Challenge Me (Club Masque Book 2)

by Riley James

  Challenge Me

  A Club Masque Short

  Riley James

  Contents

  Also by Riley James

  ARIEL

  CONNOR

  ARIEL

  CONNOR

  ARIEL

  CONNOR

  ARIEL

  CONNOR

  ARIEL

  CONNOR

  About the Author

  Coming soon from Riley James

  Also by Riley James

  Club Masque Series

  Use Me (Book #1)

  Erotic Short Stories

  Night Out

  Just One Taste

  Copyright ©️2017 by Riley James

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design by Charlee Hoffman

  Created with Vellum

  ARIEL

  I can’t decide whether or not to have a drink.

  Club Masque is busy tonight. People are dancing, and the scene areas are crowded by both players and watchers. Music vibrates through the walls—punctuated occasionally by the sounds of sex—and around me, my friends have decided to drink. But I’m torn. If I drink, I can’t play. I had my heart set on playing tonight, even if the one person I really want to play with…won’t.

  My eyes drift back to Master Connor. He’s been the bartender here as long as I can remember, and I’ve been coming to this club for awhile. He’s gorgeous, and I don’t know a sub in here who wouldn’t kill to do a scene with him.

  “Oh my word, Ariel. Just go get a drink, stop staring at the bar like it’s your long lost lover.” That’s Lyssa, working on what I think is her third glass.

  Mercedes laughs on my right. “I don’t think it’s the bar she’s staring at, Lyss.”

  “Ohhh.”

  “Shut up, guys,” I say, looking around the rest of the sub lounge to see who’s listening. I don’t want it to somehow get back to Master Connor that I’m…I don’t know, pining?

  Megan leans forward, toasting her glass to me. “Nothing wrong with it, girl. If I had the chance to scene with him, I would.”

  “Do you know why he doesn’t play?” I ask.

  “Oh, he plays,” Kara says, “Just not often.”

  “Why?”

  “I heard he prefers private scenes. He’s not an exhibitionist. So he could be playing a lot, and we’d never know.”

  Mercedes almost chokes on her drink. “Not an exhibitionist. Sure he is. If he’s not, he wouldn’t have the challenges.”

  I shake my head, “What challenges?”

  “Oh. My. God,” Lyssa practically shouts, drawing eyes from the other subs around us, “You don’t know?”

  “Apparently not.”

  Megan starts to giggle, “You’re in for it now.”

  “He has these ‘challenges,’ right? Anyone can ask for one. It’s his choice whether he says yes or no. They’re always a little different but the same kind of concept—some sort of…sexual endurance.” Lyssa comes over and flops on the couch beside me. I’m amazed that she doesn’t spill her drink. “Basically, he’ll tell you what the prize and punishment are. It’s up to you to decide if it’s worth it.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say, “What’s the point?”

  “Because he’s the prize,” Mercedes whispers in my ear, “at least for the night.”

  Chills go down my spine. He’s the prize.

  “Yeah,” Megan says, rolling her eyes, “He’s the prize, but no one ever wins. Do you remember Lana?”

  “Oh my god, yes! Her challenge was to ride the sybian at full speed through a particular song without coming.” Kara laughs, “She never stood a chance.”

  No, she wouldn’t have. At full speed? I shudder. No one would have lasted that long. “What was her punishment?”

  “He bound her in Shibari—the kind that stimulates your clit when you walk—and made her serve drinks for the rest of the night.”

  “Kara.” A deep voice comes from behind me, and all of our gazes lower instinctively.

  Kara’s eyes go wide, and she puts her aside while sinking to her knees. “Yes, Sir.”

  It’s Rhett. A few weeks ago they started playing together. They’re not officially exclusive, but they’re certainly heading in that direction. I don’t think Kara has played with anyone else since.

  “You’ve been drinking?” He asks. No judgment, merely curiosity.

  “Yes, Sir. I didn’t know you’d be here tonight. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Why are you apologizing. I’m not angry with you. Besides, you drinking doesn’t mean I can’t tease you at the bar. Come with me. Bring your drink.” He walks away, knowing that she’ll follow.

  “Yes, Sir.” She stands, giving the rest of us a wink as she hurries off. From what I can tell of Rhett, he’s a decent man, and he’s good for Kara. I watch them until they reach the bar, where Rhett pulls Kara against him and takes her mouth in a kiss. It seems too intimate for me to watch, and I have to look away.

  “How many of these challenges have there been?” I ask, trying to spin the conversation back.

  Mercedes shakes her head, “I’m not sure. But I do know that no one’s ever won. Probably why there hasn’t been one in a while.”

  “Wow.”

  “You’ve never noticed the little sign that’s at the bar?” Megan asks.

  I squint towards the bar, but I don’t see a sign. “Sign?”

  “It’s near the vodka. It says ‘Ask me about the Challenge.’ Like one of those cheesy t-shirts or something.”

  I laugh, “No, I never noticed.”

  “I’d totally do it,” Lyssa says, resting her head on my shoulder, “But I’m a chicken.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  She shrugs. “Probably not. But I’d rather just do a scene. Not a competition.”

