Owned [Club Pleasure 6] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Allyson Young

  She knew he had money. He hadn’t talked a lot about his finances, but his house was large and well appointed, he had this big truck, and his parents were clearly very well off. While she had no need for riches, she quietly acquiesced. If it made him happy, then she’d accept a different collar.

  “I’ll have it commissioned and bestow it on you at a ceremony at the Club.”

  Her heart rate sped up, and her breath hitched in her chest. She didn’t expect a traditional marriage proposal, and a ceremony at Pleasure wasn’t exactly a binding agreement in the outside world, although there would probably be binding. Of her.

  “My parents want a big church wedding, but I’ve explained you aren’t of our faith, and a large wedding, considering your dearth of family, would be too much.”

  Well. He read her so correctly, even if he hadn’t actually proposed. “I’m not sure of the compromise. I don’t want to hurt your parents’ feelings.”

  “Do you want the dress? The flowers and all?” She stared at his profile as he pushed the truck along at speed, his big hands on the wheel. She did, even if she didn’t want something overwhelming.

  “I want a wedding dress, flowers, and cake. And a honeymoon.”

  He shot her a glance, full of lust and promise. “I can guarantee the latter and promise the first, sweetheart.”

  “Okay.”

  “We’ll set the date as soon as you can wind up with your workplaces and get your house organized.”

  “That sounds good.”

  “You happy, sweetheart?”

  “Don’t you know?” she teased, then reached to stroke her hand down his arm.

  “I know. Do you?”

  “I’m happy, Maurice. I have been for some time. And you?”

  “Ecstatic.” A man of few words because one would do. Susan stroked his arm again and then withdrew to clutch that word close and relish the moment.

  Chapter Nine

  “Busy night at Pleasure, sweetheart. We’ll need to leave a half hour early. Wear the little red skirt and bustier.”

  She obligingly went to find the clothes he’d chosen for the evening, and set them on the bed before heading for the shower. Maurice awaited her, already nude—and erect. She slipped off the light robe he allowed her, letting it to pool around her feet, comfortable in her own skin as never before.

  Having gained some weight to ease the sharpness of her hip bones and cover her ribs, she felt beautiful before his gaze as it focused on her breasts.

  “Your nipples look tender.”

  Feeling a flush of arousal creep up from the tops of her breasts, she shook her head. “They are, a little.”

  “I won’t use the clovers for a while, then.”

  She didn’t mind the bite of those particular clamps during a scene. The vicious little decorations combined with other things he did to her body to make her come harder. But the tenderness did tend to linger.

  “I’d like to pierce them. Before the ceremony.”

  An involuntary shiver overtook her as she preceded him into the shower. He didn’t miss it and quickly blanketed her with his heated body. “It will be done properly, Susan, and be worth it in the long run.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask just who it would be worth it to, but she already knew the answer. Her breasts were very responsive, and Maurice knew exactly how much pleasure he could give her. If he thought piercing was the way to enhance it, then maybe she wouldn’t demur, although she felt a trifle ill at the prospect.

  “Maybe your clit hood, too. I’ll think on it.”

  Oh no. She ducked under the showerhead and allowed the water to mask what she was certain was a look of horror. He yanked her out and turned her to face him, moisture beading all over his muscular torso.

  “You’ll trust me with this, darlin’.”

  Managing a tiny nod, she forced a faint yes past lips that shouldn’t have been so dry, considering the venue. His dark, pleased regard eased her somewhat, and his tender cleansing of her entire body had a far different effect.

  After rinsing her hair, he tucked her against the wall, face-first, and pressed her hands against the tiles. The water was cooling as he grasped her hips and powered up inside her, his massive cock parting the walls of her sheath with every thrust, stretching her with scant regard for any sensibilities. And she loved it.

  Feeling taken, used, yet with such loving intensity and passion on his part, allowed her to give over and be carried along on such a wave of lust her knees wobbled. It was a quick fuck. She became aware of his cock swelling to even greater proportions before he flooded her with his seed, high in her channel.

