Trusting Her Doms [Pleasure, Texas 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Jane Jamison

  She’d expected Georgia to get angry. Instead, her smile got bigger. “I understand. I felt the same way when I first got here. But now I know better.”

  The research she’d done on the Internet last night had intrigued her. She’d read that BDSM could be different than what she’d imagined. If it was done correctly and if the woman had confidence in the man she submitted to. She’d learned that a lot of women found pleasing their Dom both rewarding and exciting. Was that what Georgia meant?

  Beads of perspiration that had little to do with the hot sun dotted the back of her neck at her hairline. What if she was wrong? What if she gave it a try and actually liked it?

  “Yeah? Why? What changed your mind?”

  Georgia strolled over and leaned on the hood of the car along with her. “I’m new at this, so it’s kind of hard to explain. But I’m happy to give it a shot, if you like.”

  “Please.” She was curious, but she didn’t think her curiosity would get her killed like the proverbial cat.

  “Okay. Hmm.” Georgia took a moment to consider her words. “I’m an ex-cop—”

  “I know.”

  “I guess you got the word from the good old gossip mill of Pleasure, huh?”

  “With Myrtle Gunderson at the head of it.” She liked Georgia.

  “Anyway, at first I thought wearing the tiny uniform was as much as I could handle. Going from a cop’s uniform to that one was a major adjustment, but I figured what the hell? I definitely needed a change of pace. Then when Paul and Destin filled me in on what went on in the club, I almost bolted.” She gave her a knowing smile. “Just like you.”

  “Don’t you think it’s kind of demeaning? I mean, I’ve heard that the outfit’s a halter top with a short skirt. But the worst is that you don’t wear a bra or panties with it. Is that right?”

  “No to the question of it being demeaning. That impression comes from people taking it at face value without understanding what’s going on emotionally. As for the outfit? That’s all just for show. It’s to help the members feel more comfortable with the way they want to dress. Or undress. They don’t want to see someone wearing conservative clothes while they’ve got on barely anything at all. Plus, it helps you fit in. It’s kind of like going to a nudist colony. If you wear clothes, you’re the odd one out and the one grabbing all the attention.”

  “I guess that makes sense. But what about the other stuff?”

  “The other stuff?”

  “Like the whips and handcuffs. You know. All that stuff.”

  “Here’s what you have to remember.” She pointed her finger at Carly. “It’s always up to you. If you want to play, you play. If you only want to sling drinks, then that’s fine, too. No one will ever make you do anything you don’t want to do. I promise you that.”

  “And that’s okay with the bosses? If all I choose to do is serve drinks?”

  “Of course. They’re very big on everyone making their own choices. That goes for the clientele as well as the employees.”

  Maybe she could handle it. After all, she and her mother needed the money and her miserable job at the market wasn’t helping much. Plus, there was that other part of her that wanted to experience something new, something…erotic.

  “So you’re saying I wouldn’t have to go in for any of the kinky things?”

  Georgia winced. “No, you don’t. But do yourself a favor and don’t use the word kinky. Paul doesn’t like it. The way we see it at the club is this. Everyone likes sex and everyone likes it a certain way. Who’s to say which is the right way? We have members, men and women, who are into everything from just watching to experiencing sex and relationships in extreme ways. I’m not going to say that the way one man likes it is wrong and I expect the same consideration from him. Does that make sense?”

  “Sure. I’m not into judging.”

  “You are from what I hear.”

  She was stunned. “What do you mean?”

  Georgia touched her hand, letting her know she didn’t mean anything bad by what she was about to say. “I’ve heard that you’ve had a tough time with men. That you kind of got screwed over more than once. That’s terrible and I feel for you. Really, I do. But I also heard that you paint all men with that same cheating and lying paintbrush. Frankly, that’s not fair.”

  “Wow. Myrtle’s really been flapping her yap a lot lately.” How many people around Pleasure thought of her that way?

  “What I’m getting at is that you do judge people, especially men. Hey, don’t get mad. We all judge in one way or another. We’re human and we can’t help it. It’s how you handle that judgment that matters.”

  “So you’re saying I should give this a chance?” Was she asking for the woman’s support? If she had that extra encouragement to try it, would that give her the courage she needed?

  Georgia tipped her head back toward the club. “You got it. So? How about I take you inside to meet Paul? I’ll tell him I’m the one who made you late.”

  “Okay.” She fell into step beside Georgia, but couldn’t resist asking. “So are you a submissive?”

  “I sure am. But only to Paul and Destin.”

  “How—” She struggled with the right way to ask. “How can you do that? I mean you were a cop. You had to be strong. How can you let them tell you what to do?”

  Georgia pulled her to a stop. “I know it’s hard to understand, but again, let me explain. As a submissive, you give yourself to your Dom, or Doms, if you’re lucky like me. Whether that’s only in play or twenty-four-seven is up to you. And you can choose if you want to play with one of the club’s Doms or wait for someone special. But when you give your outward control over to a man you can trust, it frees you. It’s not demeaning or cruel. It lifts you to a whole other level. Everyone’s different, but for me, it was a way to get relief not only from all the responsibilities in life, but from guilt, too.”

