by Opal Carew
Adam leaned back in his seat. “Between you and me, how well do you know her?”
With most people, he’d tell them to mind their own business, but he’d known Adam for almost five years, and he respected the man. Plus, this was Adams business. “Her parents died when she was ten, and she came to California to live with her aunt and uncle. She was the girl next door, literally.”
“So you knew her pretty well.” It wasn’t a question.
In some ways they’d been kindred spirits, but they’d never really been friends, not the kind that hung around together anyway. He shrugged. “Her cousin Dave was my best buddy in high school, but she held herself apart from everyone. She was a tomboy from Oklahoma living in Brentwood. She didn’t fit in, and she never really tried to.”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”
Ian glanced away. “I left when I was eighteen, and only came back to Los Angeles five years ago. And before you ask, no, I never looked them up when I came back. I haven’t seen her, or her family for almost more than fifteen years.” And why did admitting that make him feel like a prick?
“Knowing her could be a detriment if you go into this with preconceived notions,” Adam, said, looking him straight in the eye.
“I’m aware.”
Adam gave him the hard stare for another minute, but Ian didn’t back down. He was a successful businessman, one of the most sought after software designers in the country. He might be a geek, but he sure as hell wasn’t a wimp. Still, Adam Kessler wasn’t a guy you wanted to fuck with, no matter who you were. And looking after the subs that joined his club was something he took very personal.
Just when Ian was starting to take personal offense at Adam’s obvious concern the man nodded. “Okay then. You’re a good man, and a damn good Dom, so I’ll trust you to let me know if your history becomes an issue.”
Ronnie’s stomach jumped as she stared at the building in front of her. Was this the right place? The parking lot was half full of vehicles of every description. There was a shiny new Mercedes parked between a dented Ford pick-up, and small pink Hyundai. Who the hell would want a pink car? She’d parked at the far side of the building, next to a kick ass midnight blue 67 Nova that made her fingers itch to pop the hood. She struggled to ignore it as she moved toward the door. She wasn’t there because of her passion for fast cars, she was there for another passion. One she needed help exploring.
When she was about three feet from the set of double doors at the front she saw the simple black X directly in the center of it, and knew it was the right place.
Overwatch. The private club that just might be the answer to her prayers.
This place was recommended to her after a she posted a particular rant on the “lifestyle” website she’d been using to try and find a Dom. After posting a particular rant on the website she’d been using to meet “Doms” she’d gotten a message from Mason Hardin, the owner of a Club up in Canada. He sounded like he knew what he was talking about, and she’d emailed with him a few times before he sent her the paperwork, and told her to apply for Overwatch, and here she was.
Her fingers trembled when she reached for the handle, and she paused for just a second. She was about to step into another world, one she’d only ever dreamt of belonging to. One that she wanted— no, one that she needed to be a part of. Each day since she’d made the decision to join the club, her lust had gotten stronger. Filling out the application had fired up her imagination and her dreams had gotten darker, and raunchy enough that a couple of times she’d woken up so wet she’d thought she’d peed the bed like a little girl. If only she’d remembered the orgasms she was obviously having in her dreams, they might satisfy her inner hunger a bit. Instead, they just made the need for a man claw harder at her insides.
Be brave, Ronnie, She told herself. Damn it, girl. Get your shit together and go get what you want.
With a deep breath, she pulled the heavy metal door open and strode in. She laughed at herself when she saw the next set of double doors. This time when she reached for the handle, she didn’t hesitate, and her fingers didn’t tremble.
Here she found a real person. A good looking guy in black slacks and a black button down shirt that did absolutely nothing to hide the hard body beneath the soft clothes stood next several feet in front of yet another set of doors.
“Hey,” she said as she walked toward him.
“Hello,” he replied. “Can I help you?” He smiled, but didn’t move from blocking the door. Doors through which she could hear music.
She pulled the email she’d printed earlier from the back pocket of her skinny jeans, unfolded it, and held it out to him. He read it, stepped back and opened the door for her. “Welcome to Overwatch.”
