by Nia Farrell
REPLAY REUNION 1:
NAUGHTY NEW YEAR
by
Nia Farrell
REPLAY REUNION 1: NAUGHTY NEW YEAR
by Nia Farrell
Copyright 2017 by Nia Farrell
Edited by Anita Quick and Anne Bright
Cover Design by Crystal Visions
Stock Photography from pixabay.com
Formatting by Anita Quick
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used without the written consent of the author, except for brief quotes in reviews. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. Such action is in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.
Unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Release Date January 1, 2018
Length 6,218 words
ASIN: B077MMRBVP
Long Branch Books
Shattuc, Illinois
Dedication
To my siblings, for the hours of board games that we played as children and the card games we still play as adults.
~ Nia
Author’s Note
This is the first in a series of short stories that reunite characters from the Replay Series of BDSM erotic romance novellas. While “Naughty New Year” is written as a standalone, your enjoyment will be enhanced if you have read Replay Books 1-8.
Each year in the Replay Reunion series will feature a different holiday. Look for a special Valentine celebration in 2019.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Author’s Bio and Links
Previous Titles
Chapter One
Sunday, 31 December 2017
“Breathe, princess.”
Piers St. Leger pressed a kiss against the base of his wife’s neck and nipped it playfully with his teeth. “There is no need to be nervous. We shall be amongst family and friends, but you shall outshine them all. Leather corsets become you, my dear.”
Hers was cut below her bust, underscoring and framing her ample cleavage. Admirably enlarged during pregnancy, her bosom had been kept enhanced by breastfeeding their daughter.
Eleanor wore a blouse made in a style that was period-correct, except that hers was made of fabric so thin, her nipples were clearly visible. A pair of aviator goggles served as a headband for her wealth of copper hair. Thigh-high buckled boots and the barest of shorts beneath an open-front layered skirt completed her costume.
This year’s New Year’s Eve party would christen Replay One’s latest expansion, The Steamroom, where future Iron Domination Steampunk weekends would be held.
Radically different than the other historically-themed play spaces, The Steamroom was comprised of a Grand Hall (a large, combination ballroom and banquet hall), flanked by a warren of rooms that were inspired by a board game, from the cellar to the conservatory, the only play space in the main building with actual exterior windows. Since its completion, the conservatory had quickly become a staff favorite for their break times, lunches, and the occasional tryst.
He smiled, remembering its christening.
Eleanor shivered beneath his touch. A riot of gooseflesh rippled from where his teeth had been. “I know,” she sighed. “At least Adrienne is settled for the night. Mrs. Hammersmith says that she ran her ragged today.”
“I believe that our little Valentine keeps Nanny running most days, early walker that she is. Once she found her feet, there was no stopping her. Now, if you are finished? Alex, Dmitry, and Lara have already gone. Sir Josef was looking forward to sharing a table and conversing with them, after hearing that German was their common language. Luc and Aubrey are still learning and far from fluent.”
She caught his hand and bowed her head to press a kiss on its back. “I am ready, Milord.”
“Then let us depart,” he rumbled, casting a quick glance at his own reflection in the full-length mirror. Wardrobe Mistress Jewell Fraser had outdone herself again. He looked every inch the Victorian gentleman, from his frock coat to the silver-handled walking stick waiting by the door. In a marked departure from period-correct, he wore buckled leather gaiters that reached to his knees and an unusual top hat with aviator goggles encircling its base. He had drawn the line at wearing makeup. Eleanor, however, looked ravishing in hers.
He chose to drive tonight, rather than take the Replay limo. Their home was situated on property adjacent to the resort. If need be, they could always arrange a ride at the evening’s end.
It took only ten minutes from the time they walked out the door to when they stepped from the car beneath the covered entrance and handed off the keys to valet parking.
Piers was pleased to see that nearly all of tonight’s guests were already here. About half of those were in costume. The rest were finishing up in wardrobe, being prepared for fantasy play.
Most of them had driven in. Many would stay the night, either in one of the resort’s suites or in private playrooms. This was the third New Year’s celebration since Replay had opened in December of 2014. Each year’s party was bigger and better than the last.
He had hired the local French restaurant Chez Cuisine to cater the party as a break for his culinary staff, who typically worked nonstop during events. Certain members of the wardrobe department did as well. It was a rare treat for them to observe scenes. Tonight’s party would provide an opportunity for some of them to actually participate.
His choice of caterer was a simple decision compared to some of the details for tonight’s affair. The owners of Chez Cuisine were well aware of Aubrey Wolfe’s life-threatening allergies and had prepared a menu of offerings that everyone could safely enjoy. The buffet was set up on the far end of The Steamroom’s Grand Hall. A bar with a two-libation limit and unlimited nonalcoholic offerings occupied the other. Two-thirds of the space between held dining tables ringed with chairs. The rest of the floor had been left open for dancing.
