For “Beginner’s Night” at the Dungeon, Jerard chose black. He figured black must be the neutral for the set he was about to meet. Even so, he changed clothes three times before settling on his ensemble of black jeans and a plain black T-shirt.
Everything about this experience seemed surreal. In the abstract, attending a beginner’s night at a BDSM club seemed like the right place to start for what he wanted to learn. He would have preferred a more private introduction to the lifestyle, but he didn’t know anyone personally who could teach him. At least, he didn’t think he did. The more public option wasn’t ideal, but it did offer what he needed. Still, his mind was riddled with doubt as he descended the narrow staircase.
How will this work? Will we just talk about stuff? Will there be models or will I be paired with some random woman who gets her ya-ya’s out by being tied up or worse?
Jerard didn’t want a strange woman. He wanted Julianne. And if he was honest, he didn’t want to cause her pain of any kind. All he wanted to do was become what she needed and to do that, he was about to do God-knows-what with a bunch of strangers.
Best not to speculate and just go with it.
He wiped his hands over his jeans. “Sweaty palms. Real dominant of you, Jerard,” he groaned to himself and rapped his silver ring on the door.
*****
Julianne tried to catch her breath and quash the butterflies in her belly as she descended the steps.
It had taken forever to find this place and the hills of Montmartre almost defeated her. The Dungeon sat at the end of a maze of alleys off one of the main avenues. No sign marked its entrance. If you didn’t know it was there, you never would.
Coming here was a risk. A colossal risk. But her chaste existence was a hell she had to escape. The Colonel’s draconian views on sex were tearing her to pieces. She’d always respected him, but she wasn’t a child anymore.
If he knew I was here…don’t think about that. You won’t touch, only look, and looking isn’t so bad.
Doubt mingled with excitement as she stood at the door. Part of her wanted to run, but she kept her babies planted, refusing to scurry off like a scared cat. Smoothing her skirt, she raised a determined hand and knocked.
The heavy wood creaked open to reveal a mountain of a man clad in black. After assessing her for an uncomfortably long time, he gestured for her to enter. Deafening music bombarded her as she inched ahead.
Through the darkness, Julianne could make out shadowy figures milling at the bar, gyrating on the dance floor and - Cher Dieu, could that be real? - chained to the wall. She mustered what little courage she had left and headed for the bar on shaky legs.
“What’s your poison, hon?”
A bartender, wearing a leather bustier and not much else, eyed her impatiently. Julianne meekly ordered a club soda and moved to a stool, wondering what to do next.
“You here for the auction?”
She glanced around, but couldn’t see who spoke to her.
“Up here.”
When she looked up, she couldn’t suppress the gasp. A man was suspended in a cage above the bar to her left. Wearing nothing more than boy shorts and a studded collar, he lay on his back, his long hair hanging down between the bars on the bottom of his prison. His head was turned casually toward her. She could barely make out his eyes in the dark, but his voice sounded kind.
“Auction, um, no.” She sipped her drink and tried to look like she belonged.
“Didn’t think so. You don’t look the type.”
Already painfully aware that she didn’t fit in, she tried not to cower at his comment. No one else in the room wore Chanel or as much clothing as she did for that matter.
Stupid, naïve little girl. To think that you look sexy because you tucked up your hem and unbuttoned an extra button on your blouse.
She fought the urge to rip the ponytail out of her hair.
“Watch, you might learn something,” he said, laughing, and motioned behind her.
As she turned, a spotlight blared to life revealing a large platform in the middle of the club. A man wearing a leather hood guided a line of bodies onto it. Each of them stopped where he directed and stood with their legs apart, heads bowed and hands behind their backs.
Someone called out, “Anybody else brave enough to join us?”
No one stepped up.
As the crowd moved in for a better view, another group began working their way around the base of the platform to assess the bound figures elevated before them. Words were exchanged with the hooded man. One by one, he attached a chain to a collar around a neck from the group on the platform and placed the other end in a hand from the group on the floor. He dismissed those left unleashed with a swat on the backside. In the space of a few moments, the platform was empty and the light gone.
The images of the auction stole Julianne’s breath. Not because they scared her. Not because they sickened her. Because they enticed her. Because buried beneath the ladylike exterior lay a latent desire. A secret lust for the taboo of being mastered. A hunger for the forbidden lifestyle that was being played out before her riveted eyes.
In a dark place.
At the end of a hidden ally.
In Montmartre.
What would it feel like to be one of those women? To be chosen. To surrender to will of a Master?
She bit her bottom lip until she tasted blood.
“Well, well. Fascinated, are we?”
Julianne shook free of her erotic musing and turned back to the suspended man with the nice voice. “What was that?” she asked trying not to sound as shaken as she felt at being so exposed.
“That, my innocent, was a beginning. New to the life?”
“Not exactly.” Her eyes drifted to the fingers clenching her glass.
“Care to elaborate?”
She loosened her grip. “Only if you care to tell me why you’re up there like that.”