Okay, that was kinda cool. Also a bit intimidating. She stopped just inside the club and looked around. More than bit intimidating. She went down the small set of stairs that led her into the centre of the club.
At the bottom she stopped. Gazing around and breathing deep to slow her racing heart. She was in.
Looking around the room she spotted a group of women gathered together at the cluster of chairs and couches nearest the small stage at the front of the room. Some of them were staring at her and her stomach clenched. Great. Her worst nightmare. A clique of mean girls in a place she was sure to feel vulnerable.
Ronnie had never had much luck with girlfriends. She didn’t enjoy drama and angst, and it seemed to her that women thrived on that shit. Except for Scarlet, her best friend since she was sixteen, and her only girlfriend. Scarlet was cool.
Sucking in a deep breath Ronnie prepared to go over and meet the others.
“Veronica Mack?”
The deep voice startled a rare squeak out of her and heat rushed to her face as she turned to the shadowed corner at her left. “Yes.”
“I’m Adam, owner of Overwatch,” said a man as he stepped from the shadows. “I’d like to have a word before you join the group.”
Her nerves disappeared as she looked him over. Tall, dark, and dangerous looking with muscles and tattoos everywhere, they guy looked like one mean-ass brawler. Until she looked into his eyes. They were strangely gentle. “Sure.”
“Come on over to the bar with me. Can I get you s a drink? Soda, coffee, juice?”
“Just water, thanks.”
Ronnie watched as the owner of Overwatch made his way behind the bar. Neither of them spoke as he grabbed a glass, filled it with ice and water and her nerves started to tickle the back of her throat once again. The man was something to watch. He moved with such confident grace that her belly tightened and her pussy warmed just from watching him. She’d never had an instant reaction to man like that before, and it calmed her nerves in a way nothing else could. She was in the right place, on the right path.
Adam set the glass of water on the bar and she perched her butt on the seat in front of him.
“Nervous?” he asked.
“A bit,” she said. “More excited to be honest.”
“Always be honest, especially in here.” He braced his hands on the bar and leaned forward, causing her heart rate to pick up. “I know it took a lot of courage to fill out the paperwork so fully, and I wanted you to know that honesty is why I think you’re exactly where you need to be. You didn’t hold back, and I admire that.”
Holy shit, the man was intense. His dark eyes burned into her and Ronnie’s spine snapped straight and her insides quivered.
“Thank you.”
“I’m not the only one either. Just so you know, you caused a bit of a debate among the trainers.”
“Oh?” Shit, they hadn’t even seen her yet, so what was the problem?
“They all want to work with someone so open and honest in their needs, so be prepared. They’re gonna do their best to hook you.”
Before she could get over the shock of that statement, he started talking again.
“The training period is three weeks, followed by a three month probationary me
mbership. For the three weeks of class training you’re not allowed into the club when it’s open. Classes are Tuesday and Thursday nights, from eight to ten at night. Will that be a problem for you?”
“Nope.” And if it was, she would damn well deal with it. She’d deal with anything to be in this place. Her instincts were humming, and she got the same feeling she’d gotten the first time she’d walked into shop class in junior high school. This place was what she’d been waiting for.
“After the classes you should visit the club when it’s open a few times before you play. Take the time to observe, and talk to members. It’s not a rule, as some people have more experience than others already, but after reading your application, it’s what I recommend for you. Understood?”
She nodded.
“Two more things,” he said with a small smile. “One. If you break any of my rules, you’re out. No exceptions.”
He stared at her and she looked right back, calm in a way she’d never really felt before. She wasn’t worried.
Adam nodded, took a white card from the back pocket of his jeans and slid it across the bar top to her. “Two. Becoming a member here makes you mine. Not mine as in my sub, but still, mine, and under my care. This is my personal cell number, if you ever have any concerns or issues, I want to know. That means questions, iffy or bad experiences, or even just weird vibes from someone, you come to me. You hear?”