Hiring the musicians had proven the most troublesome aspect when planning the event. Everyone had an opinion on their favorite music and performers, including his wife. In the end, he had decided to secure the chamber orchestra that had played at their wedding reception—although Eleanor did not know it as yet. It was the first of several surprises that he hoped to delight her with this evening.
When it came to the question of seating, he had opted to keep it simple and leave the tables unassigned. He hoped that the lack of place cards might encourage attendees to mix things up a bit, swapping seats—as well as partners—once the play began.
Piers released Eleanor to visit with the submissives who were clustered near the conservatory entrance whilst he made his rounds. The buffet was exactly as promised, well-staffed, with offerings beautifully presented in serving vessels that were in keeping with the theme of the room.
The large space was decorated in somber tones, its walls serving as a backdrop for the original art pieces and fixtures that adorned them. The custom-made chandeliers and wall sconces, crafted in Steampunk style, looked like they had graced the set of a Tim Burton film. The most eye-catching feature was the giant, mechanized clock built into one end, its gears plainly visible, with additional, intricate mechanisms that worked independently from those driving the hands around the dial. It was an inspired work of art, both abstract
ly innovative and properly functional.
Perfect for counting down the New Year.
He visited the bar and brought two glasses of wine to the table where Master Sorin and his submissive, actress Ashley Slade, were seated, both of them dressed in Steampunk attire. “May Eleanor and I join you?” he asked.
“Of course,” the Romanian Dominant answered. “Please. Sit.”
Piers placed both glasses on the table, securing the seat next to Miss Slade for Eleanor, who had befriended and counseled the young actress when her back injury required bed rest and physical therapies before she could fly home from Cinema Classics weekend, held at the end of October. His wife had found Miss Slade to be very mature for her age, and gracious despite the pain she was enduring.
Master Sorin eyed the wine and asked Miss Slade if she wanted anything from the bar. “Sparkling water or juice, please, if they have it. You know….”
He seemed to, from the intimate look that the couple exchanged. The two of them had bonded the weekend that she was here. Master Sorin had been her guide through scenes on both the SSC and the RACK sides of the resort. Still, it came as a surprise when he had responded to the New Year’s party’s RSVP a second time, naming her as his plus one. Before, he seemed loathe to risk association with the celebrity. Teaching medicine required that he keep hidden this aspect of his life. There was no way that he could be seen with the actress and maintain his anonymity. Sooner or later, his secrets were bound to come out.
Piers glanced across the room, met his wife’s gaze, and lifted his glass in a silent invitation. He smiled, pleased that she had been keeping her beautiful pewter eyes on him while playing hostess. Now that he had claimed their seats, she excused herself from the other submissives and made her way to their table, the light catching in her copper hair, her long legs flashing beneath the opened front of her layered skirt.
She nodded politely to their table partners when he pulled out her chair and seated her. She had known next to nothing about BDSM when first they met, but she had learned very quickly. He took pride in her as his submissive. She observed protocol whether they were alone in a private playroom or their home Dungeon, or here, in the company of others in the lifestyle.
As her Dominant, it was his duty to keep her safe. As her husband, he wanted to make certain that she enjoyed her rare evening away from their ten-and-a-half-month-old daughter. Before they left, Eleanor had made certain that Nanny had more than enough bottles of breast milk until they came home.
Piers knew that Eleanor would wish to speak to Miss Slade. It would prove a long evening if Master Sorin were the type of Dominant who refused to let his submissive interact with others. Fortunately, Master Sorin and he were in agreement. Both men gave permission for their submissives to speak to each other in the course of the evening. For now, the women were content to sip their drinks and take everything in, from the room to the fantasy play clothing worn by the celebrants.
Soon after they were seated, music began to play, piped in from another room where the orchestra was performing. Another innovation, it allowed non-vetted musicians to contribute to scenes being performed by vetted patrons and staff.
Recognizing the opening strains, Eleanor looked at him, delight shining in her eyes. “Is that…?”
He smiled and kissed her hand. “It is,” he hummed. “It has been a remarkable year. I wanted to make the end as memorable as the beginning.”
On January 1, they had been living together for a year. Eleanor had had a difficult pregnancy and was obeying orders to rest in bed. He had made a brief appearance at the New Year’s party, returned to his bride, stripped her naked, and proceeded to bind her in her favorite rope. Of all the kinbaku sessions they’d done whilst she was enceinte, the photographs he’d taken that night were amongst their favorites.
“Thank you,” she said. “As much as I’d like to forget the worst parts of my pregnancy, I’ll always remember our New Year. And Adrienne, making her presence known.”
“Yes.”
Miss Slade sought to be subtle, but their exchange had made her curious. Seeing Miss Slade’s look of interest, he responded to include the other couple in the conversation. “I had bound Eleanor in intricately knotted rope that framed her breasts and gravid belly. I was taking photographs, to go with our growing collection of pregnancy bondage images, when this tiny foot pressed against her abdomen, hard enough to see the perfect outlines of a heel, sole, arch, and toes. We have an enlarged print on our bedroom wall.”