  “You’ll wait for yours, Susan.” He worked his hand around to her apex and unerringly found her clit, the little nub eagerly responding to the way a fingertip flirted with it. She rose onto her toes, only to sink back when he removed his touch.

  “You know this is sometimes only about me.”

  Washing his ejaculate from her thighs, he shut the water off and snagged a towel, efficiently wrapping her up. Knowing her release later would be worth waiting for, Susan managed a smile for him, although he probably saw right through it to her annoyance at having to wait. But he dropped a kiss on her nose and grabbed his own towel.

  “No makeup. No jewelry other than your collar.”

  She still wore her fine chain as her new collar wasn’t yet ready. Having no input in the design didn’t make her anticipate it any less. She trusted Maurice’s taste and knew he’d have commissioned something perfect.

  Blowing her hair fairly dry, she struggled into the short, tight skirt and managed to fit the bustier without her breasts totally spilling out of the top. As if on cue, Maurice appeared behind her, wearing his leathers and a dark shirt. She studied him in the mirror, and her stomach dropped away as if in free fall. She loved him to the depths of her soul, delayed orgasm or not.

  “Here.” He tugged her bustier laces tighter and considered the amount of cleavage and length of her skirt. It had taken a little time to get used to exposing so much of herself at the Club, but she wanted to do him proud. And if the way he was looking at her was any indication, she had succeeded.

  “You’ll be seated in the claimed section for most of the night, but if any of the approved subs and their Doms come along, you have permission to sit with them.”

  At one time, she might have bristled at the implication she was incapable of choosing appropriate people to hang out with, but Maurice knew the members well, so she verbalized her assent as he led her to the truck.

  “Another week and you’ll be at home full-time.” He signaled and pulled onto the major street to Pleasure.

  It was a heady feeling, knowing her future. “That’s right. Although there’s still the house—”

  “Your mom’s house is close by, and we’ll get it done. I look forward to that project, and Adam does, too. Probably his wife as well.” They both laughed at the idea of her neighbor giving Helen a reprieve from his company, when Susan hated to be away from Maurice for any length of time. And him from her.

  He continued, “I’m pleased you’ll give up your job for me.”

  “Hardly a sacrifice,” she said. Giving up her career, had they met when she was an important executive, wouldn’t have been a sacrifice either, although he might have had to work harder to convince her.

  Felicity had accepted her notice with resignation and understanding, confiding that she’d already put some feelers out for someone to replace Susan. Missy actually suggested that she’d be missed. Susan told her boss that while there was no date, she and Maurice would be getting married in the not so distant future, whereby Felicity proclaimed her wedding gift would be the best floral arrangements ever seen. The older woman teared up when Susan asked if she would stand up with her and promised to fit it into her schedule.

  Ray was his usual gruff self, telling her to get gone sooner than later and not to be a stranger, this time at the bar and not in the back room. He thought Maurice was a
man’s man and liked him, pumping his hand and thumping him on the shoulder. He wiggled his eyebrows and asked if a wedding was in the cards. Susan immediately added him and his wife to the guest list. She wouldn’t have a large number of guests, but she thought to invite a few of the Club members, too.

  Leaving a message with the medical service to confirm her unavailability, this time with no possibility of return, had Susan feeling as though she’d cut ties with her past. Instead of feeling adrift, she reveled in the sensation of knowing exactly where her future lay, the lack of worry and concern vastly soothing. Maurice would take care of the big things, and the smaller ones would fall into place.

  It was too soon to think about children, but of course she did, hoping for one of each, both with their father’s devastating smile and dark eyes. He’d already told her that if she needed a child, or children, then he’d be fine with it. Susan believed he’d be better than fine with it, knowing the depths of the man and his vast capacity for caring, the possessiveness and desire to protect. Their little girl would likely never have a boyfriend, and their son would grow up to be as fiercely careful with women as his father.

