“Hello, Cindy,” Adrian says calmly. “How are you?”
She puts her hand on his chest. Bitch. “I heard,” she says, her voice lowering into a sexy murmur, “that you’re looking for a pet for your demo, Sir. I’d like to volunteer.”
I’m not a jealous sort. Not normally. But the moment she calls him Sir, red rage fills my mind. “Sorry,” I tell her, baring my teeth in a smile. “You’re too late. They already asked me to do the demo with them.”
Her mouth drops open, and she gives me a disbelieving look. “You?”
“Yes, me.” I put my arm around Adrian’s waist. “Sorry again.” My voice drips with insincerity. “Maybe next time?”
She mutters something equally polite and insincere. The moment she leaves, the rage that floods my mind recedes, and common sense comes rushing in.
Oh. My. God. What the hell have I done?
“I’m sorry… I don’t know what…” I start to stammer, pulling my hand free.
“Stop.” Adrian’s voice is level. “No explanations. I don’t want to hear them. All I want is an answer.”
“Okay.” I drop my eyes into my lap, utterly, totally mortified. I can’t look at them. They must think I’m absolutely crazy. I have no claim to them at all. What the hell got into me? I had no right to chase Cindy away. I’m never going to be able to live this down, ever.
“Do you want to do the demo with us?”
“Umm…”
“Yes or no, Fiona.” Brody’s voice cracks like a whip.
A public display of dominance and submission in the middle of a sex club. Part of me shrinks away from the challenge. Another part of me pants in need. A pet play demo. They’ll put a collar around my throat. Attach a leash to my collar. I’ll have to obey their commands. Be their good little pet.
A shock of desire shudders through me, drowning my protests before they have a chance to form. “Yes,” I whisper.
“I have rules.”
“What kind of rules?”
“I like to scene with a submissive before I do a demo,” Adrian says. “I like to get a sense of her boundaries. Of her likes and dislikes.” His brown eyes rest on me. “If you want to do the demo, Brody and I will monopolize your time in the club for the next three weeks.”
Oh. My breath catches. Things are moving quickly, almost too fast to process.
“Still interested, Fiona?” Brody asks, his voice as smooth as silk. In the center of the room, the man has dropped his flogger and is now holding a riding crop. The woman’s skin is pink, and she jumps in her bindings each time the leather tip slaps her body.
I had fun with Brody and Adrian yesterday, but I’m not going to fool myself. If BDSM were a college major, yesterday’s session would have been Submission 101. I wasn’t restrained. I wasn’t gagged. Anytime I wanted to leave, I could have.
I suspect today’s session will be somewhat different.
But I want it. Vanilla sex is, to me, like restricting myself to black-and-white movies when there’s a full spectrum of color available.
Maria Dumonte is nowhere to be seen. Kiera is busy dealing with customers at the now-busy bar. I can’t do anything more about my case today.
I slide off my barstool. “Lead the way.”
18
Fiona:
The room we enter looks like an upscale hotel bedroom. If one ignores the black-and-silver Saint Andrew’s Cross against the far wall.
“Forget it for a minute,” Adrian urges, catching the direction of my gaze. “Let’s talk about your limits first.”
He leads the way to a black leather couch. I sit down. “My limits?” My heart is beating so loudly that it’s drowning out all other noise.
Brody sits down as well, and turns toward me, his eyebrow raised. “What turns you on? What turns you off? Soft limits, hard limits? Did Downing really have none of these conversations with you?”
“Sometimes. Most of the time, he thought he knew what I wanted.”
“Because he can read minds?” Adrian sounds disgusted. “Fiona, this lifestyle requires open, honest communication. There’s a big difference between the pleasurable apprehension you feel when you’re tied up, and you don’t know exactly what your dominant has planned for you, and genuine fear. I don’t want you to be afraid of us, ever.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I reply automatically. “Don’t worry. I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t,” Adrian says bluntly. “Trust is earned. Don’t hand it away so easily, Fiona.”