It was one of those that they’d also selected for their coffee table book, Honour Bound. The choice of pictures was proving easier than writing the text. It would be their ongoing work in progress for months to come.
Miss Slade grew misty-eyed and drank deeply from her goblet.
Master Sorin waited until she had finished to suggest that they visit the buffet. Some attendees were nearly done eating. Others were just bringing plates to their tables.
Once the other couple had gone, Piers turned to his wife. “Shall we follow them, my dear? Although food will be available all night, we’ll want to finish dinner before the scenes begin.”
She smiled and nodded. “Yes, Milord. As you wish.”
Master Sorin and Miss Slade were just leaving the buffet line when he and Eleanor slipped into it. His wife was delighted to see escargots à la Bourguignonne amidst the other offerings. The dish combined both the garlic and snails that she had craved during her pregnancy and still enjoyed immensely. Like his choice of orchestra, it was another surprise for her, with more yet to come.
Replay’s head of security, Marcus Vos, his submissive Gini Shelton, and his PTSD service dog Rex were behind them in line. Sensitive to having a celebrity in their midst, Piers invited the other couple to join them, completing their table’s complement of six.
Having gone through the line, they carried their plates back, rejoining Master Sorin and Miss Slade. As before, Eleanor sat by Miss Slade, providing a welcome buffer, or so he’d thought. But the longer they sat, the paler Miss Slade looked. Pushing back from the table, she covered her mouth with a napkin balled in her fist and practically ran out the door in her haste.
Master Sorin was quick to rise. “I’m sorry. She has a sensitive stomach these days.” With that, he followed her.
Piers patted Eleanor’s hand. “He’ll see that she’s all right. He is a doctor, after all.”
Eleanor looked at her plate, laden with garlicky snails and crusty French bread to sop the flavored butter. She bit her lip and turned her puzzled gaze to meet his. “She was fine until I sat down.” She looked away, her expression shifting as she reviewed the facts and puzzle pieces started falling into place.
She blinked and snapped her gaze back to meet his. “The smell…do you think…?”
Piers was certain that her thoughts dovetailed his.
“Sir Marcus,” he said smoothly, taking their napkins and putting them in his pocket, “we shall rejoin you shortly. Princess, bring your plate, flatware, and wine.”
Gathering their dinners, he and Eleanor headed for the conservatory.
Chapter Two
Elly set her plate and goblet on the glass-topped wicker table and took the seat that her husband held for her.
“I think she’s pregnant,” she blurted. “I’m sorry the snails made her sick, but…oh, Piers, what will they do? It’s only a matter of time before he’s stalked, too, and followed here. And then—”
Replay would be making the news again, and not just local.
Piers offered a reassuring smile. “I have an idea, my dear, that I wish to discuss with Master Sorin. The resort has expanded to the point, I believe that I can justify adding a physician to the resort staff. He would mostly screen prospective patrons for medical clearance, but he would need to be available for in-room calls as well. While Dr. Powell agreed to see patrons of the resort in her office, she is less comfortable when called to attend them here. Having Master Sorin—Dr. Moldovan—on staff seems an ideal
solution. Any reporters following him here would simply be following him to work. Miss Slade can justify her trips as research. Were her interest in BDSM to be discovered, I doubt that she would be denied roles because of it. His job is the one in peril. For all of his stern exterior, his heart proved too tender for him to practice in a hospital setting. He teaches medicine now, but he has retained his medical license. This would allow him to use it to its fullest. I do not think it will take much to persuade him to join us.”
Piers took the napkins from his pocket and handed her one.
She smiled at her husband. “How did I get so lucky, to land such a tall, dark, handsome, brilliant, and Dominant man?”
He sat a bit straighter, but his brilliant blue gaze took on a familiar lambent quality.
Elly took a sip of wine to cool her rising ardor. The last time that he’d brought her here, he had taken her on the chaise longue, a night made all the more beautiful by the moon and stars overhead, visible through the glass ceiling and walls.
“I agree with you, Piers. I’ve counseled people in similar situations, looking for options when their current jobs became too stressful or proved untenable for any number of reasons. There’s a very good chance that Sebastian will say yes to your proposal…if he stays.” Elly smoothed the linen over her lap. “Ashley is West Coast. Replay is East. To be together, they’ll have to choose.”
“Indeed. And you and Sir Josef will be here to counsel them, should they need to talk. Now, come. Eat, before your food grows any colder.”
The moon was nearly full tonight, and the sky was clear. The ambient lighting in the conservatory made it harder to see the stars, but it enhanced the inner beauty of the space. The stained concrete floor mimicked flagstones but the illusion of texture was far easier to clean. Potted trees and plants formed a maze of pathways. A mix of wicker, wood, and metal furniture was scattered throughout.