  I look back towards the bar again, towards Connor. She has a point. Normal scenes are good. Fine. Controllable. But I can’t get those words out of my head: He’s the prize.

  CONNOR

  I fill the order for a vodka soda with a sigh. I’m not sure what it is about tonight, but I don’t want to be here. I think that’s the first time I can say that about Club Masque in years. This place has always been my sanctuary, but it’s feeling less and less like that these days.

  That’s because you haven’t had sex in way too long, my brain tells me. And it’s true. It’s been awhile. I haven’t had a permanent sub since last year, and I haven’t been approached for any scenes in a couple of months. It’s my own damn fault. I spend too much time behind the bar to put myself out there in any real way, and I’m not the biggest fan of public scenes. Most of the subs that play here prefer that, and I get it—it’s an extra layer of safety.

  But there’s nothing like being alone, just you and the sub, not worrying about who’s getting off watching you fuck. My private room upstairs is probably gathering dust. Or not. Matthew probably has a cleaning service that keeps everything pristine. He would do that, even for pricks like me.

  The upper floors of Club Masque have many rooms available to members for private play, to stay the night if they can’t get home, or if they need a place to play during the week. And for those of us with higher level memberships, a private room that’s always available. All the rooms are monitored by live video and the club’s security, but I still like that better than being on display.

  But putting a sub on display…that’s another
thing entirely.

  Rhett comes to the bar and sits down, followed closely by the pretty sub he snagged a few weeks ago. He takes her drink and places it on the bar before winding his hand through her hair and kissing her. Damn. The way she relaxes into his control immediately is a gorgeous sight. Something I haven’t felt in a long time. Even my most recent scenes haven’t felt like that. They’ve been—hell they’ve felt almost vanilla. I don’t know if that’s because the chemistry wasn’t there or because I’m becoming less creative, but that’s something I need to fix immediately.

  When the kiss is over, I approach Rhett, “What can I get you, man?”

  “Whiskey, I think. Kara, would you like a refill?”

  She blushes, and I see the way her hands grab onto the fabric of his t-shirt. A stab of jealousy goes through me, not for her, but for that. That simple gesture of trust and need. “Yes, Sir,” she says, “if we’re not playing.”

  “We’re not scening,” Rhett says mildly, “playing is an entirely different thing.” He pulls Kara in between his legs, pinning her back against the bar, so she’s trapped.

  I chuckle as I pour his whiskey, and refill her vodka cranberry. “Clean up after yourself if you do body shots.”

  Rhett raises an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting thought.” He runs a hand over Kara’s breasts, and I watch her shudder. “Would you like me to lick my whiskey off these?”

  “Whatever you want, Sir.”

  “Good answer.” He says, pulling down the neckline of her lingerie until her breasts spill out. “Let’s try it.”

  I walk down the bar to serve some newcomers, fighting that jealous surge in my gut. It’s not like me. I’m happy for Rhett—he deserves it, and since he’s been playing with Kara, he’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he collared her. Hell, it’s only been a few weeks, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he married her.

  My problem is more immediate. If I want that—the kind of fun and intimacy that those two share—I have to open myself up to it. I have to get over my dislike of the public eye and do the scenes in the club. If I’m lucky enough to actually find a sub, the transition to a more private setting should happen naturally. At least that’s what I hope. I finish serving the drinks at the end of the bar, and come to a decision: I’m going to do a scene tonight. I have no idea what kind, but there’s still plenty of time before the club closes for me to find someone and decide.

  Yeah. I have to do this.

  I look around for Matthew or Nick because they’re mother hens and will probably jump at the chance to help me find a sub for the night. I see Nick doing a scene at the St. Andrew’s Cross, and Matthew is nowhere. They’ll turn up eventually. I glance across from the bar towards the sub-lounge. There are plenty of unattached submissives milling around that area, though I see a good number of them have drinks in their hands.

  The jealousy I’ve been feeling fades with my newfound determination. I don’t know what I’ve been thinking. Being pro-active is the only way to do this. I head down to the other end of the bar where a sub is waiting to be served. She’s pretty—white blonde hair along with white lingerie making her look ethereal. White’s a little odd for a club like this, but it works on her. Subs come to the bar all the time. I’m an idiot for not looking at them as anything more than customers, just stewing in my own shit.

  “White?” I ask, “A little odd for a sex club.” She looks…nervous? I’m not sure why. I’ve seen her before, but I don’t think we’ve ever spoken. I can’t seem to remember her name. Smiling, I ask, “What can I get you, little one?”

  ARIEL

  This is so stupid. I can’t believe that I’m even considering it after what everyone told me. No one has ever beaten a challenge that Connor has given them, so why would I think that I’d be able to? All I know is that I’ve wanted him for way too long not to try this. Even if I fail, I’ll gladly be his for the night. Whatever he wants, I’ll do it gladly just for the chance to be under his command.

  He’s at the other end of the bar serving some people, so I wait. I rise up on my toes and back down, the flexing helping the way my nerves are fluttering. I told the girls that I’d finally decided to get a drink. I lied.