Brody looks at me thoughtfully. “Let’s set some boundaries,” he says. He points to the golden ceiling. “There are cameras on all four corners,” he says, pointing them out. “The way they’re positioned, there are no blind spots in the room.”
“Okay.”
“Someone is always watching,” Adrian says. “In the level below us, there’s a team of employees whose only job is making sure that the play is safe, sane, and consensual.”
“That sounds expensive.”
Brody shrugs. “Xavier has more money than God, and this is important to him. Next boundary: When we play, we’ll call you Fifi.”
“The way I call you Mr. Payne and Mr. Lockhart?”
“Yes.” Adrian smiles warmly at me. “Neither Brody nor I have ever been interested in a twenty-four-seven submissive. This way, the boundaries are clear for all of us.”
“I like it.” My pulse is racing with excitement.
“Good.” Brody leans back on the couch and stretches his legs out, looking lazy and relaxed. The only way I can tell that he’s not quite as laid-back as he’s pretending to be is the telltale bulge in his trousers. “Fifi, open that closet,” he orders, pointing to a mirrored cabinet opposite us.
Fifi. It’s beginning.
I get up and do as he asks. The doors swing out. Toys—whips, floggers, crops, canes—hang from hooks on the back of the closet doors, and the shelves hold more sex toys—buttplugs, nipple clamps, vibrators, and restraints. “Nice selection,” I mutter.
“You sound nervous. What scares you?”
“The cane.” I force the word out through the dryness in my throat. It looks so harmless on the door, a thin rattan rod, not much thicker than my little finger, but I know firsthand how much pain it can cause.
“No cane. Got it.” Adrian’s voice is calm, and his gaze is untroubled. He doesn’t look annoyed by my request. “That’s a hard limit. What else?”
My courage bolstered by their lack of reaction, I continue. “I’m extremely claustrophobic,” I confess. “I’ll freak out if you lock me in a small space.”
“What about being tied up?” Brody asks, patting the spot next to him.
I sit between them and engage in a silent war with my conscience. Tell them you’re afraid of being trapped, it screams.
But I can’t. If I do tell them I’m not ready to be tied up, they’re going to think I’m damaged. I don’t want them to look at me with pity, as if I was broken. When they see me, I want them to see a woman who is afraid of nothing.
“I like bondage as long as I’m not in a small space,” I lie.
I feel the weight of their gazes on me. Can they see through me? “Okay,” Brody says after a pause. “What about blindfolds?”
I stick closer to the truth this time. “I don’t mind being blindfolded, but I get scared if I’m tied up at the same time.” I flush as I hear the words spoken out loud, and realize how high-maintenance I sound. “I’m sorry,” I stammer.
Adrian’s fingers play with my hair. “Fiona,” he says, his voice gentle, “Everyone has things they’d rather not do. I’d be more concerned if you didn’t have any limits at all.”
His words warm me to the core. I’m freaking out about nothing. “I also have a phobia about needles,” I confess.
Adrian shivers, his face wearing an expression of acute distaste. “Me too. Needles freak me out. Can’t stand them. You’re in the clear there.”
Brody traces a slow pathway up my thighs, stopping at
the hem of my dress. “What do you like? Floggers? Crops?”
I imagine being tied down, my legs spread wide for their use. Will Brody crop my inner thighs? The undersides of my breasts? Will Adrian bring the flogger down on my body, the way the guy in the main club floor had whipped the woman? My breath catches in my throat, and I discreetly rub my thighs together.
Brody’s lips twitch. “I think that’s a yes, or at least a maybe. What else do you enjoy?”
This feels like such a personal conversation. I should be squirming as my innermost desires are revealed, laid bare for the two of them, but instead, I feel connected to them. I feel cherished as they take the time to discover what brings me pleasure, and what causes me pain.
“I like being spanked.” My cheeks heat. “Over a knee.”
“Why?” Adrian probes.
“It’s intimate,” I whisper. “I’m touching you. You’re touching me.”
Brody’s eyes glitter with desire. “You want me to keep touching you,” he says, his voice raspy with need. “Got it. That’s not a difficult request to fulfill.”
