same as the previous room, the difference this time was that instead of auditorium style seating, there were booths, and the stage was filled with people engaging in various sexual acts. There were multiple rooms like it, each featuring a different fetish, but the one I’d chosen was solely for BDSM enthusiasts, doms and subs.
We entered and took a seat at an empty booth, no one else in the room even bothering to turn at our arrival. On stage, a tall, thin man had a busty blonde on her knees with a leather leash wrapped around her neck. She was working him as he tugged on the leash, keeping her right where he wanted her, and occasionally slapped her tits with a crop.
Megan tensed on the seat next to me at the sound of the slaps, and I didn’t know if she was turned on or repulsed. The man pulled out of the blonde’s mouth and came all over her, shooting his load on her face and tits. As that scene ended, another couple had started another one on the other side of the stage. They were two women, one bent over a bench, her bare ass up in the air for everyone to see. The other woman, wearing a strap on—and not much else—began slapping her ass with a paddle while the other moaned and writhed under each impact.
I tore my eyes away from the stage and glanced at Megan, studying her as she took it all in. For the first time I wondered if this was too much, too soon. I began wondering if I should have just taken her to the private room first, and worked her up from there.
“Are you two looking for a third?” A woman asked, sliding into the booth on the other side of Megan. She snaked an arm around Megan’s shoulders and stroked the exposed skin of Megan’s shoulder. The woman was beautiful, and the idea of watching Megan with another woman got me rock hard, but I shook my head and the woman slipped away as silently as she’d come.
“Do you know her?” Megan asked as the woman slipped away.
I shrugged. “I’ve seen her here before.”
Megan nodded and I saw her gulp in the dim lighting of the room. Her eyes shifted back to the stage.
I was losing her. …
“Come on,” I said to Megan, pulling on her hand.
I led her from the room, walking past other rooms where other shows were going on, each doorway a new portal of moans, groans, and slaps. We wound back the way we’d come in, passing another couple in the hall. I recognized the man, but couldn’t remember his name. We exchanged nods as we passed, but no words. Members of Fuego preferred anonymity and although I’d seen a few of them outside—other than Angela—most feigned ignorance.
I used the key code to enter into the private room I’d reserved, and ushered Megan inside. The room was simply decorated, but I knew that the chest on one side of the room was filled with everything—and anything—we would need to enjoy the night together.
“Well, what do you think?” I asked, shutting the door behind us.
She took a quick sweep around the room and then let her eyes lock back with mine before taking a deep breath.
Chapter Five — Megan
Grant’s question was simple, but I didn’t have a clue how to answer. It was like my thoughts were a runaway train that I had no hope of slowing down, let alone translate into something that he could understand. Although I’d had a couple days to think about going to Fuego, and all that would entail, I hadn’t really been able to come up with a solid guess of what to expect. Other than what I’d experienced with Grant, the blindfold and hand ties, I’d never even imagined the other kinds of deep, dark, and kinky things I’d seen in the hour that I’d spent at Fuego. Slaves? Whips? Toys? Name calling and humiliation?
All of the images were still fresh in my mind, but I couldn’t make sense of any of them, like I’d walked into something from a dream, and what I’d seen wasn’t reality.
“Megan, answer me,” Grant demanded.
I exhaled the deep breath I’d sucked in. “I—I don’t know.”
He considered me for a moment, his eyes roving up and down my face, searching for something.
“Do you want to leave?” Grant asked, his gazed continuing to bounce between my eyes and lips, gauging my expression.
I took a steeling breath, “No. Do you?”
“Not a chance.” He gave a devilish grin and my heart stumbled at the sudden spike of my
pulse.
We were alone in the room, and I realized how close we were standing, despite the fact that there was plenty of space for us to walk around. I turned my head, taking in the ambiance of the darkened room.
It was decorated much like the rest of the club—a deep red wallpaper with some kind of filigree pattern printed on it that reflected glimmers from the low lighting. The furniture looked expensive and well maintained. There was a kneeling bench like I’d seen at the sex show, along one of the walls. It was cushioned and wrapped in soft, supple looking leather. Along the opposite wall there was some type of contraption hanging from the ceiling, although, to me it looked like a tangled mess of nylon cords and mesh fabric, I knew—without asking—that Grant knew exactly what it was, and how to use it.
I shivered, hoping Grant didn’t notice, as my eyes landed on each new aspect of the room that was feeling more and more like a sex chamber with each hot second, which, I supposed was the point.
“Did you wear the outfit I sent you?” Grant asked, breaking into my thoughts.
My cheeks flushed at the question, but as I mentally pulled up the image of my body wrapped in the shreds of fabric, I felt a bolt of warmth shoot straight between my legs. I’d been fantasizing about revealing the outfit to him since the minute I’d seen it laying in the tissue lined box. It was unlike anything I’d ever worn before, even in my past attempts to be sexy or dress up. The most daring thing I’d ever bought was a pair of thigh high stockings and a pair of black crotchless panties, and the only reason I’d even bought them was because of a stupid dare the year after graduating from high school, and I’d never even got up the nerve to wear them for my then boyfriend. In fact, they were probably still stuffed in some deep, dark corner in my closet.
I brought my eyes to Grant’s and saw the deep hunger reflecting at me. His pupils were larger than I’d ever seen them, which was partially due to the low lighting in the room…but I knew that wasn’t the only reason. I nodded slowly and in a moment of provocation, slipped off one strap of the eggplant dress I was wearing. It was a thin spaghetti strap and slid down my shoulder with little more effort than a brushing of my fingertips along my silky skin. I followed the motion to remove the other strap and watched as Grant’s eyes grew larger, darker, deeper. I could drown in the desire flooding him as he stared at me. Something about the way he watched me, made me feel like I wasn’t just Megan the student, the daughter, the oddball Goth chick…Grant transformed me. His careful attention and the way he could make me feel like the only woman in the room, the only woman on earth, was intoxicating and my resolve about not getting tangled in his web again slipped away just as easily as the straps of my dress.