Discovered

by Quigg, CA

  My phone vibrates with a message, and I slid it from my front pocket. Aubree. Perhaps neither a sub nor I will have to take care of me after all.

  I need to talk to you now. It’s urgent.

  My fingers hover over the keyboard. I can’t leave the club for another two hours, but I can’t ignore her.

  Callum, I need to see you.

  She wouldn’t have contacted me unless it’s urgent, but I can’t have her come here. It’s against the rules. Rules I created to keep the members’ secrets safe.

  Please, my dad hit me because I asked about you. He left. I don’t know where he is. I don’t know what to do.

  I grip my phone so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t break. He hit her? He raised his hand to her? Showing him any compassion was a mistake, the fucker belongs in prison, and as soon as I can arrange it, that’s where he’s going.

  Are you at home? I text back.

  Yes

  I’ll send a car.

  The minutes pass like hours and every time I check the time on my phone, the time seems to stay the same. I already have men out looking for William. It’s better they find him than me because if I find him, I’ll wrap my hands around his neck and watch the life fade from his eyes. What kind of sick bastard lifts a hand to his daughter because she asked him to tell the truth?

  Mistress Nadine, Yield’s office manager and resident dominatrix, catches my eye and inclines her head towards the office.

  James, who’s finished his scene stands at the end of the bar tickling and torturing one of the bar subs with a feather. I stride toward him, and on the way, I untie my arm band.

  “There’s a situation I need to take care of,” I say and place the black band on the bar. “If you need me, call me. Keep an eye on things for a while.”

  He nods and takes the arm band. “Anything I can help with?”

  “Aubree Miller is here.”

  If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. “Be careful,” is all he says.

  “I always am.”

  I close the office door behind me and ask Mistress Nadine, “Where is she?”

  “In the parlor.” She scowls at me and crosses her arms beneath her leather bound breasts. “You know as well as I do, she can’t come onto this floor. Your rules remember.”

  Most men are terrified to get on her bad side, but since she’s a switch with me, I don’t have that worry.

  “I remember.”

  She presses her lips into a thin slash. “What happened to the girl? She’s a mess. One side of her face is swollen and her lip is busted.”

  “Her father.”

  She sucks in a heavy breath, and I rummage through the office closet, grab a black polo shirt and throw it on. Aubree doesn’t need to see me half naked. That’ll happen in time, but that time isn’t now.

  “Is she one of yours?” Mistress Nadine asks.

  I shake my head. “Not yet.”

  Chapter Five

  Aubree

  I hold the icepack the oddly dressed but sweet lady, Nadine, gave me to my pulsing cheek. I’m too anxious and wired to sit, so I stroll around a sitting room that resembles a Victorian parlor. If I didn’t know I was in an old building in the middle of the warehouse district, I would have sworn I was in some sort of expensive country club.

  I have no idea where I am—what street or building. Callum’s driver gave nothing away. He said two words—“Hello” when he picked me up outside my building and “Follow me” when we pulled to a stop in an underground parking lot. I didn’t even ask how he knew where I lived. I’m sure Callum knows everything about me from the time I was born to what I had for breakfast this morning.

  I stop pacing and stand by a flickering gas fire and stare at the hypnotic flames. How did this happen? I mean, I get how it happened, but it all seems so surreal. Never in a million years would I have believed my dad would hit me because I said Callum Talbot was nice. And he is nice, or at least he seems to be, but maybe that’s my hormones talking because they want him.

  The door behind me creaks open, and I turn to see Callum wearing a tight pair of leather pants and a black polo shirt. On the breast pocket of his shirt, is an odd, white circular emblem separated into three sections by curvy lines with what looks like holes in the center of each section.

  A sob catches in my throat, and I want to run into his arms. I want him to hold me and tell me everything will be okay, but I stay where I am.

  “Let me see,” he says in a soothing tone. He strides across the floor and stands in front of me, lifts the ice pack from my cheek and sets it on the mantle. Fury flares in his eyes, but it’s not directed at me.

  “Did he slap you or punch you?” He brushes a feather-light thumb over my cheek.

  “Backhanded me.” I’m too ashamed to look at him, so I stare at the floor.

  He tilts my chin and slides my hair behind my ears. I have no choice but to look at him.

  “Your lip?” The concern in his voice touches my heart.

  “His college ring.” I don’t say another word because I’m afraid if I keep talking, I’ll break down.

  A few seconds later, when I’ve regained my composure, I say, “He’s never done anything like this before. He started ranting and raving saying I was to stay away from you because you’re perverted.” I slump down on a fireside chair and wrap my arms around my waist. “Tell me what happened between you. Why does he hate you so much?”

  He sits down on the coffee table and clasps his hands between his open knees. “Your father found out some sensitive information about some powerful people. He used that information in an attempt to blackmail them, and me, for millions of dollars.”

  I shake my head and stand. “No. He would never…”

  “I have video proof. And a paper trial.”

  “You’re wrong. He’s not that kind of man. He’s a good person.” The man who raised me would do nothing like that. He wouldn’t blackmail anyone, but I thought he would never hit me either and look at how wrong I was.

  “Do you really want to know?” he asks.