  “Guilt for not catching the killer?”

  She laughed again. “At least Myrtle gets her facts straight. As a gossip, that’s quite an achievement.”

  She motioned toward the door again. “People who don’t understand think it’s all about the sex, but it’s not. Sure, you get and you give sexual pleasure, but there’s an emotional side to it that’s just as important. More so, from my point of view. I was strong before I became their submissive, but I’m even stronger now. That’s strange to hear, I know, but it’s true. It takes a woman who’s not only physically strong, but emotionally strong, to be a sub. What you have to realize is that your joy becomes their joy. Your Dom, or Doms, want nothing more than to make you happy and that, in return, is your goal for them. And if you love them like I do my two men, you’ve got the best of everything.”

  “I don’t know.” In a way it made sense, but she couldn’t be sure.

  She shrugged. “Like I said, it’s hard to explain. You’ll just have to try it and see how it makes you feel. You may be right. It may not be the right job for you. But don’t worry if you ever do decide to try the submissive thing. The second you want things stopped, they stop. It’s your decision.”

  She had her doubts. Georgia opened the back door, then waited for her to step inside. It was now or never. If she didn’t show up today, she doubted she’d get another chance.

  What would Hank and Ron think of her if she didn’t do the interview?

  It was that last thought that put her foot over the threshold.

  * * * *

  Ron was about to jump out of his skin. After getting Paul’s call to say she was coming in for an interview, he’d found it hard to think, to sleep, to do anything except fantasize about her. He’d gotten to the club an hour early and now she was late.

  Did that mean she wasn’t interested? If she wasn’t, he and Hank would have to find another way to get together with her. They’d talked about her all night, agreeing that she could be the one for them. And now she was a no-show?

  When he heard the rear door of the club squeak open, he was on his feet and sta
lking toward the hallway. It could be her if she’d parked in the back.

  “Damn, Ron, calm the hell down. I can’t put you and Hank in charge of the interview if you’re going to act like a high school kid with a crush. Hell, you’re going to scare her off by drooling over her.”

  Hank, who was just as antsy as he was, but didn’t show it as much, leaned his chair on its back legs. “Take it easy, man.”

  They were right and he knew it. But doing something about it wasn’t as easy as it sounded. “Fine.” He swept his hand through his hair, then stalked back to the table and joined Hank there.

  Listen to them and calm down.

  He’d almost managed to do just that when he saw Georgia showing Carly the way into the main room. She wore a simple dress with spaghetti straps and sandals. That was about as dressed up as anyone in Pleasure ever got.

  Her short curly brown hair bounced around her face drawing attention to her alabaster complexion and her huge blue eyes. He’d thought Georgia’s eyes were blue, but Carly’s made hers look like pale imitations. Her body was curvaceous without being plump, with perky breasts that needed no bra to keep them high. The dress accentuated her slender waist and drew his gaze lower to her long, silky legs. She wore none of those horrible nylons that some women did and her toenails were painted the same startling neon blue that her fingernails sported.

  At first, he worried that maybe Hank had been right. That maybe they were too old for her. She looked so young, so naïve that he had to remind himself that she was a grown woman.

  “Hi, Carly. I’m Paul Casing.”

  She smiled and took his hand. “Yeah, I know.”

  Paul laughed, recognizing what she meant. “I know. Call it a habit of introducing myself. It’s not like we don’t know each other. Everyone who’s ever lived in Pleasure knows everyone else. How’re your folks doing?”

  Ron hated that her smile dimmed at the mention of her family.

  “They’re all right. Same old, same old.”

  That same old, same old wasn’t a good thing. Even if he hadn’t already known, he could’ve guessed it from the way she’d tensed up at Paul’s question.

  “Let’s get down to business, all right?”

  “Sure.” She pulled a folded up paper out of the pocket in her dress. “Here’s my resume. I’m sorry it’s folded. We don’t have a computer or printer at home, so I had to use one I already had.”

  “No problem.” Paul studied the sheet, then handed it back to her. “I know you’ve had a few jobs, but nothing like this one. Am I right?”

  Her gaze jumped from Hank to him. Was that a gleam he saw in her eyes? Of interest and, hopefully, more? “That’s right.”

  “Do you know what’s expected of a waitress here? Other than getting drink orders?”

  She frowned and glanced at Georgia. “She said that’s all I was required to do. Other than wearing the uniform.”

  “That’s true, but I’d like to think you’d handle the other things our customers expect.”

  “Like?”

  Aw, shit. She isn’t going to like this.

  “Like joining in a scene. Like giving them a spanking, if that’s what they want you to do, or you letting them give you one.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that.” She frowned, then nibbled at her lower lip.

  Damn, how he’d like to nibble there. Still, that gleam hadn’t died. She was curious which meant she might want to give the job a try.

  “And you don’t have to. It’s always your choice to say yes or no. I’m just saying that you’re going to make better tips, much better tips, if you get into the fun like the other waitresses and waiters do.”

  She shifted from one foot to the other. “I don’t know.”