I shift in my seat, turned on already, anxious to get started. “Are you ready, Fifi?” Adrian asks me, his eyes dancing with amusement at my impatience. “You know your safewords?”
I nod, pushing my tremor of nerves away. “Red to stop, yellow to pause, green to continue.”
“Good.” He rises to his feet and holds his hand out to me, pulling me up. Brody gets up as well. They close the gap between us, pressing me against their bodies. Adrian’s breath tickles the back of my neck as his fingers works at my zipper. “Let’s get you undressed,” he mutters.
“Yes, Mr. Lockhart.” My heart races, my palms sweaty with anticipation. My dress slides to the floor in a whisper of sound, and I step out of it.
“Come here,” Brody growls. He pulls me against his chest, unclasping my bra strap and pulling my panties down my hips.
Adrian runs his fingers over my nipples, tugging them gently until they’re are erect and pebbled with need. “You’re beautiful, Fifi,” he murmurs. “An obedient little kitten.”
He hangs up my dress and retrieves a handful of items from the closet. “Let’s start with this,” he says, showing me a thick leather collar. Three D-rings are evenly spaced on it.
A flicker of apprehension courses through me, and I bite my lip. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that I’m about to be immobilized in many creative ways.
Adrian pauses, his chocolate brown eyes searching my face. “Check in, Fifi.”
I ignore my shiver of nerves. “Green, Mr. Lockhart.”
He trades a look at Brody and then turns back to me. “Can I trust you to be honest with me?”
No. “Yes, Mr. Lockhart.”
I’m not exactly lying. I’m just withholding all the relevant information. Besides, I’m fine. What I’m feeling is normal. I haven’t done anything BDSM-ish in a long time. Of course I’m going to be slightly on edge. That’s all it is. Submission is like riding a bike. Any moment now, it’s all going to come back to me.
“Fine. Lift your hair up.”
I obey, and he buckles the collar around my neck, sticking a finger between the leather and my skin as he fastens the straps. It’s tall and stiff enough that I’m not going to forget it’s on. I inhale deeply and try not to feel like it’s choking me. There’s plenty of room to breathe.
Brody lifts up my wrists, one by one, and cuffs me with wide leather cuffs. Then he wraps a thick leather belt around my waist, also adorned with d-rings. “You okay, Fifi?” His lips brush against mine.
“Yes, Mr. Payne.”
Brody:
She keeps telling us she’s fine, but my instincts are screaming that she’s not.
I exchange another glance with Adrian as I lead Fiona to the Saint Andrew’s Cross. “Spread your legs for me.”
She dutifully obeys, her eyes downcast. Her muscles are tense, and she doesn’t look like she’s enjoying herself.
Fiona isn’t being honest with us. She hid from us back at our office, and she’s hiding from us now. Communication is the core of our lifestyle, and if she won’t talk to us…
I don’t know what to do.
I buckle her ankles into the cross, and her skin breaks out into goosebumps. I trail my fingers up her ankles, and her skin is cool to the touch, not flushed with desire. I stare at Adrian, wordlessly trying to communicate with my best friend that something’s wrong, but he’s busy tying her wrists in place, and he doesn’t notice my anxiety.
She said she was claustrophobic. Is that it? This playroom isn’t small, but I don’t know her well enough—not yet, anyway—to know what might cause a reaction.
Not yet?
I put that thought away for later examination. In the middle of a scene, Fiona needs my focused, undivided attention. Especially now, when everything is telling me that something’s not right.
“What do you like about the cross?” I ask her conversationally.
She draws a deep, shuddering breath. “Everything. I like placing myself in your hands.”
It’s a pat answer. Too pat. Too dutiful. She’s not telling me the truth, she’s telling me what I want to hear.
Adrian clears his throat. “The suede flogger is one of my favorites,” he says, lifting it from its hook and bringing it to Fiona. “It’s light. It won’t hurt you unless I want it to.” He trails it over her breasts, and she holds her breath, her eyes wide and round and anxious.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why won’t she talk to us? Downing was a terrible dominant, but we can help. So far, all she’s experienced is the pain, but if she just lets us in, we can show her the pleasure that comes with submission.