  The sign is right where Megan said it was, a little red plaque below the vodka shelf. ‘Ask me about the challenge’ in block letters. He’s heading back this way, and I swear my entire body is tingling with anxiety and anticipation. That sensation when you’re about to do something that could totally backfire, and it either goes great or you throw up and there’s no in-between.

  He stops in front of me, and I’ve somehow forgotten how tall he is. He’s taller than most people, and I’m on the short side. Looking at us is probably hilarious. I realize I don’t know what Connor does for a living, but whatever it is keeps him in damn good shape. He’s not wearing a shirt tonight, and my eyes trace the lines of his body down to where that trail of hair disappears into his leathers.

  Rhett’s been doing shots off of Kara’s chest and looking at him here; I wouldn’t mind taking a few shots off Connor’s abs. He smiles at me, transforming his face from that of an intimidating Dom into something else entirely. Something that makes my breath fall short. “White? A little odd for a sex club.” He sounds amused. “What can I get you, little one?” he asks, and I look down, embarrassed by how much I like that he called me that.

  “I didn’t realize that the color black had a monopoly on sex.” He laughs, and it gives me the confidence to keep going. I clear my throat. “I’m not here for a drink, Master Connor.”

  He huffs a laugh, “Not many people call me Master.”

  “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “I didn’t say I minded.” His voice is amused. “What’s your name?”

  “Ariel, Sir.”

  He reaches out, tilting my chin up to look at him. “Ariel. That’s pretty. What are you here for if you don’t want a drink?”

  Taking a deep breath, I meet his gaze head on. “I’m here to ask you about your challenge.”

  Connor goes deathly still, and I watch his eyes go dark. I drop my gaze, unsure of what he’s thinking. “What made you ask about this?” He’s using Dom voice, and I don’t know what to tell him. How much should I tell him? Connor leans forward on his forearms so that he’s level with my gaze. “Don’t lie to me.”

  I sigh. “I’ve been…interested in you. But I don’t ever remember seeing you scene, and I didn’t know how to ask. Then I heard about the challenges, saw the sign.” I point it out. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t supposed to know.”

  “Don’t apologize. I wanted to make sure. More than one sub has been sent my way not knowing what they’re asking for because someone thought it would be funny. Believe it or not, I forgot that sign was still up,” he says. But then he pins me with a stare that makes me tremble. “You didn’t know how to ask for what you wanted? With me?”

  I shake my head, and he touches one of my hands which pressed against the bar so hard my fingers are white. “Relax, little one. I don’t bite unless you ask me to.” That draws a smile from me. “Since you were honest with me, I’ll be honest with you. You’re right. I don’t often scene in public. Being watched makes me…uncomfortable. But I’ve decided that I need to put that aside because it’s getting in the way of meeting new people.” He gives me a pointed glance.

  “I guessed I came at a good time then.”

  “Yes, you did.” A slow smile slips across his face, “You asked for a challenge.”

  Those butterflies are back. “Yeah.”

  He nods, pulling a bottle of water from below the bar and passing it to me. “All right. I haven’t done one of those in a while. Could be fun.”

  “How does it work?”

  “Drink that, and I’ll tell you. You haven’t had any alcohol tonight?”

  I open the bottle and take a sip, “No, Sir.”

  “Good. It’s pretty simple, I give you a challenge. If you beat it, you win the prize, and if you do
n’t, you take the punishment.”

  Taking another sip of the water, I nod.

  “If you accept the challenge, I’m going to restrain you. Bind you to a chair so tightly you won’t be able to move.” He points to a scene area in the middle of the club, “I’m going to put you there so that people can watch. And then I’m going to strap a vibrator to you. If you make it fifteen minutes without coming, then you win.”

  The words he says form images in my head and a little shudder goes through me along with a shock of arousal. “What’s the prize?” I ask.

  He grins, “If you win, I’ll take you to my private room upstairs and make sure that you come more in one night than you ever have in your life.”

  My stomach drops, and I’m suddenly wetter than I can remember being in a long time. I don’t need to say anything to that. I’m sure it’s pretty fucking clear on my face how badly I want that. Instead, I take another sip of the water in an attempt to cool my body down.

  “But, if you fail,” he says, “if you come before the fifteen minutes are up, then you’re mine for the night, and that’s the only orgasm you get. I can fuck you any way I like. Maybe I’ll strap you to the top of the bar and tease you until you’re screaming, maybe you’ll just be a decoration, but I swear that you won’t come again.”

  He laughs, and I realize that I’m staring at him, mouth open. There’s something unbelievably hot about that, and I shift my legs closer together, pressing against the arousal that’s growing in my core. “If I fail, you’re the only one who touches me?”

  “Not necessarily,” he says, “but I’m particular about who touches my subs. I’m not going to strap you to the bar and let anyone do what they want to you.”

  The knot of tension eases in my shoulders. “And safe words?”

  “Of course. You can always use those. But these challenges are about fun and sex, not about pushing your boundaries.”