  “Before you decide, let me tell you a little about what it’s like. Our members come from all over the place. They’re mainly cowboys, oilmen, and traveling businessmen. Most of the time, we know them and know we can trust them. If a customer isn’t a member, then he or she gets watched real close. And if you ever have a problem with anyone, we have cameras”—he pointed at the small black cameras mounted on the walls to catch every angle—“and monitors watching everything. If one of our Doms, like Ron and Hank, don’t hear you call out the safe word, then a monitor will see what’s going down and alert one of the men. You’re safer here than you are in your own home.”

  Ron winced inwardly. Paul wouldn’t have said that if he’d given it any thought. In fact, he could tell that his friend already regretted it.

  “At any rate, we have similar rules to other clubs around the country, but we’re different, too, in that a lot of our members are locals and our friends. Our members are very creative and we tend to do some different kinds of things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like an initiation once you decide that you want a Dom and once you’re sure you want to work here a while. But don’t worry about that for now.”

  Georgia chimed in. “It’s okay, Carly. If you do decide you like this job and especially if you do find a man, or men, like we were discussing, then the initiation is the best part.”

  “Anyway,” continued Paul, “the main thing is that you don’t talk about what goes on at the club with anyone off the ranch, including when you run into a client out and about. People come here knowing that whatever they’re into, whether it’s bondage or voyeurism or whatever, their time here won’t be discussed outside these walls. We like to think that this is where they come to let go, to get a release from their daily pressures and the like. That and to just plain have a hell of a good time. Got any questions so far?”

  Ron wanted to tell Paul to just hire her to sling drinks and not worry about the rest of it. He was about to do that when Lucinda, the older woman who was in charge of the waitstaff, entered the room and lifted her hand to catch Paul’s attention.

  “Master Paul, I hate to interrupt, but there’s a matter that needs your attention right now.”

  He saw Carly wince at the word master. She’d have to get used to calling them that.

  “Damn it. If it’s what I think it is, I need to handle it. Guys, can you two take over until I get back?”

  Ron didn’t have to be asked twice. “Yeah. Sure thing.”

  Carly clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing to do.”

  Paul was halfway to the back when he turned around. “Why? Do you have a problem with them?”

  “No.” She cleared her throat. “Never mind. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Ron shot her a friendly smile, hoping she’d make the right choice. “Are you sure? If you want, you can wait until Paul gets back.”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “Good.” Paul strode from the room. “Georgia, would you come with me?”

  Instead of acting as though she minded his brusque tone, Georgia followed him out of the room. “Yes, Master Paul.”

  There she went again. Nibbling at her bottom lip again. He stuck his hands in his pocket and tried to shift the denim to ease the sting of his cock’s growth against the zipper. He hoped she wouldn’t notice.

  “Are you okay with calling him master? It’s not that you’d be his slave. All the members as well as the employees call them Master Paul and Master Destin. At least while at the club. Out or respect for his position.”

  “I don’t know. It just seems weird right now.”

  “Yeah, it does at first, but you’ll get used to it.” Ron stood, crossed his arms, and gave her an I’ve-got-you-where-I-want-you-now grin. If he had his way, he soon would.

  * * * *

  “Is there a problem, Carly?” Hank dropped the front legs of his chair back to the floor, then stretched his legs out in front of him, hooking one boot over the other.

  Having Hank and Ron interview her made the whole experience that much harder. At least in one way. Would talking to them about the job requirements make her more nervous? And yet, talking to them about anything made her body sing.
>
  “No. I’m okay.”

  “Good.”

  Ron strode closer, then circled around her like he was inspecting a newly purchased cow. She itched to ask him if he liked what he saw, but kept her mouth closed. Her best option was to treat it like a normal interview and not one for a sex club.

  “So you understand what Paul said? About your duties?”

  “I think so. I’m supposed to take drink orders and deliver them. Anything above and beyond that is up to me, but I’ll make more money the more”—she searched for the right word—“I can get into what happens. Does that about cover it?”

  “You’ve got it. But if you participate in anything else more than serving drinks it’s because you want to. Not because you think it’s expected. And don’t do it for the money. You’ll still make great tips just waiting on tables. Our members only want you to join in if that’s what you’d like to do. Like Paul said, no one’s going to force you, but we also wouldn’t want you to do it just for the tips.”

  “So you’re saying that the girls who work here do…it…because they’re having fun?” She’d put air quotes around the word it.

  “It? Carly, people enjoy what they do. And the employees who want to join in enjoy it, too. For them—and I hope it’ll be the same for you—it’s like getting paid to have fun.”

  “That’s kind of hard to believe.”

  “I know it is when you’re on the outside, but they do. Hank and I don’t get paid any money for helping to watch over things. We do it because we like the club and want to keep it a safe place for everyone concerned.”

  “Okay. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see. If I get the job.” Her palms were starting to sweat. Was she nervous about the interview? Or because he’d moved even closer?

  “Do you think you can handle what goes on here even if you don’t join in?”

  She’d thought about it long and hard last night. What other people did for pleasure wasn’t any of her business. Maybe she was a little judgmental, like Georgia had said. Watching wouldn’t be hard to do. In fact, maybe she’d like it.