“My Mistress put me in here as a punishment. It’s not though, I actually like it.” He flashed a nonchalant smile. “But if she sees me talking to a pretty girl like you, she’ll be really pissed. So ask your question before I get into real trouble.”
Julianne glanced up, but avoided looking directly into his face. “What makes you think I have a question?”
“If you’re not into the life, why else would a classy girl like you come here? You’re not a reporter, are you?”
“No,” she said, meeting his eyes.
He rolled onto his side so his whole body faced her, the movement swinging the cage ever so slightly. “Oh, I see.”
“See what?”
“Why you’re here.”
“You have no idea why I’m here.”
“I do and I’ll tell you why. It’s the same reason we’re all here, pretty girl.” He propped himself up on one arm and leaned forward. “You’re not interested in the average guy, are you?”
He can see that? Even in the dark. Look where you are, Julianne. Of course, he can see it.
She raised her chin in defiance. “You don’t know me, sir. You have no idea who I am or what I’m interested in.”
If he was offended, he didn’t show it. “First, sugar, I’m a sub. You don’t call me ‘sir.’ My name is Lucas. Second, I know exactly who you are.”
“Really?”
“Really. You’re smart. Smart enough to understand yourself. And you’re brave. Brave enough to come to a place like this alone. Maybe even a little desperate. You’re searching for something. You haven’t found it yet, but you’re searching. And how do I know all this, you ask?” he said rather smugly.
“I didn’t actually,” she grumbled.
“Because not too long ago, I was sitting where you are now. Trust me…” Lucas raised an eyebrow in question.
“Julianne.”
“Trust me, Julianne. I know exactly what you’re interested in.”
“You seem like a nice person, Lucas, but, honestly…”
“You’re scared. I was afraid to
admit it too, Julianne. I wondered if I was a freak because I wanted things that other people scoffed at.”
She met his eyes.
“No one here will judge you, but this place,” Lucas swung his hand around the inside of his cage, “might be a little rough for someone like you. You don’t seem the type for the club scene.”
Her brows knit together. Why did that annoy her? Lucas wasn’t being patronizing. He was being honest. She didn’t belong here. Her shoulders slumped.
“I thought maybe if I came here, I might…” she put a hand to her mouth to stop the word…escape.
“You might what, Julianne?”
There was something so gentle in his voice that she found herself talking. “You’re right. This is the first time I’ve ever been to a club, let alone one with a reputation like this one.”
“Whoa, no starting small for the lady,” Lucas teased. “You might be the bravest woman I’ve ever met.”
“I’m not brave. I am looking for something though. Something I can never have.”
“Why? Because you have money?”
“It’s complicated.” She’d said too much already so she let Lucas assume she was talking about social class.
“Why don’t you let me help you figure it out? Maybe we can make things less complicated.”
Why is Lucas being so nice to me? And why do I find myself trusting a complete stranger?
As if he read her thoughts, Lucas answered, “Because we’re not so different.”
“I don’t think I want to be locked in a cage in the middle of a crowded bar, Lucas.”
“No, but you think submission is sexy.”
Julianne nodded and looked away.
“Hey, pretty girl, look at me.”
She met his eyes again.
“It is. Very, very sexy. There’s a place in this lifestyle for everyone, Julianne. You just have to find yours. I shouldn’t do this, but I always seem to do what I shouldn’t.”
“Hence the cage.” She rolled her hand along the bottom, emphasizing the obvious.
“Maybe it’s that,” he said, laughing, “or maybe I just like you.”
“I like you too, Lucas.”
“Have you heard of the Order?”
“The Order. What’s that?”
“A place for someone like you. If the gossips are right, the Order is the most exclusive group of players in our lifestyle. A secret society. Big time money and power. Only the best of the best.”
Now that’s interesting.
Julianne never imagined her fantasies could be realized at all, let alone within the strata of society she was raised for, but Lucas seemed to be suggesting otherwise. She prodded him to tell her more, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible while they talked for fear that Lucas’s Mistress would end their conversation and her new friend would get into “real trouble."
So not imagining what Lucas meant by that.
The Order wasn’t about leather and leashes. Well not exactly. Lucas described a high society group who shared a taste for the more extreme pleasures in life, but “in a slightly more discreet way,” as he put it. According to their reputation, their connection to one another extended beyond sex into business, politics and philanthropy.
They did sound more like the people in her world. European life was rife with secret societies and the right affiliations offered access to its highest echelons. Her father always wanted the best for her and what Lucas described about the social status of the membership certainly fit the Colonel’s definition.
Maybe, if I was with a man like that…
“So, speaking hypothetically, if someone wanted to find this Order, how would they do it?”
“Speaking hypothetically, you don’t find them, sugar. They find you. That is, if you’re very, very lucky. Are you lucky, little girl?” The last words sung as a lascivious tease.
I am not a little girl.
Lucas paused as if enjoying her impatience, then added, “I can tell you there are a couple of guys who hang here from time to time who generate a lot of talk. I guess even kings slum it every once in a while.”
“Do you mean that literally? The part about kings. Are they royalty?”
“Damn close. Modern day royalty for sure.”