  They pulled up to Pleasure, and Maurice parked in his usual space, coming around to help her down, the short skirt riding up indecently and eliciting a flare of lust in his dark eyes. His callused hand traversed the inside of her thigh, and her hips jerked when he pushed a finger inside her.

  “Wet.” He pulled his digit out and traced her mouth. She opened and sucked him clean, their combined tastes heightening her senses. “I’ll look forward to later, sweetheart.”

  * * * *

  She’d been sitting for what felt like an eternity, bored with the twitter and gossip of unattached submissives she didn’t know huddled across from her. Olivia had stopped to visit for a few minutes before her Master required her presence. Susan would have liked to view the scene, but Maurice’s expectation was that he attend any such events with her. So she went into her head and considered what was going to take place at home at the end of the evening—early in the morning, seeing as Pleasure didn’t close until the small hours. Those erotic thoughts kept her mind off feeling alone. She didn’t need to be entertained, or with Maurice every single minute. That was insane.

  “Susan!” Ivone’s beautiful face with its mismatched eyes filled her vision and brought her back to the present.

  “Hi!”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Um, Maurice is working. It’s a busy night.”

  “I’ll say. But he and Jamison were just pressed into service downstairs.”

  Downstairs? In the hard dungeon? Susan knew she was looking confused. She hurried to ask. “What’s going on?”

  “House Doms have been short for the past while, and Masters Owyn and Rees got called away tonight. Something to do with their dad. And Master Jon is on his way, but they live a ways out. So your Master and mine have been asked to fill in.”

  Susan could tell Ivone didn’t much care for that fact, and she wasn’t certain she did either, depending upon what it meant. “Fill in?”

  “Uh-huh. A couple of pain sluts are here for the evening, long time members, and nobody wants Master Patrick to find out things didn’t run smoothly.”

  “So our Doms are stepping up.” She struggled to fathom it.

  “Right.”

  “You’re not thrilled about that.”

  Ivone shrugged, tension evident in the motion. “We don’t get out very often, not that I care, because we don’t like to leave our little one. But I’d hoped for a scene. With me in it!”

  Susan thought quickly. It wasn’t like she was unaware of Maurice’s experience. He might work the door, something she hadn’t questioned before, even considering his financial status. She had assumed he enjoyed his job—and it allowed him to meet submissives. She swallowed against that revelation. So while he worked the door, he also played in the Club. Of course he did. It made sense and she let it go, because that was then. Except this was now.

  “I’d like to witness that. His other job.”

  “Oh, sweetie. I don’t know. I came up because…well, I’m a tad jealous, even though I know my Dom is merely doing a service. Helping out.”

  “I’m a tad jealous, too, and I’ve never seen my Master in action before, so do me a favor and take me.”

  “Are you allowed?”

  “He never said I couldn’t.” He had said she couldn’t attend scenes without him. And she wasn’t going to. He’d be very present.

  “Okay. Maybe you can hold my hand when I want to go pinch that sub my Master is working over.”

  “You’re on. You might have to hold more than just my hand.” Susan fought indignation and anger. He’d never said anything about working with subs.

  A knot tightened in her belly and refused to unfurl, getting harder and more uncomfortable as she descended a wide set of slate-covered stairs with Ivone. The other woman seemed a little pale above her black bustier and thong, despite her golden skin.

  It was probably her imagination, but the air pressed heavier as they got to the bottom of the stairs and approached a wide, arched opening into a dimly lit room. The place felt ominous, like a real medieval dungeon, and she sniffed for the scent of torches and listened for the groans of prisoners. There were no torches, but she heard the thin cries of a woman emanating from somewhere ahead, accompanied by the whistle of something like a cane, except with a popping sound at the end.

  Stepping into the large room painted in shades of red and black, shackles glinting evilly on every wall, Susan stumbled to a halt. Ivone stopped beside her and said something, but she couldn’t hear her. Her ears roared with white noise and the blood rushed through her veins, leaving her quivering. Her Master, her Dom, stood with his back to her, stripped to the waist, all those powerful muscles glinting beneath a sheen of sweat as he wielded a freaking whip.