  I kneel in front of him and place my hands on his muscular thighs. Heat radiates from him and resist the urge to run my fingers up and down. “It’s not about wanting to know. I need to know.”

  For a moment, he sits silently as if contemplating whether he should tell me or not. “He gambled all of his money away at the race track. Even remortgaged your family home. You were weeks away from losing everything.”

  “No. No. No.” My hands are still on his thighs, and I curl my fingers into claws. “He wouldn’t do that. You’re lying so you don’t look like the bad guy.”

  “Why would I lie about this? I have nothing to lose or gain.” He sighs and places his hands on top mine. “Come to my Talbot Technologies office tomorrow, and I’ll show you everything.”

  “If what you’re telling me is true, why isn’t he in prison?”

  “If the others he attempted to blackmail had their way, that’s where he’d be, but I persuaded them not to, and—”

  I push away from him, and my lips twist into a bitter smile. “And ruined his life in the process.”

  “Enough,” he booms. The intensity in his voice is enough to make my heart jump, and for the first time, I get a real sense of his power. Of why is has a reputation for ruthlessness. But I won’t show any fear.

  “Your father is a weak and devious man, and from the evidence on your face, violent and unpredictable.” He moves in front of the fire and tunnels his fingers through his already messy hair. “He can blame me for his problems all he wants, he can talk trash me, he can hate me, but he will not ever raise a hand to you again.”

  “What are you going to do to him?” I ask in a whisper.

  “When my men find him, I’ll have him sent to prison where he belongs. Where he should have gone in the first place.”

  I reach out and press my hands against his solid chest, my eyes imploring him. “Don’t, please. He’s an alcoholic. He's sick and needs help.
Maybe rehab. Not prison. I’ll do anything you ask.”

  Strength and confidence emanate from him in waves. Beneath my palms, nipples harden to pebbles and his heart pounds. I can’t help but run my hands up and over his broad shoulders and down his tense biceps.

  He reaches up and clamps his fingers around my wrists stopping my exploration of his body. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

  “I mean it. I’ll do anything. Give you anything.” Desperation tinges my voice, and heat singes my cheeks. I almost add I’ll give you my virginity, but why would someone like Callum what someone as inexperienced as me. Someone, who on a regular day, is nothing special with a pouched stomach, cankles, and cottage cheese thighs. And on days like today with my busted-up face and still wearing my coffee splattered clothes from work, I look less than nothing special.

  “My dad can’t go to prison. He won’t last a day without taking his own life or being killed. I mean it, I’ll do anything.”

  “You silly, naïve little girl. You should know better than to tell a man you’ve just met you’ll do anything for him.

  “Does what your father threatened my associates and me with interest you at all?” He smirks and doesn’t wait for my reply before he continues. “We like to tie women up and flog them. We like to chain them to walls and to crosses. We like them to lick our feet and do our bidding without complaint. We gag them. We fuck them. We own them.” There’s a darkness in his words that sends shivers up my spine.

  “Oh…I…” What he’s describing is wrong, so, so wrong, but my clit hasn’t gotten the memo because it’s fluttering and tingling. I swallow hard. “I don’t care. I’ll do whatever I have to if you promise to help my dad. Get him sober and help him find a job.” My words rush out. “Have you ever taken someone’s virginity? I’m a virgin. I’ll give you that in return for your help.”

  He takes my hand and leads me out of the room through a different door than the one he used to come in. We walk through a dark paneled hallway and stop in front of an elevator. He swipes the back of his wrist over a small red square and the elevator doors open.

  “What’s on the back of your wrist?” I ask, curious.

  “A tattoo that’s only visible under UV light.” He steps inside the elevator, and I follow. There’s a black, rectangular seat against the back wall and the walls covered with padded velvet. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Somewhere that’ll make you regret saying you’d do anything to save your father. Somewhere that’ll make you regret offering me your virginity.”

  “I won’t.” The elevator ride doesn’t even last a minute, and when the doors open, I follow him into a dimly lit office. A desk made from dark, heavy wood dominates the room. Black leather chairs sit on opposite sides of the desk, and, other than a keyboard and a monitor, there’s nothing to show the office is even in use. There’s no paperwork or pens or the usual clutter.

  “Sit,” he commands.

  “I’m not a dog,” I say. When I attempt to clench my teeth in defiance, I wince in pain.

  He smiles slowly. “Sit, please.”

  “Why? Are you going to interview me?”

  “Before I take you through those doors—” he nods towards a set of double doors to my left, “—you have to read and sign some paperwork.”

  “What’s through there?” I look around the office for some clues, but see nothing.

  “Do you always question everything?”

  “Yes. What do I have to sign?”

  “An NDA and a release form. It’s usually not this easy, but in your case, I’ll make an exception.” He taps on the keyboard and swivels the monitor towards me. “Read before signing.”

  I scroll down. “I’m a fast reader, but it’ll take me three hours to read everything here. Can you give me the cliff notes?” The print on the screen is miniscule but signing anything without reading would be a stupid move.

  “I’m waiting,” Callum says impatiently.

  I begin reading, but after a few seconds, the words blur into pixels. “Is this just telling me not to open my mouth about this place? That if I do you’ll own my life blah, blah, blah.”