“If they’re here, then you can introduce me,” she said expectantly.
“Afraid not.”
Julianne suspected as much, but that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “Why not?” she sighed with a disappointed thrust of her bottom lip.
“Wow. That’s gorgeous."
She looked at Lucas with a question in her eyes.
“The way you look when you pout. I know a few Doms who would just about melt if they saw that. I can introduce you to one of them.”
Her spine snapped straighter.
“Perhaps another time,” he said, getting back on track. “There are two reasons. Secrecy and connections. People who enjoy this lifestyle often shroud themselves in secrecy. Public awareness is risky and in the case of the Order, probably costly. Secrecy protects them. Protects us all.
“On top of that, clubs and networks are very common and just like anything else, the higher you climb on the social ladder, the more exclusive they become. So you see, even if the guys who hang out here are in the Order, my lovely, pouty little girl, you won’t know it without the right connections.”
Who am I kidding? It didn’t matter anyway. Even if she found the Order, her father would never allow her to belong to it. When it came to sex and his daughter, the Colonel was downright puritanical. Dating was absolutely forbidden.
Julianne imagined the conversation. Père, I need your blessing to join a group who indulge a lifestyle based on promiscuity and power exchange, but don’t worry, they’re all rich and powerful like you.
Pas possible. But it's fun to imagine. “Then I guess I’m screwed,” she murmured.
Lucas laughed at that and started showing her around. Well, given that he was locked in a cage, he didn’t actually show her. He pointed to things he thought she might find interesting.
And she did. More than a little.
For the first time in her life, she’d found a person who didn’t think the things she dreamed about were weird or perverted. She had so many questions. Lucas answered each one and encouraged more, but too soon, he wasn’t satisfied to simply talk.
“Come on, Julianne. You’re a natural. Pleeeaaassse let me introduce you around,” he said as his head fell a bit too dramatically against the bars.
“I’ve said no one hundred times, Lucas. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Your mouth says, ‘no, no,’ but your eyes say, ‘yes, yes.’” He winked at her.
“Even if I said yes, which I’m not, how do you intend to do that?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest and eyeing the cage.
“All I have to do is signal that gorgeous lady at the end of the bar and she will come for me.” He pointed a finger through the bars.
Julianne turned to look. “Mon Dieu. Is that her?”
“Sure is,” Lucas said with pride.
Lucas’s Mistress raised her wine glass and Julianne felt her body tighten. Even though it would be impossible to be overheard given the riotous music in the bar, she leaned up. “Why hasn’t she interrupted us?”
“You don’t have to whisper,” he whispered back. “She must be enjoying something about seeing us together like this. Besides, she knows I don’t want her to.”
“Won’t you get into trouble?” Julianne asked a bit louder.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But this conversation is really important. I wish I had someone to talk to when I started in the life.”
“I’m not starting in the life, Lucas.”
“Yeah, right. But you’re interested in the Order. I’ll tell you one thing for sure. If they find you, Julianne, you will be. Faster than you can say, ‘I’m not starting in the life.’”
“Was that some kind of a threat?”
“Nope, it was a complime
nt. Look in the mirror, baby.”
Julianne wanted to keep talking so she accepted the compliment and turned her attention back to the conversation. At the end of the night, a simple goodbye wasn’t enough. So she climbed onto her barstool and kissed Lucas.
Smack! Right between the bars.
“You do know I’m in big trouble for that.” Lucas grinned.
“Uh-huh.” She grinned back. “You can thank me another time.”
They both laughed like best friends sharing a naughty secret.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Julianne. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Thank you, Lucas. I will.” For now, all she had to do was sneak back into the house without getting caught.
Lucas may have a Mistress who puts him in a cage, but that's nothing compared to the Colonel.
3
Frosted Glass
September
“Favorite twentieth century artist?”
“Marcel Duchamp. He’s one. Actually, he’s my favorite, although most people don’t believe me when I say that.” Julianne shrugged. “For me, art lives inside the mind and the soul, not only the eye.”
Of course, people don't believe her. Only a fool would believe that a stunner like Julianne couldn’t be more than skin deep and isn’t the world chock full of fools.
Nicolai let his tone announce his opinion of anyone who underestimated his apprentice. “No truer words have ever been spoken, Julianne. Duchamp is a favorite of mine as well. Don’t listen to the fools.”
“I try not to, sir.” Her eyes drifted away, looking inward. “Art is my only truth.”
He paused, tempted to ask what she meant by that, but didn’t. He decided to test her honesty instead.
“I want to show you something. Come with me.”
He led Julianne down the stairs to the studio and went to retrieve his latest painting. It was a unique privilege to view an artist’s work before the piece was completed. In fact, he’d never shown an unfinished piece to anyone, but something told him that Julianne would recognize the high compliment he was offering.
Returning to the open area, he uncovered the canvas. To most, it would appear to be nothing more than a masterful rendering of a classic nude. Would Julianne appreciate the subtlety or simply see a picture of a pretty naked girl?
Masterpiece (The Masters of The Order Book 1) Page 3