  To her stunned regard, he was clearly familiar with the instrument, brandishing it with dexterity as he brought the business end down on the back of a nude woman, stretched out on the St. Andrew’s cross. A myriad of stripes marred the pale skin, some welted and raised a terrible purple color, and some others lined with fine lines of red. He’d broken the skin in places, and Susan thought she would pass out, if she didn’t vomit first. Who was this man?

  She didn’t know who he was. The confident, even arrogant man who’d swept her up and cared for her, outlined his expectations and eased her into a lifestyle she found to fit her like a comfortable shoe, had vanished behind the coolly determined façade of a bringer of pain. A true sadist. The S in BDSM. Fleeting memories of all those other submissives inquiring as to her punishments surfaced, overshadowed with Angela’s reference to pain sluts and what Maurice chose to meet his needs.

  Swallowing back a whimper, she closed her eyes against the sight of him giving the submissive on the cross what she needed. Regardless of her newness to this lifestyle, Susan was aware Maurice wasn’t abusing the woman, but providing her with what she craved. But he must need it, too, and he’d never told her…He knew she abhorred pain…His satisfaction in regard to the marks he’d left on her with that cane popped into her brain, and she despaired. She couldn’t accept that from him all the time, in addition to punishment. And the piercings…Was he softening her up, easing her into what he truly needed from her? Angela insisted he wanted pain sluts.

  “Susan? Hey, it’s okay. Look, he’s done. And Krystal doesn’t do sex. It’s all about the pain and that release.”

  How nice she doesn’t do sex! Or that would be yet another revelation, watching the love of my life fuck another woman. In public. Because I didn’t know he had that need either. Susan bit the thoughts into silence and nodded at Ivone. She wouldn’t upset the other woman further.

  Turning to follow her out of this place, the movement must have caught Maurice’s eye as he freed Krystal and helped her staggering body from the cross. They locked eyes, and she couldn’t interpret his feelings at that distance,
although saw his face tighten in anger. God knew what he read in hers as she put as much space as she could between them.

  Her bare feet flew over the rough stairs as she outpaced Ivone, who called out things to her in a concerned tone, but were indecipherable given Susan’s emotional state. She gained the relative safety of her previous seat and huddled on it, trying to calm her racing heart and shuddering breaths.

  “What’s wrong?” Ivone dropped down beside her and took one of her hands. Hands. She was supposed to hold Ivone’s, but she hadn’t even seen Master Jamison, although there had been another scene playing out that was vaguely etched against her memory.

  “Sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t expect that.”

  The other woman’s brow furrowed. “What? The single tail? My Master is extremely proficient with it, both the three and six foot. I…it’s my thing.”

  “Does my…does Maurice do stuff like that a lot?” Susan didn’t want to judge Ivone, but it was hard to curb her tongue.

  “He stands in as monitor, helps out sometimes. The pain subs ask for him if Master Patrick isn’t available or another house Dom. We can always count on your Master.”

  The future looked pretty fucking bleak. What was she to do now? Well, maybe she could be his at home submissive and he could get the rest of his needs met here. Where he was counted on. Rage and despair roiled in her belly, making her ill and weak.

  “You didn’t know. Didn’t know he’s considered a hard Dom.” Ivone’s tone was flat, but her face was flushed with concern. “Fuck. He never told you.”

  Even now, her loyalty to Maurice triumphed. “I’m fine, Ivone. It was just…well, I’m kind of private.”

  “Private. With a Dom like Maurice. Like my Jamison. Jesus, girl. It’s like you just fell off a turnip truck.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, just an old saying. Like being a newbie.”

  “I’m a newbie, all right.” A disenchanted, lied-to newbie.

  “Well, I think—”

  “Your Master will be very interested in what you think, sub.” Maurice interrupted their conversation, and Ivone shrank back. Susan was too befuddled to move, although her hand itched to slap him, as if independent.