  I smile at the glimmer of humor I see in his eyes.

  “Basically.”

  I continue scrolling through the pages and use the tip of my pointer to initial where I’m supposed to, and when I get to the last page, I scrawl my name and put today’s date. “There,” I say and turn the monitor towards him, “You own my soul.”

  I should have taken the time to read the contract, but what’s the worst thing that can happen?

  He taps the keyboard a few more times, and without looking at me, he says, “It’s not your soul I want.”

  My stomach twists. I don’t miss the subtext of his words, but I don’t believe what I hear or what I think I hear.

  “Follow me,” he instructs. Before we leave the office, he pulls off his T-shirt and throws it to one side. The muscles on his back are as defined and smooth as I imagined, and I want to sweep my fingers down the rise and fall of his spine.

  Trying not to trip over my own feet because I can’t stop gawking at him, I do as he asks and follow him. He opens the double doors and gestures for me to walk over threshold, and when I do my eyes widen. Now I understand the need for an NDA.

  The club must have been two blocks wide. A long bar lined with people in various stages of undress stands at the back of the room. Chandeliers hang from above—the kind that look as if they’re lit by candles and not light bulbs—and is that?—Yes, it is. Naked women and men sit inside cages in the middle of the chandeliers.

  Sofas, chairs and coffee tables are strategically placed around the space creating semi-private areas. Throbbing music pumps from a DJ booth high above the floor and writhing bodies fill the dance floor.

  Most of the women’s clothes are nonexistent scraps of leather and flimsy fabric. Some men are bare chested. Some wear suits while others are dressed head to toe in black.

  “Nervous?” Callum asks.

  I shake my head.

  He weaves his fingers between mine and leads me deeper into the throng of bodies. Inside me, anticipation and excitement mingles with fear and trepidation.

  A silver-haired man wearing a tuxedo. walking a woman on a gold leash passes by. He’s oddly familiar, and I glance at Callum. “Who is that? I feel like I know him.”

  “Mike Donoghue, the nightly news anchor.”

  My lips form an O shape. “But he seems so normal on TV. Like a regular guy.”

  Callum leans down and whispers. “Who’s to say who’s normal and who's not?”

  Behind me, someone wails in unmistakable pleasure. I glance over my shoulder. A woman bent over the back of the sofa gushes her climax over the latex covered hand of a man wearing a mask and, what looks like, leather boxer shorts.

  “Was his entire hand inside her vagina?” Stunned, I turn around and face Callum.

  He nods, and his dark eyes probe mine as if he’s trying to read my mind. Trying to determine if I’m turned on or terrified. I quickly decide I’m both.

  “A lot of women like the fullness of fisting. Some of them even like it anally.”

  I shudder and clench my butt cheeks. “That sounds horrific.”

  “To you maybe. To others it’s heaven.” He places his palm on my lower back. Who knew a man’s touch could sear my skin like his does. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  If Callum is telling me the truth about my dad’s attempts to blackmail people, I understand why they wanted to keep him quiet. If this—any of this—ever got out, that these powerful and influential people were into bondage, domination, sadism, and masochism their lives and reputations would be unsalvageable.

  “Do you regret saying you’d do anything?” he asks, guiding me forward.

  Did I? If my sopping panties were anything to go by, the answer is no.

  His lips quirk into a heart-stopping smile. “Still undecided. Maybe it’s time I brought you to the viewing
rooms. Then we’ll see if you’ll stand by your offer or if you’ll run away and hide.”

  Chapter Six

  Callum

  I gaze down at Aubree. She doesn’t seem fazed by what she sees. In fact, she seems fascinated, and the flush in her cheeks and shallow breaths tell me she’s turned on. My little virgin secretly likes kink. Lucky me.

  What happens on the main floor is tame enough. The real stuff happens a few floors above, and if what happens in the viewing rooms doesn’t scare her away, nothing will.

  She glances all around, her eyes wide with wonder. Allowing her to come into the club without training or attending the initiation days is wrong, and if my partners find out, I’ll catch hell. But when she said she would do anything to help her father, the Dominant inside of me came out to play.

  My helping her father isn’t reliant on her doing anything for me. If I help him, I’ll help him because I want to help her. I’ll never make her do anything she isn’t willing or ready to do. However, I’ll allow her to continue thinking I’ll take her up on her offer but the reality is, I’ll only do what she’s willing to do even if she isn’t aware it’s what she wants.

  The protector in me wants her father in prison, but she’s right, if William is locked up he’ll either kill himself or be killed, which will, in turn, kill her. He’s a bastard, but I can tell she loves him. I’ll consider offering him help, and for now, that’s all I can do.

  We stop in front of Master Zane’s spanking scene. James watches from the side. He’s not protecting himself from being recognized by Aubree, which surprises me. Trusting her isn’t something I’m one-hundred percent about, but I can protect myself. James lives for his job and losing it would destroy him. By day, he’s a mild-mannered business professor and by night, a formidable Master.

  She glances towards James, and I hear her intake of breath.

  “Remember,” I warn, “Everything you see while here is confidential.”