Adrian is as aware of her nerves as I am. He runs the flogger over her skin, smooth and soft, trying to relax her. It doesn’t work.
I move closer to her. “Ready to get started?” I whisper into her ear. I trail my fingers through her folds, and damn it, something’s seriously wrong, because she’s as dry as a desert.
What’s going on with Fiona? She’d been nervous yesterday at our office, but she’d still been aroused. Dripping wet. What’s different today?
She’s tied up.
The moment that thought clicks into place, I’m moving. I kneel and unbuckle her ankles. Adrian does the same to her wrists, freeing them. “What’s the matter?” Fiona asks. “Why did you stop?”
Because you’re freaking out, and you refuse to admit it. Not just to us, but also to yourself.
Should we stop the session? Somehow, I get the feeling that that’ll make things worse. Fiona needs to deal with whatever’s bothering her, but she’ll need to face the truth herself when she’s ready.
Right now, she’s pretending like she’s fine. If that’s what she wants, then I’ll go along with it. For now.
Adrian’s thoughts are running in the same direction as mine. He moves to the couch and sits down. “Come here, Fifi,” he orders. He drapes an arm around her waist and tugs her onto his lap. “Get on your knees, little kitten,” he says. “You’re going to suck Brody off while I spank you.”
“Yes, Mr. Lockhart.” She finally sounds more enthusiastic, and the fist of worry squeezing my heart eases a little.
Adrian positions her over his lap, his left hand curled around her waist. He runs his right hand over her ass, and then brings it down in a smack.
I watch her carefully, but that earlier stiffness is gone. She draws a sharp inward breath at his stroke. “Thank you, Mr. Lockhart.”
“Want another?”
“Yes, please,” she replies at once. My lips curl into a smile at her enthusiastic reply. This is what was missing from her earlier.
He obliges. Her eyes filling with desire, she looks at me. “Please may I suck your cock, Mr. Payne?”
Ah fuck. The way she looks at me, her blue eyes luminous with need… I can’t resist. I unzip my fly and pull my dick out, and she wraps her lips around my erection eagerly.
Fuck
me. The way her mouth feels… It’s all I can do not to shoot my load right there. I think about baseball stats and business meetings, and will myself to hold on. “Open your eyes,” I order. “Look into my eyes. I want to see you, Fifi.”
Adrian presses a kiss on her back and spanks her again. “Do you want to come, kitten?” His fingers run over her folds. “So wet,” he breathes. “So beautiful.”
She’s wet. Thank heavens. We still need to sort out what’s going on, but for the moment, she’s enjoying herself. Adrian pushes a finger into her cunt, and she whimpers around my cock, and it’s all I can do to keep from groaning out loud.
She bobs her mouth up and down, her blue eyes hazy with lust. Adrian alternates smacks with thrusts of his fingers into her pussy.
I grit my teeth and hold on. I’m so close.
“Yes,” Adrian urges. “Come for me, Fifi.”
She explodes, and I’m just an instant behind.
Now what?
19
Adrian:
Her fear when she was on the Saint Andrew’s Cross had hit me like a punch in the gut.
We need to talk to her. Sort out what’s going on.
She’d been nervous earlier when the couple was playing on the club floor. I should have realized why. She reacts badly to being restrained, and it’s all I can do to keep from punching something.
Or someone. With my anger this close to the surface, I better not run into Downing, because I’m not sure I have enough self-control to keep myself from smashing his nose.
I don’t care that Brody thinks that I’m playing savior again. I don’t care that he thinks I’m just doing this to make up for my past failures. That plays a part, but it’s not the whole reason.
I’ve caught glimpses of the real Fiona Clarke. In her brief, unguarded moments, she’s lovely. She smiles easily. She’s enthusiastic. Even her flash of possessiveness earlier on the club floor was pretty damn flattering.
I want to get to know her. Not just in the club, and not just in a BDSM context. I want to find out what she likes to eat for breakfast. Where she wants to go on vacation. What she’s always dreamed of doing. I want to know everything.
Claiming Fifi Page 10