Ronnie was no innocent. She recognized the look in Adam’s eyes and knew on a visceral level that this man was dangerous. Not to her, but to anyone who would dare hurt someone he considered his.
Relief flowed through her. She’d known him less than five minutes, and she trusted him. With this man’s protection, she knew she’d be able to truly explore her darkest fantasies, and not feel threatened.
She reached she for the card. “Got it.”
Instead of joining the clique of women when Adam was done talking to her Ronnie eased her way around the club. Her blood heated and her imagination fired up all sorts of dirty thoughts as she check out a spanking bench, and flat table, hooks and bolts sticking out of the walls and chains hanging from the ceiling. So many ways to be tied up, or down, or over…
A shiver danced down her spine and she gave herself a shake. She really needed to get a hold of herself.
Then she saw the St. Andrews Cross. The thing that she dreamt about the most. She’d always thought they were wood, but not this one. This one was steel. Shiny, clean and sparkling steel that was cool and smooth to her soft touch. Bolts at each corner of the cross for ropes to be slid through, or cuffs to be hooked. Being tied to this cross would be the ultimate for her. Hard steel against her skin, spread open and ready to take whatever would please her Dom. She wanted to be tied to it. To be touched and teased, sensually taunted and tantalized as she opened herself completely to the man she’d chosen to give herself over to.
First he’d touch her lightly, trailing fingertips over her skin, raising goose bumps and shivers of pleasure before stepping back and picking up his favorite toy. Would it be a flogger, or a whip? Maybe a riding crop or a cane? Whatever it was, she’d be happy to have him use it on her. It would heat her skin, get her nipples hard and her juices flowing so that when he put down the toy and stalked toward her she’d-
A sharp whistle rent the air and pulled her abruptly back to the present. She pulled her hand away from the cross and turned to face the room where Adam stood on the small stage telling everyone to find themselves a seat. Several men and women had joined the half dozen women that had already been there. She hurried to join them, sinking into a chair near the back of the group.
“I’ve already introduced myself to each and every one of you and now it’s time for you to meet those that will be running your training sessions. Each one of these people have their own areas of expertise, but they also have years of experience, and a wealth of BDSM knowledge. Meet, Eden, Simon, and Ian. Respect them, learn from them.”
Ronnie watched as a tall, slim yet curvy woman with long dark hair spilling over her shoulders stepped onto the stage and faced them with a sincere smile. Behind her was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. The guy had the same dark, dangerous vibe that Adam did, but his grin was pure erotic devil. Excitement zipped straight to her nipples at the sight of his muscled forearms and wicked grin. The man was hot!
Then she saw the last man to walk up onto the stage. It took a second for her mind to catch up to what her eyes saw and acknowledge the man her heart had recognized immediately. Someone she thought she’d long forgotten. Ian Johnson.
Chapter Two
“Tonight will be your first session. Think of it as orientation, followed by a meet and greet,” Eden said, stepping forward and pulling Ronnie out of her shock. The woman was beautiful, and her sultry voice soothed Ronnie’s nerves. “Overwatch is private members only club. It’s a safe haven for those who want to explore their desires, some, but not all, including BDSM. That said, everyone in this group is here specifically because of a desire to explore and play in a BDSM environment. During your sessions, you’ll experience various aspects of BDSM, but when you are in the club know that some members could be voyeurs, exhibitionists, or are perhaps looking to be a third or fourth in a some group play. That does not mean anything goes here.”
The darkly handsome Simon stepped forward, taking over where Eden left off. “The beauty of BDSM is that there are very few right and wrong things. Some people enjoy light play, some like it deep and intense. Some are into pain, and some are purely to serve and to please. Some people like to be tied and teased, some like to be spanked and fucked. And then there’s the other side of the coin. Some of us like to be the one doing the ordering about, the spanking, the tying and the teasing. Basically, if it feels good, and it hurts no one — unless they like the hurt.” He rubbed his hands together and wiggled his eyebrows making everyone laugh, breaking the slight tension that had been in the room. “Then it’s generally allowed. Safe, sane, and above all consensual.”
Ian picked up where Simon stopped, moving forward and drawing all eyes to him. “The most important thing of all, no matter what someone is into, is respect. You don’t have to like what they like to respect them. As you may have noticed, Adam is very selective in who gets into this club. All new members, no matter their level of experience, go through an orientation like this. The rules are laid out, and if you don’t follow them, there will be consequences. Not playful BDSM style punishments either, but real life, legal consequences. The paperwork you’ll be signing is legal, and binding. We take our members privacy, comfort and safety seriously here.”
Just hearing his voice again caused Ronnie nipples to peak, and her breath to catch. He’d always had a deep voice, but it had gained some rasp over the years, and the growl of it was absolutely delicious.
“Those of you who have played before, or who have a knowledge of BDSM might notice a few thing are different here. First off, we don’t make all the subs or bottoms use the labels Master or Mistress,” Adam said, snapping her attention back to center stage. “Sir, Miss, or even Lady are titles most often used. You might hear a bottom calling a top Master or Mistress, but if you do, that’s between them. It’s not a must here at Overwatch. As Ian said, what is a must here is respect. It doesn’t matter if you’re a top or bottom, sub or Dom, voyeur or third in a party of three, everyone gets respect.”
One of the flaws in Ronnie’s fantasy had always been having to all someone Master. She’d never been into it, and hearing that it wasn’t required was a huge relief.
You might also wonder what the club safe word is,” he said. “We use the stoplight system here. Red means stop; yellow, caution; and green, go. For those doing BDSM, those are the club safewords. In this club there are also some who do not practice BDSM, so when not in a negotiated scene, it’s simple. No means no. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Some might call what we’re doing play but it’s not. It’s real, and the consequences—emotional, psychological, a
nd physical—are real. So be real. Role-playing can be exciting, and rough sex can be … intense. Cursing, swearing, screaming and fighting back, it’s all good. We also understand that within the scene ‘no’ is not used as a safeword. However, if the bottom or sub calls red, play stops immediately and the scene is over — as in finished for the evening. The safeword is not to ever be ignored – under any circumstances. If you cannot wrap your head around that, then this isn’t the club for you.”Adam prowled the stage as he spoke and excitement pooled in Ronnie’s gut. This guy was for real. They were all for real. This club was for real. No more games, no more wannabe’s. She was in it now.
At that thought Ronnie’s gaze automatically swung back to Ian. He stood tall and confident next to the others, not overshadowed by Adam’s intensity in any way, despite being still and silent. The longer she looked at him, the more things started to fall into place in her mind and heat crept up her neck.
Ian had been her first crush. The guy who’d caused her first stirrings of desire when she was barely a teenager. It would make sense that her desire for a dominant man stemmed from her adolescent yearnings for him. The good-looking boy next door who’d always been there for her. He hadn’t laughed at her for wanting to play on the all boys softball team at school, or for fighting to able to take shop class instead of home economics. He’d been her first friend when she’d moved out to California, and the first guy to ever kiss her.
Unfortunately, he disappeared from her life after that kiss.
Ian strode through the club, heading straight for Ronnie. She’d recognized him earlier. Her eyes had widened when he’d stepped onto the stage, and her cheeks had flushed when he’d caught her staring at him when one of the others was talking. But since the orientation part of the night was over and the class started mingling she hadn’t even glanced his way.
Almost every other person had made an effort to meet him. The Doms introducing themselves with a firm handshake, and the subs batting lashes over eyes filled with desire. At this point the desire wasn’t for him personally so much as an experienced Dom, and he didn’t take offense at it. The meet and greet portion of the night might seem purely social, but it was really the first step in teaching the attendees how to negotiate the world of the club. It bothered him to see Ronnie sitting at the bar instead of moving through the crowd.